Line of Fire (Southern Heat Book 5)

by Jamie Garrett

  “So do you want to stop by the hospital first tomorrow, or go straight to the firehouse? I know the guys are dying to see you, too.”

  The makeshift wine glass fell onto the bedside table with a thunk, and Charlie’s smile slid off her face. Her cheeks reddened, but this time her blush didn’t make him smile. Damn, she was hurting, and it killed him to see it. He tucked a finger under her chin, applying gentle pressure until she finally met his gaze. “Charlie, do not go there.”

  “But I . . .” her gaze dropped away. “Shit, I was a complete idiot, and I put them all in danger. Look what happened to the chief! How am I going to look any of them in the eye again?”

  He tilted her chin up again, refusing to look away. “Exactly the same way you’re doing it to me now. Charlie, you did absolutely nothing wrong. We were all just worried sick about you.”

  She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “That, too. I can’t even get disappearing right.”

  At that, Shane let out a snort. “Like we’d ever let you.”

  Charlie’s eyebrows shot up before her eyes narrowed. She placed her curry bowl down next to her wine glass. Shane frowned. She hadn’t eaten nearly enough. As soon as he’d gotten her head back on straight, he would force-feed her if necessary, until she’d eaten enough to refuel her body. Sometimes you just ate, whether or not you wanted it, because your body needed it. Charlie knew that as well as he did—she was just struggling with something else right now. That was okay, expected, even. That’s why she had him to look after her.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m just the sub, the floater.”

  At her words, it was Shane’s turn to be shocked. Surely she knew how much the guys cared about her! How much he did. “You’re one of the family, Charlie. You always have been.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s different. I mean, I’m there sometimes, but . . .” She looked up at him, watching him carefully, and then the truth seemed to dawn on her. “Really?”

  He couldn’t help it. Shane captured her mouth, sliding his tongue through her parted lips, tumbling it with hers and tasting her sweetness. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, pulling her flush against him and locking her body to his. The feel of her breasts pillowing against his chest nearly left him undone as she moaned into his mouth. He captured the sound, caressing her with his other hand, running it along her arm, the roundness of her breast, the flare of her hip, before his fingers teased along her thigh. He lost himself in the feel of her, the taste of her as their lips moved together. The only sounds he was aware of were the small moans she made, her hands gripping tightly on his biceps as they flexed beneath her touch. His hand trailed up her thigh, and as he brushed along her apex, she let out a shudder. The sensation brought Shane back to himself and he reluctantly pulled away. One last quiet whimper fell from Charlie’s lips and her hands tightened around his upper arms. He leaned in and dropped one last kiss on her swollen lips. “I’d like nothing more than to have you writhing under me, Sweet Girl, to see the expression on your face when you come.” Another shudder under his hands, this time a good one. “But you need to rest.” He leaned over her and picked up her bowl of curry. “Food, then sleep.” He hitched an eyebrow at her. “Doctor’s orders.”

  She scowled at him. “You’re just a paramedic.” The heat of arousal still burned in her eyes, and Shane felt the last of his heart shatter away. It was hers, permanently and completely.

  “I’m the man who loves you.”

  Her mouth fell open and she nearly dropped the bowl of curry. Shane had to dart forward to grab it before he’d need to change the sheets again.

  Charlie yelped. “Shit! Sorry! Still getting used to that.”

  Shane burst out in laughter. “And that is exactly why I love you. Never change, Sweet Girl.”

  She smiled back, then she opened her mouth and at her reply, Shane’s bowl of curry dropped on the floor in his hurry to kiss her again. He couldn’t care less.

  “Shane, I love you, too.”

  25

  Charlie

  The low buzzing sound pushed through Charlie’s consciousness the next morning. Hang on, was it morning? She opened one eye and squinted out into the darkness. Crap, it was still pitch black outside. Though that didn’t mean much. At this time of year, the sun wouldn’t rise fully until they were already on shift. A hard body next to her—presumably Shane—groaned, and his hand shot out and felt around for the phone. He finally found it, picking it up and stopping the infernal buzzing against her wooden bedside table. She leaned over and read the time over his shoulder . . . five-fucking-thirty a.m. Definitely too early for any sane person to be calling. Good thing it was Mason.

  Her grin faded away and a brand-new rock took up residence in her stomach. Just why was Mason calling before the sun was even up? Before she could ask Shane, he sat up, swinging his legs over the bed, and stood as he swiped to answer. Despite the nerves clawing their way through her gut, Charlie couldn’t help but admire the view of his naked ass as Shane padded into her living room. Where she couldn’t hear him. She sat up quickly and grabbed a robe, sliding into it before following, but by the time she’d caught up, he’d already hung up the phone.

  “Everything alright?” Charlie kept her voice light, but she could feel the frown on her face and her forehead wrinkling in concern. She probably wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Shane. That man could read her like a book.

  Shane let out a breath. “Mason asked if I can work this shift. No heavy lifting,” he added when he saw the look on her face. “They’re short staffed and they need a paramedic on the rig.”

  Charlie let out a breath of her own as the rock melted away. “You’ll be careful?”

  “Of course, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” His gaze roamed over her.

  Charlie knew that face—he was assessing her. She swatted at his chest. “I’m fine.”

  He picked up his phone. “HQ was able to find an EMT to fill the shift, but I’m sure if I call Mason back, he could shuffle the rosters.” He looked critically at her again. “Are you ready to come back?”

  Was she? Her first instinct was to say Hell, yeah. A solid amount of sleep had done wonders to her headache. Medically, she was no worse off than Mr. Sprained Shoulder, but what about her mind? She paused, sinking into the chair. On one hand, she’d like nothing more than getting back to her normal routine, heading to the firehouse for shift like she always did. On the other hand, the thought of stepping back inside that building scared the crap out of her. Despite Shane’s assurances the night before, she was still incredibly nervous about seeing the guys after she’d pulled her failed disappearing act. What if they were angry with her for that? Or maybe they were mad at her about what happened to the chief. Maybe they blamed her for bringing an arsonist to town. Except Darryl Scranton wasn’t really an arsonist. He’d only done that to get to her. She shivered. No, he wasn’t an arsonist. He was a fucking serial killer! How would she know if the next call she took, if the next anything she took, would be a real patient or him lying in wait, ready to finish the job once and for all?

  Shane sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. “You’re not ready,” he said in a quiet voice.

  She shook her head, hating herself for it, even though it was the truth. “Not yet.”

  His arms tightened around her. “It’s okay, Charlie. It’ll be okay for however long you need. With all of us.” He pinned her with his gaze, loving as it was concerned. “No one blames you for any of this.”

  “But—”

  “If you don’t trust that, then just trust in me. Can you do that?”

  She looked back at Shane, holding his gaze. His eyes were warm, and his body nearly wrapped around hers. He was so much more than her colleague, always had been, really. First her best friend, and now her lover. He was safe, home. She could trust that.

  “There’s my girl.” He smiled and chucked her chin. “Do you think you could come by the station, even if you
don’t work today?”

  Her eyes drifted closed as she fought to get the residual fear under control. She could do this.

  “Charlie? Would you feel better if you went down to see Scott instead? I don’t like the idea of you staying here alone, but he could fill you in on the case and maybe talk about the next steps. I know you. You’ll feel better when there’s a plan in place.”

  She smiled. That she could do. She nodded and he leaned in and kissed her, taking her mouth in yet another delicious kiss. Every touch of his hands or skin on hers aroused her more than any other man ever had. She couldn’t wait to explore him more, to experience everything Shane had to offer. But first, they had to take out Darryl Scranton. It was amazing how, locked in Shane’s embrace, his name lost a little of its power. Maybe soon, he’d be nothing but a bad memory.

  Shane pulled away. “You go shower and get ready, and I’ll call Scott, make sure he’s there and expecting you.” He picked up his phone again as she stood. “If you don’t want to go near the firehouse, that’s okay, but I won’t have time to drop you off before I need to leave.” He tapped at the screen. “I could get Scott to come over here and get you?”

  Charlie shook her head. She’d been reliant on everyone else driving her around too much the last couple of days. It was time she got back on her own two feet. Finding the strength to stand on her own again was the first step to taking this bastard down. “I’ll leave when you do and drive myself over to the station.”

  Shane’s gaze was sharp. “Promise me you’ll go straight there. No stopping.”

  She crossed her heart with a finger. “I promise.”

  His eyes softened and he kissed her again. Damn, that man could start her heart racing with just a look. “Okay. Go get ready. I’ll make the call.”

  Charlie pulled out of the driveway immediately behind Shane, waving at him as he pulled out on the road and turned left to head to the station. She’d always liked that her apartment was so close to 81, but today she wished that she’d been the one with a shorter drive. But then that would mean stepping inside the firehouse doors, and she definitely wasn’t ready for that. Maybe when this was all over, she could look the guys in the face again without guilt taking her under.

  She took a deep breath and turned the opposite direction. She was fine. It was day, the sun was most of the way up, and she was hardly alone. She’d drive the twenty minutes to the police station and meet with Scott, and then everything would be fine.

  And everything was fine, for about fifteen minutes into the drive, until she hit the roadworks sign. A very helpful man with a stop sign merely shrugged at her and pointed her down the detour when she told him she had to keep going. Charlie pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out her phone. Ten minutes until Scott was expecting her. She could call. No, she’d already put him out enough yesterday, making him practically carry to her to the car and drive her to Shane’s after that God-awful phone call had come through. Charlie waved at the road worker brandishing the detour sign and turned her car down the side road. It was broad daylight now, it was still Monroe . . . she’d be fine.

  And she was. Until she came around a bend and plowed her car straight into the side of an SUV parked perpendicularly across the road. Her airbags deployed as she jerked forward, making her still-tender head feel like it had connected with concrete, rather than the steering wheel.

  Fuck!

  She sat up, blinking to try to disperse her now-blurry vision. Even in her scrambled mind, she knew that a second blow to the head—relatively minor though it was—was not a good idea so soon after the last one. This was going to mean more time off work.

  If she ever made it back to work.

  She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs and the thought at the same time. Of course she was going to make it back. Whoever that was, parked in front of her, their car was now disabled, too. They weren’t going anywhere. She’d just pick up her phone and call for help, and it would all be over. She typed a quick text to Shane, telling him she’d been in an accident. At least, that’s what she hoped it said. Her fingers were trembling from the adrenaline, and her vision still wasn’t entirely clear.

  Her car door wrenched open with a terrible screech as metal grated on metal, the edge of it turned in on itself from the accident. Charlie jumped, dropping her phone down into the foot well. She cursed, but then looked up and froze.

  Darryl Scranton’s grinning face looked down at her.

  “Hello, Charlotte.”

  She pushed out, kicked, anything she could manage. None of it mattered. She was trapped in her goddammed seat, the belt tight against her chest. Why wasn’t Scranton injured? Hell, why was he standing on the side of the road without a scratch on him?

  “I was just waiting for you to come along. Perfect timing. Much better than last time we met.” He tsk-tsked. “That was a frightful night.” Charlie felt something drip off her chin, and she lifted a hand, swiping away angrily. She refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. “Oh, my dear,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. You’re going to help me make it right. It will all be over soon.”

  He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a flip knife, then snapped it open with a quick flick of his wrist.

  Charlie froze, her blood turning to ice in her veins and sealing her body to the seat. She couldn’t move, even if she could get free of the car. Hell, she couldn’t even scream. All she could do was stare at the knife, which was glinting as it caught the sunlight just as it had that night in the moonlight. Her mind wandered off into ridiculousness, as if it refused to acknowledge what was going on right in front of her.

  Perhaps that was smarter. Perhaps she should let it.

  One should feel a lot different from the other—sunlight to moonlight. The sun should be warm, comforting, like when she’d been wrapped in Shane’s arms. This sun wasn’t anything other than hard and harsh, blinking off the knife that was in the hands of the murderer, the serial killer, who had her life in his hands . . . again.

  Scranton leaned forward, the knife angled down, and Charlie held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. She refused to watch it. Instead she brought Shane’s face to the forefront of her mind. If these were her last seconds on the earth, then she refused to let Darryl Scranton’s be the last face she saw. Instead, she would be with Shane, remembering what his touch felt like, happy in his company, until the end came. She could only hope Darryl made it quick.

  She felt a jerk, and then a short, sharp pressure. Charlie waited for the world to tumble away, but there was nothing. She hovered for what seemed like an age, until suddenly the hard asphalt of the road rushed up to meet her. It grazed her cheek, the sharp burst of pain forcing her eyes open and bringing her back to reality. What the hell was she doing outside her car? Was this some kind of weird limbo, where she’d be forced to watch her attempt at escape over and over again as it played out in endless possibilities?

  She turned her head. Her seatbelt. Seconds before, it had been trapping her in the car. Now it swung free, the ragged end flapping in the light breeze. All the breath in her lungs left in a whoosh. Oh, God, the knife. He’d cut the seatbelt.

  “Never you mind, Charlotte,” Scranton said. “You have a debt to pay first. When it finally comes, it won’t be fast.”

  26

  Shane

  Shane dropped onto the couch next to Connor. He leaned back, shoving a cushion under his shoulder. They hadn’t been out on any calls since he’d arrived, and the guys had promised to help with any patients that needed lifting, but he was still going to be careful. His shoulder injury had been minor and was already well on the way to healing, but if he wrenched it again, he could be stuck on the sidelines for longer. That was something he wasn’t prepared to risk while Darryl Scranton was still out there somewhere.

  He looked at his watch. Charlie would be talking with Scott by now. Shane hoped Scott would be able to calm her a little. He’d gotten the feeling she’d been doing the mental equivalen
t of hanging on to a ledge by her fingertips that morning. He’d considered calling the chief to say he couldn’t make it anyway and then taking Charlie to the police station himself, but in the end, he’d let her go. Skipping a shift wasn’t something he’d do unless he was practically dying himself. He’d said he’d be there, and so he would.

  Besides, as much as she might white-knuckle it down to the station, when it was all said and done, he had a feeling this was something Charlie needed to do on her own. Over the last few days, he’d watched her draw into herself, almost disappear.

  Not that he blamed her for that even a single bit. The happy, teasing partner Shane had fallen in love with had gone through something terrible. That was going to have an impact, and he was going to be there to help her get back on her feet. This morning, that had been letting her stand on her own and take herself to the meeting. She needed to get out of the house and ditch the feeling that evil was lurking around every corner. They’d play it safe, and wouldn’t take stupid risks, but nor would he stand by and let Charlie’s life be irreparably changed because of one asshole.

  He shifted, nudging the cushion in for better support. Besides, there were far better reasons to not be sore as hell coming off shift because he hadn’t looked after himself. Tonight he had to sleep in the thin, lumpy bed in the firehouse rest area, but come 7 a.m. the next morning, he’d be out the door and on his way back to Charlie’s apartment. Maybe he could even catch her before she woke up.

  He frowned. That was a point. They’d been in such a rush that morning, neither of them had remembered that Charlie would be coming back to an empty house while Shane was still on shift until tomorrow morning. He reached down and pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking the time again. Would she be out by now? Maybe he’d just drop her a text. Perhaps meeting with Scott would prove to her that Shane was right about everyone just wanting to help, that no one held her responsible for any of this insanity. Then she could come stay with him at the house overnight. If not, maybe Meg would put her up, or Sloane could organize a sleepover. He smiled. Crappy movies and junk food plus time with friends would give Charlie exactly what she needed.