SCORCHED: A Firefighter Stepbrother Romance Thriller (8 page)

BUT MY SMILE IS DIFFERENT

MY SMILE IS A KNOWING ONE

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID

AND I WILL DO MUCH WORSE

“Tanya?”
my stepbrother prompted. But I couldn’t speak. I was too busy looking at the
brick in his hand. At the black scorch marks up and down its sides.

That
brick that had almost certainly come from my apartment building—the one
that had just burned to the ground.

Chapter 7

Gunner

“You
have any angry ex-boyfriends I should know about?” I asked, setting the brick
down on the kitchen counter. I felt like I could have crushed the damn thing
into dust with how tightly my fist was clenched around it.

“No, I
don’t have any exes,” she said, her eyes locked on the dirty red thing
occupying my counter space. “None
that’re
this . . . crazy.”

“Then
what the fuck is going on, Tanya?” I asked, breathing hard through my nose. I
knew I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations out on her—none of this was
her fault—but the fact that someone had smashed up my damn car—had
seen what we’d done—what
I’d
done with Tanya . . . 

My
stepsister turned her gaze away from me, looking off toward the window. Her
weight shifted from foot to foot as she bit down on her lip.

I
frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“A
while back,” she began, looking back into my eyes with a pained expression on
her face, “there was this guy who came into the club.”

“Okay,”
I said, biting back a comment about how this was exactly why she should never
have started working as a damn stripper in the first place. “What happened?”

“He
paid for a lap dance in the champagne room. I thought everything was on the
level—he paid cash and had asked for me specifically, which isn’t
unusual—until I walked into the room.” Tanya paused, closing her eyes
tight for a moment before forcing herself to continue. “He was wearing this
weird drama mask—the tragedy one, with the sad face and shit.

“It was
weird, but I figured it was some kind of kink or something, and as long as he
didn’t get freaky I’d do the dance and get the fuck out of there. But that’s
not what happened. He started talking, and he had one of those fucking voice
machines, that make you sound like that damn puppet from
Saw.
He was telling me about how his mother had been a whore, and
how he’d stuffed her panties in her mouth and killed her. Then he asked how I’d
sound when I was choking—if I’d sound just like his mother did.”

I
watched Tanya’s eyes well up with tears, her chest heaving as her words turned
to sobs.

“I told
him not to fucking touch me, but he started choking me. I screamed, and one of
the bouncers came in and pulled him off and threw him out of the club. God, I
was so fucking scared. I hadn’t done a private show since then—not until
you showed up.”

I
watched her for a long moment, my thoughts churning in my head like a brewing
storm at sea.
The thought of someone almost killing my baby
sister making my blood boil in my veins as I imagined that fucking psycho
hurting her.

“You
think that it’s the same guy?” I asked, glancing out at my car through the
kitchen window. Would any of this have happened if Tanya had never given me
that dance? If I’d never
made
her?

“I
don’t know who else it could be, Gunner,” she said, her
voice
faint and breathy as she brought herself back
under control. “I don’t
have any other enemies, none that would throw a
fuckin
’
brick at your car. I mean, Jesus—this is some
Lifetime
-special bullshit.”

I
rubbed my hands over my face, resting my elbows on the kitchen counter. I’d
done something horrible to my own stepsister, let her grind on me like
that—I could have stopped her. The more I thought about it, the more the
images of her ass rubbing against my groin filled my mind. My heart started to
race and I could feel my cock stirring in my pants again.

For Christ’s sakes.
Not now.

“We’re
going to lock all the doors,” I said, my face in my hands as I tried to muster
the nerve to look at her without giving in to all the shameful thoughts
crossing through my mind. I could only imagine what it would be like to bend
her over the couch and take her as she worked her hips back against me. “And
Jax’s
dumb ass can stay with you tonight.”

I
looked over at the lazy mound of fur
laying
sprawled
out on the couch and shook my head.
Jax
was a good
dog, but probably the worst when it came to actually protecting the damn house.
Sure, he barked at everything that came within a football field of the door,
but the moment you got inside he was all tail-wags and kisses. What a sorry
excuse for a Belgian
Malinois
. I almost wanted my
money back for the fortune I’d paid for him.

But
then I’d look into his stupid, brown eyes and he’d give me that doggy smile,
and I’d forget all about the money and his utter incompetence and stuff him
full of treats. Yeah, I had a soft side. Women and dogs—what guy can
resist ‘
em
?

“But
what about when you’re not home?” Tanya asked, patting her leg and whistling
for
Jax
to come over.

“He
doesn’t come when you call—” I began, but stopped as I watched my dog
excitedly get up from the couch and trot over to my sister’s side. “You’re the
worst dog ever.”

I
sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose before answering her question. “I don’t
know. We’ll figure that out tomorrow, I suppose. In the meantime you and I need
to get ready for bed. I have to be out early to go to work.”

“How
long are you going to be gone, though?” she asked, bent over as she scratched
behind
Jax’s
ears. I could see straight down her
blouse.

“Until
the next day,” I said, trying hard to turn my eyes away. I could feel my cock
hardening as more unclean thoughts filled my head. “We have twenty-four-hour
shifts, then have the next two days off.”

“All right,”
Tanya said, taking a deep breath and letting it out in the sigh. “What am I
supposed to do while you’re gone, though?”

“I’ll
give you my card before I leave, I guess, and you can go do some shopping or
something.” I was desperate to be out of the same room as her, I’d have told
her she could empty my damn bank account if it meant that I could escape from
the unbearable temptation of her gorgeous body.

“If
that’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” she said, and I couldn’t help
but notice a bit of a smile returning to her face. Maybe some times shopping
was just what she needed to get her mind off of what happened that night.
“Goodnight, Gun.”

“Goodnight,
baby,” I said, watching her walk to the spare room and shut the door,
Jax
in tow. Despite being a terrible guard dog, I felt a
little safer knowing he’d be at her side for the night. But I wished it could
be me.

I went
into my room and shut the door, turning the lock before heaving a sigh of
relief. My pants were tight from my still-present erection, straining to be
free of its denim prison. I had to find an outlet for this frustration—the
thoughts of Tanya’s lap dance still fresh in my mind.

I had
to find some way to get the memory of her body against mine out of my head, the
sensation of her pussy sliding up and down my shaft, and
especially
the way she’d argued with me. Fuck, that filthy mouth
was so. Damn. Hot.

I
pulled off my shirt, tossing it aside before undoing my pants. I sighed in
relief as I freed myself from the constraints of my clothes, my cock rock hard
in the open air of my bedroom. It was begging to be appeased, to feel the
relief that it so eagerly craved. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d
actually jacked myself off—normally I could always pick up a girl at the
bar, with just the mention of being a fireman I could get a woman wet and ready
to go. What I wouldn’t give for someone to make me forget about the way my
stepsister made me feel—but what kind of brother would I be if I just
left her to get score some piece of ass?

I
sighed, lying down on my bed as I took my cock in my hand and closed my eyes.
It throbbed in my hand, my thick girth swelling as I began to work my way up
the shaft them all the way back down.

I tried
to conjure thoughts of some of the women I’d slept with before, recalling all
the ways I’d driven my cock into them while they screamed for more. I loved
making women beg to be plowed by their big, strong fireman. It made me feel
special. Needed.
The big damn hero.

Fuck.
There was Tanya’s voice in my head again.
Quit
it. Think of someone else.
Anyone
else.

I
worked my shaft slowly at first, relaxing into the sensation that rippled out
from the base of my dick. I saw myself slipping my dick inside of a hot little
redhead I’d bagged a few weeks ago, her arms tied above her head—just the
way she liked it. I reveled in the memory of my shaft buried in her cunt,
pounding into her again and again as she squirmed against her restraints.

But the
longer I let my mind replay that glorious conquest, the further I felt from
cumming
. I quickened my pace, working my cock faster as I
tried remembering another one of my previous sexual partners.

I saw a
tight little blonde I’d met at a club only a month before. She was so petite
and perfectly proportioned, and had practically jumped on my dick the moment I
mentioned what I did for a living. I remembered the way she bounced up and down
on me, riding my prick like she was a cowgirl at the rodeo. But still, my
release stubbornly eluded me.

In my
mind’s eye, I watched myself bend that pretty blonde over against her
headboard, but something changed. Instead of the barely-legal fox I’d fucked
that night, I saw the one woman I was trying not to think about.

My
hot, annoying, dirty-mouthed, stripper stepsister.

I
watched as my mind conjured Tanya in the other girl’s place, my dick sheathed
within her warm, wet pussy. I imagined the way she would call my name as I
fucked her the way I knew that only I could, the pleasure that only I could
give her. My hand worked harder and harder at my shaft as I gave in to the
disgraceful fantasy that I’d been dying to fulfill from the moment I saw her
coming out of the shower.

I could
feel my orgasm building, my hips growing tighter and tighter the faster I
stroked myself. I gasped, opening my eyes halfway, picturing my sweet
stepsister writhing on my cock and moaning my name as she teased at her clit.
It felt so good, touching myself to the thought of Tanya fucking me, ready to
feel my hot load gushing into her cunt.

I threw
my head back, my hips bucking against my hand as I felt the sudden and
unexpected rush of my climax washing over my. My cock pulsed hard, a gush of my
warm, sticky cum exploding from the tip. With every twinge of my throbbing
member, another gout poured over my hand, leaving me breathless and sweating. I
couldn’t remember the last time I’d cum so much.
Or this hard.

My mind
whirled in the heady twilight that settled over me, where the only thing that
stirred around me was the sound of my own breathing. I felt like I was lying on
a cloud, weightless and free of all my woes.

But
then I felt the shame.

I’d
just cum thinking about my own stepsister. What kind of person does that? I
sighed, rubbing my clean hand over my face as I let the horror of my own
depravity sink in.

You pulled her out of the frying pan,
Gunner. But now she’s stuck in this fire.
Here.
With you.

And I
was starting to think that was way more dangerous than any three-alarm fire
could be. If Tanya stuck around, if we kept playing games like this, one of us
was going to get burned.

Chapter 8

Tanya

A
grease bubble burst, nearly catching me in the face. I yelped, then immediately
clamped my hand over my mouth.
Shit. I
hope I didn’t wake Gunner up.

I was
up at the ass-crack of dawn, cooking breakfast for my
stepbrother—something I never did. The cooking part, I mean. I was a
master chef only in the realm of microwaveable meals and flavor packets. But
Gunner had bacon and eggs in his fridge, and I figured how the hell could
that
possibly go wrong?

The
kitchen hadn’t burst into flames yet, so I guessed that was a pretty good sign.
I just hadn’t expected bacon to be so damn . . . volatile.
Made me wonder how Mom could stand it.

Shit . . . Mom.

Mom had
been the breakfast champion since as far back as I could remember. She insisted
we all eat something every morning, even if it was just a slice of toast. It
was hardly ever
just
that, though.
She’d whip up omelets, sausage, breakfast burritos from scratch, French
toast—you name it, my mom could make it.

But
then she’d died, and I hadn’t had a homemade breakfast since.

And the
more I thought about that, I realized: neither had Gunner.

So, I
thought I’d do something nice. Take some steps in the right direction. He was
trying to mend fences between us. No reason why I couldn’t pitch in. I just
hoped I wouldn’t give myself
another
second-degree burn in the process.

Though if I did, Gunner might have to save
me again . . . 

No. I
needed to stop that. I needed to stop thinking about my stepbrother in . . . the
wrong way.

That
was just it, though. When I thought about Gunner, about our kiss, none of it
felt wrong. It felt . . . destined. Right. Like when he
touched me, I was right where I was supposed to be.

I
sighed, closed my eyes, and clenched my spatula so hard I was sure it would
snap.
He’s your family. The only one
you’ve got. Stop making this weird, Tanya.

But
Gunner had kissed me. That meant the feelings were mutual. Right?

“What’s
this?” I heard him ask from behind me.

I
turned around and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Shit. You weren’t
supposed to be up yet . . . ”

Gunner
didn’t say anything. He just looked me up and down, scouring the curves of my
body with the heat of his gaze. I hadn’t been able to salvage a damn thing from
my apartment fire, so I’d found an old shirt of his in the guest room closet
last night and worn that to bed. And, since I didn’t have any panties, either,
I’d thrown those in the wash.

So I
was standing in my stepbrother’s kitchen, wearing a ratty button-down and no
underwear. The hem of the shirt barely covered my ass. I pressed my thighs
together, knowing he couldn’t see anything…
Hoping,
at least…

Awkwardly,
I gestured to the still-cooking food. “Surprise?”

“I’ll
say,” he murmured. That tone was back in his voice again. That thick, husky,
tell-tale
sound. He was horny.
Probably had been since last night. And the way I was dressed was just making
matters worse, maybe for the both of us.

Because
when Gunner looked at me like that, it lit a flame somewhere deep inside. This
time when I pressed my thighs together, I didn’t do it to conceal myself. I did
it to stop the tide of lust from dripping down my legs.

“Sit,”
I told him. “I’ll make you a plate.”

He
looked at the clock on the stove. “I don’t have much time, Tanya.”

“It’s
just bacon and eggs. Nothing fancy.” I shut off the gas to the burners and laid
out the bacon onto one of his paper plates. “Give it a minute. It’s hot, and
the paper should absorb some of that grease.”

Rubbing
the back of his neck, Gunner sat down and I put the plate in front of him. As
he stared at it, I heard his stomach growl. I smiled. Well, at least what he
saw gave him an appetite.

But
when his gaze flicked over my hard nipples, it made me wonder just what I’d
given him an appetite
for.

“How
about a fuck?” he asked.

My jaw
dropped. All the blood in my body rushed to my face. “
Wh
-what?”

Gunner
blinked. “Uh, well, you didn’t give me a fork, so I thought . . . ”
He shrugged. “Unless you want to see a grown man eat an egg with his hands.”

“Oh!”
I laughed, shrill and hysterical.
He probably thought I was insane.
“Yeah. Sure. Um.” I pulled out three different drawers before I found the one
with the utensils in it. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,”
he said, plucking the fork from my fingers. He stabbed at his eggs,
then
dipped his bacon into the yolk. “How are you feeling
after last night?”

I
pulled my hair over my shoulder, nervously weaving a braid in it. “Well, I . . . definitely
wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me
either,” Gunner admitted. A little stream of yolk ran down his chin, and I
suddenly felt the urge to lick it off him. I pursed my lips to resist the call.
“You think he’ll be back?”

It was
my turn to blink. “Uh . . . who?”

Gunner
stared at me. “Your stalker. That’s who.”

“Oh,
jeez.” I put on my best attempt at a smile. “I thought you were talking about
our kiss.”

My
stepbrother stiffened. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he also
looked ashamed. My face fell as I realized that he
was
ashamed, even embarrassed by what we’d done.

Maybe I
should have been, too. But all night long I’d thought about that kiss. About
the way his lips had felt against mine. And how right all of it had seemed,
despite everything I knew to the contrary. Despite what anyone else would have
said about the matter.

“I
gotta
go,” Gunner said, dropping his fork onto his plate.
“I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Wait,”
I said. “Your food . . . ”

He
shook his head. “Sorry sis... I’m already
runnin
’
late.”

“Just . . . ”
I searched for a reason—any reason—to stall. “Uh, about that brick . . . ”

Gunner
stopped. “What about it?”

“You
noticed it had burn marks all over it. Right?”

“No, I . . . ”
He turned, looking at the thing, which was still sitting on his kitchen
counter. When he looked back at me, his eyes were fierce. Wild. “Hold on, baby.
Are you telling me that brick came from your apartment building?”

I
swallowed hard. I’d been thinking it, sure. Hell, I knew it was true. But
hearing those words spoken out loud made my stomach drop to my feet. Somehow,
hearing Gunner say it made it
real.

“I
think so,” I whispered.

“Shit.”
He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. Then he kicked over the
trash can
, barked an apology, picked it up, and went after
the chair instead.

“Sorry,”
he said again, picking that up, too. He covered his mouth with his hand,
muffling another word I couldn’t understand, but was probably four letters long.

“We
gotta
tell someone,” he said at last. “
Gotta
tell ‘
em
what happened. What this guy did. Shit,
baby, if that fire wasn’t an accident . . . ”

He
trailed off, and I let him. I was thinking about the bars on my window. The
ones that had somehow gotten sealed shut. I’d blamed it on my landlord. Figured
it was just Vinnie ignoring one kind of safety to satisfy another. But what if
it wasn’t that at all? What if this guy, whoever he was, had been the one to
weld those bars in place?

I
didn’t realize I was shaking until Gunner came over to me, putting his hands on
my shoulders. “Tanya. Hey. Look at me.”

His
voice was so soft. So reassuring. I looked into his eyes and dammit, I just
wanted to let all this pain, this worry,
this terror melt
away. But I had to hold onto it, because letting it go meant letting my guard
drop. And I wasn’t about to be that stupid. Not ever again. Not around Gunner
fucking Cole.

I
pulled away. “We can’t tell them, Gun. What if they start asking questions?
What if they
wanna
know what we did to piss this guy
off?”

“Then
we lie,” Gunner answered, reminding me that to him,
lying
his ass off was nothing at all. “We tell ‘
em
a
half-truth. I came to pick you up from the club. Dude likes to watch you, got
pissed I ruined his evening. Anything else, we chalk up to him being a psycho.”
He frowned. “The hell’s that mean, anyway? The part about smiles . . . ”

“He’s a
lunatic,” I muttered. “Chances are even
he
doesn’t know what it means.”

We
stood there for a while, neither of us really looking at each other. For
all his
Gunner, Man of
Action
bravado, my stepbrother sure didn’t have a whole lot to say when it
came down to it. Go to the cops. Try to get a TRO. Yeah, right. Like the police
issue—or enforce—those. They don’t lift a fucking finger until some
jack-off like this guy puts a girl in the fucking hospital.

Of
course, my stepbrother wouldn’t know that, being a guy. They don’t think about
shit like that. Guy goes out with a
girl,
he worries
about being laughed at or
goin
’ home alone. Girl goes
out with a guy? She’s worried about him killing her.

It’s
true. Just turn on the fucking news.

“
What’m
I supposed to do until you get back?” I asked him. “I’m
practically the perfect victim.”

Gunner fished
his wallet from his back pocket. Then he pulled out a card and handed it to me.
“So don’t be here. Go to the mall. Use this to get yourself some new clothes
and things. Necessities, baby,” he added. “I’m not made of money. I still
gotta
get by a fireman’s salary, you know.”

Slowly,
I took the card from his hand. My heart sank. Guys were always paying me off
somehow. Maybe it was with drinks or dinner.
Or shoving
dollars into my G-string.
To them, my company was always transactional.
Just another service they could pay for, like heat or water or
cable-fucking-TV
.

So why
the hell had I expected better from him?

“Got
it,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

He took
one long, last look at my body just barely covered by one of his shirts. Then
my stepbrother turned and walked out of the room, leaving
me
and his credit card behind
.

“There’s
a key in the outside lantern,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to
lock up.”

I
sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. My life was in shambles. I had a
stalker who was hell-bent on seeing that it stayed that way—or worse,
flat-out killing me. After last night, I probably didn’t have a job.

And on
top of all those very important things, the things I should have been worried
about, I was way more concerned with the fact that Gunner didn’t want to talk
about last night. He didn’t even want to acknowledge it had happened. He wanted
to erase that memory, to let everything I’d felt, everything I was
starting
to feel, disappear into a void
of silence.

This
was just one more secret he would keep. One more lie he’d tell. Did any of his
friends know I existed? Did any of them know where he’d come from? What he’d
done?

Was our
entire relationship based on a series of cold and calculating lies, plus an
overwhelming desire to just
forget?

I let
the bacon and eggs cool on the stovetop. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.