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Ride the Fire

Page 1

by Jo Davis




  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Praise for the Novels of Jo Davis

  Hidden Fire

  “Surprisingly sweet and super hot. . . . One of the best heroes I’ve read in a long time. If you want a hot firefighter in your room for the night, grab a copy and tuck right in with no regrets. Four hearts.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “A fast-paced romantic-suspense thriller.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Under Fire

  “Four stars! A totally entertaining experience.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Scorching hot kisses, smoldering sex, and explosive passion make Under Fire a must read! Experience the flames of Under Fire!”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  “Exhilarating [with] a 200-proof heat duet . . . a strong entry [and] a terrific, action-packed thriller.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Trial by Fire

  “A five-alarm read . . . riveting, sensual.”

  —Publishers Weekly Beyond Her Book Blog

  “Jo Davis turns up the heat full blast. Romantic suspense that has it all: a sizzling firefighter hero, a heroine you’ll love, and a story that crackles and pops with sensuality and action. Keep the fire extinguisher handy or risk spontaneous combustion!”

  —Linda Castillo, national bestselling author of

  Pray for Silence

  “Jo Davis . . . completely reeled me in. . . . Heady sexual tension, heartwarming romance, and combustible love scenes.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  “One of the most exciting ‘band of brothers’ series since J. R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood. It’s sweet and sexy, tense and suspenseful.”

  —myLifetime.com

  “For a poignant and steamy romance with a great dose of suspense, be sure to pick up a copy of Trial by Fire as soon as it hits the bookstores! Five Bookmarks!”

  —Wild on Books

  “Hot, sizzling sex and edge-of-your-seat terror will have you glued to this fantastic romantic-suspense story from the first page to the final word. Do not miss the heart-stopping, breath-stealing, incredibly well-written Trial by Fire.”

  —Romance Novel TV

  ALSO BY JO DAVIS

  The Firefighters of Station Five Novels

  Line of Fire

  Hidden Fire

  Under Fire

  Trial by Fire

  I Spy a Naughty Game

  I Spy a Wicked Sin

  When Alex Was Bad

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, December

  Copyright © Jo Davis, 2010

  eISBN : 978-1-101-44576-1

  All rights reserved

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER′S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To my beautiful children, Kayla and Bryan.

  Let nothing stand in the way of your dreams. Push on and go for it, no matter what anyone says. The world is yours for the taking. Be a better person than I ever was. Fly higher than I ever did. Embrace life with all the joy you’ve brought to me.

  You two are my greatest work, my proudest achievement. You are good, fine people who I’m honored to know and love. Because of you, my happiness is complete.

  I love you,

  Mom

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With heartfelt thanks to . . .

  My family for encouraging me to keep writing, even when life refuses to cooperate.

  My agent and friend, Roberta Brown, for her unfailing support.

  My editor, Tracy Bernstein, for her faith in me and for keeping me wonderfully busy.

  The Foxes, for keeping me sane. Or maybe we’re all just insane together and don’t know it.

  My friend Brad Craghead, for naming Detective Taylor Kayne when I absolutely couldn’t think of what to call him! Great name, buddy.

  And to you, the readers, for loving my Station Five boys as much as I do. It’s been a great ride, with new adventures to come. Thank you.

  PROLOGUE

  On the night the world ended, Blair Tanner had told her husband to go to hell.

  The argument had been stupid. Just one of many they’d had lately, going at each other like scalded cats in a sack. Sean leaned his back against the grille of Engine 171, arms crossed over his chest, and stared out the open door of the fire station’s bay, watching brown leaves drift from the trees to litter the ground outside.

  Everyone assumed he and Blair were blissfully happy, the quintessential Barbie-and-Ken couple with their two gorgeous children, not to mention a pair of nice vehicles, living on a spread they’d never be able to afford if not for Blair’s fancy job. Sean snorted, figuring at least one of those points was spot-on.

  His teenage son and six-year-old daughter were perfect. Even more than the job he loved so much, he breathed for his children. Not, however, according to his pissed-off wife when they’d had it out over the phone earlier.

  Your son is going to be so let down. How can you do this to him
, Sean?

  Bobby understands. I can’t leave my men in a bind—

  Oh, save it! Always with the excuses, and they’re getting old. You know, if you can’t appreciate what you have here, someone else might.

  What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Blair?

  “Hey, Cap. What’s with the long face? In the dog-house again?”

  Sean turned to see Clay Montana swagger toward him, grinning like a fool. “Is my name Sean Tanner and do I have a pulse?” He couldn’t help but smile back at their resident cowboy.

  “Ouch.” Clay grimaced in sympathy. “That’s what happens when you break the first rule of bachelorhood.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never sleep with the same woman twice. Unless a man wants to end up like you—pussy-whupped and with couple of rug rats biting at your ankles.”

  Sean laughed, shaking his head at the cowboy’s earnest expression. The guy wasn’t joking. “Yeah? At least I know where my woman’s been, and I happen to like my rug rats just fine, thanks.”

  Clay shrugged. “Whatever, it’s your blood pressure, not mine. So, what happened?”

  “Blair ripped me a new one for working overtime tonight instead of going with her and Mia to watch Bobby’s football game. He’s the starting quarterback again, and he’s doing really well since he took over for the first-string kid who got injured. He’s even been approached by a couple of college scouts.” His chest puffed out with pride at that.

  “Hey, that’s great! For Bobby, anyhow. We can probably swing it if you want to take off and catch the last half. If nothing else, we can try to call in the lieutenant to cover.”

  For a long moment, he was tempted. “Nah, that’s okay. I already asked Six-Pack. He couldn’t make it in and I don’t want to leave you short a man. Besides, there’s a couple of games left in the regular season and I promised Bobby I’d make those.”

  “Sucks being the boss, huh?”

  “Only when I have to disappoint my kids to come ride roughshod over you bozos,” he said, shooting the other man a grin. “Someday you’ll understand.”

  Clay shuddered. “Not me, man. No freaking way will you see me stick my head through the golden noose.”

  Sean snickered as Clay strode back inside, presumably to make himself useful doing something. Sean thought his friend protested too much. Firefighters were family people, nurturers at heart. They all fell eventually, and he’d bet Clay would be no different.

  The evening crawled at a snail’s pace with only a couple of minor calls, and Sean began to think he’d given up his day off for nothing. But if he hadn’t come in, the station would’ve gotten called to some real disaster and he would’ve ended up here all the same. Murphy’s Law.

  It was almost a relief when dispatch sent them out to an accident—except this one was major, with two possible fatalities and a third person, a screaming child, trapped in the burning car. In the front passenger′s seat of the quint, Sean stared intently down the highway, knowing time wasn’t on their side. They weren’t going to make it before the fire consumed the vehicle, and he hoped the police or bystanders were able to free the child and anyone else involved.

  Behind the wheel, Clay gestured to the blaze in the distance, growing closer. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Sure as hell is,” John “Val” Valentine said grimly from the back. “We’ve got a car bred to an eighteen-wheeler, folks.”

  The police hadn’t yet arrived. The eighteen-wheeler was parked on the shoulder, as though it had some sort of engine trouble. The car that had hit the rig from behind was fully involved with flames, too, the blaze beginning to engulf the back end of the big semi. Clay pulled the quint as close as they dared, the ambulance on their tail, and they all jumped out. Clay and another man scrambled to grab hoses, while Sean and the others went to assess the situation, check on survivors and their injuries. Other cars had pulled onto the shoulder, and shocked witnesses stared at the spectacle, a couple of women sobbing.

  One older woman grabbed the sleeve of Val’s heavy coat. “They c-couldn’t get the little g-girl out! The older boy, who was driving the car, a-and the woman, they were dead. But the little one was screaming for her daddy to put out the fire and—and . . .” The woman clapped a hand over her mouth, overcome by recounting the horrifying events.

  Sweet Jesus. Her words made Sean’s blood run cold. “Ma’am, are there any other survivors you know of?”

  “The driver of the big truck says he’s fine. He’s over there,” she said in a wobbly voice, and pointed. Sean followed the gesture to a distraught man sitting on the shoulder of the highway, his face in his hands, and doubted the man was fine at all.

  “Val, check on the driver while I go talk to the witnesses.”

  “Got it, Cap.”

  Pushing his fire hat back on his head, Sean turned and began to walk toward the inferno and the agitated witnesses. Three men were pacing too close to the fire, hopeless expressions on their faces. There was nothing they could have done, and Sean felt sorry for the poor bastards. Nobody should have to encounter something as sad as this.

  He opened his mouth to yell at the three men to move back—

  And that’s when he saw the license plate on the back end of the car, curling and blackening from the intense heat. Saw the letters and numbers rapidly being overcome by the flames.

  Blair′s car.

  An older boy and a woman.

  A little girl screaming for Daddy to put out the fire.

  “No.” He stopped, rooted in place, his mind resisting the truth. Unwilling to make the final connection, to make it real.

  Because if it was real, he had nothing. Was nothing. Not without his family.

  His children.

  “Oh, God . . .”

  His knees buckled, hit the asphalt. He struggled to draw in a breath, to scream, but his lungs were frozen.

  “Cap! Cap, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” Someone crouched beside him and a gloved hand grabbed his arm.

  “That car,” he whispered. “That’s my wife’s car. My family . . ”

  “What? No, no, I’m sure you’re mistaken. Sean?”

  The truth swept in, as black and bitter as the stench of gasoline and burning bodies, and he couldn’t stop the images.

  Blair. Bobby. Mia, his sweet baby.

  Blair had been right to damn him to hell. He’d put work above his family and they’d paid the ultimate price. He hadn’t deserved them, and now . . . No, please, God. Please.

  He slumped sideways, falling into darkness.

  “Sean? Oh, Jesus. Somebody help me over here!”

  But there was no help for him.

  Not ever again.

  1

  1983

  Laughter and celebration carried on the warm spring breeze, and with the sounds of merriment, the swell of excitement reflected in so many young faces. This day truly marked the first day of the rest of their lives.

  Bouncing on his feet, Sean Tanner impatiently searched the sea of caps and gowns for the one person who mattered most. The one who always had his back, no matter what. Finally, he spotted a familiar blond head weaving through the crowd, headed straight for him and rapidly closing the distance.

  Jesse Rose’s smile lit his handsome face as he wrapped Sean in a manly hug, slapping him on the back. “Dude, was that boring or what? Thought they’d never stop preaching about us being the future of mankind and shit.”

  Sean drew back, playfully ruffling his best friend’s hair. “Scary thought, huh?”

  “You know it! So tell me, what’s the plan? Made up your mind yet?” Still smiling, Jesse arched a blond brow. As if he knew damned well that hearing the words was a mere formality.

  Sean sucked in a deep breath, and forced down the flutter of fear in his heart. It was just the thrill of the unknown, that was all. “You and me, the few and the proud. We’re gonna see the world, man!”

  His friend slung his arm about his shoulders. “I knew I could count on y
ou.”

  “Always, Jesse. Always.”

  Sean Tanner leaned against the porch railing and wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, relishing the warmth. The fall morning was crisp and cool, sporting enough of a bite to justify the light jacket he wore over his navy fire department polo shirt. As he watched the horses graze, his thoughts tumbled one after another, a lengthy, confusing list of things to do.

  Amends to make.

  Emotions assailed him, a cacophony of trepidation, anxiety, amazement. And hope.

  Hope, because as terrifying as the tasks laid before him were, the miles left to travel, all these intimidating thoughts and emotions had one important thing in common.

  They were those of a sober man.

  But for how long? Would he screw up tomorrow, next week? Even now his hands trembled as he clutched the mug, longing to skip the much-anticipated reunion with his team. To jump into the Tahoe and make tracks to the liquor store outside of town, grab a bottle of bourbon to add some kick to his coffee. Replace the raw pain of reality with the comforting haze of oblivion.

  Closing his eyes, he clamped down hard on the temptation and beat it into submission. If he went down that road again, he might as well be dead. No. When he finally joined his family on the other side, he’d go to them as a man they could be proud of, not the mean, drunken wretch of the past two years. The man who’d became so sloppy and inattentive at work, he’d cost Tommy Skyler his firefighting career and nearly his life.

  That man isn’t me. Never again.

  Heading inside, he rinsed out the mug and placed it in the dishwasher. Turned off the coffeepot. Wiped down the counter. Watered the ivy on the windowsill. Anything to keep him busy and his mind off another drink, not to mention his dubious reception in—he glanced at the kitchen wall clock—forty minutes.

 

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