by Jax Garren
“Oshun! Get your furry ass over here!” The damn cat hissed at her. Sirens rang. Fire trucks? Hope made her renew her efforts.
Footsteps pounded. Firemen? Somebody? She screamed as loudly as she could and sucked in lungs full of toxic air. Sputtering and coughing she beat her fist against the wall to keep up the noise. Screamed again as soon as she could.
Someone banged on her door. She kicked the floor, rattled the handcuff, whatever sound she could make. If she couldn’t get them into the bedroom….
The front door crashed open. She renewed her noise efforts, managed another scream. Her eyes burned from smoke, but still she watched her bedroom door, determined to live.
Two men in yellow entered.
Eyes the blue of dawn sky widened at the sight of her. She yanked her cuff. In a blur of motion he came to her side and his ax slammed into the chain, freeing her.
She was going to live.
She dove under the bed for Oshun. Her hand got around the cat’s back legs just before someone yanked her out, dragging Oshun with her.
Oshun struggled and clawed at the floor. The fireman’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the cat in big hands made bigger with gloves. He passed the animal off to the second fireman and pointed at the door. “Go. I got her.”
Elle didn’t wait. She dashed through a line of flame, glad for her leather work boots as heat rolled over her shoulders and made her eyes water. She shoved her hands into her welding gloves, shoved her latest work into the metal safe, slammed the lid, and picked up the box containing her livelihood.
Her hips were grabbed from behind, and the fireman pulled her to him then up and over his shoulder. She held tight to the box as he ran, his arms firm around her. As the cooler air of the stairwell hit her skin, she started to shiver. Then she started to cry.
She wasn’t going to die.
Adam Hunt set the crazy woman on her feet next to the ambulance and ripped his mask off, ready to read her the riot act. Who the hell ran toward the fire’s center? Her knees gave out, and she started to collapse. He caught her.
Over the alarming scents of smoke and salty sweat, the richness of vanilla and earthiness stalled his anger and, unaccountably considering the situation, turned him on. He didn’t want to yell anymore; he wanted to hold her and protect her from the threats of the world. Confused, he looked into her dark eyes, and vertigo hit him stronger than at the apex of the highest roller coaster.
Mate.
The roller coaster dove, and his stomach lurched in fear and exhilaration. He’d just hauled his mate, the one woman fate had selected for him, out of a burning apartment complex. He held her tighter, a reflex he couldn’t suppress. My mate. And to think he’d been pissed when a call came in five minutes from his clock out, delaying the time until he could hit O’Shaughnessey’s and feel the sweet burn and fog of alcohol. The desire for drunken oblivion remained, same as it had ever since he’d left his pack, banished and shamed. But her presence overwhelmed it, muffling its call into an ignorable buzz.
He carried her to a bench. Her hands clung to his collar as her teeth chattered in shock. He pulled her into his lap. The bulky Nomex and Kevlar of his jacket impeded his ability to embrace her. She didn’t need a tirade. She needed comfort, and he wanted to give it to her. “You’re okay,” he finally managed. “I got you. You’re okay.”
Her hands shook as she pushed out of his lap and onto the bench. His wolf drove him to hang onto the fragile human who ran toward fire, but his human logic knew he didn’t normally sit fire victims on his lap. She would think it strange, so he let her slide away. She clutched a lockbox in one gloved hand. The other still held onto his jacket. “Thank you,” she muttered then said again, louder, “Thank you.” She looked around. “Where’s Oshun?”
He pursed his lips. Had smoke inhalation confused her? “We’re in Denver. The ocean’s pretty far away.”
Her eyes finally focused on his, and she gave a half-hearted laugh. “My cat. Oshun’s an African goddess.” Big eyes, deepest brown, turned worried. The whites shone bright and tearful against smooth, dark skin. She looked like an African goddess herself, brave and beautiful.
Awkward in his fire gloves, he released a spiral curl stuck to her tear- and sweat-damp cheek. He shouldn’t nuzzle her, despite his wolf insisting it was a terrific idea. Would she think him weird if he got a tissue and dried her face?
“She’s safe, right?” the woman insisted.
His mate needed something. Her first request. That, he could do. “Your cat’s safe. Tim has her.” He searched the chaos of the street in front of her apartment. Three trucks had arrived—more than necessary, but for once he was happy for the extra expense. A typical crowd had gathered to gawk, intermingled with tearful residents watching in hopeless fear as their lives went up in fire and smoke.
They’d gotten to the fire early and could save most of the building. His mate’s room, though, the likely source of the fire, would be mostly lost. How could he best help her recover?
Fear tightened his chest as he thought of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t come so soon. Best not to dwell. Eventually he spotted Tim, his partner on the inside, trying to keep hold of a howling animal.
His mate owned a…cat. She’d said so; he’d even held the thing for a couple seconds, but the sight of the animal now made it register. That was not going to go well.
His partner’s face relaxed in relief, and he headed their way. The man loved animals, but angry cats drove everyone nuts.
“There’s your little goddess.” Adam pointed the cat out, and his mate relaxed.
She started to get up, but her legs trembled so much she sat immediately, eyes cast down in embarrassment.
He put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You’ve had a shock. Give your legs a few minutes.”
“I’m not usually so shaky.” She squeezed the handle of the safe like an awkward teddy bear.
“What’s in the box?” That you risked your life for?
“My work. I’m a jewelry maker.” She pursed her lips then released. “I guess you think I’m crazy for going toward the fire.”
Yeah. He really did. But she was safe now, and he’d seen people go back into burning buildings for all sorts of stupid reasons.
Her mouth twisted up as if she contemplated something—her mouth was so expressive; he loved it—then she opened the case enough for him to peek in, displaying ingots of gold, copper, and other precious metals. Thousands of dollars worth.
“Holy shit.” Oops. “Excuse my language.”
With a firmer laugh, she snapped the case shut. “I’m working on a commission. I can’t afford to buy the materials twice, but once this is done, I’m on my way to a real income.” She patted the box with her still-gloved hands. “Getting new equipment will be a PITA, but what’s in here is my life’s work—success or failure in a one-foot cube.” She set the case between her feet and pushed up to standing as Tim arrived and handed her Oshun.
The terrified pet didn’t seem much happier, even with her owner. Stupid cat. He couldn’t imagine a circumstance in which he’d try to escape being pressed against her body. The animal hissed at him, spitting and swiping like it would challenge a mature werewolf.
He cocked his head to the side and made eye contact, staring it down. The thing backed up, crouching in his mate’s arms as it continued to hiss.
“Oshun! Be nice. He saved our lives.” She sighed. “No thanks to you, you stupid cat. Cats don’t listen.” She said the last bit like a compliment then looked back at him, somehow keeping the bristling animal in her arms. “What’s your name? I’m Elle Montgomery.”
A stupid smile lifted his cheeks. His mate possessed a beautiful name. He stuck a hand out, and she shook it, her thick canvas glove enfolded easily in his leather and Nomex one. “Adam Hunt.” They stood awkwardly for a moment. He wanted to say more but didn’t know where to start. Hi! I’m a werewolf and you’re my mate! was unlikely to g
o over well. “Stay here,” he finally said. “I want to find you afterward.” The words exited his mouth, and he wanted to bite them back. That wasn’t at all dickish, Hunt. Why don’t you try bossing her around more. Women love it.
Instead of getting upset, she shrank a little, her shoulder coming close to his as if she wanted comfort but refused to ask for it. He knew the feeling. But there seemed to be more to her unease than the fire. The fear in her eyes as her gaze darted around the growing crush of bodies set off alarms in his head. His mate should never be afraid, and right now fear rode her hard. Fear of what?
He frowned. When he’d entered the room, she’d been handcuffed to the bed. He’d assumed she had been playing some kinky game—whatever floated her boat right? Although now the thought of some other man….
Push it back, Hunt. Don’t think about it. She wore work boots, though. And the position of the cuff didn’t really make sense, low to the ground putting her face down onto the bed with one arm stretched at a funny angle. Not that he couldn’t figure out something interesting to do with his mate in any position.
This time he did bite his tongue, focusing on the pain to bring him back to the here and now. Envisioning naked, handcuffed Elle was not only inappropriate at the moment, it wasn’t going to help him help her. He smelled the wind blowing across her to him. She smelled human, which meant she wouldn’t feel the same instant desire he did. He needed to entice her into a relationship.
He liked a challenge.
He shook his head, trying to back off from visions of a lifetime of hot sex and steady companionship and focus on immediate needs. His mate had been handcuffed to a bed in work boots, and her welding equipment was likely what caused the fire.
The clues added up to somebody did this on purpose.
To his mate.
He sucked back a growl and scanned the crowd again, this time looking for somebody with a death wish. “Tim,” he said, slapping his partner’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Think they’ve got the situation covered?” The blaze was contained and firemen still crawled all over the place. At this point, more people got in the way and made things harder.
Tim tsked in irritation. “We got enough men to stop a block of fires. After all the crap going on across the country with cops, Chief wants to make sure the ghetto feels loved by the fire department.”
Elle lifted her brow, expression pointed. “The ghetto, huh?”
Tim’s eyes went wide, hands up as his mistake caught up with him. Adam blew out a breath as he realized he might not have noticed the insult yesterday. Now, though, standing next to his mate, trying to see the world through her eyes, it sounded damn racist.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Tim said. “I mean to say, there’s a shit ton of people. You’re covered. Hunt, if you want to take off. I know it’s past your shift.” His partner dashed off in a hustle, getting away from Elle and the dangerous arch of her eyebrows.
Adam pulled his gloves off and reached for her arm. He touched her elbow, a cotton shirt still separating them. Even through the fabric, the touch hummed and sparked. It excited him yet calmed him. The noise in his head, the angry desires driving him to go to the bar because he couldn’t go back home to his pack in the Black Hills, the bleak day to day that needed alcohol or adrenaline to bring meaning, every bit left until the only thing remaining was his mate. Elle.
“You think this is the ghetto, too?” she asked, voice hard.
She didn’t notice the intense rightness coursing between them. It was so obvious to him, the disconnect threw him off.
Her foot started tapping an angry rhythm. “Calling a perfectly good neighborhood the ghetto because the population isn’t all white. Well?”
Well, what? Oh! “No, I don’t think this is the ghetto. Great neighborhood.” Get your brain out of your pants. Listen and answer. Basic politeness like your mama taught you.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t patronize me. It’s not the ghetto but it’s not great. It’s not even average.”
He looked around at the lush trees and view of the not-so-distant Rockies. “It’s better than mine.” He could smack himself. Again. Good idea. Tell the woman you live in a shithole. That’ll make her want to visit.
Elle blinked at him, her shoulders relaxing as if the comment surprised her and not in a bad way. After a moment, she offered a tentative smile and sat down. Then stood up again. “Do you have work you need to do? You don’t need to babysit me.”
But even as she said it, her fearful eyes surveyed the crowd again, looking for someone.
He sat, and she sat beside him, closer than two strangers usually would. He still held her elbow. He was touching his mate, and he didn’t want to let go. “What happened?” Who did he need to chase down and sink his claws into so she could quit searching in apprehension?
Inhaling a shaky breath, she looked at her lap, embarrassed. “I think my blowtorch did it. I was hammering copper. The safety was engaged. I’m not sure how it happened.”
He let her go to pull off his jacket. It put too much bulk between them and made him damn hot to boot. The movement gave him an excuse to look away as he said, “You were handcuffed to a bed at the time….” He hoped she’d take the prompt and run with it, but only silence greeted his statement. After a moment, he looked back at her. More fear shone in her eyes as she struggled to answer. “Ms. Montgomery, why were you handcuffed to your bed?”
“Call me Elle.” Her voice was quiet. Finally, her chin jutted up. “Why are most people handcuffed to a bed, Mr. Hunt? It’s self-explanatory.”
His wolf roared in jealousy, and he swallowed it back with great effort. He had no right to be jealous, and she was lying anyway. Why? “I’ve heard handcuffs and boots have a following, ma’am, but my understanding is those boots look a little different than the ones on your feet.” Although she looked damn sexy in welding boots, with her long legs and rocking curves. Oh, yeah, handcuffs and those boots worked for him abso-fucking-lutely.
Focus, Hunt. The woman had nearly died and most of her apartment had burned. Drooling on her like a whelp wasn’t going to help her feel better or help him figure out whom to protect her from.
She actually laughed. “Am I under investigation? Is this formal or informal questioning?”
Maybe if he was blunt this would work better. He sucked at dancing around issues anyway. “Somebody tried to kill you. Who?” He leaned in closer. “I’ll take care of it.” Too aggressive? He meant it. Somebody tried to kill his mate. They were puppy chow.
She patted his knee, like he wasn’t serious. “You’re sweet.”
He snorted and leaned away. “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of sweetness before.” Asshole was a more apt description. The things his packmates had called him—rightly so—when he’d left…. He shook his head, tossing off the memories like a wolf shook off water. A different life under an alpha who’d driven the Tao pack to Hell. As a member of Magnum’s inner circle, he’d made choices he couldn’t atone for. He’d left so he wouldn’t be that man anymore. But if she needed violence, he knew how to commit high levels of it, and he’d do it again, for her.
Her eyes widened as she held his gaze, seeming to grasp how deadly serious he was. “I suppose it’s because you just saved me from a fire, but I feel safe with you.”
The mate bond. She didn’t feel it like he did, not a settled piece of life’s puzzle mystically snapped into place. But maybe she felt some trace of it. He could work with that. He took her fingers, those damn welding gloves of hers still separating them.
The cat hissed at him, and she took her hand back to rub the scruff of its neck. He narrowed his eyes at the cat, trying to convey in a glance that she couldn’t win this fight.
Elle didn’t notice. “Would you….” She laughed again, nervously. “This is the oddest question, but would you ever consider hiring out as a bodyguard? In a week or so I have a commission coming in. I’ll be able to pay starting then.”
Yeah, if crazy meant perfect. He would start today, not in a week. “Ms. Montgomery—”
“Elle.” Her sweet eyes turned back to him, her curls bouncing around her face like a lion’s mane, making her look playful and bold and so very desirable.
“Elle. Yes. You can hire me.” Or I’ll do it for free because it’s my job to protect you. He didn’t say it, too inappropriate. He looked up at the drifting smoke centered on her apartment. Most of the building would be all right. Not her part. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?”
She stilled and shrank back, her initial enthusiasm waning quickly at the offer.
Huh. “No, not like…I’ll stay on the couch. Your apartment is not going to be livable. You say you need a bodyguard. If you need a place to stay, stay with me. You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. I could use the company. In the building. Not in the bed.” He was rambling something terrible, but she didn’t shrink away anymore. She listened, her expression opening up. He let the words keep coming out of his mouth, hoping to reel her back in. “All my friends here are drinking buddies. I need to stop drinking.” Because I found you. “I don’t have other people. I could use the…I already said that.” He said it again anyway. “I could use the company. You’re safe with me. Ask any of the firemen here.”
She nodded slowly and looked from one man in yellow to another. She’d ask, which meant she was considering his offer. “You’re going to be able to be a good bodyguard? Alcohol not going to be a problem?”