Burning for Autumn (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 1)

by Freya Barker

  “Caught on to that, did you?”

  “Wasn’t that hard. Your surveillance skills need a little polish,” I tease him as we walk toward the house.

  “Noted.” He takes the keys from my hand and opens the door for me.

  “So what I guess I’m saying is, you don’t have to show up every day. Just check the camera feed.”

  Keith sets down the bags on the counter, does the same with the few I have in my hands, before pulling me flush against him, his arms banding tight around me. “You want me to give up the five-minute bright spot I look forward to every day? Because that’s what this is. Five minutes out of another frustratingly busy day of me trying to crawl into the dark mind of a serial arsonist, while dealing with the daily grind of a job I don’t particularly like.”

  “Oh.” My eyes blink behind my glasses and my mouth falls open. It’s all I can manage while my brain is knitting his words into a warm blanket I can wrap around on a cold, lonely night. The concept of being a positive light in someone’s life is new to me.

  “Yeah,” he says, bending down to take advantage of my still-parted lips with a deep, hungry kiss. I play mindlessly with the elastic he occasionally ties his hair back with and pull it free, twisting the strands in my fingers. My tongue curls around his and I rise on tiptoes, eager to hang on to his mouth. “Babe,” he groans, coming up for air. “You’re killing me.”

  “Serves you right,” I mumble, trying to get my bearings. “You’ve got me hanging on by a thread.”

  “I know.” He lifts his head; heat and regret blend in his hazel eyes, burning into mine. “If it’s not too late, I’d like to come by after my meeting.”

  “I’ll set some dinner aside,” I offer.

  “Much appreciated, although you should know it’s not your chicken potpie I’ll be craving.”

  “Oh.” Heat curls low in my belly and I inadvertently lick my parted lips. Keith seems mesmerized before he tears his gaze from my mouth.

  “Yeah,” he rumbles.

  Keith

  Sweet fucking torture.

  It’s that Tony and his buddy from Denver, Joe Benedetti, are waiting for me or I would’ve blown off work and stayed. It’s been a buildup of anticipation with every stolen kiss this past week, and I’ve had blue balls since Saturday night.

  I’m meeting the guys at a BBQ place on the north side of town to avoid too many familiar faces. The restaurant must be packed, judging by the parking lot, I barely manage to squeeze the Tahoe into the only available space.

  I spot Ramirez sitting with an imposing silver-haired guy at a table on the patio outside. When I walk up, I notice the man is not nearly as old as his hair color implies. He has, at best, only a few years on me.

  “Keith Blackfoot.” I hold out my hand and the guy gets up to shake it. Fuck, I’m a solid six foot one, but this guy has to be at least six five, if not more. Built like a goddamn linebacker too.

  “Joe Benedetti.” He is surprisingly soft-spoken.

  “I went ahead and ordered us an assorted platter off the grill for three,” Tony announces, pouring me a beer from the pitcher on the table. “Saves time.”

  “Fine by me.” I take a sip of my beer and focus on Joe. “So Tony tells me you might be up for a new challenge?”

  “I might. He’s told me a little background on what went down here last year, although most of the story filtered down the ranks in Denver as well.”

  “I bet.”

  “I also heard you were a shoo-in for chief.”

  I bark out a laugh. “I’m sure that’s the story going around, being fed by our mayor who thinks manipulation is gonna work on me. It won’t. This job’s not for me, too much diplomacy required that I am short on.” I lean forward on the table. “Which is why I’m not afraid to ask, why a guy with a solid track record at the Denver PD, would consider moving to our little town and run the police department here? Sure, the title of police chief sounds good, but I’m sure the pay rate won’t be that much different from what you make in the big city. It just seems a bit sedentary from what you’re used to.” I ignore Ramirez, who is kicking me under the table. I don’t mean to antagonize his friend, but I’m gonna be putting my neck out for this man, so I’d like all the cards on the table.

  “Lost my wife to cancer six months ago. Kids are eight and twelve and see their mother everywhere they go. I’m all they’ve got. Sedentary sounds good to me.” I’m sure the monotone delivery is meant to conceal emotion, but his loss is evident in the eyes he turns on me. “That explanation enough?”

  “Fuck man, that’s tough. I’m sorry for your loss.” I chance a glance at Ramirez, who is shaking his head at me. I ignore that too. “Glad you told me, though. You may not like me saying this, but relatable motivation will go a long way to getting you this job. One of the reasons Stan Woodard has such a hard-on about me taking this job is I have lifelong roots in this community. He wants qualified, experienced, and reliable. The first two are easily marked off, and with what you just told me, the last one will be too.”

  We spend some time discussing the job until the server arrives with a large tray of assorted grilled meats and a bucket of fried potato skins, and we collectively dive in. All talk is suspended while we eat. When there’s nothing but a pile of rib bones left on the platter, I toss my napkin on the table and turn to Joe.

  “When do you have to be back?”

  “The oldest has a soccer game at three on Sunday. I’d like to be there, depending on what the plan is.”

  “Free tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Bring your paperwork? Resume, diplomas, certificates, latest performance reviews?”

  “As instructed.”

  I pull my phone from my pocket and dial. “Yeah, Stan, it’s Keith.”

  “Burning the midnight oil?”

  “So to speak. Are you busy tomorrow afternoon, say around four?”

  “I have a meeting in my office at two-fifteen. I should be done by four. Why?”

  “I have some ideas I need to run by you, and I have a limited window to do that in. I’ll be there at four.” Before he has a chance to ask more questions, I hang up and turn back to the table. “You heard. We have a meeting in the mayor’s office tomorrow at four. Dress nice, he’s a sucker for a good suit.”

  “You say you don’t like manipulation?” Joe observes, a sardonic smile on his face.

  “I don’t like it used on me. I never said I didn’t like using it.” That earns a chuckle.

  “Touché. And for the record, I did bring a suit, just in case, but it’s Brooks Brothers, not Armani.”

  “Won’t matter. He won’t know the difference,” Tony, who’s been quiet through most of dinner, pipes up. “So four tomorrow, I assume you don’t need me there?”

  “You’d be wrong. By the time we walk into that meeting, Joe should be well prepared in order to convince Stan he’s the right man. It’ll take you and me to make sure he is, and we should both be there for support. We have a busy day ahead.”

  “My turn,” Ramirez says, snatching the bill up the moment the server brings it. He drops a few bills on the table and we make our way outside. “Want to grab a quick beer at The Irish?”

  “Not me,” I announce. “I’ve got some unfinished business to attend to.”

  Tony snorts. “That unfinished business wouldn’t have a mass of red hair, now would it?”

  “Kiss my ass,” I grumble, which only makes him laugh harder.

  “I’ll pass, thanks, but maybe she can—”

  I aim a fist at his shoulder before he can finish that sentence.

  “Watch it.” I warn him before turning to the other man. “Good meeting you. I hope we didn’t scare you off.”

  “Not a chance.” He gives my hand a firm shake.

  “Good. In that case, roll call is at seven in the morning. See you then.”

  I climb behind the wheel and do a quick check of the camera feed on my phone, just in time to catch Mr. Bartik en
ter his own front door. Perfect timing.

  With a grin on my face, and hunger already building, I head for Autumn’s. I may be too full to sample her chicken potpie, but I’m pretty sure I can handle feasting on her.

  Chapter 13

  Autumn

  “Let me pack you up some leftovers, Mr. Bartik.”

  I had surprisingly good time with my elderly neighbor, who regaled me with tales of his childhood in Poland, and his long boat trip to the United States in 1954 as a young teenager with his family. Apparently, his was one of the last landings of immigrants to be processed through Ellis Island, an interesting story all by itself.

  His history is rich, from the bakery in New Jersey his parents established all the way to his move across the country to follow a girl he’d set his eyes on. Ana had been his wife for fifty years when she passed away in 2012, and he’d been alone ever since. She’d been the love of his life, but sadly they never had children.

  I’d already resolved to pay more attention to my neighbor, but after tonight I wanted to adopt him. There was something so tragic about a kindhearted man who worked hard and loved hard his whole life, only to find himself alone at the end of it.

  “Joseph, please, and you don’t need to go through all that trouble,” he says, ready to leave.

  “No trouble at all. I made enough to feed an army.”

  “I’m sure your young man would have no problem finishing it.” I almost snort at his description of Keith, but I guess in the eyes of an almost eighty-year-old man, we’re all kids.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I assure Joseph. “I’ve already put some aside.”

  Ignoring further protest, I pack up two containers he can freeze and eat whenever the mood strikes him. When I show him out and hand him the leftovers, he grabs my hand and in an old-fashioned gesture, kisses the back of it.

  “I hope that boy is smart enough to hold on tight. You remind me of my Ana, she was a redhead like you and could cook like a saint, fight like the devil, and love like a sinner.” His watery blue eyes sparkle.

  Ten minutes later, when I’m putting away the last of the dishes, I’m still smiling at his words. To love like that, still so strong even after death rips you apart, is tragically beautiful. I’d grown cynical over the years, with too many negative experiences to taint any dreams I might’ve had of a happy ever after, but this old man made me a believer again.

  Which is why, just moments later, when I hear a key turn the lock of my front door; I’m already on the move. Keith barely has a chance to step inside before I launch myself in his arms and pull him down for a kiss.

  “Jesus, Red,” he mumbles when I let him up for air. “Best fucking welcome ever, but what was that all about?”

  I grin up in his face and shrug. “Oh, just feeling blessed today.”

  “Had a good dinner with the old man?” he asks when I pull him inside.

  “Yes. You should try and be here next week; he’s got some interesting stories to tell. You’d get a kick out of it.” I open the fridge and pull out the plate I put aside for him and go to pop it in the microwave.

  “I would, would I?”

  Keith takes the plate out of my hand and sets it on the counter before closing me in with his arms. I feel his breath against the shell of my ear and the result is a Pavlovian effect on my body. Heat floods low in my nether regions and my nipples pull tight as I almost inadvertently lean back against his broad chest. Instant turn-on.

  One of his large hands slowly moves up from my stomach, and brushes over my breasts in a slow perusal. By the time it curves around the base of my throat, I’m panting. With one strong finger under my chin, he tilts my head sideways and his mouth slants over mine. The next moment he swings me around, leans his back against the counter, keeping me in front of him with one hand still at my throat. My knees almost give out when I feel the fingers of his other hand slip under my waistband and tuck between my legs, cupping me there.

  “Your dinner,” I mutter with my last thread of coherent thought when he catches a breath.

  “Not hungry.” He groans when he slips a digit between my folds, slick with my arousal. “For potpie,” he adds. “Christ, Red. Tell me now if you don’t want this ending up with me balls deep inside you, because I’m so damn ramped up, I don’t think I could stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop.” The low growl in response comes at the same time a second finger slips inside me.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  His voice is gruff and his tone demanding, but I’m not even considering refusing his request. My top and bra land on the kitchen floor, and seconds later, my pants and underwear are pushed down my legs. He shifts us around so I’m once again facing the counter, the large uncovered window in front of me, open to anyone with an eye on the back of my house.

  I don’t ever turn my back on lovers. Never. Yet with Keith, I don’t question the vulnerable position I put myself in. I’m not ready to examine why that might be, especially since his hand once more slips between my thighs as he encourages me to widen my stance. With his body he presses me forward, leaning over the counter.

  “Don’t move.”

  With my hands braced on the counter, I feel cool air hit my flushed skin when he backs away. I try to follow his blurred reflection in the window. Hearing the slide of a zipper and then the rustling of foil has a charge run down my spine in anticipation. I fully expect him to grab my hips and power inside me, but instead I feel his lips trace over my exposed back, mapping the outline of my scars. Despite the lack of sensation in that area, I feel the light brush like a trail of electricity on my skin.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous, Red,” he mumbles against my skin.

  I can’t completely hold back on the sob that surges up, and his fingers press into my hips; helping me stay grounded. The next moment I feel the blunt head of his cock probing and finding my entrance. He catches me by surprise again when he eases himself inside me with infinite gentleness, filling me slowly.

  “Look up, Autumn,” he mutters in my hair. “Look at us.”

  My eyes lift, and in the bright light of the kitchen against the dark of night outside, I see pale skin and the bright mane of my hair perfectly outlined against the dark looming figure surrounding me from behind.

  “Keith…”

  “That’s right, baby. That’s…Fucking…Right…”

  Every word is in sync with a cadence of deep forceful thrusts, lifting me onto my toes. Each drive forcing a whimper from my lips as he touches places inside me that have my toes curl on the cool tiles of my kitchen floor. My head rolls back and forth against his shoulder as I feel a climax building out of control.

  All it takes is the sharp firm pressure of his fingers on my erect nipples to propel me over the edge. I barely notice the increasing rhythm of his thrusts until he plants himself deep, my toes barely touching, and bellows out his release.

  Keith

  “Are you sleeping?”

  I softly stroke the pads of my fingers over the curve of her hip. She’s draped half over me: head on my shoulder, an arm slung across my stomach, and a leg entwined with mine.

  “Mmmm,” she hums, the vibrations skittering over my sensitized skin.

  “Mind if I stay?”

  At that she lifts her head, chin resting on a hand on my chest, those green eyes with almost unnaturally long lashes even more expressive without the red-framed glasses. Those were tossed carelessly onto the nightstand when we rolled into bed for rounds two and three. I’m getting old—feeling the burn in my muscles and raw chafe of my cock from the mind-blowing friction of her tight pussy—no longer used to the intense action. It’s been well over a decade since I had my last all-nighter, but damn if I don’t want her again.

  “I don’t mind,” she says quietly appraising me. “I probably have a spare toothbrush in one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity. Towels in the linen closet in the hallway.”

  “Gotcha.” I bend my head to hers, kissing the tip
of her nose.

  “Are you hungry? I still have your dinner in the fridge.”

  “I’m good. Still full from my dinner meeting.”

  “That’s right. I never got around to asking how that went.”

  I’d mentioned hoping this meeting might mean the end to my interim duties of COP. “We’ll see tomorrow. I like the guy. He seems to know what he’d be getting into taking on this job, and he wants it. Single dad with two young ones and he wants to get out of the Denver rat race.”

  “I can’t blame him. This would be a great place to raise kids.”

  I detect a wistful undertone and squint my eyes, but she immediately plasters a big smile to cover up. Whatever it is we’ve got going on here, it’s much too soon to press her on a subject like kids. I’d fucking love to know what put that sad shadow in her eyes.

  “It is a great place to raise a family, or at least it will be again, once we get this firebug off the streets.”

  “Any luck?” She wants to know and I hate that I can’t give her any good news.

  Ramirez and I have been spinning wheels all week, going over reports, picking them apart to look for a solid lead, but so far we have nothing to show for it. Nothing seems to connect the locations or the victims, other than they were easy targets. We’ve looked into any possible connections to Autumn, I even called Roman in San Antonio to find out whether he knew whatever happened to her idiot ex, or whether she left behind any enemies, but that didn’t bring up any red flags either.

  Ramirez requested reports on any random fires over the past twelve months to see if he could find a pattern, but there wasn’t a fire unexplained before a little less than two months ago.

  The only bit of good news is that there have been no fires since last Saturday night. I’m not an idiot, though; I don’t for one minute believe this temporary reprieve is the end of it.