by T Gephart
Published by T Gephart
Copyright 2020 T Gephart
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Hang Le
Editing by Insight Editing Services
Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Proofread by Rebecca, Fairest Reviews and Editing Services
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Connect with T
To Kelly,
I figured since it started with you, it should end with you. Not sure if I would’ve discovered the world of my delicious firefighters and kick-ass women without you, but I’m glad you were along for the ride.
Tessa
NEVER LEAVE A fallen soldier behind.
It had been drummed into me since before I could walk, service and sacrifice hardwired into my DNA like my brown eyes and dark hair. Not that I had much of a choice when both my parents were retired military, each of them having done stints deployed in warzones. Mom was Air Force, and Dad, a Marine, and it didn’t matter they’d long hung up their uniforms, they lived—and held their two daughters—to the same standard.
“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen.” My eyes panned across the room, cataloging intel as I memorized the layout. “You’re going to start on the south perimeter and work your way in. I’ll keep eyes on you and be your backup. If it looks like it’s getting hairy, I’ll come in and pull you out.”
“I don’t know, Ricci,” Miller hesitated, the fear in his eyes very real, “maybe we fall back, get some more recon.”
A frustrated breath blew out my lips, my commitment to my partner and my last name keeping my feet rooted in their place. “Grayson,” I used his first name, hoping it would ease some of the tension, “you can do this. It’s been two months since Maxine left and you said that meeting someone new was what you wanted.”
Spending Saturday night at a club with a friend was never a hardship, but Vault was the shiny new thing in the Meatpacking District and filled with pretentious assholes. I also despised Maxine, and as much as I hated seeing my friend going through the heartbreak, I was glad she was gone.
He was visibly deflated, scanning the offerings of beautiful women but lacking any of the confidence he’d had when we’d walked in. And when you’re a cop in New York City, confidence wasn’t something that was usually in short supply.
“Miller, you’re a good guy. You’re smart and good-looking, and any woman would be lucky to have you. Don’t try and find someone to date, just go have a conversation. Let them tell you how great you are, because you obviously don’t believe me.”
He shrugged, sinking his hands into his pockets. “Maybe it’s too soon? And speaking of getting out there, why aren’t you? I know you didn’t wear that dress for my benefit.” His eyes floated down my mostly exposed body. “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort.”
My balled fist punched him in the arm, laughing as I tossed my hair back. “Just because I have to keep myself regulation appropriate most of the time, doesn’t mean I don’t like reminding the world I’m a woman. And you’re welcome, just don’t stare at my tits too long and make it weird.”
Miller’s lips spread into a smile, shaking his head as he looked back at the crowd. “Fine, I’m going in. But if I give you the signal, you pretend I’m like your baby daddy or something like that and get me the hell out. I’m out of practice, and these women look like they’d eat me alive.”
“Only if you’re lucky, Miller.” I gave him a not-so-gentle shove. “And I’ll extract you from hostile territory the minute you put out the distress call.”
Like a proud parent on the first day of school, I watched as my amazing partner, Grayson Miller, took the first tentative steps into the crowd. I knew he would be okay, which was why I agreed to go to Vault in the first place.
While our station was in the Hell’s Kitchen precinct, over the bridge in Brooklyn was where we called home. I lived in a tiny cubbyhole my dad told me I was paying way too much for, with Grayson living in a cupboard remarkably similar about a few miles away. It was dumb luck that we got along so well, our friendship evolving from the minute we’d been paired up by the department. And while there’d never been a romantic attraction between us, I would, without a doubt, take a bullet for him. So I guess standing around a nightclub while he tried to get lucky wasn’t such a big deal.
And as much as we hated coming into the city on our time off, Manhattan was definitely the place for our latest mission. Not only were there more options, but no one seemed to care what we did. And if you were looking to hook-up rather than hunt for a relationship, being somewhere no one gave a shit was preferable.
“Hey, beautiful.” Some dude in a suit sidled up next to me as I watched Grayson from a safe distance. “What’s someone as sexy as you doing alone in a place like this?”
I tried not to laugh, wondering if his old man had given him pointers. Because surely that little gem didn’t work after 1985. Turning, I noticed that while his line might have been tired and old, he wasn’t. He was good-looking, late twenties to early thirties, and his suit was incredibly well-tailored. It fit him just right, showing off his attributes in the best possible light, which is why I assumed he was wearing it.
“I’m not alone.” I smiled, deciding I wasn’t interested in the distraction. The night wasn’t about me, and even though it had been a while since I’d had a hook-up of my own, I needed to stay focused. “Better luck next time.”
“So, where’s your date?” Suit man didn’t take the hint, glancing around us and probably expecting some angry possessive meathead to make an appearance.
“Why? Am I a piece of luggage that can’t be left unattended?” I asked, slightly irritated. “Or are you angling for a threesome and want to see if he’s up to par?”
Suit man’s eyes blinked wide in surprise, probably not expecting the last part. And I’ll admit, it was added purely for shock value. Because if I had to tolerate a stupid question then I might as well entertain myself.
His silence spoke volumes, his mouth opening and closing with no real comeback. It was clear that looks were all he had going for him, which was a shame because I might have welcomed a little intellectual sparring.
Foreplay was mental for me as much as it was physical.
“Nothing?” I shrugged, already bored. “Better stay in the shallow end of the pool then, have a good night.” I grinned, leaving him with what I thought was some helpful advice as I went looking for Grayson.
It wasn’t ideal that I’d lost my line of sight, praying he hadn’t gotten himself into too much trouble, or was looking for a bailout while I’d been occupied.
“Ricci!” I heard my name, a female voice calling me from the direction of the bar. My head swiveled, torn between continuing to look for my partner or acknowledging whoever wanted my attention. My eyes flicked back to where Grayson had disappeared, squinting as I tried to find him in the sea of people.
“Ricci!”
My name again, the choice made for me as I felt a tug on my arm. “Hey, I thought it was you. I can’t believe the law is in my house and didn’t say hello.” Her eyes floated over my dress before returning to my face. “Oh, so I guess you’re here on pleasure rather than business.”
Her smirk was predictable, the fiery redhead not known for being subtle. I grinned, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m trying to blend in, Raelle. Advertising I’m a cop is probably bad for business.”
“Please,” she scoffed, waving her hands. “You think Marcus would let anything illegal go down in here? You guys wouldn’t even be able to cite someone for littering in this place. But it’s good to see you enjoying the spoils of our fine city. Let me know if you want me to set you up. There is a day trader, that is hotter than should be legal, sitting at the bar primed for a good time. And trust me, in that dress,” her finger swirled in my direction, “there isn’t a man in this place going to assume you’re a cop.”
Well, if anyone knew what the men in the club were thinking, it would be Raelle. As the sultry bar manager for the hottest new club, she was living up to both of those reputations. She was beautiful with an unapologetic sexy vibe, unashamed to flaunt what she had while working the bar like she’d been born to do it. Guess that was how she’d noticed me in a crowd of sweaty, gyrating bodies, her eagle eyes spotting that I wasn’t looking to score like everyone else.
“I’m just here to help Miller get over his cheating ex, not really interested for myself.”
It wasn’t a lie either, my expectations of finding anyone remotely engaging were at an all-time low. Not because the men in the club weren’t attractive, that wasn’t the problem. But because I was tired of dealing with guys who were intimidated by the badge or my attitude. Even in a city as big as New York, it was hard to find someone who was secure enough in his own manhood to deal with me. And despite sometimes feeling like I was “too much,” I refused to compromise. At least for the current week. A cheeky hook-up, with a guy who didn’t know who signed my paycheck, could very well be on the agenda at some point in the future if my hormones took over.
“Miller looks like he has it handled.” Raelle lifted her brow, my partner shooting us a sly smile as he came into view. He’d acquired some company since he’d disappeared, an enthusiastic brunette on his arm as they made their way to the bar. “Let me know if you guys need anything else. Presley likes to keep our first responders happy.”
And with a nod, she headed back to the bar.
The “Presley” in question was the owner of Vault. Who, in addition to being smart and ambitious, was the sister of one fireman and engaged to another, both who served in our precinct. We’d also looked out for her when she was dealing with a crazy-ass ex, so her feelings of gratitude were a little more than just the run-of-the-mill liked to keep us happy.
My eyes glanced over to where both Raelle and Grayson had migrated, the long bar of Vault getting a lot of action from the thirsty crowd. My partner—like the rest of the people vying for drinks—seemed completely oblivious to me and my look of satisfaction, glad it hadn’t taken long for our mission to have been achieved.
Of course, all that had happened so far was two people of the opposite sex sharing a friendly conversation. But even if that was all that transpired for the night, it would be a massive step in the right direction, Miller’s smile hinting it had been the ego boost he’d needed.
Meant I could relax a little too, the need to intervene hopefully lowering by the minute. Not sure what I wanted to do with my newfound reprieve from responsibility. Dancing wasn’t really my thing, and finding a distraction of my own wasn’t on the agenda either. Which left only one other option, drinking.
While I vowed to stay sober and alert, a drink or two wasn’t going to kill anyone. And considering we were in a bar, it would probably help me look less like I was on a stakeout and more like the general population.
I was making my way over to the bar—the end opposite Miller so I didn’t cramp his style—when I noticed a couple of familiar faces sitting in a nearby booth. They had a waitress looking after them, laughing animatedly as she seemed to be taking their order.
Great.
Leighton and Tibbs were here.
While their appearance didn’t really surprise me—the two of them comprising of the previously mentioned brother and the fiancé of the owner—I had hoped I’d be spared the interaction. And not because I had an issue with firefighters in particular. In fact, Leighton was a total sweetheart, and one of the nicest guys you’d ever meet.
But Tibbs.
Yeah, he was something else.
I’d seen him perform acts of unparalleled bravery and his commitment to the FDNY and competency in the face of danger was something I admired and respected.
But once he took off that uniform, he was a complete manwhore.
A beautiful manwhore, delicious in every way that mattered, and I’ll admit I’d been unable to take my eyes off him when we first met. God, I remember that day, his smile, the way he strode into the room with such confidence, my heart beating a little faster every time he’d look in my direction.
But beautiful or not, he was nonetheless a manwhore.
He was unapologetic about it too, the smug smile on his face confirming he knew his amazing six-two athletic frame would probably be cozied up to some bar bimbo by the end of the night. They’d take one look at his gorgeous hazel eyes, incredible body and sexy smile and would willingly be his next conquest.
And what I hated more than anything was that I even cared.
What did it matter who he went to bed with or how many women he entertained? On the list of my concerns, it should’ve ranked dead last. But regardless of not wanting to have anything to do with Tibbs taking up my mental space, I couldn’t help that thoughts of him and his stupid sexy face and body featured anyway.
It was ridiculous, an irritation that chaffed me like a blister that wouldn’t quite heal. And if there was any God at all, I hoped his next hookup gave him a scorching case of genital warts and his dick would fall off.
Sure, it was irrational. Because while I’d admit—begrudgingly—that he was gorgeous and probably knew exactly what to do with that sexy body, he was the last person on earth I would sleep with. One, because I refused to be another number on his list of used-and-discarded. And two, because even if I lost every single ounce of sense I had and went there with him, he’d probably turn me down.
Yep, even the manwhore had a type, and apparently, I wasn’t it.
I should have been thanking my lucky stars, grateful that even though I’d entertained the idea one time—before I knew how incredibly gross he was—that I’d been spared the indignation and embarrassment. But it didn’t matter, it still stung. It hadn’t even been a real rejection, our interactions never getting past a platonic capacity.
Nope, I was an idiot, holding a grudge because he did the one thing I’d demanded. To be treated like a person instead of a vagina. I wanted no special treatment, to be one of the guys. And he excelled at it. Hell, half the time I was positive he’d forgotten I was a woman, trash talking with me like I was one of the men in his crew.
Gah, I hated I still thought about it. And hadn’t let the stupi
d—and unhealthy—fantasy of him go.
But if not for his questionable choices when it came to dating and women, he would’ve been exactly the kind of guy I’d want.
Strong, determined, hardworking—and someone who treated me like an equal. Throw in his amazing body and gorgeous face and he was perfect. Hell, I’d even been tempted to ask him out in the beginning, attracted to him in more ways than just physical.
But perfect doesn’t exist. And Tibbs was a crotch hound that I wanted no part of.
My eyes floated back over to where he was sitting, covertly appreciating how hot he was even though it would be a cold day in hell before I’d ever admit it out loud. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him or his lady friends, so avoiding his vicinity was my prime objective. With any luck, Miller would give me the signal he didn’t need me anymore and I could head home.
If I stayed, and he saw me, Justin Tibbs would find a way to ruin my night. Because as much as I liked to look at him—and I liked it very much—I hated there was a part of me that was still attracted to him. Even though I knew it was never going to happen. And then have to watch him give it away so effortlessly to other women.
It was easier when we were part of a group, the buffer giving me a chance to ignore him or at least distract myself from the spectacle. But with Miller occupied, I was out of luck, and didn’t know if I had the energy or the inclination to be polite.
Justin
“WIPE THAT SMUG look off your face, I know you were with my sister. There was no need for you to go to the bar for beer, Denise would have happily delivered them.” I shook my head, Leighton returning to the table with a couple of beers. And unless he’d gone to get our drinks in Queens, he’d taken way longer than required. It didn’t take much to work out where he’d been.
“You have an issue with me saying hello to my future wife?” He eased back into the seat, not even trying to hide his smirk. “It would’ve been rude of me not to.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes, knowing he’d been doing a lot more than saying a fucking hello. And not that I wasn’t ecstatic my best friend and my sister were going to be tying the knot sometime soon, but the idea of them getting busy wasn’t what I wanted in my cerebral cortex. She was still my sister, and I really didn’t ever need to imagine that.