by Ashlyn Chase
Jayce bypassed the restroom and stepped outside. Some of his fellow firefighters were smoking. Knowing how many fires were started by unattended cigarettes, he thought the habit weird, but the stress of the job was too much for some to manage without a vice. He knew doctors and nurses who smoked too.
“Jayce!” His buddy Mike strolled over to him. “I know I said it before, but I’m really sorry about Ryan. He was a good man and, from what I’ve heard, a great firefighter. No one could have survived that backdraft.”
“I know.”
Yet somehow Chloe managed to survive. She had said she was thrown clear of the blast, but with two floors of a high-rise completely engulfed in flames, her escape was a miracle. Jayce didn’t believe in miracles.
She said she had been knocked out and really didn’t know how she had made it out alive. The theory was that she was thrown into the stairwell and had fallen onto a safe floor. When Ryan could tell his side of the story, they’d find out what really happened.
Even with a mystery like that to puzzle over, Jayce’s mind kept returning to the beautiful, redheaded, granny-panty-wearing FDNY firefighter. He doubted he’d ever see Kristine again. If he did, she’d probably still think he was some kind of cold, heartless monster.
Mike squeezed Jayce’s shoulder and wandered back to the butt can, where he crushed out his cigarette. When he returned he said, “There’s a great buffet in there. Want to get a bite to eat?”
Jayce sighed. “I don’t think I can.”
Mike nodded. “I understand, man.”
He really didn’t. The firefighter brotherhood was good for understanding a lot of things, but only his biological brothers could possibly know what he was feeling right now. Fortunately there were a lot of them, so support was never far away.
As if conjured, Luca, the youngest Fierro brother, stepped outside. “Hey, Jayce. The captain is about to make a speech.”
“Shit. Another speech?”
“I guess he didn’t want to be outdone by the chief.”
Luca and Jayce returned to the fire station where Ryan and their father had worked. It was time for the brothers to brush up on their acting skills.
Acting. Everything reminded him of Kristine, even after only a ten-minute conversation. What the hell is wrong with me?
* * *
Two days later, Kristine was back to work at her fire station in Hell’s Kitchen, back to studying for the lieutenant’s exam. Her life seemed on track, but something was missing.
Her mind had returned over and over again to that bright smile and those dark eyes glinting with naughtiness. She kept telling herself to forget about the handsome Boston lieutenant. When he had mentioned her transferring to Boston, she had thought about it for all of one heartbeat. Then she remembered everything she would be giving up in New York.
If she went to Boston, she’d have to go through the fire academy all over again and start at the bottom rung as a probie. During their early days on the job, a firefighter was on probation, therefore the term “probie” became common slang, like “rookie” for a brand-new cop. The technical term was FFOP—Firefighter on Probation. That was no better. Either way, it seemed like a slap in the face after all she’d been through. And with only a few months left to finish her degree in fire science, she had a better chance for a promotion to captain or chief someday. Not to mention that her mother depended upon her half of the rent.
Years ago, Hell’s Kitchen had been a tough neighborhood. Mother and daughter were dragons—not as vulnerable as humans, so they felt safe enough there. Then in the early ’90s, the middle class began moving in and gentrifying the area. Kristine and her mother had lived there all that time and had watched their rent go up, up, up. With no father to help or pay child support, her mother had had to work two jobs—while pursuing an acting career. Kristine vowed she would never forget that. It still took two salaries to live there, but only one of them would be her mother’s. Amy Scott had finally landed her dream job. She taught at a nearby acting school.
Even though Kristine had grown up among actors, artists, and writers, she hadn’t inherited the need to express herself publicly. Despite being paranormally gifted, she had been a sheltered kid—and that was fine with her. As a little dragon, she’d never felt like she fit in. She was happiest when reading in her room overlooking Ninth Avenue.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to talk about shapeshifting or demonstrate what she could do, ever. When she grew up, she realized there was something special she could do with her powers other than just protect herself. Because she was fireproof, she would make an ideal firefighter. She could protect her community.
She loved the job. Only a handful of women worked for the FDNY, and half of them were on ambulances. She was one of the few with the strength and fortitude to do the heavy lifting required of a firefighter on the front lines.
She had proven herself to be the equal of any man in her battalion. They respected her and depended upon her to have their backs. And as much as she cared about her fellow firefighters, she could never see herself falling in love with one of them. She would worry constantly, knowing what he was up against as a mere mortal.
One ordinary Thursday, her battalion was gathered around the long kitchen table, eating lunch and watching Judge Judy on the wall-mounted TV, when the tones rang out. They all rushed to their turnout gear, suited up, and jumped into their usual roles.
Kristine rode next to Donovan on the ladder truck. When the truck pulled up to the high-rise office building, smoke was pouring out of two large broken windows on the fourth floor. A police cruiser was already there, getting people to clear the area for the fire apparatus. So far nothing seemed unusual.
Kristine and Donovan followed the captain into the building to locate the seat of the fire. Alarms were blaring, and people were filing down the stairs. When the firefighters came to the fourth floor, they located the office they had seen from the outside. The captain pounded on the door and yelled, identifying them as the fire department.
When there was no response, the captain instructed Kristine and Donovan to take off the door with the ax and halligan bar. Two other firefighters from the engine company rushed up behind them hauling the hose. One of them broke into the firebox on the wall. As soon as the door was breached, flames shot out from the hole.
They had the right place.
When they got the door open, the captain barked out, “Scotty, stay with me. Donovan, go above and see if anyone is still up there.”
“Yes sir,” he said and dashed to the stairs.
The captain didn’t need to tell Kristine to step aside. When the pressurized water hit the fire, steam filled the hallway. The guy carrying the hose entered slowly, bathing the place in water. Between the smoke and steam, firefighters had to go in blind and look for survivors or people who weren’t that lucky.
“Scotty, stay beside me.”
Kristine followed the captain’s orders, even though she knew he was in more danger than she was. He kept one gloved hand on the wall to avoid becoming lost. She placed a hand on his shoulder and walked a few feet to his right. Even a dragon could barely see through this.
Her foot hit something dense but soft. Squatting down, she felt a leg. “I’ve got someone,” she said. Hauling the person up by the arms, she tossed his torso over her shoulder and made her way back to the door.
She heard the captain shouting into the radio that she was coming down and to have EMS ready. Something felt off about the body she was carrying. She had to adjust its position to account for an uneven distribution of weight.
When she finally made it to the street level, the EMTs were there to meet her, but as she emerged, their eyes bugged out of their heads.
“You’re covered in blood!” the female EMT exclaimed.
She glanced down and saw that it was true. She squatted down, braced the victim’s back
with her hand, and gently laid the headless body onto the sidewalk. Startled, she jumped backward and gasped.
The cop who had been redirecting traffic ran over. “What the hell?”
The chief strode over and set his hands on his hips. “As soon as we put the fire out, you can have your crime scene.”
“Jesus,” muttered the male EMT. “The coroner won’t have any problem identifying cause of death.”
The captain’s voice crackled over the radio, alerting the chief that he was coming out with another body.
“You don’t have to go back in there, Scotty. You’ve got to be pretty shaken up right now.”
“No, sir. I’m fine. I’d like to go back in there and help where I’m needed.”
The chief smiled and nodded.
On her way back in, she passed the captain, carrying a second body in the same condition. She didn’t take the time to find out if he knew what was going on; she just rushed up the stairs faster.
I wonder where the heads are.
When she reached the fourth floor, the steam met her as soon as she opened the fire door. She rushed through it and worried about her mortal coworkers, who could be standing in boiling water.
If she had to shift, her thick scales would protect her, and her alternate form’s wings wouldn’t show because her turnout gear covered her up to the neck. She only had to worry about her snout protruding and interfering with her breathing apparatus. Fortunately, she wasn’t huge like the dragons of Hollywood. She was five-foot-ten as a human or dragon.
The fire was almost out, and she could see that the walls of the room were still intact, as was the ceiling. Apparently they had stopped this fire from traveling very far. The building’s sprinklers may have helped slightly. She suspected that the fire was meant to cover the crime scene—and that the location of the bodies would prove to be where the fire was set…deliberately.
Even in New York, this was unusual. Not that fires weren’t accidents—faulty wiring, an unattended cigarette, deep-fried turkeys—oh yeah, plenty of accidents. They had their fair share of arson too, but it was usually to defraud an insurance company. Not to cover up decapitations.
As the smoke and steam cleared, she glanced around the room, casually looking for a couple of male heads. The other two firefighters seemed blissfully unaware of the unusual circumstances. Just thinking about it, bile rose to her throat. She didn’t envy the cops their jobs, especially after something like this.
She couldn’t help wondering if this sort of stuff happened in Boston too. It probably did, but maybe on a smaller scale.
Boston again. When would she stop thinking about what it would be like to be a firefighter in Boston, working with a particular sexy firefighter she couldn’t seem to get off her mind?
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About the Author
Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar: a little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers a satisfying experience.
She holds a degree in behavioral sciences, worked as a psychiatric RN for fifteen years, and spent a few more years working for the American Red Cross. She credits her sense of humor to her former careers, since comedy helped preserve whatever was left of her sanity. She is a multi-published, award-winning author of humorous erotic and paranormal romances, represented by the Seymour Agency.
Ashlyn lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life hero husband who looks like Hugh Jackman with a salt-and-pepper dye job, and they’re owned by a spoiled brat cat.
Ashlyn loves to hear from readers! Visit ashlynchase.com to sign up for her newsletter. She’s also on Facebook (AuthorAshlynChase), Twitter (@GoddessAsh), Yahoo groups (ashlynsnewbestfriends), and ask her to sign your ebook at authorgraph.com.
I Dream of Dragons
Tempers flare and sparks fly in this dragon-shifter series from award-winning author Ashlyn Chase
When Rory Arish and his two fiery dragon siblings are run out of their ancestral Irish home, it seems their luck has run out—until they arrive in Boston and find a paranormal-friendly apartment building. There’s only one problem: a stubborn woman claims the apartment is hers.
Amber McNally needs this apartment. And not even a fire-breathing dragon with Irish charm and scorching good looks is going to scare her away. Holing up in their respective corners, who will be the first to blink…or give in to their off-the-charts chemistry and decide to make this unorthodox living arrangement a little more permanent?
“This story has it all, laughter, tears, magic, and sizzling heat.”
—Night Owl Reviews, 5 Stars, Top Pick!
For more Ashlyn Chase, visit:
sourcebooks.com
My Wild Irish Dragon
One job opening, two shifters = Sparks fly
Dragon shifter Chloe Arish is hell-bent on becoming a Boston firefighter. She knows she has to work every bit as hard as a man—harder if she wants their respect. Born into a legendary Boston firefighting family, phoenix shifter Ryan Fierro can’t possibly let someone best him on the job. He’d never hear the end of it. When a feisty new recruit seems determined to do just that, Ryan plots to kick her out—until their sizzling chemistry turns explosive…
“Pure pleasure. It’s like spending time with your favorite friends.”
—Night Owl Reviews TOP PICK for How to Date a Dragon
“Truly entertaining.”
—Long and Short Reviews for Flirting with Fangs series
For more Ashlyn Chase, visit:
sourcebooks.com
Never Dare a Dragon
Dragon and phoenix shifters collide with fiery results in the third Boston Dragons book
Lieutenant Jayce Fierro belongs to a legendary Boston firefighting family of phoenix shifters. Hiding his true form makes relationships impossible, so when he hits it off with a fellow shifter and firefighter, he’s thrilled. Less thrilling? Finding out she lives in New York—three hours away.
Dragon shifter and firefighter for the NYC Fire Department Kristine Scott can’t stop thinking about Jayce. She’s determined to control the heat between them, but when Kristine lands herself in a blaze of trouble, Jayce will do whatever it takes to help…and prove he’s worth the distance.
“A great addition to Chase’s stellar library.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars for My Wild Irish Dragon
For more Ashlyn Chase, visit:
sourcebooks.com
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