12-Alarm Cowboys (104 page)

Though he’d only known Cameron for a short while, probably almost a year, it was clear the man was a brilliant supervisor, but like his wife, sadness emanated from his spirit. Holly deserved a wee bit of happiness herself and Cameron could benefit from a little peace. If Duncan could do this small service for them, he would.

And there was no blasted way he would let Miss Jessica Thomas bumble their assignment, bonny eyes or no’.

Pleasures of Christmas Past

A Christmas Carol: Book 1

Coming November 2015

Available for order
here

Lexi Post is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of erotic romance inspired by the classics. She spent years in higher education taking and teaching courses about the classical literature she loved. From Edgar Allan Poe’s short story “The Masque of the Red Death” to Tolstoy’s
War and Peace
, she’s read, studied, and taught wonderful classics.

But Lexi’s first love is romance novels. In an effort to marry her two first loves, she started writing erotic romance inspired by the classics and found she loved it. Lexi believes there’s no end to the romantic inspiration she can find in great literature. Her books are known for being “erotic romance with a whole lot of story.”

Lexi is living her own happily ever after with her husband and her cat in Florida. She makes her own ice cream every weekend, loves bright colors, and is never seen without a hat.

Hellfire Series Book #1

Elle James

‡

Read other stories by Elle James:

Billionaire Online Dating Series

The Billionaire Husband Test (#1)

The Billionaire Cinderella Test (#2)

Take No Prisoners Series

SEAL’s Honor (#1)

SEAL’s Desire (#2)

SEAL’s Embrace (#3)

SEAL’s Obsession (#4)

SEAL’s Proposal (#5)

SEAL’s Seduction (#6)

SEAL’s Defiance (#7)

Visit
ellejames.com
for more titles and release dates

Also visit her alter-ego Myla Jackson at
mylajackson.com

and join Elle James and Myla Jackson’s Newsletter at
Newsletter

This book is dedicated to all of the dedicated first responders who risk their lives daily to help people and animals when all hell breaks loose! Thank you to the firefighters, paramedics and law enforcement personnel for being there when we need you most.

Escape with…

Elle James

aka Myla Jackson

‡

T
he hot July
sun beat down on the asphalt road. Shimmering heat waves rose like mirages as Becket Grayson drove the twenty miles home to Coyote Creek Ranch outside of Hellfire, Texas. Wearing only a sweat-damp T-shirt and the fire retardant pants and boots of a firefighter, he couldn’t wait to get home, strip, and dive into the pool. Although he’d have to hose down before he clouded the water with the thick layer of soot covering his body from head to toe.

The Hellfire Volunteer Firefighter Association met the first Saturday of every month for training in firefighting, rescues, and first responder care. Today had been particularly grueling in the late summer swelter. Old Lady Mersen graciously donated her dilapidated barn for structural fire training and rescue.

All thirty volunteers had been on hand to participate. Though hot, the training couldn’t have gone better. Each volunteer got a real taste of how fast an old barn would go up in flames, and just how much time they had to rescue any humans or animals inside. Some had the opportunity to exercise the use of SCBA, self-contained breathing apparatus, the masks and oxygen tanks that allowed them to enter smoke-filled buildings, limiting exposure and damage to their lungs. Other volunteers manned the fire engine and tanker truck, shuttling water from a nearby pond to the portable tank deployed on the ground. They unloaded a total of five tanks onto the barn fire before it was completely extinguished. With only one tanker truck, the shuttle operation slowed their ability to put out the fire, as the blaze rebuilt each time they ran out of water in the holding pool. They needed at least two tanker trucks in operation to keep the water flowing. As small as the Hellfire community was, the first engine and tanker truck would never have happened without generous donations from everyone in the district
and
a government grant. But, they had an engine that could carry a thousand, and a tanker capable of thirty-five hundred gallons. Forty-five hundred gallons was better than nothing.

Hot, tired, and satisfied with what he’d learned about combating fire without the advantages of a city fire hydrant and unlimited water supply, Becket had learned one thing that day. Firefighting involved a lot more than he’d ever imagined. As the Fire Chief said, all fires were different, just like people were different. Experience taught you the similarities, but you had to expect the unexpected.

Two miles from his turnoff, Becket could almost taste the ice-cold beer waiting in the fridge and feel the cool water of the ranch swimming pool on his skin.

A puff of dark smoke drifted up from a stalled vehicle on the shoulder of the road ahead. The puff grew into a billowing cloud, rising into the air.

Becket slowed as he neared the disabled vehicle.

A black-haired woman stood in the V of the open driver’s door, attempting to push the vehicle off the road. She didn’t need to worry about getting it off the road so much as getting herself away from the smoke and fire before the gas tank ignited and blew the car to pieces.

A hundred yards away from the potential disaster, Becket slammed on his brakes, shifted into park, and jumped out of his truck. “Get away from the car!” he yelled, running toward the idiot woman. “Get away before it explodes!”

The woman shot a brief glance back at him before continuing on her mission to get the car completely off the road and into the bone-dry grass.

Becket ran up behind her, grabbed her around the middle, and hauled her away from the now-burning vehicle.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, tearing at his hands. “I have to get it off the road.”

“Damn it, lady, it’s not safe.” Not knowing when the tank would ignite, he didn’t have time to argue. Becket spun her around, threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and jogged away from the burning vehicle.

“I have to get it off the road,” she said, her voice breaking with each jolt to her gut.

“Leave it where it is. I’ll call in the fire department, they’ll have the fire out before you know it. In the meantime, that vehicle is dangerous.” He didn’t stop or put her down until he was back behind his truck.

He set her on her feet, but she darted away from him, running back toward the vehicle, her long, jet-black hair flying out behind her.

Becket lunged, grabbed her arm, and jerked her back. “Are you crazy?”

“I can’t leave it in the road,” she sobbed. “Don’t you see? He’ll find it. He’ll find me!” She tried prying his fingers free of her arm.

He wasn’t letting go.

“The fire will ignite the gas tank. Unless you want to be fried like last year’s turkey, you need to stand clear.” He held her back to his chest, forcing her to view the fire and the inherent danger.

She sagged against him, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I have to hide it.”

“Can I trust you to stay put?”

She nodded, her hair falling into her face.

“I’m making a call to the Hellfire Volunteer Firefighters Association.”

Before he finished talking, she was shaking her head. “No. You can’t. No one can know I’m here.”

“Why?” He settled his hands on her shoulders and was about to turn her to face him when an explosion rocked the ground.

Becket grabbed the woman around the waist.

She yelped and whimpered as Becket ducked behind the tailgate of his pickup, and waited for the debris to settle. Then he slowly rose.

Smoke and fire shot into the air. Where the car had been now was a raging inferno. Black smoke curled into the sky.

“Sweetheart, I won’t have to call 911. In the next fifteen minutes, this place will be surrounded by firefighters.”

Her head twisted left and right as she attempted to pry his hands away from her waist. “You’re hurting me.”

He released her immediately. “The sheriff will want a statement from you.”

“No. I can’t.” Again, she darted away from him. “I have to get as far away from here as possible.”

Becket snagged her arm again and whipped her around. “You can’t just leave the scene of a fire. There will be an investigation.” He stared down at her, finally getting a look at her. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t…” The young woman glanced up, eyes narrowing. She reached up a hand and rubbed some of the soot off his face. Recognition dawned and her eyes grew round. “Becket? Becket Grayson?”

He nodded. “And I know I should know you, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Her widened eyes filled with tears, and she flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, dear God. Becket!”

He held her, struggling to remember who she was.

Her body trembled, her arms like clamps around his neck.

“Hey.” Surprised by her outburst, Becket patted her back. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she cried into his sweat-dampened shirt, further soaking it with her tears. “No, it’s not.”

His heart contracted, feeling some of the pain in her voice. “Yes, it is. But you have to start by telling me who you are.” He hugged her again, then loosened the arms around his neck and pushed her to arms’ length. “Well?”

The cheek she’d rested against his chest was black with soot, her hair wild and tangled. Familiar green eyes, red-rimmed and awash with tears, looked up at him. “You don’t remember me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Sorry. You look awfully familiar, but I’m just not making the connection.” He smiled gently. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m Kinsey Phillips. We used to be neighbors.”

His confusion cleared, and he grinned. “Little Kinsey Phillips? The girl who used to hang out with Nash and follow us around the ranch, getting into trouble?”

Sniffling, she nodded.

Becket shook his head and ran his gaze over her from head to toe. “Look at you, all grown up.” He chuckled. “Although, you didn’t get much taller.”

She straightened to her full height. “No. Sadly, I stopped growing taller when I was thirteen.”

“Well, Little Kinsey…” He pulled her into the curve of his arm and faced the burning mess that had been her car. “What brings you back to Hellfire? Please tell me you didn’t come to have your car worked on by my brother, Rider. I’m afraid there’s no hope for it.”