Five Alarm Alphas

by Leah Braemel, Lexxie Couper, Delilah Devlin, Marie Harte, Desiree Holt, Lissa Matthews, Cari Quinn, Shelli Stevens

  Slide Down On Me

  Simple Need

  Carnal Ecstasy

  Ink Spots

  The Swing

  The Demon is an Angel

  Stick Shift

  Pink Buttercream Frosting

  Arctic Shift

  Twisted Up

  Melting Jane

  Keep It Together

  Trouble In The Making

  Wait For Me

  Arresting Holli

  Series:

  Lone Star Sweets:

  The Cupcake Cowboy

  The Sticky Cowgirl

  Blue Jeans and Hard Hats:

  Sweet Caroline

  Cracklin' Rosie

  Forever In Blue Jeans

  Masked:

  Masked

  UnMasked

  Revealed

  The Bar Next Door:

  Malachi's Word

  Eli’s Promise

  Coming Soon:

  The Tattooed Barista

  Exposed

  Shifting Currents

  Drive Shaft

  REKINDLED

  USA TODAY bestselling author

  CARI QUINN

  Copyright © 2014 by Lexxie Couper

  All rights reserved.

  www.cariquinn.com

  Some blazes refuse to be contained.

  It’s been months since ex-firefighter Katie Kemp has spoken to her former lover and squad mate, Dash Carlton. But when a late night drive down memory lane leads her to a small fire at Dash’s house, she realizes she’s not willing to turn her back on the hottest flame of her life.

  Chapter One

  Almost four a.m. and where was she? Dragging her tired ass home from the bar again. She’d stayed late to clean up but more because she wasn’t quite tired enough to face her dismal apartment.

  Now she was. Now she was so damn sleepy that the snow-swept road outside her windshield kept blurring. From the steadily falling snow or exhaustion she wasn’t sure. Or maybe tears. Her eyes were definitely wet and her nose…yeah, not going there.

  Her only consolation was that it was so cold in her car without a working heater that her tears would soon freeze. Until then the fuzzy mitten held against her face would do.

  A rough night at work wasn’t that big of a deal. At twenty-nine, Katie Kemp did what she wanted and answered to no one. Well, she did to her boss at the bar but if this gig didn’t work out, she’d go to the next. There were always more jobs. Always more ways to get by.

  What there weren’t, however, were more friends.

  Oh, she’d made some at Sliders. Other bartenders, customers, even the guy she’d busted last week for fighting had ended up being pretty nice when he was sober. Pals were one thing. But brothers? Comrades? Completely another.

  Hell, she missed them. Greg with his clever sexual moves that everyone saw coming a mile away, except his latest conquest. Billy who, along with sending money back home to the family he’d left in England, helped out with whatever he could in the firehouse, whether it was KP duty or taking on an extra shift after already working a double. Grumpy Mitch who still sent messages through her father to ask when she intended to give up this “insanity” and get her ass back where she belonged.

  Dash, who hadn’t contacted her and hadn’t even bothered to show up for her farewell party.

  Pointless to be sad about that. It was almost six months ago. Nine since the last time they’d put out each other’s fire only to immediately kindle another one. Maybe that particular blaze belonged only to her, since Dash sure didn’t seem to be hurting. She’d heard through the grapevine that he was seeing some girl from the apartment building near the firehouse. Jacquelina or some nonsense. Something completely feminine and the polar opposite of a tomboy ex-firefighter named Katie who could out-belch the boys when plied with enough orange soda.

  She rubbed the ache brewing in her forehead. Fatigue always made her morose. Who needed to drink when just bone-deep exhaustion sent her careening into the bowels of memory hell?

  Slowly, she drove up the block five streets over from her own, not entirely surprised to see where her thoughts had taken her yet again. How many times had she come by here recently? Three? Four? She had a bad habit of driving to whatever place she was thinking about and tonight her mental wanderings had taken her right to Dash’s trim yellow Victorian with its huge yard bordered by towering firs. Anyone else probably would’ve chopped them down but he liked the privacy they provided. She had to admit that on sultry summer nights, the trees added a cool mysticism to the wide expanse of lawn visible from his wrap-around deck.

  She loved his stupid house. Heck, she’d been the one to help him pick it out. She could still remember cruising down this street in his 4x4 when he’d been house hunting and gasping aloud as this slice of perfect had come into view.

  He’d fallen head over heels with the house, and right around then was when she’d fallen head over heels in lust with him. When years of friendship, trust and a strong working relationship had become an inferno that had eaten them—her—up inside, she still couldn’t pinpoint. All she knew was that she still hadn’t moved past it all these months later, when Dash was no more than a memory.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, Katie dragged her hand over her mass of curls, caught up by the clip that couldn’t contain them. She should go home and rest. It was colder than the inside of an icicle outside and she’d end up with pneumonia if she didn’t get out of this freezing car.

  Instead she drifted toward the curb in front of Dash’s house. Why was she stopping? His truck was parked in the drive which meant he was likely asleep. Maybe not alone. There was absolutely no reason to peer so hard at the side window she could just barely see and wonder about that orange flash in the darkness. Less reason to slam out of her car and suck in a breath coated with shards of ice. That window would be just about where Dash’s laundry room was located in the basement. Then there was another flash, and another. What the hell?

  She strode across the lawn, clenching her hands in the pockets of her barn coat. Shit, she couldn’t get near anything hot or she’d probably go up in flames herself, she smelled like so much booze. Tonight’s bar fight had ended with her getting splashed in Triple Sec and tequila. The smell trailed after her as she plowed deeper into the darkness next to the house. This was stupid. She hadn’t seen anything of substance and if Dash found her out here prowling around, he’d label her a stalker. What she should do was turn around and get out of here.

  Shit! There it was again. Orange licking against the window, and from the dryer vents, thin wisps of smoke. The familiar smell made her cough, her eyes watering. It had been just long enough for her system to forget the scents she’d lived with for years. She rushed forward to stare down into Dash’s basement and let out a gasp.

  “Dammit. Why tonight?” She pressed a hand against the pane of glass and grimaced at the heat. Definitely active fire down there. Not too bad from the looks of things and it was probably just getting started. Even so, she couldn’t be caught here. What she needed to do was to call 9-1-1 and get her ass away from this house. And him.

  The sudden jolt in her chest stopped her before she’d taken a step in retreat. Had she totally forgotten the oath she’d taken as a firefighter? No flipping way. A little embarrassment wouldn’t stop her from making sure her ex-comrade was safe.

  But why hadn’t he smelled the smoke? His bedroom was on the second floor but fire-eaters had a sixth sense. She’d awakened once from a sound sleep when her neighbor’s shed had been burning up. Just a whiff of smoke through an open window and her brain had triggered the siren’s call. It was in the blood. And Dash was one of the best. Their unit in Elmsdale, Pennsylvania didn’t serve a huge community but they pulled their weight.

  So where was he? His house had several smoke alarms. Who could sleep through that noise? If he was still in bed, he had to be too occupied to realize his damn house was on fire. Which didn’t say a lot for Katie’s prowess considering once during lovem
aking, he’d heard a neighbor’s kitten crying for help outside and immediately went to go save her.

  If memory served he’d gotten very lucky afterward.

  Her throat clogged as she ran around to the front of the house and hurtled up the wide steps two at a time. She rang the bell with one hand and pounded on the door with the other, her anxiety mounting when all remained silent on the other side. Jacquelina or Thumbelina or Seximima couldn’t be that good in bed.

  “Could she?” she muttered.

  Shaking her head, she jogged down the steps, skidding a little on the ice, and fumbled out her cell phone. She placed a quick call to 9-1-1 before continuing around the opposite side of the house. Dash hid a key for the side entrance in the dirt beneath a copper statue of a firefighter’s boot. She heaved the boot aside, letting out a surprised grunt at its weight. The paltry inch of snow on the ground didn’t interfere with getting to the dirt but the frozen earth didn’t make for easy digging. After two fruitless minutes, she hefted the statue and eyed the pane of glass in the surprisingly cheap door. If she aimed carefully, she’d just crack that one square. Enough room to get in and not incur a huge repair cost. Compared to losing his whole house, it didn’t seem like a bad trade-off.

  She gritted her teeth and swung. The boot didn’t even graze the pane. Apparently 4 a.m. wasn’t the ideal time for some impromptu batting practice.

  Another try earned her a spiderweb of cracked glass. Thank God he had an inexpensive door. One more power drive and she’d be through. She gripped the statue hard and aimed, letting out a whoop when the glass shattered. As carefully as possible, she set aside Dash’s beloved sculpture and thrust her hand through the frame. A couple seconds later she was inside. On the right was the half-open door that led to the basement laundry room. And trailing up the open staircase that Dash had put in himself were curls of gray smoke.

  Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

  Katie pulled the basement door shut and charged up the short flight of steps to the first floor. Silence reigned. Where was the smoke alarm? It was ingrained in all of them to install one on each floor of their homes. So how come she could hear every scuff of her Timberlands on the hardwood floor?

  She breathed deep and let out a sigh of relief that she couldn’t smell any smoke up here. If she could just get to Dash and his fire extinguisher, chances were good that they’d be able to contain the fire with minimal property damage.

  And she’d be able to see the blonde hottie—they were always blonde—distracting him so much that he didn’t even care if his mortgaged-up-the-wasabi house went up in flames. Not that she cared about that particularly. This was just her good deed for the week. She was several months behind so maybe a big one would catch her up quicker.

  A check of the most logical places didn’t yield the fire extinguisher. Obviously she’d have to ask the owner himself why he didn’t have a small portable extinguisher on every floor like any firefighter worth his salt should.

  Giving up the search, she jogged upstairs. For some reason she couldn’t seem to get her limbs to work in tandem. Dash’s closed bedroom door lay at the end of the hall. Taunting her. What would she find inside? Him and Seximima engaging in the mattress mambo? Or perhaps he’d suffered an attack of an unknown illness. Or maybe—

  “Christ, just move.” She rushed forward, stopping dead when the door swung in and Dash stepped out.

  Naked. With a ruffled eyemask perched on top of his mussed brown hair.

  Chapter Two

  Dash rubbed his eyes. When the curly-haired vixen in front of him didn’t vanish, he tried again.

  Tonight was the first time he’d taken his doctor-recommended sleep aid. He’d developed a wicked case of insomnia so he’d waited until he had a day off from the firehouse, hung some blackout curtains, and turned on the soothing sounds cube his mom had bought him. And yeah, he’d even taken her frou-frou eyemask. What did he have to lose? One night completely blacked out to the world would do him good. Nothing would happen.

  Until he’d awakened to the smell of smoke wafting up through the vents. A possible fire took precedence over why his old squad mate stood in his hall, her Betty Boop curves visible even in her big coat, T-shirt and jeans.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He knew he was growling and didn’t care. How dare she show up here looking so…lickable? She had no right. His cock had even less right to stir.

  “There’s a fire,” she began, seconds before he hoisted her off her feet and out of his way.

  Her panicked glance at his nude body clued him in that he’d neglected to grab his pants. Well, too damn bad. His house, his rules. It was nothing she hadn’t seen a couple times anyway.

  Spite almost made him head downstairs in the buff. Sense reminded him that flames licked greedily at every bit of exposed flesh they could touch.

  Cursing, he set her down and returned to his room. He rifled through the clothes on the chair beside the bed and donned the first ones that came to hand, a pair of flannel sleep pants with a tear along one ass cheek. They’d get the job done.

  “You’re alone?” Surprise edged her question.

  Without responding, he dressed, and then brushed past where she lingered in the doorway. The scent of smoke was stronger now, inciting the tingle in his spine he always got when he was on his way to a fire. That one blazed in his house seemed like insult upon injury.

  “Where is it?” he demanded over his shoulder as he headed downstairs.

  “Basement laundry room. Northwest quadrant.” She stayed close behind him, not sounding the least bit winded. She’d kept in shape. Good. If he had to have anyone at his side while taking down the bastard, he was glad it was Katie.

  Even if she made his blood boil.

  He rushed into the kitchen and stopped in front of the small cupboard next to the stove. “Second unit’s behind the cut-out panel in the front hall,” he gritted out, yanking open the door. “Right by the window.”

  “Got it.” Though she did as he asked, she continued rambling on about how she’d looked for the extinguishers, and that he hadn’t placed them in logical places.

  That was Katie. Loudest freaking one of their crew. He frowned with his hand on the extinguisher. Except she wasn’t part of their crew anymore.

  It had been nearly six months since he’d seen her. He’d left a bunch of messages for her over the last few weeks, once he’d finally given in to his misery. She hadn’t called back, yet here she was strutting around his house, a heartbreaking vision in denim and hot pink.

  As mad as it made him, he couldn’t help being grateful. His life had been out of tilt since the day she’d left the station and tonight, fire or no fire, it had shifted back into place.

  Doubtlessly she held a lion’s share of the blame for him not being able to sleep, though he’d never tell her. The sense that he’d failed her somehow ate at him. He’d never turned his back on a friend—or a lover—before but he’d been so damned hurt and angry that she’d walked away after spoonfeeding him a handful of excuses that he’d shut the door on her for his own sanity. He’d been determined not to let her know how she’d angered him and disappointed him. How much he missed her. But he’d broken. Station 16 without Katie Kemp was like the emptiness in his bed he’d never really faced. They’d always been a good time thing, rolling in and out of the sheets with ease. He just hadn’t been prepared for the good times to end.

  “Why the fuck don’t you have functional alarms, Carlton?”

  Blowing out a breath, Dash pried out the extinguisher and kicked the cabinet shut. Figures the one damn time he didn’t do his fire prevention duty he had to get caught with his pants down. Literally. “Don’t worry about it right now.”

  “The hall table? Really?” She headed back up the hall toward him, tossing aside the two unopened smoke detectors he’d purchased the day before. “That’s a great place to keep them. Let’s hope your stupid tinder box doesn’t burn down,” she said before barreling down the steps to the b
asement.

  He followed and nudged her out of the way when they reached the basement door. The hotness of the wood made him swear. “Stand back.”

  “It’s not too bad yet. The entrance should be clear.”

  Questions stumbled over each other in his mind but he didn’t take time to attempt to sort them out. That would come after they’d dealt with whatever waited for them on the other side of this door.

  He sucked in a breath, adrenaline pumping through his tensed muscles, and gave her a sideways glance. All he could see were the whites of her eyes, the predatory gleam of teeth. It was more than enough to remind him that there was no else he’d rather put his back against. Their personal issues aside, trusting her to be there for him and vice versa was as natural as breathing. This was how it was supposed to be. The two of them fighting together.

  As she whispered the little prayer she always did before she stepped off the truck, he closed his eyes. Right now he wanted to say a prayer of his own. Of thanks.

  She was back. Whole, strong, safe. Prepared to fight—and win.

  “Ready?” he murmured.

  “You bet your ass.”

  He reared back and kicked in the door, jumping back out of habit. She did the same. The smoke was pretty intense but when they charged into the smoky darkness, he quickly saw that this one was all smoke and little flame.

  “Shit, it looked bigger outside,” she muttered behind him, coughing.

  Without commenting, he descended the last couple stairs and activated the extinguisher. The fire seemed to be coming from behind the dryer and luckily hadn’t spread beyond a few boxes of junk. A few sharp blasts from the extinguisher and the fire was out.

  “Well then. Guess you don’t need me to use mine,” she said, sounding oddly deflated as she set down the unit between her legs. “It really did look bigger from outside.” Her gaze swung to the large mirror propped against the opposite wall. “Oh shit. A mirror.” Then she erupted into a new fit of coughing.