Red Hot Rescue (Blue Collar Heat Book 5)

by Ava Kyle

  “Where will you be staying? Do you have friends or family in the area?”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “There’s women’s shelter in town. If you need a place to stay, I could drive you over there.”

  “I guess that’s my only option.” My voice is weak, helpless. It’s embarrassing. Before I met Brock, I was a strong, self-assured woman. He stripped that away along with my freedom. But now I’m free again, and I’m not going to let him beat me again. Not physically, not mentally.

  “Take a seat over in the waiting area. I’ve got one more report to file and then we can take off.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just doing my job.” He smiles.

  I take a seat in the waiting area. The cop who’d initially glared at me comes out from behind his desk.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

  “Coffee would be great.”

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Both.” Why the hell not? With everything else going on, I might as well indulge.

  He returns and puts a steaming mug in my hand. There are two names scrawled on the side of it: Hanny and Tommy.

  “Your kids?” I ask.

  “Yep. Twins.” He grins. “They just turned ten last week. If you need anything else, holler.”

  “Thanks.”

  I take a sip of the overly acidic sludge. Cop coffee. It’s not the first time I’ve had it. Hopefully it will be the last time.

  As I wait for Officer Blackhawk, I can’t help but wonder what I’m going to do next. I don’t have any friends or family in the area. After everything I’ve put them through, I can’t show my face at their homes anymore. I’ve tried running before, but he’s always found me. It’s a nightmare that will never end.

  A deep, sexy voice cuts through my dark thoughts. It’s the fireman—Logan. He’s joking around with the cop who gave me coffee.

  Logan’s at least 6’3”, taller than my ex but only by a few inches. Short black hair ends at the nape of his neck. A navy-blue t-shirt stretches across his muscular back. Ripped triceps flex as he relays the story about saving me from the fire. I only catch a few words over the persistent din of other conversations. He’s at least ten feet away, but he may as well be standing right next to me because heat rolls through my body.

  He turns and looks at me. His eyebrows knit together before he smiles. A flash of something I can’t define was there and gone in an instant. I’m usually very good at reading people because I had to read my ex all the time. What kind of mood was he in? Was he about to hit me? Did I need to duck?

  “You look good—I mean, rested. Didn’t they give you new clothes?”

  “Are you following me?” I try to keep my tone teasing, but it comes out accusatory.

  “No. My brother works here. He’s a cop.”

  “He was nice. Gave me coffee.” I nod my head toward coffee cop.

  “Oh, that’s not my brother. Jeff Blackhawk is my brother.”

  “Officer Blackhawk?”

  “He’s handling your case.”

  “Right. I just spoke with him.”

  “Are you waiting to finish giving a statement?” he asks.

  “No. He’s going to drive me to the women’s shelter.” A fresh wave of shame rolls over me. This is what my life has become. Uprooted. Dangerous. I don’t belong anywhere anymore.

  “Don’t you have family you can stay with?” he asks.

  “I don’t want to bring them back into this.” My voice cracks. I study an intricate pattern in the carpet.

  “Let me go talk to my brother. I’ll be right back.” He takes off at a clipped pace.

  I shouldn’t let my gaze linger on his tight ass, but those jeans. It’s criminal. He shouldn’t be allowed to wear them without a warning sign.

  When he reaches the office door, he turns and flashes a quick smile.

  Oops. Busted!

  I smile and look away. Ogling a man is the last thing I need to be doing right now. Until I can find a way to make Brock leave me alone, men are off limits. Sexy or not, I can’t drool all over this fireman. I don’t care how big his hose might be.

  I stifle a giggle. It’s ridiculous to find any humor in this moment, but if I don’t laugh every once in a while, I’ll never stop crying.

  Rising voices draw my attention. Logan is pacing around his brother’s office, gesturing wildly. I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around my knees. Arguments trigger tremors. I shudder as a wave of fear crashes through me. I’m in a police station. I’m safe. No one can hurt me here, but I’m still petrified. Why do they look like they’re about to tear each other’s throats out?

  Maybe I should leave. I’m sure I can find the women’s shelter on my own.

  I check to be sure my phone’s still in my pocket. It’s dead. I need to charge it, but I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I need to get away from this place.

  No one seems to notice as I head toward sliding doors that lead to the parking lot. I’m outside, sucking in cool night air. A halo encircles the moon. High clouds drift aimlessly across the sky. I know the feeling well.

  In the last two years, I haven’t been able to stay in a place longer than a few months. I’m so sick of running, but if I don’t, I’m dead. He almost killed me a few nights ago. It won’t stop until either the cops get off their asses and do something or I die.

  “Where are you going?” Logan rushes out of the station.

  “I can walk.”

  “It’s cold, and you don’t have a jacket.”

  “I’ll manage.” I always do.

  “Let me drive you.”

  “I’m fine.” It’s a lie I’ve told too many times to count.

  “The shelter’s on the other side of town. It will take an hour to walk there. Let me drive you.” He flashes a disarming smile. I can’t say no to a face like that. Chiseled features. A strong jaw. It’s as if he’s been carved from granite. But he’s not cold. Warmth radiates from his eyes. They’re not cold and dead like Brock’s.

  “I guess it would be okay since your brother’s a cop.” I follow him to a huge black truck. “Although I guess you could kill me, and he could cover it up.”

  “You have a twisted sense of justice.”

  “Justice.” My laugh is sharp, bitter. “Justice is for movies. In real life, the bad guys get away.”

  “That won’t happen as long as Jeff’s handling your case. If your ex left even a single hair, the forensic team will find it.”

  “I’m hoping for fingerprints.” I climb into the cab. He closes he door and runs around to the other side.

  “That would be the best option.” He slides into the driver’s seat.

  “What were you fighting about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With your brother.”

  “Oh… well…” He starts the truck and grips the wheel. “I wanted to offer you a place at our house.”

  “You live together?”

  “Yeah. We’re both single and never home, so no point in paying extra rent. It lets us save up for when we do decide to get married. Although with our schedules, who knows when we’ll even have time to date.” He shakes his head. He pulls onto the main road that cuts through the center of the small town.

  “Why would you want to offer to help me?” I ask. “Is that something you two typically do?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you would for me?” I cock my head and study his profile. A strong, roman nose adds to his appeal. The sudden urge to trace my fingers down it makes me sit on my hands.

  “I would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” His jaw clenches. “Because I don’t like to see fear in your eyes. We could keep you safe.”

  “Wouldn’t I be safe at the shelter?”

  “They do the best they can, but ex-husbands, boyfriends, fathers, they show up from time to time.”

  “So, it’s not safe?”

  “If the alt
ernative is living on the streets, then yes, it’s safer than that, but my house would be safer.”

  I’m silent while I consider his offer. His brother’s a cop. He’s a firefighter. They’ve been nothing but nice to me. But… they’re still strangers. I don’t know what to do.

  “Do you still have my card?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “If you need me, call me.”

  “My phone’s dead.”

  “Charge it while we drive.” He motions toward the car charger.

  By the time we arrive at the women’s shelter, my phone is fifty percent charged. It’s not ideal, but as long as I leave it off, it should hold the charge until I can figure out my next step.

  As we pull up to the shelter, a woman holding a baby strides past the truck. Desperation in her eyes and hunched shoulders speak to her despair. She enters a gray building that looks like a prison. There are even bars on the windows.

  “Why are there bars?”

  “To keep people out.”

  I swallow. This doesn’t look like a safe place at all. Living on the streets might be better, but I have one other option. I could go home with him.

  I study him out of the corner of my eye. He’s sitting sideways, watching, waiting for me to make a choice.

  “God, this is so stupid,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “I’m actually thinking of going home with you.”

  “I promise we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” He reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Sadness darkens the corners of his eyes. “I promise.”

  “Promises don’t mean anything,” I whisper.

  “They do when they come from me.”

  I know it’s crazy, but I believe him. The sincerity in his tone convinces me to take the risk. At least at his house I won’t be caged like an animal. His brother’s a cop. He’s a fireman. They don’t let psychos take those jobs, do they?

  After one last glance at the shelter, I make a decision.

  “Take me home—to your house,” I quickly amend.

  It’s not my home. I don’t know why I said that, but he doesn’t seem to have caught on. He nods and puts the truck in gear.

  As we pull onto the dark interstate, I wonder if I’ve finally lost my mind. I’m trusting a complete stranger to keep me safe. But I do have one thing going for me, I’m good at reading people. The only thing I read in Logan is a desire to help. It’s in his blood.

  But there’s something else too—a subtle sadness that sparks at the oddest moments, as if he’s endured a similar pain. I shouldn’t be intrigued by it, but I am. I want to know who hurt him and why. He’s a mystery just waiting to be solved. And although unlocking his secrets is the last thing I should be trying to do, I can’t help it. There’s a fire burning between us, and I need to know what sparked it.

  3

  Logan

  My brother and I live in a large colonial set back from the highway. We’re about ten minutes out of town, which gives us the peace and quiet we need. Our jobs are stressful enough without adding city noise into the mix. Not that our small town gets too rowdy. Well, except for Friday nights at Boomer’s Bar. Things can get crazy there. Jeff keeps an officer on duty in the parking lot because alcohol and hot heads don’t mix, and that bar is full of both.

  “Here we are.” I follow the circular driveway up to the front door.

  “You live here?” Her voice is full of amazement.

  “Yep. It’s been in my family for over one hundred years.” I beam with pride. “We own a hundred acres, well back into the woods. And because we’re not in town, we don’t get a lot of random guests. You’ll be safe here.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She steps out of the truck, eyes wide. A slow smile brightens her face. “This is so much better than the women’s shelter.”

  “I thought you might like it. Wait until you see inside.”

  I lay my hand on the small of her back as I usher her up the front steps. I don’t know what possessed me to touch her, but I’ve been wanting to do it from the moment I spotted her at the police station. Even with remnants of soot clinging to her hair, she’s stunning.

  “How old is the house?” she asks.

  “It was originally built in 1892. There was a fire in 1917, so the kitchen area is newer.”

  “Over a hundred years old isn’t new.” She smirks.

  “Tell that to my great-great granddad.”

  “He’s over one hundred?”

  “Yep, and he’ll never let you forget it.”

  A soft giggle escapes her lips. It zings straight to my cock. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman. Work keeps me busy as hell, and when I’m not working, beer and football take up the rest of my time.

  “I’ll make up a bed in one of the extra rooms on the second floor.”

  “You don’t have to go to all that trouble. I can sleep on the couch.”

  “No way.” I frown. “You’re our guest. I have plenty of sheets and towels. Another good thing about living with my brother—we share everything.” Except women, I silently added before kicking myself for even thinking about sleeping with her. I’m supposed to be protecting her, not tumbling her into my bed.

  Still, the sizzling connection between us can’t be denied. There’s something there for sure, but I can’t tell if she feels it too. She probably only thinks of me as the fireman who saved her from a blaze, but I hope it’s more than just that. For the first time in years, I’m interested in a woman. This woman.

  I shake my head. God, I’m an idiot. Her life is a complicated mess. She’s the last woman I should want to get mixed up with. The last thing I need is more drama in my life. After what happened with Penny, I swore off women. But Ella… shit. I can’t stop wanting her, and I don’t even know her.

  “I’ll go make the bed,” I say.

  “I’m not tired yet.”

  “Can I get you something for dinner? Have you eaten anything today?”

  “Just hospital food.”

  “Yuck. I’ll see what I can whip up for you. Don’t get too excited though, I’m damn good at cooking frozen pizza, but that’s about it.”

  “Pizza sounds good to me.”

  “Want a beer too?”

  “That sounds amazing.” Wonder fills her voice, as if a cold beer is the most magical thing in the world. I guess she’s not wrong. It can be a lifesaver at the end of a bad day, and she’s on day three of her latest hellish encounter with her ex.

  I head down the hall toward the kitchen. My shoes squeak across polished tile in the kitchen. The maid stopped by earlier today. It’s a necessity more than an indulgence. By the time we get home from work, the last thing we want to do is clean a giant house.

  “I hope you like pepperoni,” I say.

  “Love it. This kitchen… It’s incredible.”

  “My brother designed it.”

  I look at it, really look at it, for the first time in years. Jeff had remodeled it three years ago, just weeks before Penny died. I wasn’t living here at the time, so I didn’t have any impute, but he nailed it.

  In addition to a huge multi-burner gas stove, we have a double oven, a huge island with multiple electrical outlets, and cabinets for days. Most of them are empty. They might hold a few boxes of crackers and some chips, if we’re lucky. The one thing we do fight about is who ate the last of the chips. The blame could probably be evenly split, but neither of us wants to admit it.

  “I could live in a kitchen like this,” she says with a sigh.

  “Jeff told me you were living in Memphis before moving to Blues Town?” I punch in the temperature for a pizza without bothering to look at the box. I know it by heart.

  “Yeah.” She slides onto a stool and starts playing with the ornamental place settings Jeff insists on keeping on the island. I don’t see the point, but he says it makes it feel like one of those homes you see in magazines. I couldn’t care less, but whatever. If he wants this place to loo
k like it belongs in Home and Garden, then go for it. It’s no skin off my teeth.

  “How long did you live in Memphis?” I open the fridge and grab two bottles of craft beer.

  “My whole life.” She takes a bottle. “Thank you.”

  “You grew up there?” I join her on the stool next to hers. I could have sat anywhere else, but I need to be closer to her. Not just to stare at her perfect heart-shaped face, but because I want to be by her side. I don’t know. It’s a weird urge, but I’m unable to deny it.

  “Born and raised. What about you?”

  “I grew up in Austin. Lived there until three years ago.” I avert my gaze and take a long swig of beer.

  “Why did you move?”

  Shit, if she only knew how loaded that question was.

  “I needed a change of pace. My brother was working at the police station out here. He got me a job with the fire department. He’s friends with the chief.” I leave out the fact that he had to drag me out of the bottom of a bottle and force me to be sober long enough to get through training.

  “Were you a fireman back in Austin?”

  “No. I specialized in laying pipe.” The edge of my mouth quirks.

  Before I met Penny, I laid all kinds of pipe around Austin. My friends had nicknamed me, “The Stallion”. It was a ridiculous name, but it stuck. Penny changed all that. From the moment I met her, I never looked at another woman. Even after losing her, I haven’t looked at another woman, until now.

  “It sounds like you made a big change,” she says.

  Observant as hell, this one. I’ll have to be careful around her. I haven’t talked to anyone about the night Penny died, so I’m not about to open up to a complete stranger.

  The preheating alert dings. Grateful for the distraction, I get up to put the pizza in the oven. When I return to my seat, I decide to push her a bit more.

  “How long were you married?”

  “Five years.” Her eyes glass over. “I was twenty years old. I thought I knew everything.”

  “At that age, the world hasn’t broken you yet. You don’t realize that people aren’t always who they pretend to be.”