by T. S. Joyce
“I’ll hurt her.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Dade shook his head in denial. He’d planned on going his whole life just as he had been. Fucking occasionally to settle his animal, then going about his business. He liked things the way they were. His personal life was simple and easy. He didn’t have to worry about anyone besides himself and his crew. Cody had become scared when his mate Rory brought their young son to him, begging help with his little out-of-control bear. That had to be why Cody was making a desperate decision now. Pairing up with a mate changed things, made men softer, weaker. He didn’t want that. He’d spent a lifetime erecting walls of stone and mortar around his heart out of necessity. He wasn’t going to live forever, or even much longer in trigger-happy IESA’s crosshairs, and now his bear had latched onto a helpless human.
“You know, you were supposed to be the level-headed one,” Dade muttered.
“I am. You just don’t like hearing what I have to say. But hey, have fun trying to stay away from your mate.” His voice was practically singing.
Dade leaned his head back on the chair. “This sucks. Does it get better with time?”
“If you’re talking about thinking about her constantly, it gets worse over time.”
“But not if I don’t talk to her again. My bear will eventually give up on her.”
A beat of silence. “You can try, man. I know the timing doesn’t feel right, but there is a reason she came into your life right now.”
Dade talked to him for a few minutes longer, then hung up, more confused than when he’d called. Bruiser was supposed to have told him how to break away from whatever spell Quinn had cast on him. She couldn’t be worse for him, or he for her. Oil and water.
If she had any shot at happiness, it wasn’t with him.
He was a meteor on a collision course with the human race.
If he pulled her along for the ride, she’d burn up right along with him.
Chapter Four
When the bacon grease in the skillet popped, Quinn yanked her hand back. She glared at a tiny dot of moisture that burned on the knuckle of her thumb. Today hadn’t been awesome. Confusing, irritating, and heart wrenching, yes, but awesome, absolutely not.
Daffodil huffed a yip from beside her, and she frowned at the tiny Yorkshire Terrier. Daffodil wasn’t a barker by nature. She was more of a lazy, eat while lying next to the food bowl, sleep through a burglary type of dog. The exact opposite of her breed traits. It was Beans that had been the barker in his younger days, but now her senior yorkie just lounged around the oversize bed she had set up for him in the corner of the kitchen. Old as a dinosaur, deaf and nearly blind, he wasn’t the best watch dog either.
The fact that Daffodil had barked set off clanging warning alarms in Quinn’s head. She turned off the knob to the stovetop and padded toward the window. Her eyes flew wide and she guffawed when she saw Dade’s jacked-up Tacoma sitting on the street at the end of her long, gravel driveway. How the hell did he know where she lived?
She pulled back the curtain a little farther with the tip of her finger as he strode up the stone walkway, only to turn around and jog back to his truck. A curse word echoed through the window as he ran his hands through his blond hair. Short on the sides and longer up top, it was sticking up everywhere as if he’d roughed it up a few times already.
He turned and glared over his shoulder at her front door. His angry expression confused her. What had she done? Answer: not a darn thing. He was the one who had been hot and cold at the vet’s office, then sprayed travel grit in her face as he drove away.
Dade hooked his hands on his hips and stared off into the woods across the road.
Okaaay…right here was a man completely at war with himself, but why?
He spun and strode for her front door, then stopped halfway and stomped back toward his pickup again. When he opened his door, it became apparent he was really leaving this time, and a piece of her revolted at not finding out what he wanted.
In a rush, she pulled a few pieces of bacon from the skillet and wrapped them in a paper towel, then bolted for the door just as the engine roared to life.
“Wait!” she called, sprinting for his truck, the hem of her robe flapping behind her. It wasn’t until she reached his Tacoma that the chill on her legs reminded her she hadn’t checked her clothes before she left the house.
“Oh, crap,” she said on a breath as she looked down in horror at her bare legs.
Dade opened the door with a look akin to amusement on his face where she’d expected anger. “What are you wearing?”
She opened her mouth and snapped it closed again, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. “I brought you bacon.”
The smile dipped from his face, and the corners of his eyes tightened. “Bacon?”
“Boys like bacon,” she rushed out, regretting the words as they tumbled past her lips.
Dade scratched his ear and scanned the street behind him. “You don’t have any pants on.”
Grimacing, she handed him the wrapped meat and pulled her robe around her. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he said, eyebrows arching high. “You look fuckin’ hot.” Dade cleared his throat and stared at her bare feet. His contrite expression said he deeply regretted those words.
“I’m making breakfast for dinner. You want to come in?” she asked.
“Best if I don’t.” He held up the tiny, greasy care package. “Thanks for the bacon.” His eyes dropped to her silky robe once more before he got into his truck and shut the door.
“Bye,” she murmured in confusion as he sped away from her for the second time in one day.
Down the street, a pair of headlights turned on, and a black sedan coasted by. It looked like the one from earlier. The windows were tinted, which made it impossible to see inside, but the car brought gooseflesh to Quinn’s arms, and she pulled the robe tighter around her frame.
Cop shows were her favorite guilty pleasure. She didn’t know what Dade was into, but he was definitely being followed.
****
One week had passed, and Dade had disappeared like he’d never existed at all. Impressive since this was a small town, and she’d looked for him everywhere she went. Not on purpose, but her heart seemed hell-bent on getting another glimpse of the handsome mystery man who couldn’t be polite for more than thirty seconds. What did that say about her? That she was interested in a man who’s communication skills were horrid.
He was nothing like Jay.
The thought of him slashed pain through her middle, but the flood gates had opened now, and as she refilled shelves of medicine in the back room, she couldn’t help the memories that washed over her. Everything had been easy with Jay. Natural and simple. She’d met him when she was fourteen, and they’d grown up together. She’d planned on forever, but forever hadn’t lasted much longer than his nineteenth birthday.
She’d been perfectly content to stay single for the rest of her life, protecting her heart from that kind of pain again, but Dade had come in and stirred up feelings she hadn’t felt in a long time, like a flood kicking up silt from a river bottom.
Oh, she knew he was dangerous. The scar on his neck said he’d been through something awful and survived. And his cold demeanor was one he’d learned. Callousness like that didn’t come from leading an easy life. And then there was the black sedan watching his every move. Perhaps it was a bodyguard, keeping him safe from something, but what on God’s green and blue planet could threaten a behemoth of a man like Dade? He seemed so sure of himself, invincible even.
She imagined not much scared a man like him.
But intrigued by his backstory or not, he obviously wasn’t interested in her. For the hundredth time, she kicked herself for that stupid bacon line she’d used on him. Boys like bacon. Good grief. She was terrible at flirting. In her defense though, she hadn’t dated anyone since Jay. Six years, and the man she’d decided to latch onto was clearly unavailable and equal
ly disinterested. Her flirting skills were about as rusty as a nail a decade under water.
Not to mention he was seven levels out of her league! Quinn glared in the mirror above a small sink in the corner. She’d been wearing extra make-up everyday on the off chance he would swing by. All that effort wasted on a ghost.
“Quinn?” Dr. Voss asked, sticking her head through the doorway. “I’m headed out. Are you almost finished with inventory?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll have it done in half an hour, tops. I can lock up if you want me to.”
“That would be great. My daughter has a recital tonight, and I need to get home and change before it starts.”
“Yeah, no worries. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at the recital.”
Dr. Voss smiled and nodded. “I will. You have a good night, too.”
Quinn smiled as the vet left. She liked her. Dr. Voss was only a few years older, but she had a calm maturity that Quinn admired. No matter what kind of trauma came through the front doors, Dr. Voss always handled it with grace and poise and always knew just what to say to a family grieving a pet. And she’d been kind enough not to have Quinn assist on any more pet euthanasia, bless that woman. Gertie didn’t seem to have any trouble with it, for which Quinn was eternally grateful.
A pair of tabby cats that had been spayed mewed at her from the cages along the wall. Unable to resist them as they rubbed themselves down the sides of the wire cages, she strode over and pet them until they were purring in contented waves. The ding of the bell on the front door was quiet but distinct from the back room. It must be Dr. Voss, back because she forgot something.
But when the veterinarian didn’t come to the back room, Quinn began to worry it was a customer, come late with an emergency. “Hang on,” she called out, weaving around the boxes of medicine stacked willy nilly on the floor. “I’m coming!”
When she reached for the door handle, the click of metal on metal sounded. The tiny noise chilled her blood, and she pulled hard. The door didn’t budge.
“Hello? Is someone out there?” Her voice sounded much higher than she’d intended.
Jamming her foot against the wall, she gripped the handle again and pulled with all her strength. Nothing. “What the heck?”
She jogged for the back exit, then yanked on the knob. That one was stuck, too. Shoot. Jerking over and over with all of her might proved to be fruitless. Panic sent her heart rate to skittering against her ribs as she searched the room for something to pry open the door. Nah, forget that. She was calling the police. Someone had locked her in here on purpose. She didn’t know why, but she needed help.
Shaking, clammy hands made her drop the cell as soon as she dug it out of her back pocket, but thankfully, it still worked. She dialed 911 and told the automated message system the address. A local operator picked up.
“Someone has locked me inside of the Tiny Paws Vet clinic off of Main. I’m in a back room and need help. I can’t get either of the exit doors open.”
“All right,” an elderly sounding woman said. “Just remain calm. I’m sending someone to you right now.”
Something pungent and thick hit her nose, and she clutched the cell phone tighter.
“Ma’am?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Yes, dear?”
“I smell smoke.”
Chapter Five
Dade lay back on his bed in the single room he’d been assigned to at the station. Linking his hands behind his head, he stared up at the tiles in the ceiling and tried for the billionth time to ignore the urge to beg a grocery run with the guys just to drive by the veterinary clinic and see if Quinn’s bike was out front.
Whatever the woman had done to him, it sucked. Holding any kind of focus was a joke, and now he’d lost his appetite. And worst of all, his inner grizzly was more restless than one of those caged bears at the zoo. He winced as his stomach turned again. He’d Changed four times this week, and still, he felt barely in control of his own skin.
He’d just got done with a shower after a two hour heavy-weight workout, and still he couldn’t get his mind off her. He thought if he refused to see her, his bear would give up, but the mean old cuss was just getting more and more pissed as each day passed.
Maybe Bruiser had been right. Maybe he should trust his instincts.
The alarm sounded, and he lurched up. The dispatcher came over the loudspeaker, announced a fire in progress, and recited the address. She called up the paramedics, too, and said a woman was trapped.
Fuck, he hated these. Every second counted when there was a life in the grip of those flames. Adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream as he sprinted down the hall and out to the hanger where the engine sat ready. Already, Boone and Gage were donning their gear as Cody, dressed and ready, barked out orders into a radio at his shoulder.
The address was right off Main Street, down at the end and near a wooded area, so there was a risk of igniting the dry pine needle floor around the building. He skidded to a stop near his turnout gear. He’d dressed for fires so many times he could do it without thinking. Stepped into the trousers, into the boots, pulled up the suspenders and latched them in place. Pulled on the jacket, button, button, button. Velcroed the neck. Helmet on and oxygen tank flipped over his head and on like a backpack, clicked into place at his waist and tightened to secure it. He grabbed his mask and gloves and bolted for the engine. Now he was waterproof, heat proof, and ready to hop up into big old red clanging Engine 4.
He jumped in the back seat with Gage while Boone took shotgun and Cody drove. His alpha was fire chief of this station, and Boone had just been promoted to captain a few months back. Above, he could hear the other three crew members settling on top of the engine. Clutching the grab bar, Dade looked back to make sure the ambulance was following. Lights flashing, sirens blaring, Cody blasted down Main Street.
Dade’s heart was already pounding, but the closer they got to the vet clinic, the more the fine hairs on his arms raised, even in the stifling heat of his turnout gear.
“Hey, what was that address again?” he asked.
Cody recited it, but it didn’t ring a bell. He didn’t know the exact address of the clinic. But as they turned off the main road and he saw the black plumes of smoke, he jolted upright.
“No, no, no!” he yelled, lurching out of the engine before it had stopped. “Quinn!”
“Who’s Quinn?” Boone called.
No time to explain, Dade ran ignored him and sprinted toward the back of the clinic.
Two men were trying frantically to pry something off the door handle.
“Dade,” Cody called out over the radio on his shoulder. “Stand down. We need to assess this before you go in there. Repeat, stand down.”
“She’s mine, Cody,” he gasped out, choking on the smog. He pulled his mask on as Boone muttered a curse from right behind him. Everything was different once his mask was securely over his face. Sound changed, became muffled, and smell was all but nothing. Pulling on his gloves, he yelled Quinn’s name again as he pushed past the two men trying to open the door. Every window around the side was engulfed in flames.
Please, God, let it not be too late.
A metal pipe had been twisted around the emergency exit, and the thing screeched as he pulled it apart. Fuck showing off his strength to the bystander humans right now. Dade didn’t care about anything but getting to her.
Sweat dripped down the sides of his face as he growled and bent the pipe with all of his strength. With an echoing metal clang, it broke in his hands, and he tossed it to the side. Boone’s hand was on his back, and Cody was murmuring a string of orders through the radio Dade couldn’t make out over the roaring in his ears.
Please let there not be a backdraft.
It was then that he heard it. Pained screams from the woman he’d been dreaming about. Throwing open the door, he ran through the fire-rimmed frame.
“Fire department, call out!” he yelled.
The smoke was so thick he couldn’t se
e. He’d never been in this room, so he had no guess how big it was or where Quinn could be. Smoke billowed through the open door behind him as Boone stepped through.
“Fire Department. Quinn, call out!” he yelled again.
His brother pointed, and Dade’s eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Quinn wasn’t screaming anymore, and she lay under a metal beam from the ceiling. With a sound of agony lodged in his throat, Dade bullied his way past burning boxes. Two cats rushed past his legs, headed for the door. She must’ve let them out of those open cages on the wall, hoping they would get out somehow.
“Help me!” he yelled, pointing to the hot metal over her legs. Boone and Gage took the other end and lifted. When it was off her by inches, Dade slid her out from under the rubble. No time to C-Collar her, he scooped her up as flames licked at her shoes. Boone kicked a path through the debris, but when they reached the door, the wall collapsed with a tremendous crash, blocking them in.
The powerhouse whoosh of hose water sounded against the walls, blasting holes too small to fit through.
Dade crouched and covered Quinn’s body with his own. Gage was already going at another wall with an ax as he spoke to Cody through the radio.
Heat everywhere.
Burning.
Searing.
Even through his fire proof clothes, it was an inferno.
Smoke everywhere, covering everything, blocking the sun as he stumbled through the flaming wreckage.
Boone grabbed his jacket and pulled him through the opening Cody was cutting from the outside.
Running, panting, his breath so loud in the mask. Quinn’s face was white as a sheet.
Dropping to his knees, Dade set her in the grass and yanked off his mask. She smelled like ash and death. He leaned over and checked her breathing. Shallow air was raggedly passing her lips, and her lungs made a rasping sound.
“Stay with me, Quinn,” he demanded, yanking the C-Collar from Boone’s hands. “Medic!” Where the fuck were they?
One glance at her legs, and a sound of devastation wrenched from his throat. Her jeans had been burned away across both thighs, leaving the skin underneath raw and open. And that’s just what he saw on the outside. She could’ve broken her back or had internal bleeding.