Fire and Ice: Book One: Burned (The Fire and Ice Series 1)

BOOK: Fire and Ice: Book One: Burned (The Fire and Ice Series 1)
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Fire and Ice

Book One: Burned

Copyright © 2014 by Kiara Delaney

 

All rights reserved.

 

No part of this
book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic
or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for
the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

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

 

Visit my author
page at: https://www.facebook.com/Kiara.Delaney.romance

 For my adoring
fans...you touch me each day with your kind words, lift me up when I am down,
and inspire me to be the best person I can be.

Prologue

 

Kellan

 

So you wanna
know what makes Kellan Haines tick? Loose women, fast cars, loud music, and
hard liquor. Plain and simple. Call me a fuckin' animal, if that's what you
want; I could give two shits. I live my life for me, and everybody else can go
shit in their hat. I live in a shitty, one horse town called Chambers in the
middle of bum fucked Egypt. I work a shitty job as a bartender, in the only
halfway decent bar in town, called Jimbo's, named aptly after the owner, Jim
Carrington. Original right? I'm sick to death of this dog and pony show, and as
soon as I get the money saved to get the hell of out this town, filled with
raging morons, I'm gone with the wind. This whole town, and every idiot that
waddles around like a sheep in the herd, can kiss my ass. I've got dreams,
ambition, and it sure as fuck doesn't include wading amongst the tadpoles in
this infested gene pool.

 

As I light up a
cigarette, inhaling deeply, standing next to my brand new black Camaro, I crank
the volume on my custom sound system, blasting Dead Sara's
"Weatherman". I pause and imagine the moment I'll be stepping over
the city limits. I swear to all that's holy, I'm gonna turn around, give a two
finger salute, and say, "Deuces, motherfuckers!"

Chapter One

 

Kellan

 

"What'll
it be, Tim?" I ask the surly man, a regular customer of ours; his hair
grown out almost to his shoulders, thin and whitening, beginning to bald on
top. He has premature wrinkles on his solemn face, and a shaggy beard beginning
to grow, I'd assume from not shaving for at least three or four days. Today
he's sporting his red flannel shirt, a departure from his normal array of
different shades of blues he wears working at the local wood mill.

 

He took a long
drag off of his cigarette, coughed as he exhaled, and answered, "Shot of
tequila," matter of factly.

 

Jesus, here we go again.
I knew exactly where
this was headed, but this was a dance I was accustomed to with old Tim.
"Bud chaser with that, Tim?"

 

"Nope.
Straight up, kid."

 

I knew it. I
fucking knew it. But now I had to ask, and then I was going to have to listen
to him half the night. Christ on a cracker. Best to just get it over with.
"April leave again?" I asked glumly as I poured the shot, not making
eye contact, and handing it to him.

 

He took the
shot, downed it, and slammed the glass on the bar before answering, "Yep.
Made off in the middle of the night. Can you believe that?" he questioned
as he stared a hole into the lacquered bar top. I simply shook my head back and
forth, knowing full well he couldn't see me anyways. "Didn't even leave a
note this time." He looked up to me with watery eyes, as if he were about
to break out into a sob.
Dear God, man, do not
have a breakdown in here right now! I'm not equipped for this shit.
He
coughed back the lump that I could tell he had formed in his throat, and waved
his hand in the air, saying, "Good riddance. He can have the old
bitch." He shot me a wounded grin, and I mirrored his reaction, feeling a
pang of sorrow for the shit that April had put him through. It was about
goddamn time he threw in the towel, but I knew he'd take her back in a
heartbeat if she showed up at his doorstep, yet again. The sick cycle would not
doubt continue until it finally killed the old bastard.  Ain't love grand?
"Give me another," he commanded.

 

I poured
another round for him, saying, "It's on the house."

 

******

 

Hailey

 

"Mom, are
you sure you'll be ok by yourself for a few hours?" I asked, my voice
laced with concern, and my eyes darting around the room for items to make her
more comfortable.

 

"Stop
fussing over me!" she barked out, impatiently. "I'm not an
invalid." I shot her a wry look that frankly was most likely inconsiderate
of me. I wouldn't exactly call my mom an invalid, but this was her third bout
with breast cancer, and some days it was all she could do to get out of bed.
Tonight she was laid up on the couch, the remote firmly planted at her side,
with a large glass of iced tea sitting next to the plethora of pills on the
coffee table. She still had her wits about her, so I didn't have to worry about
her taking them at the accurate times or dosages. She knew how to manage her
pain.

 

"Ok, then,
I'm off," I said, giving her one last chance to change her mind...or mine;
I wasn't sure which at this point. I gave myself a quick once over in front of
her, without her looking up from the tv, and asked, "Do you think this
looks ok?"

 

Annoyed, she
turned her attention away from her show to give me a quick glance before
returning her focus back to the program and simply shrugging noncommittally.
Well, that was a big help. Thanks, Mom.

 

I grabbed my
car keys and cell phone, reminding her I'd have it on me at all times, and
swiftly closed the door behind me, as I made my way to the car that Mom and I
shared. It was nothing fancy; a used tan Corolla with a few dings, but we kept
it clean, as clean as we could. As I looked at my watch, I noticed I only had
fifteen minutes to get to my new job, just barely giving me enough time to make
it there. "Shit!" I muttered under my breath, as I folded myself into
the seat, hurling my bag onto the passenger side, and fumbling to start the car
up, while grabbing at my seatbelt, all at the same time. I peeled out of my
driveway, spilling shale and dust behind me as I did, but paid no mind; I
couldn't afford to lose this job on my first day.

 

******

 

Kellan

 

Tim was bumming
me out big time, and the dull twang of country music spilling from the
electronic juke box I'd talked Jim into investing in was boring me to tears.
Actually, the only reason I wanted the damn thing installed was so I could pick
out some decent music without having to pre-order it through Jim. He wouldn't
know a good tune if it fell out of the sky, landed on his face, and started to
wiggle. Great, now my filthy mind was wandering straight into the gutter; a
part of myself I knew well and to be honest, relished. I queued up
"Papercut" by Linkin Park and let the hard lyrics and striking guitar
chords kick my mind into a place that took me far from the droll dredges of
this lifeless job and town.

 

Jordan is
running late, as usually, and we're short on staff as it is. I'm the only one
here and trying to keep up with everyone...well the four lifeless souls gracing
the joint that are shooting me dirty looks for ruining their pity parties with
my song choice. Fuck 'em. Right now, I happen to be king of the castle here at
Jimbo's, so they can go fuck themselves. There's a shit ton of work that needs
done before tonight's crowd rolls in...the crowd that actually digs my kind of
music, and Jordan's leaving me in a lurch right now. Not to mention, Gail just
took her maternity leave and hired some new shooter girl that's due in any
second.
Where in the fuck are Jim and Jordan?
If one of them doesn't show up soon, I'm probably gonna have to deal with the
ditz on my own, and I hate training new staff. Of course, being a shooter girl
isn't rocket science, but then again, they don't get hired for their managerial
skills, if you know what I'm sayin'.

 

"Hey man,
sorry I'm late," Jordan huffed out, breathing heavy as he finally entered,
as if on cue, jogging in behind the bar and carrying a load of ice. "Had
to stop for gas," was his sad and sorry excuse. I didn't really give a
shit. I managed to make it here on time six days a week to open up the place
and stay until closing. Jesus, the kid works eight, maybe nine hour shifts,
while Jim, Gail, and I usually end up pulling fourteen to sixteen hour days.
Gimme a break. Stop for gas on your own damn time. And where the fuck is Jim?!

 

I didn't say
anything in response; I really wasn't in charge of him, or the place. I just
simply took the job more seriously than most people that ended up coming and
going within a month or two of getting hired. At least Jordan had managed to
stick around for the last six months, to my amazement, ever since I'd gotten
him the job. He's the only friend I have, if that's what I'd call him...not
sure I actually consider myself to have any friends per se; so he better not
fuck it up either, or it's on me. I vouched for his ass.

 

Before I could
let him know what needed stocked and readied for tonight, the wooden lacquered
door, which matched the theme of the rest of the bar, was pulled open, as the
last remnants of the day's sunlight spilled in, casting a glow over an obvious
female form. As she stepped in, time seemed to slow for a moment, and the room
began to fade away, as if she cast an ethereal radiance. Shit like this didn't
happen for me. What the fuck was I thinking about. This wasn't a Pantene
commercial for Christ's sake. Aaand then she stumbled over a crack in one of
the wooden planks, nearly taking a nosedive. I snickered as the customers
turned to gawk momentarily, before returning to their stations without so much
as an iota of compassion. Jordan quickly jumped to aid her in her time of need.
Fucking white knight pansy.

 

Jordan raced to
the small framed, barely legal looking...woman? Girl? I'm not sure what she'd
be classified as...as I said, I wasn't even sure if she was legal to be in the
bar; maybe she was looking for her dad or some shit. Whatever. At any rate,
good old Jordan was at her side in lightening speed, helping her get her high
heel spike unstuck from the crack in the floor. A wry grin creased my face.
Lucky bastard had his hands all over her legs and she was eating up his
'chivalry' like a thirteen-year-old girl. I was pretty certain she was older
than thirteen, but nowadays...well have you
seen
thirteen year olds? Fuck, I'm not a pervert, but they can put on a misleading
show...that's all I'm saying. It's a damn good thing I can spot a fake ID.

 

As I tried to
watch on with anonymity, I caught the sight of Jordan finally freeing her from
the clutches of the cracked and aging floor, which could use a good waxing.
Jordan walked over to the bar, his new tag along in tow, as he rested his hand
on the small of her back. I kept my head down, cleaning dirty glasses and
drying them, as I peeked up from underneath my lashes every few moments to
volley my eyes back and forth between the two of them.

 

"Hey,
Kellan," Jordan said with more enthusiasm than necessary. "This is
our new shooter girl, Hailey," he introduced her with a beaming smile as
he continued, ushering his hand between us. "Hailey, this is Kellan
Haines." I looked up, my face impassive, and quickly returned to my task
without speaking to the petite young lady.
If she
turns out to be smarter than a fifth grader, I'll eat my hand.
There was
an awkward silence before Jordan broke in. "Aren't you gonna say 'hi'
Kellan?"

 

I turned around
abruptly to begin stacking the glasses behind me, as I blatantly grumbled out,
"I'll be training you today. I hope you can keep up, because it's Friday
night and we're gonna get busy. Sink or swim." I turned around and gave
her a once over, as she stared at me in disbelief at my callousness and said,
"You're not gonna get many tips dressed like that, honey," before I
disappeared into the back office.

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