Dallas Fire & Rescue: Concealing Fire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Fiery Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Siera London

  Table of Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Paige Tyler. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Dallas Fire & Rescue remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Paige Tyler, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Concealing Fire

  A Fiery Fairy Tale Novella

  Dallas Fire & Rescue

  (Kindle Worlds)

  Bestselling Author

  Siera London

  CONCEALING FIRE

  Cover art by Fantasia Frog

  Edited by Rebecca Martin of Bare Essentials Publishing

  Edited by Gayla Leath of Dark Dreams Editing

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About This Book

  Dallas Fire & Rescue firefighter, Kendall Raine goes out of her way to avoid male attention. She's focused on salvaging her career, and the temporary assignment to Key West's Historic District Firehouse is just the opportunity she's been waiting for. Unfortunately for Kendall, her hot as sin teammate threatens her focus and stokes an internal fire she thought long extinguished.

  Firefighter and former Marine, Cutler Stevens sees beyond Kendall's disguise the moment he lays eyes on her. As a former Marine, his fighting days are behind him, but gut instinct tells him this woman could use a champion on her side. Cutler likes his life easy and his women uncomplicated, but attraction and curiosity spark a deep desire to uncover what Kendall is desperately trying to hide.

  After mother nature forces them together, they surrender to the burning passion between them. Cutler knows one night with Kendall in his arms will never be enough, even if she won't admit it.

  Just when Kendall accepts Cutler as a permanent part of her life, they are both tested when her past follows her to the southernmost point of the United States. How far will Cutler go when he discovers what Kendall is prepared to do to preserve her newfound freedom? Will their decisions protect their newfound love or unveil a secret that will consume them both?

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to Paige Tyler for creating the Dallas Fire & Rescue world filled with kick-butt heroines and sexy firefighters. I had a lot of fun letting my imagination run wild with this adaption of the Brothers Grimm’s Little Red Riding Hood tale.

  —To Fire Captain D. Austin, your input has been invaluable.

  —To DesaRae and Courtney, thanks, ladies, for helping me assemble my research team.

  —To Kate and Lanie, I thank you for sharing the scoop on what it’s like to be a firefighter’s lady.

  —As always, to Mr. Awesome, Michele, Rebecca, Devri, and Gayla you are my sounding board, my support network, my critique partner, my editor; in other words, you are amazing.

  —To Him who is able to keep us from falling, both now and forever, thank you, God.

  Sincerely,

  Siera

  Chapter One

  Where was that little voice telling Kendall Raine she'd made the right decision? Stepping off the plane, her boots thudded onto the Key West Airport tarmac. Magical reassurance had missed the flight. The wheels were on the ground, and it was to late for second guesses. A single story terminal stood in the distance, its green roof gleaming against the clear blue April sky. Mounted on the roof, a giant statue of a family—a man, woman, and two kids welcomed her to the southernmost point of the United States. Her heart clenched. Beyond her own wits, the only person she could ever depend on was her grandma Dinah. Well, she could before her marriage. Closing her eyes, Kendall reeled her mind back to the present. She had two weeks at the Historic District Firehouse to repair some of the damage done to her career...and if she were honest, her confidence too. No distractions, no derailments. She shortened her stride as she crossed the runway. Glancing around, she eyed the thick and lush mangroves surrounding her safe haven. At the least, she welcomed the illusion of safety. If Beck ever discovered her deception...she shoved the thought out of her head. Forcing her body to relax, she inhaled deeply connecting her breathing with the elements.

  The familiar heat bathing her skin reminded her of a Texas summer. A rapid replay of images detailing the life she'd left in Cockrell chilled her to the bone, making her shiver even though she wore long sleeves. With its shrinking population at four thousand strong, the small town, completely surrounded by southwest Dallas County, had been her address for three years, but the Dallas Fire and Rescue Station 58 had been her home. As one of many female firefighters on the DF&R squad she'd been a welcomed addition. Initially. The novelty of a woman in a male-oriented profession had worn off in the community. She hoped the same were true here at the new locale. After four years on the job, and one messy divorce, the Lord knew she needed to find a way to pick up the pieces of her life without any added drama. The wind whipped strands from the messy bun at her nape. Unsecured strands of hair snaked around her head in animated fiery waves dancing in and out of her sight. Untying the white, paisley print scarf from around her neck, she stopped to gather up the wind-generated concert playing across her head.

  A woman with weathered skin wearing an orange mesh safety vest and navy blue shorts approached.

  “Excuse me ma’am. We're under a severe weather watch. You have to keep moving into the terminal.”

  Kendall smiled, broad and wide, for the first time since she'd signed the divorce papers and left the courtroom.

  “I’d be happy to keep it moving.” She glanced down at her left ring finger. It was bare. She breathed in the warm, thick air with its salt and sweet palm scents, and she tasted freedom. Her mind, body, and soul felt at peace in this island paradise. The decision to save herself, regardless of the methods, had been a good one. The heavy weight that had burdened her for weeks since the divorce, finally lifted. A smile, filled with the serenity humming through her veins, formed.

  “It's beautiful here,” she said aloud.

  “Yours is the last flight we'll get until the all-clear is issued from air traffic control,” the woman called out over the dull roar of the plane's engines.

  Kendall grinned as she knotted the scarf at the back of her head. “Sorry to slow your progress.”

  “Honey, you're in the Conch Republic. I'd be surprised if you moved fast.”

  Silence reigned now that the pilots' final checks were completed. An older couple walked around Kendall. Moments later, the flight crew dressed in coordinated blue and white separates nodded to her in farewell. Yep, that was her queue to get on with her fresh start. Faces of all the people who'd made this do-over possible played in her mind. One day she'd repay Dr. Stein and his nurse, Susan, for helping her.

  Her grandmother Dinah had
relocated to the Keys before Kendall's marriage. Tears gathered in her eyes at the number of times she lied about a holiday visit. Beck would have never allowed her to leave the state. Driving the thirty miles to DF&R had come at a price most weeks. It was too late when she’d realized he preferred her alone, isolated.

  Captain Earl Stewart, Kendall's boss at DF&R, seemed relieved when she agreed to get out of Texas. Though she never confided in him about her marital problems, he seemed to know she was in over her head with her new husband. Her true savior had come from an unlikely source. Dr. Stein had been her sounding board and a true friend. Without Gordon, she'd still be trapped in her marriage or buried in a grave. Before she'd left Dallas, she'd confided in him that she was open to his interests. There were no sparks between them, but maybe that was a good thing. Genuine friendship and respect had to be safer than love.

  “Looks like you're the last one, ma'am.”

  “Yeah, I usually am.” Beck made sure she understood and lived that truth while in his house. On his list of priorities, being last would have been too lofty a concept. Her job as a firefighter remained intact because it brought him more prestige. They were considered Cockrell’s first couple of community service, akin to small town royalty.

  “Don't be so hard on yourself. With all that fiery red hair and those long legs, you'll snag yourself an island cowboy in no time.”

  She waved away the woman's comment. Kate Fairchild, another DF&R firefighter had said the same.

  “No men for me. I'm here to fight fires, that's it.” The next man in her life would have to have the face of a Greek god, the body of a Roman gladiator, and enough charisma to make the First Lady skip church on Sunday morning. In fact, she planned to work like a religious zealot, keep her hair covered, and her body concealed. The scarf and over-sized sweatshirt would do the trick for now. She glanced down at her scuffed cowgirl boots. Perfect. She wanted to focus on her grandmother and her job. No boys allowed in her clubhouse.

  “All I need is my rental car, my hotel room, and my engine number.”

  A grim expression aged the woman's face another ten years. “All the rental counters are closed because of the storm. I'm not sure about your hotel.”

  Kendall knew her green eyes resembled flying saucers. “Say that again.”

  “It's like I said. We're under a storm warning.”

  Kendall glanced up at the baby blue sky, eyeing a few cotton ball white clouds. With a furrowed brow she regarded the orange-vested all-knowing oracle.

  The woman held up her hands, “This is the calm before the eye of the storm. Is there anyone you can call?”

  “My grandmother recently moved from the Island Life Senior’s Village to a beach cottage at Mile Marker 82.”

  That earned Kendall a pitying look.

  “Honey, a magic ring, a couple of hobbits, and an elf couldn't get you up the Keys on a day like today. And the police would turn your granny around before she hit Marathon at marker 50.”

  “There's no one I can call,” Kendall said on a frustrated sigh.

  “Call the firehouse. Those guys are used to rescuing people. Why not you?”

  Oh, several reasons parked on the tip of her tongue as to why that was a bad idea. What other choices did she have? Taking her backpack off her shoulder, she unzipped the side pocket and grabbed her phone. If first impressions were everything, she was sure to fall short.

  ***

  What kind of rock head firefighter hopped on a plane without checking the weather where he was going? Cutler Stevens turned the wheel of his GMC Canyon Extended Cab right leaving A1A as he entered the Key West Airport arrival lane. Keith Urban's “You'll Think Of Me” mixed with the smooth swish of the windshield wipers. Visibility ended ten feet in front of the hood. A storm system the size of Texas had her sights set on the Keys and Cutler had the honor of getting this dude settled before the downpour. Spying the gray clouds blanketing the horizon down to the Atlantic Ocean, he was too late. During his time in the Marine Corps, he'd done his fair share of babysitting. Some voluntarily, but most by direct order. After four years and one tour in Afghanistan, rescuing people in need was stitched in his genetic fabric. Though the thrill of automatic weapons and grenades were a distant memory, Cutler now got his adrenaline rush and satisfaction from running into the flames, saving those who couldn't save themselves, not ushering rock heads out of the storm.

  The lot was devoid of cars, not even a signature Key West pink taxicab occupied the restricted lane. Once parked, Cutler tugged his baseball cap lower on his head as he stepped into the terminal. No need for this guy Kendall to see how pissed off he was at having to come out in this torrential rainspout.

  Swoosh. The automated doors closed at his back. The baggage claim area was quiet, his breathing the only sound in the space. Two conveyor belts, separated by the door leading to the tarmac, sat empty. Peachy walls seemed too bright compared to the murky weather beyond the exit doors. In his steel-toe boots, he silently covered the forty by forty square foot space. Where was this guy? Maybe Cutler should check the head. Ten years after his time in uniform and he still took any responsibility, no matter how trivial, seriously. He guessed the old saying was true, “once a Marine, always a Marine”. He strode past the closed rental car counters toward the door marked with the placard, ‘Men’.

  “Kendall,” he called out. “You in there?”

  “No. Wrong door.”

  A feminine voice, soft and husky, came from behind him. Cutler swung around and damn near stumbled over his two left feet. Eyes more verdant than a coconut palm dominated the oval face that stared up at him.

  “You're Kendall Raine?” He brush stroked her with his eyes. A French vanilla complexion with just enough dark honey coloring gave her an exotic allure. Slender and toned, but also delicate with sculpted cheekbones, and a full mouth complete with a cupid's bow. Moving closer, he drank in her lean frame. Man, she had legs. Four feet of them, with a firm backside. To Cutler's six feet four inch height, Kendall was perfect for his grip. He could see tan and toned limbs riding him...stop it.

  “Kendall.” He breathed her name again. The sound of a sigh leaving her lips had his ears twitching like a canine with fresh prey in his sights. For a split second, the air tingled around them. He looked up, meeting the forest in springtime gaze of the beautiful woman before him. She didn't smile. Those full lips of hers thinned in warning. Thankful for small miracles, Cutler welcomed the stoic reprimand. He could already feel the chainsaw biting at his knees, threatening his wide based stance, as he ghosted over her feminine parcel again. Yep, if she flipped a grin in his direction a quartet of lumberjacks would yell timber because he would be going down.

  “That's the name printed on my driver's license.”

  No smile, but a sense of humor. He liked that in a woman.

  A baggy jersey knit hid whatever she was endowed with up top. Why the heck was she wearing that get-up? Even with the rain, this was still Key West. Which meant the daily forecast of eighty-degree weather could be on the return within the hour.

  He extended his hand. “Cutler Stevens. I'm one of the firefighters. The captain asked me to get you settled.” Which was fine when he’d thought Kendall was a man. Cutler enjoyed women. He adored women of all shapes, all sizes, and all colors. These days all his battle buddies sported double d's and thongs. He moved in and out of women's beds faster than a rolling stone. An attraction to a fellow firefighter could spell disaster for him and the team.

  She placed her hand in his, and man...oh man he felt his length pulse behind his button fly jeans.

  “Thanks for picking me up. I hope it wasn't out of your way.”

  He grinned. “It's a two by four mile island. I was close by.”

  She smiled in return. The softening of her facial contours moved her from beautiful to goddess territory. Snap, crackle, and then he felt the pop when the hardness in his pants began to throb. He needed away from Kendall Raine...fast.

  A look down and he saw
she had one suitcase besides the backpack slung over her right shoulder.

  “You pack light for a woman.” Maybe, she was a homebody. The luggage held one week of clothes, tops.

  “I'll take that as a compliment.”

  He reached for her bag. “It was.”

  When he touched the hand she had wrapped around the handle, she jumped. She eyed him, a wary expression on her face as she cradled her right hand like he'd burned her. How had he frightened her?

  “I'm sorry,” he offered, unsure what he'd done wrong. “Thought I'd carry your luggage to the truck. It's pouring. You probably want to keep your hair and stuff dry.” Most women he dated would need a stiff drink if rain touched a centimeter of their skin and a tranquilizer if their hair got ruined.

  “Not a problem for me.” She pointed a slender finger at her head.

  He frowned at the scarf covering her hair. Cutler knew women. Outside of Sunday worship, southern women didn't cover their hair. Was it a religious thing? That would explain the jumpiness and the too-big clothes. Okay, attraction averted. He respected the spiritual beliefs of others, but he liked his women willing for anything and everything. He left the holy rollers to the Bible thumpers. Cutler sinned as much as he could with every woman who would let him. His redemption came when he donned his Camo for his country, and now when he wore the blue on blue and wrapped his hands around a hose. Risking his life everyday, praying that he'd outsmart a fire...was his religion.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked, all business in his tone.

  “La Koncha Resort on Duval Street. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yeah, tiny island, remember? Let's get out of here before the roads start to flood.”

  They both reached for her bag. When she wouldn't let go he tightened his grip. “I've got this, Kendall. Follow me. I'll get you there safe and sound.” He felt the need to reassure her that she could count on him to keep her safe.