by Regan Black
One man wants her dead.
Another will do anything to protect her.
Firefighter Kenzie Hughes never thought saving lives would make her a target. When someone rigs her car and sexy Stephen Galway offers to be her bodyguard, the flames of danger burn red-hot. Stephen lost his fiancée to violence years ago, but he can’t resist Kenzie. Can he keep Kenzie safe and out of his arms when they’re forced to confront what they fear most?
“Kenzie?”
She glanced over her shoulder to find Stephen watching her from the corner of the building. Was a man supposed to look that sexy with a scowl on his face?
“More trouble?” she asked, coming back to the bottom step. Why couldn’t Murtagh be satisfied wrecking her career with the lawsuit?
“No.” Stephen crossed to her with a few ground-eating strides and the light from the camper window washed over his face, revealing the depth of concern in his gaze. “You’re safe here with me behind this fence. I promise.”
He looked so earnest, so determined to tolerate her invasion of his space until everything in her world was back to normal. “I appreciate that.”
Leaning forward, she brushed her lips to his cheek. A light, friendly, platonic gesture was all she intended. Instead, he caught her as if he thought she’d lost her balance, his hands hot on her waist. Then his lips touched hers. Bracing her hands on his strong shoulders, she wanted to sink a little deeper, explore his taste as his masculine scent and the summer night enveloped her.
* * *
Be sure to check out the next books in this miniseries:
Escape Club Heroes—Off-duty justice, full-time love
* * *
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Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Philadelphia, PA, and the Escape Club! This riverside hot spot is the place to find both great music and a safe haven if you have a problem that doesn’t fit within the framework of typical law enforcement.
Stephen Galway first appeared in Safe in His Sight, my debut book for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and though I’ve written several novels in between, I’ve never been able to put this brooding man out of my mind. I’ve wanted him to have a happy-ever-after since the first moment he showed up on the page, grumbling at his brother.
Kenzie Hughes, a PFD firefighter, is in trouble and her options are dwindling when help comes from an unlikely source: Stephen. For some reason he sees right through her independent nature, which is currently propped up by little more than bravado and a big smile. Time after time he listens and then quietly steps up and does what’s needed and all without trampling her pride.
Life has dealt Kenzie and Stephen some serious challenges and alone they found unique ways to cope and compensate. But now that they’ve met, it’s time to make some hard choices about who they are, what they really need and how those revealing answers will shape their future.
Live the adventure,
Regan Black
BRAVING THE HEAT
Regan Black
Regan Black, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Low Country, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.
Books by Regan Black
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Escape Club Heroes
Safe in His Sight
A Stranger She Can Trust
Protecting Her Secret Son
Braving the Heat
The Coltons of Shadow Creek
Killer Colton Christmas
“Special Agent Cowboy”
The Coltons of Red Ridge
Colton P.I. Protector
Harlequin Intrigue
Colby Agency: Family Secrets (with Debra Webb)
Gunning for the Groom
Heavy Artillery Husband
The Specialists: Heroes Next Door (with Debra Webb)
The Hunk Next Door
Heart of a Hero
To Honor and To Protect
Her Undercover Defender
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
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For my friend Sam, a man who consistently stepped up as a sheriff’s deputy, as an author and as my inspiration for Stephen’s dad, Samuel Galway.
I am forever grateful for the light and laughter you added to my world.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Excerpt from Colton’s Cinderella Bride by Lisa Childs
Chapter 1
Standing at a prep counter in the Escape Club kitchen, Kenzie Hughes stuffed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and added her plate to the rack loaded for the dishwasher. She thanked the cook and slipped the strap of her backpack over one shoulder. Pausing at the doorway to the main floor, she scanned the empty stage, looking for Grant Sullivan, owner of the establishment.
The extra personnel Grant had brought on for the summer concert series were resetting for the evening show. Leaving them to cover her workload through the afternoon changeover didn’t sit well with Kenzie, but her landlord had called. She had only a few more hours to clear out whatever she didn’t want exposed to termite fumigation and the dust and debris from the repair process.
If she hustled she could get to her apartment and back again before the doors opened for the evening session. That would please her as much as it would please Grant. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do with her time, other than finding an affordable place to crash for a couple weeks.
Though her pay from the Philadelphia Fire Department had continued during her current administrative leave, storage units and short-term room rentals added up fast. She’d asked both her union representative and her lawyer if she could visit her mom in Delaware while her apartment was out of commission, and been told she had to stay in Philly. Both the union rep and her lawyer implied that her leaving town could be perceived as an admission of guilt.
“Can’t have that,” she muttered to herself.
If there was anything Kenzie dreaded more than the potential outcome of her current legal trouble, it was having nothing productive to do while she waited out the process.
She had, in fact, been cleared of any wrongdoing during a PFD investigation that followed a complaint from a man she’d rescued from a fire. He’d claimed her incompetence had resulted in minor injuries that could have been avoided. Just when she thought she’d be back on the job, the victim had filed a civil suit against her personally. She knew she wasn’t guilty of any error in the process of saving his life. The victim disagreed. Loudly, publicly and constantly.
Stop, she ordered herself. Dwelling on the negative situation only fouled up her mood. The jerk didn’t have a case at all. If he had, the PFD would have fired her outright weeks ago. Her lawyer assured her most civil cases settled ou
t of court; it was simply a matter of working the case and being patient with the system. Oddly enough, the only place Kenzie successfully exercised patience was while working emergency calls and fires.
Unable to find Grant, she tracked down Jason Prather at the bar. The latest full-time addition to the Escape Club, Jason was the closest thing Grant had to an assistant manager. Tall and wiry, bordering on skinny, he, too, had a few years with the PFD on his résumé. Whenever she looked at him, she thought he could pass as a front man for one of the bands that came through if he’d let his thick black hair grow out.
“If Grant asks, will you remind him I went to clear out my apartment? I should be back in time for opening tonight.”
Jason gave her a long look over the tablet he was using to record inventory. “You need any help? I can send—”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it,” she managed to reply. If she said anything else, she’d probably break down in a puddle of frustration. Grant was doing enough for her already, keeping her busy with this job. She refused to impose on anyone else.
Hurrying out of the club and across the street, she cringed at the sight of her road-weary compact sedan. Though the primer-and-rust color scheme was a fright, it ran, and that was the important thing. And it was paid for. She’d sold her car and paid cash for the rust-bucket sedan so she could redirect her previous car payment to her legal fees for the civil case. When she didn’t have those extra expenses anymore, she could go back to a better car. One with a powerful engine and serious sex appeal, she thought, indulging in a quick fantasy of a classic American muscle car.
As if. Although owning a classic Camaro was on her bucket list, this case meant it would be a long time before she’d be able to make that kind of investment.
After unlocking the driver’s door, she tossed her backpack into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. She turned the key in the ignition, expecting the sputter and catch of the small engine, but hearing silence instead.
“No.” She dropped her head to the steering wheel, almost ready to give in to the threat of tears she’d been fighting off all week. Her apartment closing, if only temporarily, the civil suit claiming she was unfit for firefighting, and now a car that wouldn’t start.
Crying over this heap of metal was pointless, but it was one obstacle too many right now. She ruthlessly swiped away the lone tear rolling down her cheek. It wasn’t the potential expense of repairs, though cash was currently tight. No, what upset her more was the idea of asking another friend or family member for more help. Her independence had taken enough of a beating lately. Here she was at thirty years old, feeling less self-sufficient now than when she’d crossed the stage for her high school graduation. Unlike so many of her peers, back then she’d had clear goals and a clear path planned to reach them.
“This is not happening.” She tried the ignition again, got the same result.
With a colorful oath, she removed the key and pulled the hood release. After slamming out of the car, she raised the hood and stared into the filthy engine. Her father, a car aficionado and passionate weekend race car driver, might have wept at the sight. He’d taught her everything he knew about cars and engines, and when she’d bought this one, it had been functional, if ugly. The new battery she’d installed after the purchase was the only clean thing in view. With a critical eye, she assessed the rest of the machinery, looking for an obvious problem.
“It has to get better,” she said aloud, willing herself to believe the words.
Life hadn’t been perfect. She’d experienced her share of sorrows to offset the celebrations and happy milestones of being an independent adult. Overall, she’d been content through both the highs and lows. Until the last fire she’d worked, three months ago, turned into a difficult rescue and ongoing nightmare. Though she tried to ignore it, a small voice inside her head wondered again if that would be the last fire she ever fought.
“All of this will pass.” Just like every other pain, challenge and setback she’d faced. She calmed herself with the assurance that she’d be back at the firehouse, back with her crew on the truck soon. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander away from anything less than her ideal outcome.
Returning to the driver’s seat, she turned the key again, listening for clues. Was it the alternator or starter? It couldn’t be a broken fuel gauge. She’d just filled up with gas yesterday. “Come on, baby, tell me what’s wrong,” she said to the car. “We’ve got things to do.”
If she didn’t figure this out, she’d leave Grant shorthanded during what was sure to be a packed house tonight. She shook the steering wheel. Sure, Grant might understand, but that wasn’t the point. Letting people down, shirking commitments wasn’t how she operated. Besides, working at the Escape Club distracted her, filling all the empty hours while the PFD kept her off the job.
As tears threatened again, she jerked the rearview mirror around and glared at her reflection. “You are a firefighter,” she said to the moody face in the mirror. She pushed the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid behind her ears. “You’re one of the best,” she said, willing away the doubt in the blue eyes staring back at her.
And if you lose the case and your career is over, who will you be?
She was really starting to hate that pesky negative voice that kept sounding off. Shoving the mirror back into place, she tried to start the car once more. Instead of getting anything out of the engine, she heard a knock on the window. She jumped in the seat, startled to see Mitch Galway on the other side of her open door. Her friend, part-time Escape Club bartender and fellow firefighter, Mitch had suggested she ask Grant for a job to help her through her current crisis. Momentary crisis.
“Car trouble?” he asked, tipping his head to the exposed engine.
“It won’t turn over.”
“Let me hear it.” He signaled her to try again. Mitch knew cars and often helped his older brother with custom restorations at the Galway Automotive shop over in Spruce Hill. At the lack of response, he frowned and walked out of sight behind the open hood.
She silently prayed he could help as she checked the time. If she didn’t make it to her apartment soon, all her belongings would be out of reach for at least two weeks. The last thing she needed was the expense of buying a new wardrobe.
“Any ideas?” she asked as she joined him. “I know it has gas in the tank.”
He frowned at the engine. “In that case, my first guess is an alternator,” he said. “You need a good mechanic?”
“I am a good mechanic,” she reminded him. Or she had been when her dad was alive. With the right tools and time, she could probably sort this out on her own. Too bad she didn’t have either.
“True.” He dropped the hood back down and dusted off his palms. “You know I can hook you up,” he said with a quick smile.
“What I need is a good car.” She explained the dwindling time issue to Mitch. “I never should’ve waited until the last minute to do this.” She didn’t share the still more embarrassing fact that she had no idea where she would stay tonight or any night until she could go back to her apartment. Mitch had offered his spare room to her last week, but she’d turned him down. Newlyweds, he and his wife didn’t need her underfoot.
Mitch tossed her the keys to his truck. “Go get your stuff,” he said. “I’ll call my brother and get your car towed to the shop.”
Dollar signs danced through her head. Maybe she could trade labor for parts or something if his brother was amenable. “I’m not sure—”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said, waving off her concerns before she could name them all. “Get going.”
“All right.” Arguing with him to save a smidge of pride only robbed her of more time. “Thanks.”
She grabbed her backpack and dashed over to Mitch’s truck. She appreciated his generosity as well as his gracious acceptance of her circumstances. Everyone on the PFD kne
w she was in over her head with the civil suit and working every available hour at the Escape Club to pay for a decent lawyer to defend her.
A former firefighter himself, the plaintiff, Randall Murtagh, knew better than most people what should be done during a rescue. That he’d made it nearly impossible for her to save him didn’t seem to have any relevance to his injuries, in his mind. A card-carrying member of the old guard who believed only men were capable of pulling people out of burning buildings, he made no secret of the fact that he wanted women drummed out of the ranks. If he couldn’t get all the females off the PFD with this case, he seemed hell-bent on making her a prime example against equal opportunity employment.
And there she was dwelling on the negative again. She couldn’t control his issues, only her response, and she wouldn’t let a jerk like Murtagh take any more chunks of her life.
Fortunately, she was soon distracted, packing all the belongings she cared to take as swiftly as possible. She crammed clothing and linens into two suitcases, boxed up her stand mixer and kitchenware, and filled two more boxes with family pictures and hand-me-downs that were irreplaceable. Per the instructions from the landlord, she labeled her bed and dresser, the only furnishings she’d added to the apartment when she moved in, and locked the door.
An intense, inexplicable sadness came over her as she secured the last box in the truck bed. This wasn’t an ending. It wasn’t as if she’d been evicted. That would come later, if she lost her job. This was one more untimely circumstance in a life that had suddenly been filled with high hurdles.
With a final glance at the lovely old building she’d called home, she headed back to the club and a long shift that would keep her mind and body busy for the rest of the night.
* * *
At Galway Automotive the phone rang, a shrill sound interrupting the throbbing pulse of the heavy metal music filling the garage. Under the back end of a 1967 Camaro SS, Stephen Galway used the voice control to lower the volume on the music. At an hour past closing on a Friday, he wasn’t obligated to answer the phone, but a heads-up for what problems might be showing up tomorrow never hurt.