Brotherhood of District 23 Complete Series

by Amy Briggs

  She sniffled and let out a little giggle. “I told you I’m not good at this relationship stuff, Matt. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I jump to conclusions like this, and I don’t want it to ruin what we talked about this morning.”

  I pulled her in again, stroking her hair and inhaling that sweet scent that now felt like home. “It’s just us, Isabel. No labels. Just us. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Just us,” she whispered back as she finally relaxed into me and sighed.

  The End

  Every book you write has a team of people who helped put it together, and every author has a support system they rely on for guidance, encouragement, and sometimes just for a drink or two.

  I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; my brother Jesse is the man. He and my sister-in-law, Maye, support all of my crazy ideas, and I’m so lucky to have them in my life. A big huge thanks goes to my oldest and dearest friend, Janelle, who I’ve now been friends with for over twenty years. She takes care of me, and she takes care of my feline entourage when I travel for signings; I’d be lost without her friendship and help.

  Writing and working from your cave full time can be isolating, and if it weren’t for the friends around me, I might go stir crazy. Brandy Haas, Jaisha Burr, Gina Crocker, Donna Caruso, Stephanie Snock, all my crossfit friends, Pam Delaney and Justina Hopkins from ProBody Sports, thank you for checking on me and making sure I get off my chair every now and again.

  The writing community has been inspirational to me, and I continue to find my tribe of people, the ones who understand what it feels like to have ideas buzzing in your head like bees. Carina Adams, you are amazing and always there for me when I need you. Stevie Cole, you’re my Panda #2, and I’ll always float in a bamboo canoe with you, no matter what. Jess Epps, you’re the sister I never had. I don’t know how I survived not talking to you for an hour or more a day my whole life. You’re Panda #3, and I love our little panda bowl. Jillian, working out story ideas with you is one of my favorite past times now. Thank you for being such an amazing friend. Judi, you’re still my yoda; I love you tons and am so grateful for your friendship and your amazing eye for design. M. Robinson, thank you for your generosity and kindness to a newbie; you have no idea how much it means. Cassy Roop, LP Lovell, BT Urella, Heather Roberts & Mikey Lee, Cara Gadero, Patti Correa, Jillian Toth, and all the rest of my inner circle, thank you for the laughs, the advice, and the outlet in this crazy book world.

  Thank you to my PA Tiffany Holcomb, for being a fast reader and making sure I’m writing when I should be. My betas, Jillian, Tiffany, Jess, Mary, Ninfa, Patti, and Murph, thank you for your honest feedback; it means a lot to have you help me along the way.

  This cover was especially awesome, because my friend, David Hernandez, took that picture at a fire back in New Jersey and allowed me to use it. We took Fire Officer together a million years ago, and I can’t thank you enough for the beautiful shot that captures the essence of this book perfectly.

  Readers and bloggers, what can I say? You’re amazing. You make me laugh, you make me cry, and you make me cry laughing. I love the enthusiasm, and I cannot wait to keep creating awesome book boyfriends for us to share and swoon over.

  Lastly, thank you to everyone who protects and serves his or her community. It’s a difficult job to protect others, and I honor you.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CONTROLLED BURN

  By Amy Briggs

  Copyright © 2016 Amy Briggs

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without the expressed permission of the author.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design copyright © 2016 Concierge Literary Promotions

  Editing by Julia Goda, Diamond in the Rough Editing

  For anyone who thinks you are alone; you are not.

  I am safe. I feel this way because of my past experiences. I have survived before. I will survive this now. I recited this again and again trying to calm my racing heart. Every morning I had been telling myself these phrases, for the last few months at least. Coping statements is what my therapist from Veteran’s Assistance, the VA called them. Yes, my therapist. In all my thirty-four years on earth, I never thought I’d say those words. I had a therapist. Because I was broken. I couldn’t cope anymore on my own, and I didn’t even know it until a routine visit, where I was instructed to see him after I had casually mentioned my sleeping problems and recurring nightmares during my physical. And the next thing I knew, I had a therapist.

  I didn’t want anyone to know; it was weird and embarrassing. But I honestly looked forward to most of our discussions once I had gotten used to the idea. The nightmares I’d been having were considered part of my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD diagnosis, which came from my time in the Marines and even potentially with the fire department, or so Dr. Rosen said. As I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling fan spin around, trying to do some deep breathing he taught me to slow my heart rate down before I got up to start my day, I thought over my time in the Corps.

  As I had explained to the good doctor, there hadn’t been anything in particular that made me feel upset, sad, or anxious when I was in, or even when I got out for that matter. That’s what made the new anxiety and nightmares particularly frustrating. I was becoming distracted and introverted, and I had no idea why it was happening so suddenly. It seemed like the whole thing started overnight.

  I could hear some laughing coming from downstairs, which meant my roommate, Matt, and his girlfriend, Isabel, must be up and making breakfast. Matt had been renting from me for a couple of years. When I got out of the Marines, I bought my own house, which was entirely too much house for one person, but I got a spectacular deal on it, and with Matt paying me rent, it was an even better deal. Sometimes they stayed at Isabel’s house, and sometimes they stayed here in my house, but they were planning to move in together any day now. She had a nice condo across town, but they weren’t committed to moving there; and they were going into business together and buying some decrepit old gym and turning it into a professional MMA gym. Everyone needs a hobby, I guess. They seemed to think they could turn it into something big. I’ve always been all for supporting my friends in their adventures, so I was supposed to go with them to talk to a realtor later and visit this gym as an impartial third party.

  As I rolled my eyes at the thought of going into business with someone I was banging, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to sit up. The pounding in my head I felt almost every morning had started to subside as my heart rate slowed, and after an internal rally, I was ready to get up and face the happy couple to see what we had in store for the day. We had all been spending a lot of time together, and in all honesty, I thoroughly enjoyed their company. Matt was more or less my best friend; we were friends in high school and went through the fire academy together. When I came back from the Marines, he helped me get the job at the fire department in District 23, where we grew up. I had lived in Florida my whole life, and this area of the state is where I spent most of my time when I wasn’t traveling for the Marines, of course.

  I ran my hands through my hair and got up to join the world. Walking into the kitchen, I watched the two of them laughing and smiling while Isabel made coffee and Matt was cooking.

  “Morning, kids, what’s for breakfast?” I inquired.

  “Hey, sunshine, welcome to the land of the living. Late night?” Matt joked with me.

  “Nah, I stayed in last night. I wasn’t feeling the party thing. Called it an early night in fact.”

  “No way, I didn’t even realize you were home,” Matt said. He wouldn’t ha
ve, I was in my room, just trying to clear my head and trying to find some quiet.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Isabel asked me.

  “Why, yes, darlin’, I would love some.” I smiled in her direction. When we had first met Isabel, I wanted her for myself. I had called ‘dibs’ in fact, and then ended up distracted with some random chick and missed my opportunity. In retrospect, it was really neither here nor there, because I wasn’t a settle down kind of guy, and if I was being totally honest, I liked them together. They weren’t a couple that made you sick like a lot of others did. They were just cool people who ended up finding each other, and when we all hung out, they didn’t have to be up each other’s ass at all.

  Isabel was a detective in the same district we worked, and she was great at her job. The three of us went shooting quite a bit; she always shot better that Matt and me, no matter whose weapon she was using. Our friendly competitions were something I always looked forward to, even if I was getting my ass handed to me by a girl. If it was going to be any girl, it may as well have been a badass detective. Nobody even knew that Matt and Isabel had a thing going on until after she almost had to shoot Matt’s dad during a really rough case and, they kind of came out to everyone. It was pretty dramatic. Matt’s dad had been an arsonist in town, and Isabel was assigned to the case, not knowing he was the guy doing it. Somehow they came out of that a couple that just didn’t give a fuck about tradition. They were their own team, and I did admire and respect them for that.

  Now for me, I never minded being single; in fact, it really was my preference to not be tied down. However, nobody likes to be the odd guy out with a bunch of couples, either. But Matt and Isabel never made anyone feel that way; they were like hanging out with two friends that just so happened to be in a relationship.

  Isabel handed me a fresh cup of coffee, and as the aroma hit my nose, I smiled. This was my one vice really, coffee. I drank it all day, every day. I was pretty sure the caffeine didn’t affect me at all anymore, but it was my little cup of sunshine all day long.

  “Thanks, Detective,” I winked at her.

  “You want some bacon and eggs? I’m feeding all of us before we go meet with the realtor… What’s her name again, babe?” Matt looked over to Isabel, forgetting the realtor’s name.

  “Vivian. Vivian Deveraux. She’s the one with signs and billboards all over town, remember?”

  “Why does that sound familiar?” I asked.

  Isabel turned to me again, leaning up against the counter by the coffee maker. “I don’t know, but she’s popular, and you’ve probably seen her face. She’s a killer negotiator around here. She’s super young, though, for someone with such a high-profile reputation. So I looked into her, and she seems on the up and up.”

  Laughing, I said, “Of course you looked into her. Always the investigator, eh?”

  “Hey, it’s a lot of fucking money, Jax. And it’s one of my job’s perks, being able to check people out. If she can get us the right price on this gym that’s beneficial for everyone, then it’s worth the investment. But I want to meet her in person and get a feel for her. Since she seems pretty young for all this, I want to be sure she’s the right person to be handling our finances on this deal.” Isabel crossed her arms and glanced over at Matt again. “It’s a pretty big investment all the way around, ya know?”

  “Oh yeah, I totally get it. You keep saying she’s young. How old is she?” I asked.

  “She’s only twenty-five. But again, like I said, she’s got a great reputation. And she’s adorable, right up your alley,” she joked and went back to making another cup of coffee for herself on the Keurig. She had the same love for coffee that I did, and when they stayed here, she always got up early and made some for both of us. Isabel was thoughtful, and I was glad she was with Matt. As I watched them interact in the kitchen, sipping on my coffee, I smiled. This is my family. These are my people. My life is good.

  The nightmares and headaches will go away. They have to.

  As I listened to the sadness in my mother’s voice, I reminded her that I had to work. “Mom, I know you worry. I’m fine, but I’m really busy today. I am meeting with some new clients on a really big deal. I’ll call you in a few days, and I’ll plan a trip as soon as I can, ok?”

  My parents were living in New Jersey now, taking care of my grandmother, who was not doing well. They still had a house in Florida where I lived, but until there was improvement in my grandmother’s health, or…well, they weren’t coming back down anytime soon and wanted me to come up and visit them. My mother consistently forgot that I was an adult with a job.

  “Your father and I miss you, Vivian. You could take time off. You’re the boss of you now anyway, so can’t you just come up here and spend some time with us? Your grandmother would like to see you too.”

  “Mom, I promise that I will work it out. Soon. But I really have to go. I don’t want to be late for my appointment. It’s a commercial sale, and it’s a big deal. I love you. Please don’t worry so much about me.” I sighed. I knew that everyone’s parents were pretty much the same, wanted us to spend more time with them and all that jazz, but ever since my older brother died last year, my mom had tried to tighten her hold on me, and I was kind of happy they were in New Jersey and I had finally some space.

  “Ok, ok. Please call me in a couple days, dear. I know you think I worry too much, but you know why. Don’t make your old mother fret too much.” I could hear the concern in her voice. I didn’t want to upset her, I tried not to hustle her off the phone, but I really did need to go.

  “I promise, Mom. I really have to go now, though. I love you.” I waited for her reply before hanging up.

  “I love you too. Talk to you soon.” She hung up. I always waited for her to hang up first for some reason; it made me feel like she’d decided to be okay for the moment. I didn’t like to leave her feeling bad, but my brother died almost a year ago, and me not working to appease her wasn’t going to bring him back.

  I loved my parents so much, and I missed having them nearby. But they had decided to go back to New Jersey for who knows how long, and they had encouraged me to stay and run my business at the time. I’m one of the top realtors in central Florida, and at my age, only twenty-five, I had been ranked in the top ten under forty the last two years. My business was thriving, even in a market that was a little flighty. There was something about helping people find the right home to raise their family in, or the right place to run their new business out of that had always appealed to me, and I had a natural ability to make it work for them. And, of course, it worked for me.

  Real estate was a lucrative business if you played your cards right and invested your money into your business and into more real estate. I got my license when I was twenty-one years old, and while most of my friends were juniors in college, drinking their way through their bachelor’s degrees, I had already made my first $20,000 on a home sale for a nice couple that was friends with my parents. Everyone in that deal made out. I wasn’t shady. I was just smart about people. It was in their eyes. The eyes tell you everything you need to know about a person. Whether they’re desperate, they don’t care at all, they’re longing—you can tell when you talk to clients what they’re really looking to gain out of a real estate transaction. Some people are looking for money, while others are hoping for a way out or a fresh start. My job was to give them the experience they were expecting and represent them to the best of my abilities. I was born for the job.

  I once sold the house for a young girl who was looking to relocate. She had inherited the house when her mom had died. She had been living there most of her life and had taken care of her mom through multiple illnesses, racking up debt along the way, while her mom still held the title to the house and only owed a small amount on it. When her mother died, she really didn’t know what to do. She was a successful professional, but after years of taking care of an old home and helping her ailing mother, she was ready to leave it behind and get a fresh start
.

  I could see the desperation in her face, knowing that this house was all she had left and it was hard for her to move on, but I could tell it was what she needed to do. After we made some minor renovations she taught herself how to do, I assured her I could sell that house to the right people.

  As we began to organize some showings, I could see the stress leave her face. Her shoulders rose with confidence, and she began to gain her independence as she made progress and people started showing an interest. I knew how hard that had to be for her, but she made it work. One could still see the spot in the hall closet where her parents had marked her height as she grew up. It was endearing, and when she asked if she should paint over it, I told her no. I felt that if a potential buyer saw that, a young couple for instance, that it would help them envision doing the same with their young children. She ended up leaving the state and moving a thousand miles away to start over before we ever even sold the house.

  In any event, the house sold to a sweet, young couple about two months later, after she had already started over, creating a new chapter for herself. It was so wonderful to be a part of that, to help facilitate that closure as well as being a part of her starting something new. It was beautiful, and that was the kind of thing that made this job awesome for me. That’s the stuff right there that hits you in the feels, making it more than just a job to me.

  My new clients were a detective and her firefighter boyfriend. Isabel Cruise, the detective, had contacted me after seeing my advertising around town. She was looking to purchase a building that was currently a fairly run-down gym. It was a private sale, meaning the building wasn’t on the market or listed. The buyers had contacted me with the seller’s permission to facilitate the sale of the property on behalf of both parties. It turned out the owner of the gym wasn’t necessarily looking to sell actively until Isabel had talked to him about it. While the gym itself wasn’t doing well, the location was prime real estate downtown and worth quite a bit of money. They wanted me to establish a fair sale price for everyone based on the value of the property and any renovations that needed to be done.