Close To The Fire

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014 by Suzanne Ferrell

  Cover Art by Lyndsey Lewellen

  Formatting Libris in CAPS

  Release date: October 2014

  Ferrell, Suzanne (2014), Close to the Fire,

  A Romantic Suspense Novel.

  Suzanne Ferrell.

  All rights reserved to the Author

  This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise - without prior written permission of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only execption is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Table of Contents

  Begin Reading...

  Cover

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  Other Suzanne Ferrell Books...

  The Edgars Family Novels

  Author Bio

  Close to the Fire

  A Romantic Suspense Novel

  By

  Suzanne Ferrell

  DEDICATION

  For my mother, Mary Willis. Where to begin, Mom? You taught me to read and by example how to enjoy reading. You shared your love of romance stories with me and supported me with great enthusiasm in this grand adventure of writing. You knew before I did that this was my passion! Thank you can never be enough for all the things you’ve done for me and our family, but thank you with all my heart.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book, while mostly a lone venture, often takes the help and expertise of others. Sometimes it’s old friends or family that come to your aid. Sometimes it’s an expert who is kind enough to share their knowledge with you. This is true in the making of Close To The Fire.

  When I decided to include a domestic violence case in Close To The Fire, I realized I knew little to nothing of the statutes in the state of Ohio for such a trial. So, I did the first thing any modern day writer would do, I went to the internet. Luckily for me I came across a great website with loads of information. Of course, after reading the information on the law website, I realized I had more questions. The next thing I did was send an email to the website’s owner, Stephen W. Wolf, Attorney at Law. It was a weekend and my husband told me not to expect any answer at all. But Steve not only answered my questions, but fielded a few more emails as I worked the details into the story I was writing. Thanks Steve! I hope I did you justice. (Any mistakes in the book regarding the law are mine alone.) Oh, and I owe you a book!

  Two nurse anesthetist friends gave me valuable information in the use of Propofol. Thanks to Colleen Wooldridge, CRNA and Carole Griffin, CRNA for all your help and quick answers to my messages. You guys rock! (And any mistakes I made in the use of the drug are mine alone.)

  The Ferrell team always deserves a big thank you!

  I’d like to think my cover artist, Lyndsey Lewellen of LLewellen Designs. Your covers are making the fictional town of Westen come alive!

  My beta reader Melissa Kelley and critique partner, Sandy Blair who kept this story following the right path and my sanity on just this side of the narrow line into crazyville!

  My formatters at Libris in CAPS. Mitch and Alison have done such a great job!

  And my editor, Tanya Saari. Thanks for helping make my stories the best they can be!

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for trying my Indie published book. I understand that there are many options for you to spend your money on and am honored that you chose one of my books. For that reason my team and I strive to put out the best product we can from the awesome cover design through the entire editing and formatting process. For my part, I hope to deliver an entertaining story that keeps you wondering what’s going to happen next.

  If at the end of this book you find you simply loved the story and characters, please consider giving it a positive rating or review. In this brave new book world, the only way for a good story to find its way into the hands of other readers is if the people who loved it let others know about it. We authors appreciate any little bit of help you can give us.

  If, when you reach the end of this story, you think, “Wow, I’d love to know what’s next in Suzanne’s world of characters,” then consider joining my newsletter mailing list. I only send out newsletters a few times a year plus extra ones in anticipation of any new releases, so it won’t be flooding your inbox on a weekly basis, but will keep you abreast on any changes I may have coming.

  Also, I love to hear from readers. If you have any questions or comments, or just want to say “hi”, please feel free to visit my webpage for some extra tidbits or check out my Pinterest boards. You can connect with me via Facebook, Twitter or through my email: suzanne@suzanneferrell.com

  Now the important part: Here’s Deke and Libby’s story. I hope you will love them as much as I did and enjoy revisiting Westen in CLOSE TO THE FIRE.

  PROLOGUE

  Flames shot up in front of him. Heat knocked him backward.

  The noise deafening.

  Smoke and cinders flew about in the firestorm like evil imps dancing to the tune of the monster raging around him.

  Sweat ran down his face.

  His mask fogged. Cleared.

  His turnout gear plastered to his body. What little of his skin was exposed stung. Blistered.

  Bill.

  He had to find Bill.

  “Bill! Where are you?” he said into the radio amplifier attached to his mask and gear.

  Thick smoke and wild flames raged around him.

  Which way had he gone? He tried to get his bearings. Where was the exit?

  They’d been unable to get across the lower part of the warehouse and instead went up the side stairs to the metal bridge-like structure along the side of the building. There they split up, trying to see the kid they’d been told had been dragged into the burning building.

  “Over here, Deke. To your left.” Bill’s voice sounded over the radio.

  He swung his gaze that direction. There he was. About ten feet away, near the edge of the scaffolding they were standing on. Safe.

  “Any sign of the kid?”

  Bill shook his head no.

  A rumble sounded above them.

  They both looked up. A hole in the ceiling open up. Flames whooshed upward.

  Another rumble shook the building. A timber gave way and half the roof on the far side of the warehouse came crashing down, throwing Deke against the outer wall of the building. Bill flew backward onto the shaky scaffolding.

  Deke held on to a window ledge as he tried to get his balance. He glanced out. Two figures ran away from the burning building. The larger one had the smaller one by scruff of the neck, hauling him away in the opposite direction of the fire engines out front.

  Damn, the night watchman had been r
ight. There had been a kid with the arsonist.

  “Kid’s okay, Bill. We need to get out of here.” He signaled down just in case his partner hadn’t heard him.

  Bill nodded. “Meet you down below.”

  Deke was halfway down the stairs when the loud creaking started above. He looked up.

  The remaining roof broke into two parts. It dangled by a few metal beams. Right over Bill.

  Another rumble.

  The metal gave way. Hit the scaffolding.

  One minute Bill was there, the next…only flames and twisted metal.

  “Deke!” Bill said, then silence over the radio.

  “Bill!” He tried to climb back up.

  Another beam came loose. It hit him. Slamming him down the stairs, it knocked his headgear and mask loose. Flames all around him, hot metal landing on the side of his neck, something liquid seeping down into his turnout gear and searing his chest.

  Screaming sounded in his ears.

  His screaming.

  Deacon Reynolds tumbled out of the bed and landed on the floor in a tangle of sweaty sheets. Willing his breathing to slow, he wiped his hands over his face.

  “Dammit.” His words were followed by hacking coughs.

  Jeez. He must’ve been screaming again. He didn’t do it every time he had the dream, but when he did his voice box complained with a coughing fit. The docs said the damaged vocal cords couldn’t take the trauma of making harsh sounds. He thought he’d had it under control. At least the screaming part. The dreams hadn’t been this bad in months, maybe even a year. What had triggered this one?

  He ran his hand through his wet hair. His whole body was covered in sweat.

  It had to be the summer’s heat.

  Untangling himself from the sheets, he strode naked across to the bathroom and poured himself a glass of cold water. Drinking it slowly, he worked on letting his throat relax as he stared at his naked chest in the mirror. The thick cords of scar tissue extended from his jawline down his neck, across the left side of his shoulder and chest. Docs said he was lucky the movement of his shoulder hadn’t been damaged and that the burns hadn’t gotten too deep near his heart.

  He barked out a harsh laugh.

  Lucky. Right.

  Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if the fire had claimed him right along with Bill.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Want to be my best man?” Gage Justice said as he perused the morning menu.

  Deke choked on the sip of hot coffee he’d just taken. Blinking at his friend, he sputtered and coughed. Setting down the coffee mug, he reached for the glass of ice water Rachel had set on the table when they’d taken their favorite booth in the Peaches ‘N Cream Café for breakfast.

  “Do I need to come over there and Heimlich you?” Gage said from across the table, with a grin on his face.

  “Don’t even think about it, Gunslinger.” Deke cast his old football buddy a warning glare and swallowed half the glass of ice water to soothe his now-burned mouth and throat. After a minute he set the glass aside and picked up his menu. “You should warn a person when you ask a question like that. Not wait ’til they have a mouthful of Lorna’s coffee.”

  “So, do you?”

  Something in his friend’s voice caught his attention. Gage might be trying to play this off as no big deal, but the slight deepening to his voice and the way he kept staring at the menu they both knew by heart spoke of how much his answer meant to the other man.

  “Might as well. Someone has to be sure you don’t leave Bobby standing at the altar all by herself.”

  A smile split Gage’s lips, all nervousness gone as he set aside the menu and leaned back in the booth. “As if. My daddy didn’t raise me stupid. Bobby is the best thing that ever happened to me. Nothing I wouldn’t do for her, including dressing up in a tux and standing in front of the whole town to make her mine.”

  “Man, you’ve got it bad.” Deke shook his head, setting down his menu as Rachel approached.

  “You two want the Monday special, like usual? Or you gonna take a risk and order something new?” the teenaged waitress asked as she set a carafe of hot coffee on the table. Her mother owned the café and Rachel had been working here since she was old enough to bus tables.

  “We don’t mess with Monday-morning specials, Rach,” Gage said with a wink.

  “You just don’t want to mess with my mom.” She wrote on the order book in her hand. “That’s one heart-attack-on-a-plate for the town sheriff, what about you, Fire Chief?”

  Deke gave her a shrug. “Hate to jinx our Monday meetings, so yep, I’ll take the special, too.”

  “Okay, two Monday specials for the two old guys in a rut,” Rachel said, then headed back to the kitchen.

  “Sassy brat,” Deke called after her, then shook his head. “Kid’s growing up to sound just like her mom.”

  “And who’s she calling old?” Gage poured some more coffee into his cup then grinned at him again. “Must be you, since you graduated before me.”

  Before he could tell Gage where he could shove his younger status, the bells on the door jangled. He looked up to see who was entering and wished he hadn’t.

  Elizabeth Wilson.

  Libby.

  Beautiful as always. Her blonde hair pulled up into a fancy braid that ended just at the bottom of her neck, touching the collar of the pale-blue sweater that clung to her body in a loose, carefree way before stopping just below the tops of her black slacks. Damn. Even after all these years, seeing the soft curves of her hips, ass and long thighs, still made him want to grab her and pull her in close. But that would never happen again. She was off limits to him. Forever.

  She glanced his way, her deep-blue eyes locking onto him. The half-smile on her lips froze and faded. A sadness clouded her eyes just before she turned and headed to the corner booth at the farthest part of the café from where he sat.

  “So, what do you say?”

  Gage’s voice penetrated his brain, making Deke refocus on him and not on the worst mistake of his life. “I already said yes. Be happy to.”

  “Good. Told Principal Johnson you’d be happy to be my assistant.”

  Deke blinked then narrow his eyes at his oldest friend. “What the hell are you talking about? And what the hell does the high school principal have to do with your wedding?”

  A slow grin spread over Gage’s face. “Didn’t think you were paying attention. Johnson asked me to fill in as interim football coach until they can find a replacement. I agreed, as long as I could pick my own assistant. And you just volunteered.”

  “You can’t hold me to that. I thought we were still talking about your wedding,” he groused as Rachel returned with their plates heaped full of breakfast.

  Gage scooped up a forkful of fluffy scrambled eggs. “You said yes. Can’t help it if you zoned out. Ya snooze, ya lose.”

  Deke took a few bites of his breakfast then swallowed it down with some coffee. Apparently he needed more caffeine than usual today. “I don’t have time to babysit a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears kids for two-a-day practices right now, Gunslinger. It’s been a dry summer and I’ve got everyone doing extra on-call duty for any brush fires in the area, including me.”

  Talk ceased between them and only the clink of cutlery on dishes sounded around them as they dug into their breakfast.

  The bells on the door jangled again.

  Out of habit, Deke glanced up to see a stranger walk in. Tall, about forty, salt-and-pepper hair, sports shirt neatly tucked into his jeans. The man looked around, giving Deke a nod before scanning the rest of the room. Then with a wave and smile, he made a beeline across the café. Straight to Libby’s booth. She greeted him with a smile and a handshake.

  Deke forced himself to look away from how beautiful she was when she smiled and started shoving the now-nearly-tasteless food into his mouth.

  “…just two weeks for two-a-days before classes start. We’ll have the guys out early in the morning before you
have to be at the office and late in the evening once the heat of the day starts to drop,” Gage was saying.

  Deke focused on the conversation at hand. It was none of his business who Libby had breakfast with. He’d lost that right ten years ago.

  “As your assistant, what’s my job going to be? ’Cause I ain’t carrying your clipboard for your lazy ass.”

  Gage laughed, setting down his fork and reaching for the carafe of coffee to refill both their mugs. “I’ll be dealing with the offense and formulating the plays. Thought you could handle the defense.”

  He nearly choked on the bite of toast in his mouth. Took a swallow of coffee to wash it down and narrowed his gaze at his friend once more. “I was the all-state wide receiver for three years running, what the hell do I know about coaching defensive players?”

  When they were in high school, they were the dynamic duo. Gage was the best quarterback in their division, with a sidearm throw that was almost as accurate as his overhead spiral. Which was how he’d gotten the nickname Gunslinger. While Deke was not only a track star, but a wide receiver who could outrun any safety or cornerback in the state.

  “You spent a lot of time dodging linemen, linebackers and the coverage team. Not to mention the fact that you were on our coverage team. You should’ve picked up a few defensive tricks for them to use,” Gage said, setting aside his now-empty plate and leaning back in the booth to drink more coffee.

  Deke finished the last few bites of his meal. Reaching for his mug, he shoved in another packet of sugar and a slow stream of cream.

  He considered what Gage had to say a few minutes. Yeah, he’d learned some things he could pass on to the players. He’d loved playing football as a kid and all the way through high school. Maybe it was time to give back a little. He needed something in his life besides work. He glanced at Libby once more, who was in conversation with the stranger. “Sure, why not?”