Remnants (A Golden Beach Novel)

by Kim Loraine

  “She’s with someone else. It’s nothing I should be upset about. We only had one date. I guess I just . . . I thought there was more to us.”

  Donovan grabbed two mugs and tossed a hot chocolate packet at him. “I get it, man. Remember when Valerie and I were just getting started? That douchebag doctor?”

  Sully raised his eyebrows as he thought it over. That asshat had been a thorn in Donovan’s side until Valerie had seen the fucker for who he was. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “She’s mine now. I’m never letting go again.”

  “I don’t know if I ever really had Sloan to begin with, though. What if I’m the douchebag in this scenario?”

  His friend laughed. “You’re definitely a douchebag. But Valerie told me Sloan wasn’t doing much more than trying to drink you away on Friday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She said Chassity started talking about you. Then Sloan made tracks to the bar and drank until she was falling all over herself.”

  “But he was in her house Saturday morning.”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t given her a chance. The first moment they’d laid eyes on one another he accused her of sleeping with Beckett. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number, but of course, being Monday, it rang straight to voicemail. Hanging up, he sent her a text instead.

  Sloan, I’m sorry. You’re right. We need to talk. Call me back when you can.

  He almost laughed at the similarity to her earlier text. It would serve him right if she ignored him.

  She answered almost immediately.

  I think you said everything you needed to say on Saturday. Hope Chassity wasn’t too disappointed Beckett pummeled your pretty face.

  What the hell was she talking about? Before he could respond, an emergency call brought the firehouse to life.

  “Engine. Medic. Ladder. Vehicle collision.”

  He left his empty mug forgotten, packet of cocoa halfway open next to it, then followed Donovan out to the rig and tried to push Sloan from his thoughts.

  Eight hours into his shift, he was on edge with every phone call to the house, every message that came through on his phone, and every damn visitor they received. She wouldn’t call him. Wouldn’t stop by. But he couldn’t help the ache in his chest. When his phone rang his heart flipped until he saw it was Michael Oliver calling.

  “What?”

  “Son of a bitch, Sullivan. You don’t have to yell.” Michael’s gruff voice carried through the line, holding a note of annoyance.

  He had to shake his head to clear his mind. “Sorry, Michael. What’s going on?”

  “I know you’re off the next couple of days, but do you think you could come by my office? There’s something I need to discuss with you, and I need it to stay quiet for now.”

  Michael had left the station for a job with fire investigation after a rash of arson over the last few years. Bringing Sully in for a talk could mean only one thing. They were close to finding the culprit of the fires that killed John and Klipper.

  “I can come by tomorrow.”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll be here.”

  He needed to get Sloan out of his head so he could focus on his job. This arsonist was something he and his crew all wanted to put to rest. They needed it. The asshole who’d killed his brothers was going to pay.

  At eight-thirty the next morning, Sully sat in Michael’s office, discomfort settled between his shoulders.

  The look on Michael’s face made him nervous. “Just tell me. What’s going on?”

  “We think it’s an inside job. Someone in the department.”

  Sully’s gut turned to stone. “Fuck. Are you sure?”

  “From everything we’ve dug up, this had to be someone who knew what to do. But not just how to start a fire. This guy has to know how to make the blaze look intentional while seeming like an amateur had been the culprit.”

  “And who knows fire better than a fire expert?” He wasn’t really asking a question. Michael was right. If this was a civilian, they’d have been caught. But firefighters knew how investigations worked. Betrayal sat like a stone in his stomach. It could be any one of them, but he’d stood side by side with all of these men and women over the years. How could one of them intentionally put the crew in danger? And why?

  “Exactly. I need you to start observing the crew. I know it’ll be hard, but you’ve been there longest. You know them all better than anyone but the chief.”

  His gut tightened. “I can’t investigate them. They’ll know.”

  “We’ve got to stop this guy. The only way to do that is to find him.”

  Sully closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll do what I can.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Sully, you up for some breakfast at The Oak Tree after shift?” Alex shouted the question down the firehouse hallway, his voice getting louder as he drew closer.

  Was it Alex? Would he really kill his own brother just to set some fires? God, the idea made Sully nauseous. There’s no fucking way. And Alex had been gone over the last five years since John’s death. There had been plenty of fires set since then.

  Then there was Miller. Donovan had been there since the beginning of the rash of arson, but he’d been in the middle of it all, fighting the fires, putting himself in danger. It seemed unlikely. He thought about the other fifteen guys at the station and couldn’t fathom any of them as the culprit. Michael had to be wrong.

  “Sully?” Alex stood in front of him, brows drawn in concern.

  Sully had to shake his head to clear the fog of uncertainty clouding his thoughts. He put on a wide grin to hide his distress. “Yeah, I’d be down for an apple pancake this morning. I’m starved.”

  He hadn’t even stood halfway before the alarm blared through the house.

  “Engine. Medic. Ladder. Structural fire.”

  “Shit,” Sully muttered, running a hand over his hair. “Why does it always have to be at the end of shift?”

  Alex groaned and shook his head as he rushed to the engine, Sully following hot on his heels. Even after nearly twenty-four hours at work, the anticipation of heading toward a blaze sent his blood burning. Sully couldn’t deny the thrill of the unknown.

  They climbed in the truck, Alex taking the wheel while Sully settled in the back and Donovan took his place on the passenger side as navigator. Again, the pang of unease settled in Sully’s gut at the thought of this well-oiled team having a traitor in its midst. He put his headphones on, listening to dispatch as they relayed the address. His blood ran cold as the familiar house number and street name crashed into him.

  “Fuck. That’s my mom’s house, Miller. Fuck!”

  Everyone went silent as Alex turned the corner into Sully’s childhood neighborhood. Black smoke billowed at the end of the cul-de-sac and Sully’s heart hammered against his ribs. She had to be okay. He craned his neck, searching for any sign of his mom in the crowd of bystanders.

  As soon as the rig was parked, he burst out his door, nearly falling to the ground in his hurry to find her. She wasn’t there. Her car was in the driveway. But she wasn’t outside. Panic clawed at his throat as he prepared to head inside and find her. Protective gear in place, he adjusted his helmet and raced toward the front door.

  It was locked and he didn’t have a fucking key. Not wasting precious time, he kicked the door in, thankful he hadn’t gotten the chance to replace the deadbolt with a stronger one as he’d planned. Smoke curled and floated above his head, pouring throughout the house.

  “Mom! Fuck! Mom! Call out!” He should be following protocol, not calling her by name. But desperation made him scream out for her. He dashed across the living room and nearly jumped out of his skin when Alex grabbed him
by the shoulder and shook him.

  “What the hell, Sully? You don’t come in here alone. You know that. Two in, two out.”

  “My mom is in here somewhere. I couldn’t wait.”

  As they walked into the kitchen, flames licked the curtains and walls next to the oven. Alex hit the fire with sprays of water as Sully glanced around for any sign of his mother. The pantry door was slightly ajar. Unusual for his neat freak of a mom. He ripped the door fully open, his heart broke at the sight of his sobbing mother, curled into a ball, in only her nightgown and slippers. She had tear tracks running down her cheeks and her eyes rolled wildly in her head.

  “Get out of my house! My husband will be home soon. I’m making him dinner. He’ll kill you for breaking in here!” she screeched.

  “Mom. Stop! You have to let me get you out of here. The damn kitchen is on fire!”

  “No! I’m not going anywhere with you. Get away from me.”

  She kicked and clawed as he tried to pull her from the closet. Her foot made contact with his knee, sending a burst of pain along his leg.

  “Shit, Mom. Stop it. Do you want to fucking die in here?” He gripped her ankles and tugged until she was most of the way out. He glanced behind him and saw that Alex had extinguished the flames and was waiting to assist.

  “I’ll get her arms, you grab her by the knees,” Alex offered.

  Sully nodded as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. His mother wailed and screamed, accusing them of kidnapping her all the way out into the now large crowd. Her face was streaked with soot and her big blue eyes were bloodshot and streamed with tears. She needed oxygen and to be assessed for carbon monoxide poisoning. But deep inside, the issue ran deeper than a forgotten meal in the oven. He’d let her convince him she was okay, but he should have gone with his gut. The signs were all there and he’d let his preoccupation with Sloan overshadow his mom. She needed to see a doctor for so much more than smoke inhalation.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sun had set by the time Sloan was on her way home from a day filled with midweek-crazed students and after-work grocery shopping. Her shoulders aching with fatigue, she longed for a large glass of wine and her cozy couch. The wail of a siren had her glancing in her rearview mirror and pulling over almost instantly to let the fire truck pass. She couldn’t help but flick her gaze at the occupants in search of Carson. Disappointment rolled through her as it became apparent he wasn’t in the truck.

  As she parked in the driveway, she cursed herself for not remembering to turn on the porch light before she’d left this morning. The bags filled with groceries were heavy as she awkwardly fished her keys from her purse. Her arms burned as the weight of her purchases tested her strength.

  “Sloan.” The low rumbled murmur of her name from her darkened porch made tingles race along her skin.

  “Carson?” she breathed, unable to make out much more than his broad shoulders in the dim light.

  He didn’t say anything else, just sat in the wicker chair she’d spent many summer evenings in as a child. She set her bags down at the front door before she crossed the wooden deck and sat in the matching bench under the window. His face was drawn and tired, eyes shadowed with dark circles and haunted.

  “Carson, what are you doing here?”

  He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders rounding and shuddering.

  Alarm crashed over her. Even when they’d been kids she’d never seen him this vulnerable. Not when he’d told her he loved her for the first time, not even when she’d told him about the baby. Unable to ignore his pain, she dropped to her knees and laid her hands over his. Those eyes, deep and filled with despair, found hers and he took a harsh breath before pulling her against his body. He held her as though his life depended on it, not speaking, just breathing long and slow. His big body enveloped her, warmth radiating from him even as his urgent need for connection overwhelmed her.

  “Carson, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve been at the hospital all damn day. I just . . . I needed . . .” He trailed off as he backed away. The loss of his warm chest and soothing scent had her fighting the urge to lean into him. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

  She stared into his eyes and shook her head. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I was drunk. He brought me home and stayed on the couch because it was late.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath but didn’t say anything.

  “What about Chassity?”

  “What about her?”

  “She said you were having lunch together. You couldn’t even take the time to call me and end things?”

  The tension sat thick between them. “I was supposed to have lunch with her sister and Alex. I guess she planned on joining us.” He frowned and focused on the floor. “I don’t want to end things. We’re only getting started.”

  Her hand found his cheek, the rough stubble prickling along her fingertips as she lightly stroked his skin. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the chill of the October evening. “Come inside?” she asked.

  He took her hand and laced their fingers before nodding. “I’d like that.”

  It was impossible to keep her hammering pulse at bay as she unlocked the door and grabbed for her bags.

  “I’ll get them,” Carson murmured, scooping up the groceries.

  He followed her inside, his heavy footsteps echoing behind her all the way to the kitchen.

  “You can just put those on the counter.” She gestured at the kitchen island and stepped away, needing some distance from him.

  The open bottle of wine next to the refrigerator beckoned. She pulled the cork and snagged herself a glass. After pouring a generous serving, she took a long gulp before turning to face him again. With a soft appreciative hum, she let her gaze travel across his body while he unpacked the bags. His bulky shoulders moved fluidly under the thin shirt he wore.

  After another long drink, she willed the alcohol to do its job and loosen her up before making the beautiful firefighter in her kitchen explain himself.

  “Carson, what are you doing here?”

  He tensed, but turned toward her. “I have no fucking clue. I left the hospital and just started walking and this is where my feet took me.”

  “Your feet took you to my grandpa’s house?”

  Eyes closed, he took a long breath. “No. To you.” He took a step forward and grabbed her wineglass. Without asking, he downed the rest. She couldn’t help but watch his throat move as he swallowed. How did the man make everything so damn sexy? “I made my way to you.”

  He took another step, and she backed up until her butt hit the counter. “Why were you at the hos—”

  His lips were on hers before she could finish her halfhearted protest. “Fifteen goddamn years,” he murmured against her mouth. “I never stopped loving you.”

  Heart aching for the words she’d wanted to hear every day for over a decade, she pushed away the fears and hurt of their past and gave in to the raging need inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he cupped her ass and lifted her until she was seated on the counter. Head spinning as his kisses went from slow and teasing to deep and frantic, she tugged at his shirt, needing his hot skin under her hands. The ridges of his toned torso sent a thrill through her.

  Strong hands slid up her thighs while he shoved her skirt over her hips and tore his lips from hers. His breaths came in harsh gasps as he stared into her eyes. And just like that, she was done questioning the decision to be with him. She wanted to give them a chance, wanted to give in to the connection between them, wanted to be loved by him.

  “Just this once, Sloan. I need you.”

  She kissed him again, skating her fingers along his belt as he tugged at her panties, pulling them down her legs. She couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to. Her
body wouldn’t let her. His fingers slid over her before sinking deep inside. A moan caught in her throat as the feeling of a man touching her most intimate place racked her body. It had been a long time since she’d been touched. Her head fell back on a moan as she gave herself over to the pleasure. He added a second finger and moved back and forth. His thumb brushed along her clit, making her squirm as golden waves of an impending orgasm began to build.

  “Fuck, you’re so damn wet for me.” His hoarse voice only added to her need.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Even after everyth—Oh, God . . . keep doing that.”

  His fingers disappeared and the climax receded. For a moment she thought he might leave her there on the edge of pleasure, but with the sound of a zipper, he freed his erection and sank inside her waiting body.

  “Jesus, Sloan,” he groaned as he thrust deep and harsh.

  A flash of pain rocketed through her at his invasion. It had been two years since a man had been inside her, and there had been no one as well-endowed as Carson. But with every rock of his hips she stretched and the slight burn became an altogether different sensation. Legs wrapped tight around him, she met him thrust for thrust, chasing her orgasm.

  “It feels so fucking good. Fuck, Sloan, I’m going to come.”

  She heard him, but the words barely registered as her own climax hit her with the force of a hurricane. Her arms held him to her and she rode out her pleasure even as he groaned and tried to pull out.

  As soon as she came to her senses she unwrapped herself from his body and he pulled free. But the damage had been done.

  “Shit,” she whispered. Unable to make her voice any louder. “You weren’t wearing a condom.” Fear lanced her heart.

  “Goddammit!” He ran a hand through his hair, breathing slow, deliberate breaths. “I tried to fucking pull out but you wouldn’t let me.” His eyes blazed with accusation.

  “I was . . .” What had she been? Stupid? In the middle of the first sex-induced orgasm she’d had in over two years? “ . . . preoccupied.”