by Lane Martin
DEFENSIBLE SPACE
An Everyday Heroes World Novel
LANE MARTIN
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
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
Epilogue
KB Worlds
Mile High Miners Hockey Team
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Lane Martin
Also By K. Bromberg
KB Worlds
Mile High Miners Hockey Team
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Lane Martin
Also By K. Bromberg
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
© 2021 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
www.kbworlds.com
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Published by KB Worlds LLC.
Cover Design by: The Final Wrap
Cover Image by: Depositphotos
Editing by: The Red Pen Princess & Katrina Fair Editing
Formatting by: Words Into Butterflies
Published in the United States of America
For my home state of California
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!
I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Defensible Space is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.
This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.
I truly hope you enjoy Defensible Space. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.
Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.
Happy Reading,
K. Bromberg
Prologue
CARSON
A year ago, I had it all—the job I always wanted and a plan. Then it all went up in flames.
It had started as a regular day. I had been out on a call for the department I worked at in a neighboring town about thirty minutes away from home. It was a three-car accident with no severe injuries. Typically, it wouldn't have been a call I would remember so vividly, but I could never forget the events that followed. I can still recite every detail of the accident, down to the color of the cars involved, and each injury sustained. It was like when you heard about Kobe’s helicopter accident or Michael Jackson’s passing. Those moments stuck with you. Forever. That's how that Thursday would always be for me. I would never forget exactly where I’d been and what I had been doing. As soon as I had heard the call about the fire that was quickly growing, all I’d wanted to do was get home, but I couldn't. I’d taken an oath, one I wholeheartedly believed in: Non Sibi Sed Omnibus. Not for self, but for all. Being a fireman wasn't merely a job anyone did to collect a paycheck or for nine to five hours. It was a way of life, and it was all I ever wanted to be.
My department and over three thousand other firefighters from as far away as Georgia had been sent to fight the fire that engulfed the area I called home, including a team from Sunnyville. For seventeen days straight, we worked in twenty-four-hour shifts to contain the beast. I couldn't even tell you how many hours I worked, let alone how few I slept. If we were lucky, we got a twenty-minute power nap on someone's front lawn, or what was left of it anyway.
I couldn't have slept even if I tried. It wasn't just any town on fire. That was my home, my community, and I felt compelled to do whatever I could. I was lucky; at least I knew my family was safe. A lot of my friends and neighbors hadn’t had the peace of mind.
When I’d finally gotten my wish and got to go home, I had known what I would find from the pictures posted at the command center, but I had still held a sliver of hope my dog had somehow survived. Hundreds were still unaccounted for. I knew the chances weren't high at that point for me to find the one thing in the fire I couldn't replace, Rascal, my best friend. I should have been satisfied knowing my family was safe, but he was a part of the family too.
One hundred and fifty thousand acres were destroyed. To me, it had been more than just devastating numbers of how many acres were scorched and structures and lives were lost. The little league field where I’d hit my first home run was ash. The library where I attended scout meetings was rubble. The grocery store where my mom worked at for as long as I could remember, gone. The home that had once belonged to my grandparents was charred beyond recognition. Before the fire, I had planned on remodeling it with my high school sweetheart and future wife. Next door, my childhood home had become unrecognizable. The tree I had broken my arm falling out of as a kid was no longer standing and still smoldered at my feet. All that and I had still counted myself among the lucky ones.
Mom, Dad, and Kara had been unharmed. I hadn’t known how I would have survived if anything had happened to them. Local authorities hadn't cleared the burn area to the public yet. It still wasn't safe, but I was trained. It helped that all the local guys knew me. I whistled again and again. I was desperate to see Rascal running at me like he had a hundred other times, but nobody had seen him. Rascal hadn’t been just a dog; he’d been my boy. I knew it was stupid to call a dog my best friend, but he was. Kara had been working when the fire had started, so she hadn’t been in the house. Mom had been off work that day; she had decided to tag along with Dad into the city to get building supplies for his new project. They had called me on their way out of town that morning. I had known they were safe while I fought the out of control blaze.
I'd seen a lot of fires, but I'd never seen one so angry, so out of control. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.
I kicked the remains of my once rickety front steps and tried one last desperate time. I put my dry lips together and blew. Miraculously, I heard him before I saw him. I breathed for what had felt like the first time since the raging fire had begun. Rascal—the one irreplaceable thing—came out of the debris I once called home. He looked like hell, but he was alive. Barely, but I would take it. Life would never be the same again, but the sight of Rascal limping to me against all odds gave me something I wasn�
�t sure I would ever have again. Hope.
Chapter One
PENNY
I should’ve felt guilty, but I didn’t. I had done something entirely out of character. I’d done something for myself. After attending my final meeting with the San Francisco Philharmonic to discuss a potential project, I bid my longtime friend and conductor, Henry, goodbye. Then I got in my car and started driving. I was supposed to drive home from San Francisco. For once in as long as I could remember I didn't have another pressing engagement, so I turned off my GPS and just started driving. I couldn’t even tell you what direction I was headed in. I drove until I didn't feel like driving anymore and exited the freeway. As I rolled down Main Street at a snail's pace, I tried to take it all in. The tree-lined street was picturesque. The shops were quaint and inviting. I couldn't help but notice the pace at which people walked down the street; it was so much slower than my accustomed speed. People appeared to know each other and even stopped to say hello. I chuckled out loud as an absurd thought popped into my head, one in which I’d driven my car into an alternate universe or back in time, to a place where people knew their neighbors and weren't glued to their cell phones avoiding any form of human interaction. When had that become the norm? At the end of the main drag, I noticed the bed and breakfast and found myself pulling into the parking lot.
My heart skipped a beat as I unlatched the gate. I wasn't doing anything wrong, so why did it feel like I was? This little adventure was so unlike me. I didn't just take unplanned detours. My life was scheduled, or should I say over-scheduled. I couldn't remember the last time I didn't have anywhere specific to be. I timidly took the steps up to the front porch, and the door opened before I had a chance to knock or ring the bell. The movement startled me, and I put my hand up to my chest in surprise as I reminded myself to calm down.
“Oh good, I was just starting to worry you weren’t planning on coming in, dear.” The woman instantly reminded me of a grandma—not my grandma, but the kind I’d always wished for as a kid. My own grandmother had more closely resembled Aunt March from Little Women. This woman had silver hair cut in a short pixie style and eyes that sparkled with mischief. The loud turquoise print on her blouse nearly overwhelmed her petite frame, but the oversized plastic jewelry, capri pants, and running shoes all in the same bright shade somehow made the outfit work. I imagined if I had been standing close enough, she would have smelled like fresh-baked cookies. I stifled a chuckle as I took in her spiffy outfit when she stood back and opened the front door wider for me to come in.
“I didn't realize I had been out there so long," I lamely explained as I followed her inside. A parlor with a fireplace and shelves full of books I itched to explore was on the right. On the left was a formal dining room with a massive table filling most of the room. The house was everything a bed and breakfast should be. “Granny” moved behind a desk that served as the check-in counter and tapped her pen as she patiently waited for me to say something else.
"Do you have a room available?" I sputtered. When exactly had I decided to stay? I mean, it made sense since it was a bed and breakfast, but I wasn't even sure where I was.
"Oh good, I thought you were another one of those idiots I was going to have to chase out of here." I wasn't sure how to respond. I opened my mouth to say something, but just what I had no idea. I could see her running someone off in those nifty shoes of hers, but who were these "idiots" she was chasing away? I closed my mouth without a word. Great, now I resembled a fish.
“We were on one of those silly renovation television shows and now we get people coming around all the time to take those selfie things you young people do,” she explained. “How many days did you want to stay?"
I opened and closed my mouth again. Honestly, I was a little surprised I hadn’t seen the show. I was addicted to anything having to do with home restoration. Would she chase me off if I got out my phone? You need to get a life.
"Are you all right, honey?" Concern etched her voice and she looked at me. Gah, you’re being ridiculous. It wasn’t like I could ask this perfect stranger to kiss my boo-boo’s and make everything all better. Only you can do that.
"I'm sorry, I'm fine. I think I just need to eat something. I only need a room for the night." I was already in trouble for not heading home. Or, should I say, to my parents' house? I couldn't remember the last place I’d felt at home. They certainly wouldn't be pleased with the sudden change of plans.
She opened a massive registration book that appeared to be as old as she was and looked it over. "I've got cottage number six on the backside of the property available. It’s one of my favorites."
"Perfect, I'll take it." I smiled in relief.
She introduced herself as Esther, but in my mind, she would forever be Grandma Esther. After taking my credit card from me, she gave me instructions on how to get to the cottage from where we stood in the main house and told me when to be back in the morning for breakfast. Then she handed me my key. Not a card, a real key. She also told me the town had an abundance of places where I could get something to eat, and none would disappoint."
I moved my car to the parking lot at the back of the inn, then removed my bag and Cap, my one of a kind Stradivarius violin, from my vehicle. While I was doing many things out of character for me, leaving Cap behind wasn't one of them.
From the outside, the cottage was adorable, with an inviting patio overlooking rolling hills of vineyards, which ran as far as the eye could see. I couldn't wait to sit outside and watch the sun go down while enjoying a glass of local wine.
The bed in the center of the cottage was almost as inviting as the patio. I snickered like a kid who just heard someone say something vulgar as I fell back against the mattress I could only describe as cloudlike. It was so soft and comfortable, I instantly questioned my decision to only stay one night. Once I got in that bed, I would possibly never get out again. But I did need to eat, so I left my room to get a better look at the town. Thanks to Esther, I knew I was in Sunnyville.
I walked down the sidewalk in awe of the quaint town. It looked like it was straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. I made a note of several stores I planned to return to when I had more time. At that moment, a bottle of good wine, some food, and the sunset view from my patio were calling my name. A sign from a store ahead caught my eye. It was yellow and green and read "Tisket and Tasket." The colors reminded me of the childhood song. I sang the lyrics in my head when the door chimed above my head as I entered. I felt a rush of glee when I saw they did, in fact, sell baskets—and not just any baskets. No, they were uniquely woven baskets filled with picnic accoutrements that could make even Martha Stewart giddy.
"Can I help you?" a clerk asked as I wandered around the shop admiring everything they sold. Some women drooled over shoes and purses. For me, the way to my heart was through my stomach. I didn't cook—not yet—but I had a vast collection of recipes. And if a kitchen gadget existed, I owned it. One of these days I would put them to use. If I wasn't watching a home renovation show on television, I was watching a show that had something to do with food. My empty stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, causing the clerk and me both to hoot out loud. "It sounds like you're in the right place."
"You'll have to excuse me. I guess I didn't realize how hungry I am. Everything looks so delicious. I have no idea how to decide what to get." The idea of enjoying a picnic alone might have sounded depressing to most, but it seemed like sheer bliss to me. It was a rare treat to sit down and relax with a delicious bottle of wine and a tasty spread of food.
I pushed away the ugly thought of what my mother would have said about my meal choice. She often reminded me of how the camera added ten pounds. Nicole, my sister, would make some comment about me not getting any younger and still being single, and Daddy would insist his choices were the only ones that truly mattered. I, being the obedient daughter I was, wouldn't stand up to any of them. I never did, but this little detour wasn’t about them; it was about me and doing someth
ing for myself.
"I'm Shelby, and I might be a little bit biased since I own the place, but in my opinion, you can't go wrong with anything we have." She lifted her hand with a smile, and I took it.
"I'm Penny, and I'll be honest, I'm glad I'm not wearing tight-fitting jeans today." I’m not sure why I said that since I rarely wore denim. We both laughed as we shook hands. Shelby's smile was kind, and although it was bright, I still sensed a sadness about her. She looked put together in her pressed black pants and tailored white dress shirt. I recognized the uniform; it was much like the one I wore myself. Her make-up was minimal. The woman was beautiful, but the bags under her eyes told me she hadn't had a full night of sleep in years. Even though it was none of my business, I couldn't help but wonder what kept her up at night.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Penny. What are you craving today? "
"I'm not sure how I'll ever decide. Maybe something with a little heat and a bottle of white. Something local would be great. I love a good riesling," I reluctantly admitted. My father always ordered red for the table. I was breaking all my parents’ rules.
"Oh, thank goodness." Shelby smiled before adding, "I'm so tired of customers always requesting pinots and cabs. I have so many other great things to offer." All my worry instantly left. I knew I could be friends with this woman. Sadly, I didn't have many. "How about food? Are you up for something a little unexpected?"
Unexpected. I let the word roll around in my head. Isn't that what the entire day had been so far? I was so far out of my comfort zone that I might as well have been jumping out of planes at the skydiving school I saw before I’d gotten off the freeway. Why not just jump? "Absolutely," I answered without fear or regret about the decision I made.
After asking me a few more questions about what I enjoyed and disliked and checking to make sure I didn't have any allergies, Shelby happily packed my "surprise" basket while I looked around the rest of the store. It was fantastic. She suggested wine from local wineries and foods she already had prepackaged from nearby eateries. She also had unique handmade local gifts for every occasion. I knew where I would do my holiday shopping next year. I joined Shelby at the register and couldn't help but smile at the photo hanging on the wall beside it. In it, a boy sporting brown hair the same color as Shelby's and a Sunnyville Fire t-shirt was standing in turnout boots and pants, which nearly swallowed him up. At his feet was a firefighter's helmet, and the look on his precious face was one of both grief and pride. It nearly tore me apart. "Is he your son?" I asked without looking away from the photo.