Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom)

by Callahan, Shannon

  “It’s Margarita pie—tomato, garlic, and basil. It doesn’t look like much, but wait until you taste it,” he promises.

  I decide to trust him and take a bite. The crust is thin and crispy and each of the three flavors comes through distinctly. This is the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, hands down. I decide to let him know. “You weren’t kidding, this is incredible,” I tell him, and he breathes a sigh of relief and picks up his own slice. We finish our meal in silence, which I am thankful for, because chit chat would have interrupted my time with the pizza. It was that good.

  I hear a beep from my cell phone and see that Marie has made it to Jill’s, and they’re making their supper. I text her back letting her know I’ll be calling when I get in.

  We go back outside and climb into the carriage, which is still waiting for us. We take off again without a word. “How does he now where we’re going?” I ask curiously.

  “I told him earlier today. I thought I’d just take you to my favorite places in New York. Not going to lie, most of them involve food, so I hope you’re hungry.” I poke my finger into my stomach like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

  “Still room!”

  We pull up to a little place call Serendipity and head inside. It reminds me of what a little girl’s tea party would look like. Not that I’ve ever been invited to one. I grab a table, and he comes back with a massive dish of what looks like ice cream.

  “What is that? And please tell me it’s not all for me.”

  “It’s called frozen hot chocolate, and it’s for both of us. If you don’t mind sharing, that is. My mom used to take me here all the time. It was one of my favorite treats.”

  I pick up a spoon, taking some of the ice cream and the whipped cream. It melts in my mouth, tasting exactly like hot chocolate. A small moan escapes as my eyes close, pleasure coursing through me.

  “You’re killing me here, Brynn,” he laughs, uncomfortably shifting in his seat.

  “If you expected me to eat this, and not enjoy it, you’re crazy.”

  He reaches over and brushes his thumb across my lip. “You missed a little,” he says, slipping his thumb between my lips. I twirl my tongue around his finger and suck hard. Score one, romance novels!

  “I’m really starting to regret ever leaving your apartment,” he says, a little pained.

  “I’m incredibly happy we did,” I say, and take another bite of the frozen deliciousness.

  We finish as much as we can, until I’m sure we’re going to burst at the seams.

  “All right, I’ve got one more stop if you’re up for it?” he asks.

  “I don’t think I can eat another bite Blaze …”

  “No more food, I promise!”

  We hop back into the carriage and take off through the streets, stopping in front of a busy office building. “Well, now you have me intrigued. I’m not sure how you’re going to make paperwork fun, but I’d love to see you try,” I joke.

  We hop down and, to my surprise, we don’t enter the building. Instead, he sits me in front of a short Chinese street artist who is seriously under five feet tall, with short black hair, and a serious look on his face.

  “Just like we discussed,” Blaze says to him, and the artist nods his head and sets up his easel without a word. I look for a paint brush, but all he has are cans of spray paint. Is he a graffiti artist? I don’t understand.

  He sets to work with me sitting in front of him, sideways on a little stool, so he can see my profile. I begin to feel really self-conscious, Blaze takes notice and sits opposite me.

  “He’s really quick, and I promise you’re going to love it,” he says confidently.

  I give him a smile, and take a deep breath. It’s a painting, Brynn, how bad could it be? Well, bad if he does some sort of caricature portrait and gives me a huge nose. It’s really sweet of Blaze to plan this all out, though, so I sit back and try to enjoy.

  Five minutes later, he hands Blaze a framed canvas. Blaze’s smile spreads from one ear to the other, and he shakes the artist’s hand. He sets it in the carriage, never letting me see the finished product.

  “Are you kidding me? I just sat still forever, and now I’m not even allowed to see it? It can’t be that bad, can it? He gave me a giant nose, didn’t he?” I ask disbelievingly.

  “Relax, beautiful, I’m going to hang it for you, and you can see it then. Oh, and by the way, five minutes is not forever,” he says, helping me back into the carriage.

  The ride back is beautiful. It’s now nighttime, and the city lights are brightening the way. There are no stars, but hey, that’s New York for you. We arrive back at the apartment quicker than I would have liked. I thank the driver and pet the horses. They’ve been great.

  We make our way back to my apartment, with Blaze still hiding the canvas from me. I start to wonder if it really is bad, and he just doesn’t want to show me. Maybe my nose is truly incredibly huge in my profile, and it’s an honest portrait. Oh my God, that has to be it. I cover my nose, and Blaze laughs as if he knows what I am thinking.

  “Stop worrying, beautiful. Any portrait of you will never be any less than perfect,” he says sweetly. “Now where can I hang this?”

  “Linen closet?” I suggest.

  “Brynn!” he scolds looking around. He finds a spot over the couch he seems to like and pulls a nail and a hammer out of his back pocket.

  “You’ve seriously been sitting on those all night?”

  “No, I had them in the carriage under the seat. I grabbed them when I grabbed the painting. Now turn around,” he orders.

  I harrumph, not enjoying being told what to do, especially by a man. I hear him pounding the nail into the wall and I’m tempted to look. He’s been so excited about it, though, so I decide not to ruin his fun. I feel his arms wrap around my waist as he gently turns me around.

  I open my eyes to see that the painting is absolutely breathtaking. It’s my profile looking up at a giant moon. My hair blowing in the wind, my eyes closed, and the New York skyline in the background, silhouetted by the moon. I look free, happy and, best of all, I don’t have a big nose.

  I’m momentarily speechless.

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “I … I’m not even sure what to say. I love it. I look … free.”

  “You are free, Brynn,” he says, kissing the side of my neck. His arms are still wrapped around me from behind. It feels so good and I start to lose myself in his touch as he moves my shirt aside to kiss my collarbone. It’s then that I hear my phone ring. I rush over and answer it, fearing the worst.

  “Hello?” I ask, panic in my voice.

  “Whoa, Brynn. Calm down, it’s Marie. I was just calling to check in. We’re about to put another movie on, and I’m getting tired. I just didn’t want to fall asleep and miss your call. Are you all right?” I feel Blaze move in front of me, and I nod my head letting him know that I’m all right.

  “No, yes. Sorry I just, well …” I trail off. “I guess I’m just crazy. I’m glad you called, Marie. Now go have fun. Enjoy your night, and call me in the morning, or if you need anything at all.”

  “Thanks, sis, love you,” she says.

  “Love you, too,” I say and end the call.

  “Sorry, that was just Marie. It was the first time my phone ever rang, though. I don’t know what I thought it was. I feel a little ridiculous right now,” I say awkwardly. I can’t believe Blaze was here to witness another one of my freak-outs.

  So much for being free, I guess.

  I look back to Blaze who doesn’t look like he’s judging me, nor does he look like he thinks I’m crazy. Strange. He doesn’t provide me with a verbal explanation, though. Blaze showers me with affection as his lips crash down on mine again and I put up no fight against him. His hands wander down over the curves of my breasts and my hips. I feel his leg pushing between my knees, and I open them, letting the sensation wash over me.

  This time his phone rings.

  “Fuck,” he curses, reaching
into his pocket. “Prescott,” he says, answering the phone in an angry, clipped voice.

  “Yeah, I’ll meet you there,” he says after a minute. He hangs up his phone and places it back into his pocket.

  “I’m sorry, beautiful. I’ve gotta get going. Building fire, they need all available hands to help,” he says running to put his shoes on.

  I must look about as disappointed as I feel because Blaze pulls me in for one last amazing kiss. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but how about I call? If you’re still awake, I’ll come back here,” he offers.

  “I’ll be awake,” I say, feeling as if I drank a few espresso shots.

  “That’s my girl. Now lock this behind me,” he says, kissing my forehead and disappearing through the door.

  “I’m his girl,” I whisper back to myself.

  ~

  I wake from the couch when I hear my phone ringing beside me.

  “Hello?” I ask, attempting not to sound sleepy.

  “Could you buzz me in? Seems Miss Rose and all of her friends don’t come in and out of the building at two in the morning.”

  I chuckle and whisper, “I’ll do that right now.”

  I head over to the buzzer by the door and let him in. I hang up the phone and run to the bathroom to wash the sleepiness off my face. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing my royal blue nightie and my hair is down, cascading off my shoulders. Sleep has given my cheeks a pink tinge that makes me feel girly, pretty even. I rush back to the door and let Blaze inside, feeling confident.

  I freeze as I open the door. His face, neck, and hands are covered in soot and sweat. His hair is still soaked, and I feel like I’m staring at the calendar photo all over again.

  I must be dreaming.

  “Wow,” is all I manage to choke out.

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says in a low, sexy rumble.

  “Ahh …” I say scrambling for words. “Was everyone all right?”

  “Perfect. Empty building,” he says, advancing on me. “Only problem is, I’m a little dirty now.”

  “Dirty is good …” I think, but manage to say out loud. He doesn’t laugh this time, though; he keeps that predatory gaze locked on me.

  “I’ve got a shower,” I say weakly, my legs backing up until I hit the island in the kitchen.

  “How about you show me how to work it,” he drawls.

  I force myself to nod, and we walk into the bathroom. I start the shower, while he stares at me expectantly. He holds up his sooty hands.

  “Can you give me a hand with these clothes, I wouldn’t want to get them any dirtier than they already are.”

  I feel my body heat up, and my nipples tighten against the silk of my nightie at the thought of undressing him. I walk over to him, and he bends his knees so I can pull his sweater and muscle shirt over his head. His chest has a few beads of sweat trickling down, and I run my fingers through them, straight down to the deep V that trails into his pants. My whole body is on fire, as I try and work up the courage to take his pants off.

  I know I want him, I’m just hoping he wants me, too.

  I run my fingers along the edge of his pants before making a choice there’s no turning back from. I undo his pants button and then his zipper. I grab hold of his pants and boxers and, with one swift movement, pull them down to his ankles, dropping down to my knees to do so. He steps out of them, and I close my eyes, standing back up. I’m still too scared to look.

  He palms the side of my face and pulls me against him for a kiss. I feel him straining against my belly and I let out a long moan. He kisses me with need, his hands moving down to the bottom of my nightie, and pulling it over my head quickly. He grabs onto the side of my panties and rips them clean off. I press myself back against him, feeling our hot skin melt together.

  I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me into the shower, kissing me feverishly. The hot water washes over us, and I feel the gift only a God could have given him rub against my core. I push myself against it, desperate for the friction, but Blaze has other plans. He sets me down, and I sigh in protest. Does he not want me? I feel rejected and start to cover myself and turn away before Blaze grabs a hold of my chin.

  “Does it look like I want to stop, beautiful?” he says, tilting my chin down to where I finally get a look at his manhood. It’s long, hard, and straining, I lick my lips, dying for a taste, and drop down to my knees.

  “Babe …” he starts, but stops as soon as I slide him into my mouth, inch by glorious inch. I push myself until he’s in the back of my throat and then pull back slowly, swirling my tongue around and sucking on the tip. God, he tastes incredible. He moans and leans his head back, letting the water beat down on his face. It gives me the confidence I need to keep going. I wrap my hand around the base of him and lick from the base to the tip, taking him back into my mouth again.

  “Fuck, Brynn,” he says, grabbing onto my hair. I move faster, quicker, until I can feel him throbbing inside my mouth. He lets out a primal groan as he shoots hot liquid down the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, desperate to taste every drop he has to offer.

  I smile as Blaze pulls me back to my feet.

  “That was fucking incredible, beautiful. You didn’t have to do that,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  “I did it because I wanted to,” I say shyly, curling my face into his chest.

  “And?” he asks curiously.

  “I can’t wait to do it again,” I say. He lets out a long chuckle.

  “All right, time to wash up,” he says playfully, grabbing my super girly loofa.

  Chapter 12

  I wake the next morning to Blaze’s strong arms wrapped around my bare stomach. His hot breath against my neck doesn’t feel like torture, and I don’t feel too scared to move or face the day. Is this what I’ve been missing out on for the past five years? I start to scold myself for not doing this sooner, when I realize that the timing probably wouldn’t have worked out and maybe I wouldn’t have met Blaze. I’m not sure I would trade that for anything. I look over at the clock and see that it’s nine in the morning. Oh my God, I slept in!

  I climb out of bed, covering Blaze with the blankets again. I got to nap last night before he came over, but he’s probably still exhausted from fighting the fire, and well, other things. I smile to myself at the courage I showed. I love every small change in myself that has been happening since Marie and I moved to New York.

  I grab the bag of potatoes in the kitchen and peel them before thinly slicing them into the frying pan. I throw in some olive oil and let them cook. I make scrambled eggs in another pan and Canadian bacon in another. He’s a big man, in every sense of the word, and I’m betting he needs a big breakfast, too. I pop some bread into the toaster and stir and flip everything in the frying pans. I pour some orange juice into two glasses.

  Blaze comes out of the bedroom just as the toast pops up and sits at the island. “Smells great. I didn’t even feel you leave this morning. I guess I really was tired,” he says with a yawn.

  “Do you work today?” I ask, buttering the toast and then handing him his plate.

  “Not for the fire station, but I have to go into the office,” he says, picking up his fork and trying the potatoes.

  “Office?”

  “Yeah, when Dad passed, he left me his company. He was just about to go into retirement, so he has everyone hired to do most of the work he used to do. I just need to go in a few times a week for important meetings and decisions. These are incredible, by the way. You’re a great cook. My lasagna definitely has competition now,” he says with a wink.

  “Oh. Do you like that kind of work?” I ask. He doesn’t seem like a businessman. I guess I would think he’s more ... hands on. I also choose to ignore his compliment. Cooking is still a sore spot for me.

  “Not really, but my dad started the company from the ground up. It meant a lot to him, so it means a lot to me,” he says.

  “That makes se
nse.”

  “I should head out soon, actually. I’ve got a meeting at noon. When is Marie coming home?”

  “Soon, I hope. I’m going to call her in a bit. I actually have something I need to talk to her about,” I say, a little gloomy.

  “What’s that?”

  “I called the doctor yesterday, and he wants us to come say goodbye to Ma. She’s barely hanging on now, and it’s not looking great for a transplant. I guess addicts who don’t want to change don’t exactly get bumped to the top of the list,” I say sarcastically.

  “I’m so sorry, beautiful,” he says, coming over and rubbing my back.

  “I’m fine. It’s Marie that I worry about. She’s got a better heart than I do. As cruel and uncaring as Ma was toward us, Marie still loves her. I know she’s going to want to go say goodbye to her, and she deserves to do that. It’s just, even with all the help from the courts, I’m still worried about Carl. He hasn’t gone to trial yet, and even if he does, it’s not a guarantee he’ll be behind bars,” I say, beginning to worry.

  “I can’t even imagine, Brynn. I wish I could tell you the right answer here. Obviously, I want you to stay here, where I can protect you, but I will never tell you how to live your life.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that. I think I’m just going to leave it up to Marie. If she wants to go, I’ll be there to support her. I can’t imagine it’s going to be easy for her. I’m going to talk to Tara, and make it as safe as possible, though. He doesn’t know our new names, and we are no longer married, so he doesn’t have access to anything I do anymore. Hopefully that will help. We can fly in and fly out the same day,” I say, trying to convince myself it’s all going to be okay.

  “Tara?”

  “Someone from the women’s shelter here in town. Marie and I saw her right after we moved here. She helped us get this apartment, my job, a divorce, and she helped me file charges against Carl, too. She’s sort of been an angel for us.”