Playing with Fire

Primrose, Minnesota, Book 1

By Mia Dymond

Copyright 2012 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Les3photo8|Dreamstime.com

Cover by Dara England

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
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We can’t die in this shithole.

I’m choking. There’s no oxygen left.

Where are you? Dammit! Answer me!

Can you hear me? The roar is so loud in here.
It’s hot. Hotter than hell hot. I’m coming. Stay low. Kiss the
floor if you have to, just stay down. Take small breaths. I’m
almost there.

Shit! The ceiling fell on my right. I can’t
see through the ash. Christ, scream or something! You’ve got to
help me. It’s too dark and my eyes burn like a bitch.

Wait. Did I just kick you? Zach, is that you?
Thank God. Let’s get the hell out. Put your arm across my
shoulder.

Zach?... Zach? ... ZACH !

Sweat dripped down his neck and over his
chest as Shane bolted upright.
Sonuvabitch
. Cursing the
nightmare’s bone-bruising assault, he grabbed both sides of his
aching head and forced air into his lungs until his heartbeat
slowed. His vision swam. Every nerve in his body vibrated. With no
other choice, he sat helpless and weak, torn between punching a
hole in the wall and curling up in a ball. His chest tightened in
familiar clenching pain and he took several breaths to work through
the agony. Finally, he reached for his watch on the bedside table
and blinked several times in rapid succession to focus. Three
o’clock a.m. Rise and shine.

He shoved back the moist sheet that wrapped
him in a tangled, anguished cocoon and stumbled barefoot and naked
to the bathroom.

His hand shook as he adjusted the bathtub
faucet to an awakeningly cool temperature then pulled the knob to
release the water from the showerhead.

As soon as he stepped beneath the spray,
frigid droplets pelted his body like hailstones. Terror taunted
him. Pain from the nightmare tightened its chokehold and he shook
his head to clear the screams.
Fuck
.

Convinced he was awake, he stepped from the
shower and slid into a worn pair of Primrose Fire Department
sweatpants. He paused a few more minutes to judge his level of
consciousness. Hell, he still smelled smoke.

With a heavy sigh, he went to the living room
and stretched out on the couch for his usual dose of escape. As
soon as he palmed the remote and turned on the television, Fred
Flintstone released his signature
Yabba-Dabba-Doo
.

***

Liberty threw off the covers and rolled her
exhausted body out of bed. She’d lain there for hours, bound and
determined to battle the demons in the night. Instead, she tossed
and turned, only making herself seasick in the process.

She stood still for a moment cursing her
skin-crawling anxiety until she beat it into submission. Her toes
sank into the soft, plush carpet beneath her feet as she tiptoed
across the room and then paused with an unsteady hold on the
doorknob. Three more hours until sunrise.

Her nerves jumped while she listened to the
house groan in the still night, almost as if her restlessness woke
it from slumber. She drew a deep breath and gathered courage. The
knob squeaked in the security of her warm, well-lit bedroom.

Her heartbeat pounded like jungle drums while
she muddled through the unforgiving darkness. Only recognition of
familiar items along the way brought her comfort. The seashell
nightlight in the bathroom. A wicker basket of magazines on the
bottom stair. A bouquet of flowers on the dining room table. She
relaxed fully only when the florescent lights blinked to life in
the kitchen.

She shook her head when she read the clock on
the stove. The green digits pulsed an eerie glow, almost mocking
her attempt to sleep. Three o’clock a.m.

I should be so past this
. She released
a long sigh and reached to flip on the switch to the coffee pot.
Even after years of studying the human brain, she still couldn’t
shake the ghosts who lurked in the dark.

Liberty spun herself in her chair while she
counted ceiling tiles and willed herself to stay awake.
That’s
what I get for being scared of the dark
. She glanced at her
watch. Dylan and Maddie were due any minute.

Her heart ached for her best friend, Maddie
Carmichael, consoled only by the desire to help her heal. Sometimes
she cursed her title of psychiatrist but at least Maddie had given
her an excuse to leave Minneapolis and well, Primrose seemed to be
a safe haven for both of them.

“Liberty?” Maddie’s perky, sing-song voice
followed the tinkle of the bell over the front door.

“In my office.”

Liberty stood as Dylan and Maddie entered.
Maddie gave her a tight squeeze. “How are you today?”

“Ready.” Maddie squared her shoulders and
plopped down on the sofa.

Liberty noticed Dylan’s hesitance before he
sat next to his wife. “Dylan, are you?”

He nodded a silent agreement.

Liberty closed the office door, sat opposite
the couple, and pushed exhaustion to the side. Maddie wrung her
hands and bit her lip. Cinnamon burnt her sinus passages as Dylan
popped a customary Atomic Fireball candy into his mouth and then
braided his fingers through Maddie’s.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

Maddie took a deep breath and glanced at her
husband. “Dylan had only been gone fifteen minutes. He ran late
since we took time to make love. Between that and working a double
shift, I wanted to sleep in. It was early, the stars still twinkled
in the dark sky.”

Maddie paused and moved her eyes from Dylan,
her innocent nutmeg eyes slightly glazed as if she were somewhere
else.

Liberty leaned forward and laid her hand on
her best friend’s knee in support. “Don’t push yourself. If you’re
not ready, it can wait.”

“No,” Maddie insisted. “I need to do this.
For both of us.”

Dylan squeezed her hand.

“I must have slept like the dead,” she
continued, “but I awoke to hear someone moving around in the house.
I figured Dylan forgot something so I stayed in bed. I was so
tired.”

Maddie stood and paced with her arms wrapped
around her midsection.

“I was jarred awake, barely able to breathe.
He straddled me and tore at my clothes.” Tears fell freely down her
rosy cheeks. “He was so heavy and strong, I could hardly move. He
pinned me to the bed but I got an arm free and raked my fingernails
across his cheek. He cursed and punched me in the face.” She winced
as if she recoiled from the evil forced of the blows.

Liberty turned to analyze Dylan’s reaction.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. A muscle
ticked at his jaw as he worked overtime on the Fireball.

Maddie seemed to gather steam. “I screamed as
loud as I could and rolled back and forth out of his reach.
Finally, I wiggled my legs free and planted my knee in his groin.
When he rolled off me, I jumped out of bed and ran to the door.
Josh met me on the porch. He told me to go to his house, lock the
door and call 911. Then he went inside. I followed instructions.”
Her voice trembled. “I let him go alone. Wasn’t that selfish? What
if he’d gotten hurt?”

Liberty kept her voice even. “No Maddie, you
did the right thing. Josh took that chance and he’s fine.”

Maddie exhaled, visibly relieved.

“Thank God Josh was home and heard you
scream.” Dylan lowered his head into his hands. “If I had been
there, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Dylan,” Liberty said gently, “you didn’t
cause the attack any more than Maddie.”

“So, is it our guilt that causes our
infertility?” Maddie sat next to Dylan. He lifted his head when she
rubbed his back.

Liberty nodded. “You’ve both been tested.
Since there’s no physical reason, that would be my best guess.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I have several relaxation techniques for you
to try.” Liberty handed Dylan a box. “And these.”

Dylan popped the box top. He suddenly lifted
his gaze to hers and gave a smile of pure male appreciation. “I
learn more about you every day, Lib.”

“Let me see.” Maddie took the box and dug
through the items inside. “Sex toys!” She gave Liberty a sly smile.
“Did you buy these yourself?”

“No.” Liberty ignored the heat in her cheeks.
“I ordered them online.”

“E-mail me the website,” Dylan mumbled.

Maddie looked back inside. “Do you know how
to use them?”

Liberty twisted her lips. “You’re a nurse,
Maddie. Surely you know enough about anatomy to figure it out.”

“I don’t know.” Maddie lifted a long cylinder
with a silicone ring attached to the base. “This looks
complicated.” The toy buzzed and twisted when she rubbed her thumb
over the power button.

As a matter of survival, Liberty slipped back
into professional mode. “Read the instructions. Just have fun. Take
your time and learn together. Don’t get frustrated if some things
don’t work. If you don’t feel comfortable, don’t use them.”

Dylan’s eyes twinkled as he closed the box,
stood, and offered his wife a hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

Maddie accepted her husband’s hand and stood
beside him. “What do you have planned this afternoon, Liberty?”

“Research.”

Dylan grinned. “Online?”

Liberty rolled her eyes. “Medical
journals.”

“Fun,” Maddie drawled. “I’m taking lunch to
the fire department if you want to stop by.”

“I’ll take a rain check. Besides, you and
Dylan may want to skip lunch.”

Maddie tossed her husband a sly grin and then
turned back to Liberty. “I’ll call you later.”

Liberty smiled as Dylan and Maddie left the
office, confident the toys would distract them for awhile. If only
she could use those methods for everyone, the world would be a much
happier place. She sighed. Maybe she should write another book.
Sex Toys, the Answer to World Peace.

***

A swift shadow of anger darkened his mood and
his thoughts raced dangerously while Shane scanned page after page
of the same information he had read a thousand times before.
Suspicious fire. Unknown igniter. Two perish
. He cursed and
threw the file across the room.
Damn it, Zach
.

He forced his aching head back against his
chair. His spirits sank even lower when a familiar bolt of guilt
stabbed him in the chest and memories of that fateful night
assaulted his brain.

“
Damn Shane, the heat is incredible in
here.”

“
Let’s just find him and get the hell out.
Dylan said he’s on the bottom floor, third room on the
right.”

“
You try the living room. I’ll search the
kitchen.”

“
No. We’ll go together through the living
room.”

“
C’mon Shane, it’s quicker if we split
up.”

“
No, Ryan! I’m in charge.”

Zach chuckled and ignored his order. “You
might be in charge, but I’m going through the kitchen.”

The eardrum-splitting crack of the drywall
drowned out Shane’s reprimand as the textured ceiling crashed and
created a wall between them. He flung himself to the floor and
tucked himself into the space underneath a nearby piano to avoid
being hit.

“
Zach!” he screamed into his mouthpiece.
“Ryan! Answer me!”