March Heat: A Firefighter Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Chase Jackson

  Might even shoot him if he looks at me funny, I thought angrily.

  The lights at the huge intersection a little way down the road were red, and traffic was backed up. I braked sharply and swerved into a narrow side street for a quick detour, dodging a couple market stalls and a few pedestrians who looked at me, shocked.

  Guess I ain't meant to drive down here. Too late now.

  I reached the end of the narrow road, braking slightly as I scanned for traffic. A car was approaching to my right, slower than was necessary. I put my foot down. I didn't have time to wait.

  A horn beeped behind me.

  “Fuck off,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Learn to fucking drive!”

  Obviously, I wasn’t the most patient of drivers.

  The car shot forward, leaving our pursuers behind for dust. I took another sharp right a little while longer. Our tail was nowhere to be seen; I hoped they were sitting behind a fucking red light somewhere.

  The hotel I had in mind wasn’t far. I accelerated viciously at the next clear section of road just before I heard the wail of sirens in the distance.

  Great. Just what I needed. I was actually glad to see the police this time because they would be just as much of a hindrance to my followers as they would be to me. I needed all the help I could get.

  Deciding on another short cut, I turned down a narrow side road. This one was clear, thankfully. My car gripped wonderfully as I threw it around the bends of the winding road. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.

  I risked a sideways glance at Alexandra as I slowed for the junction. She looked like she was going to be sick.

  “Almost there now, babe,” I said.

  The junction was clear as I tore across it, the sound of the car’s engine echoing noisily off the surrounding buildings. The hotel was at the end of the next narrow road. Or at least I hoped so. Otherwise, we were fucked and would possibly have to run the fuckers over. I’d never done that before, although some part of me thought it might be fun.

  I swerved onto the road approaching the hotel and turned violently into the underground car park. I stuck the car as far back as I could out of sight behind a massive SUV.

  I ran to Alexandra’s door, helping her out. She looked pissed.

  “Can you tell me what the fuck that was all about? You nearly got us killed, you maniac!”

  “No time. Let's go.” I grabbed her arm and rushed towards the stairs to the hotel, stopping briefly to grab her bag.

  We were checked in and on the top floor in a matter of minutes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alexandra

  I turned on him as we got into the room. “Cruz, now isn’t the time to go silent on me. Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

  But he didn’t say anything. He was thinking, his gaze fixed on the door. “Now ain’t the time. I need to think,” he finally said, not even looking at me.

  Emotion rose up inside me. Selfish indignation at him. I began to wonder if he had even cared about me or had just used me the previous night.

  I worried that maybe his charms had been false and suddenly, I felt scared and lonely in his company for the first time.

  “Do you even care? Or was everything last night just fake? Are you going to just fuck off when your job’s done? Talk to me, Cruz! I need you!”

  He clenched his jaw. “Alexandra! I can’t keep you safe if you’re shouting at me! I need a minute!”

  “Fuck off then, Cruz. Just do what you’ve been paid to do.” I turned on my heels and headed for what I hoped was a bedroom. Warm tears unexpectedly fell down my face.

  What is up with me? I wondered, hastily wiping them away. More importantly, what the fuck is up with Cruz? Fucking iceman. Switches his emotions off and on like a light bulb.

  I got to the main bedroom and stepped inside, slamming the door behind me.

  Cruz

  My head was swimming. I’d desperately tried to shut Alexandra out. I needed to focus.

  All day, she’d been all I could think about. I was obsessed. Her proximity to me, her smile, her smell… It all drove me crazy.

  Needing some distance from her, I let her storm off. I’d give her a minute while I waited to see if we’d been followed all the way to the hotel. Then I would go explain.

  But first, I needed a drink. My nerves were in tatters.

  A feeling of unease came over me as the adrenaline from the car chase began to fade. I backed away from the door, keeping my body facing it at all times.

  I poured whiskey into a glass from a decanter to my left. There was no ice, and this was my fourth whiskey. But at the moment, I didn’t care. I took a gulp, pleased at the burn as it went down.

  After sipping at the whiskey for a minute or two, I sighed.

  Time to go and see little miss stressy pants, I guess.

  I knew women were emotional creatures and didn’t blame Alexandra for her outburst. It hadn’t even bothered me really. I knew she was scared, lonely, and probably homesick by now. But I’d felt an overwhelming urge to keep her safe, which had momentarily overshadowed everything else.

  With one last glance at the front door, I strode to the room she’d holed herself up in. I knocked loudly.

  “Lex. It’s me, doll.” But I received no answer.

  I knocked again. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Let me in so I can talk to you.”

  I tried the handle, pushing at the door. It was open…

  Ice-cold dread seeped into my stomach. I dropped my whiskey, glass shattering and contents splashing across the floor.

  The room was empty.

  Alexandra

  I turned to face the center of the bedroom after making a show of slamming the door as hard as I could.

  My vision was blurred with tears, but I could still make out the shape of three big, dark figures in the room around me. I froze, instinctively.

  Before I had time to scream, a rough hand had grabbed me from behind. I bit the hand as hard as I could and heard angry Russian words close to my ear.

  But before I could react any further, my mouth was quickly taped and my hands were tied roughly behind my back with strong duct tape.

  I remembered, probably from some survival book or movie, to ball my fists and tense my muscles as they were bound. Consequently, I still had circulation and could move my hands slightly.

  One of the men knelt at my feet, preparing to bind my feet too, but struggling with the tape. Another Russian gestured angrily at his watch.

  The kneeling Russian’s face was deliciously close to my knee…

  I smashed it into his face as hard as I could, satisfied when he reeled back, grunting. Blood poured from his nose.

  These guys had it all wrong if they thought I was going to make this easy.

  The largest of the three pushed the one in front of me away and roughly grabbed my legs, while the other completed the task of taping my legs together.

  All the while, I stared triumphantly at the man whose nose I’d hopefully broken. He glared back angrily, not even bothering to stem the flow of blood.

  The last thing I saw was him standing up before a burlap sack was put roughly over my head. I could barely see anything as I was carried from the room.

  I panicked, feeling disorientated. The whole kidnap had taken just over a minute. Or at least so I thought; my perception of time was next to useless.

  Cruz

  I surveyed the room, eyes jumping between points of interest. There was little disturbance, except for a pool of congealing blood near the center of the room.

  Good girl. Don’t make it easy for them.

  A window was open, the curtain billowing softly in a cool breeze. Whether they’d actually entered through the window, I had no idea. Could be a fire escape there, I guessed.

  I heard the sound of heavy footsteps out in the living room, heading slowly into the corridor…

  Boots. A Russian. He was armed. I wasn’t.

  I waited for my would-be assassin to enter t
he bedroom, turning slowly as I did so.

  I suppressed the burning rage that was growing in my chest, switching it off like a light. I breathed deeply, rolling my shoulders to loosen the muscles.

  The Russian turned the corner, his gun extended. He was a few feet away from the entrance.

  Clever bastard.

  He moved slowly. Professionally. Probably was an ex-KGB.

  “Ah, Dmitry.” I recognized him from the plane.

  He grinned viciously as he saw the recognition in my face. His left eye was half-closed, the other staring at me down the sights of his silver Tokarev pistol.

  “If you don’t give me some useful information, I will kill you slowly.” His face turned dark as he stepped closer, his gun inches from my heart. “Talk now, American.”

  I was relaxed, composed. Motionless. “Okay. I’ll talk. I have some information that you might find important.”

  His eyebrow raised as he looked into my eyes and I saw the gleam of excitement on his ugly face. I could read the thoughts crossing his small brain: Kill the American and return with vital information.

  Now was my chance.

  I had been standing in a powerful fighter’s stance, my right foot slightly forward, weight favoring my good left knee. In an instant, I swiveled my torso to the right, my heart moved out of the line of fire in a fraction of a second. I knew a gunshot then would be painful and probably collapse my lung if he was quick, or merely graze my ribs if I was lucky.

  But I had caught him off-guard. My hand shot to his gun arm like lightning, pushing the weapon away from my body. The gun bucked, gunshot ringing loud. A bullet sliced through the skin of my left arm, feeling like nothing more than a scratch from Alexandra’s nails.

  I pushed my powerful thumb into his palm, savagely forcing the gun from his grip. As was usual in these situations, he focused on holding onto the gun. As soon as it was out of harm's way, it was next to useless, especially against someone like me. If I was holding the gun, I would have dropped it, surprising my assailant. I’d then follow it up with either a headbutt or palm to the bridge of the nose. Then I’d draw out my combat knife. It would have been over in two seconds.

  With his focus on the gun, I turned my back to him, pulling his arm over my massive shoulder. I pulled his palm down to my waist, using my shoulder as a pivot. His elbow shattered with a sickening crack. He screamed in agony behind me.

  I followed up with a backwards elbow into his ribs, violently cracking his bones. He reeled back from the blow, but I wasn’t finished with him yet.

  Pivoting on my feet, I laid into him with fists like iron. Two, three, four, five body blows to the chest and abdomen. Ribs cracked, collarbone smashed.

  He collapsed to the floor.

  I stood over him, breathing steadily as he writhed in pain below me.

  “Oh, yeah,” I spat, “as I was saying, I’ve got some information for you.” I then kicked him savagely in the gut. “If you don’t tell me where she is now, I’m going to break your fucking legs. And then I’m going to strangle you to death.”

  I wasn’t really going to eat him, but I thought it might help the persuasion.

  “You fucking American! Fuck off!” he cried, delirious with pain, half laughing and half crying as he spat a torrent of filthy-sounding Russian words at me.

  I jumped into the air, my full weight coming down on my left foot onto his knee. A satisfying crack and a loud pop resounded through the room, followed by his impossibly louder screams.

  “Last fucking chance!” I said, barely checked rage building within me. An image of Alexandra formed in my mind, being dragged away against her will.

  The Russian sobbed in front of me. Pathetic.

  I went back into the room to grab his gun. I checked the chamber. Loaded. On the way out of the building I coldly shot him between the eyes.

  Then I heard the sound of distant sirens.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t be fucking breathing if I saw you again. Same goes for your friends. They’re all dead men.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alexandra

  I was bundled into a small space, with no idea where I was. The sack was removed from my head. It then dawned on me that I was in the trunk of a car.

  Great.

  The door slammed shut and the space became airless, instantly making me feel claustrophobic. An image of Cruz came to my mind, and I tried to find comfort in it. I took slow, steadying breaths and thought about the safety I felt in his arms. Convincing myself that I would somehow return to those comforting arms, a wave of calm washed over me.

  The sound of the car’s engine chugging to life reached me in the trunk. I tried to stay calm, but it had suddenly become that much more difficult. Yet, I vowed this would be the first and last time I ever traveled in the trunk of a car.

  As my captors quickly drove off, I distracted myself with thoughts of Cruz and our activities the night before…

  Cruz

  I left the building by the fire escape, my newly acquired gun hidden down the back of my black combat pants. I kept my left hand on the grip as I sprinted into a dark alleyway nearby, my eyes darting left and right as I crossed the road outside the hotel.

  No sign of anyone.

  I supposed they’d thought one unarmed guy couldn’t beat an armed ex-KGB assassin. But that was understandable; this was the first time they’d dealt with Cruz Miller. And it will also be the last.

  I slowed my stride to a jog, breathing deeply as I paced myself.

  I had memorized my Prague contact’s number and decided to jog for a few minutes before finding a payphone. I doubted that I was being followed now they had Alexandra, so my last advantage was their arrogance. They would pay dearly for assuming I was a dead man.

  My mind focused, I began planning my attack, letting my brain process the details as I ran. I formulated a rough plan as I jogged, which I would perfect later.

  Location. Numbers. Weapons at my disposal.

  After a brief stop at an ATM and then a small store to get a can of Coke and some chocolate for an energy boost, I found an old payphone that was luckily still working. I dialed the number from memory, breathing steadily. The run had cleared my mind, loosened my muscles, and expanded my lungs. I felt good.

  The phone rang for a few seconds before a click as it was answered. And then there was silence.

  “It’s me. I need some help. I’m calling in that favor,” I said.

  A voice protested at the other end of the phone, saying something about me not knowing how bad these guys were.

  “I don’t give a shit! Remember what Jean-Jacques said? Tell me what I need to fucking know. Now!”

  I heard fear in his voice as he gave me the location-- an old abandoned farmhouse out of the city. Not far. He paused, then reeled off a few details about Alexandra’s captors and Jean’s whereabouts.

  Hearing clearly that he was more scared of Jean than the Russians, I couldn’t help wondering what Jean had said to him.

  “Right. Last favor. I need guns. And a big fucking knife.” I looked around at the blazing afternoon sun around me. “And some fucking sunglasses.”

  He gave me a location not far from where I was, saying one his guys would meet me there. I warned him not to fuck with me, otherwise the consequences would be catastrophic. So, I doubted he would be stupid about it.

  Alexandra

  The car stopped about half an hour later, I guessed, though I had no sense of the time. I had bumped my head often during the undignified transit and was slightly bruised and disheartened. The trunk opened suddenly, low afternoon sun blinding me. The bag was unceremoniously placed back onto my head as I was pulled roughly out.

  I could no longer hear the noise of the city, however, and guessed we were out in the suburbs. Or maybe the countryside.

  I struggled to suppress my rising fear. Cruz was resourceful, but how would he know where I was?

  Or what if he was…

  Steeling myself, I pushed the
thought away. I had to keep faith in him. It was the only way I could keep my strength. I didn’t want to turn into a gibbering wreck. I needed to keep my wits about me if I was to help Cruz in any small way I could, even if it was just by staying safe and unharmed.

  I was half dragged, half carried hurriedly across grass. I heard a door squeak open in front of me, and I was pushed roughly from behind, probably by Mr. Broken Nose.

  I was then taken up a flight of stairs, where the bag was removed.

  I recognized my kidnappers. The guy whose nose I’d broken stared at me viciously. He approached, turning me roughly on my feet so that I faced a mean-looking Russian or Eastern European sitting on a plush office chair that looked out of place in the dirty room surrounding us. It seemed that we were in an abandoned building or something. Maybe a farmhouse.

  The guy with the broken nose raised his arm as if to give me a back handed-slap. The guy in the chair rose his arm. Broken Nose froze in fear.

  “Do not fucking touch her, you fucking idiot.” He rose to his feet. He was massive-- well over six feet tall, but not muscled like Cruz. He walked forward and poked the guy hard on his broken nose.

  I laughed, amazed at myself. I was no longer afraid. It wasn’t in their interest to harm me. Not yet, anyway.

  Plus, I knew Cruz was undoubtedly looking for me. So essentially, they were all dead men walking.

  The leader turned to face me, amused. Then he looked back at his bleeding henchman. “You have already been fucking stupid once today. You let a little girl break your nose.” He laughed and the other guys in the room joined in until his face abruptly went dark.

  “If you are stupid once more today,” he continued, “I will feed you to the fucking dogs. And I will let her kill you.” He jerked a thumb my way and then turned his gaze toward me. “Now, miss, please excuse my men. They’re stupid. They know how to fight, and that’s it. I, however, will be civilized. If you are respectful, you will not be in danger. I have food, water, and a bed for you. You will not be touched. I will not allow any harm to come to you…As long as your father and I can…come to an arrangement.” He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Okay?”