Ladder 54: Five Firefighter Romances
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
The Dance Card
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Light Me Up
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Rekindled
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Sparked by Deception
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
A Hero for Lauren
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
Epilogue
Maren Smith Links
Raisa Greywood Links
Adaline Raine Links
Isabella Laase Links
Felicity Brandon Links
More Stormy Night Books by Adaline Raine
More Stormy Night Books by Isabella Laase
More Stormy Night Books by Felicity Brandon
Ladder 54
By
Maren Smith, Raisa Greywood, Adaline Raine, Isabella Laase, and Felicity Brandon
Copyright © 2018 by Maren Smith, Raisa Greywood, Adaline Raine, Isabella Laase, and Felicity Brandon
Copyright © 2018 by Maren Smith, Raisa Greywood, Adaline Raine, Isabella Laase, and Felicity Brandon
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 permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Smith, Maren
Greywood, Raisa
Raine, Adaline
Laase, Isabella
Brandon, Felicity
Ladder 54
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Image by The Killion Group
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Prologue
Big Banks was a sleepy little town no more than twenty miles outside of Missoula. But even sleepy little towns had their entertainment hot spots. Like the Putt-Putt mini-golf course and the water park, both of which could be found packed full of kids and teens, and people of all ages looking for good family fun. There was the Century 21 movie theater down at the mall, with a food court that had just opened up a brand-new edible cookie dough shop. And for romantic date nights, they had both a Chili’s and a nightclub, with a black light bar and live DJ that kept the place hopping even after the bar closed down. For those in the know, however, Big Banks was also home to a different kind of club. One that met officially twice a month, every month, and unofficially a lot more often.
The Crystal Cabin Club was more than a hundred members strong, drawing people from nearly every county across the state of Montana. They were the largest club of their kind within a hundred miles and often still met at coffee shops to welcome new recruits, at the ‘cabin’ on Crystal Lake for family-oriented cookouts and get-togethers, and sometimes even at the Missoula Walmart when it came time to decorate the dungeon for holiday events. But tonight, they were meeting at the hottest spot of all, The Cabin on the Lake, where—even though it was barely April—in less than one hour’s time the event of the year was about to take place. Sophie Lassiter couldn’t wait.
Thrills of excitement competed with the cool mountain air, raising chills that raced along her back as she manned her post at the patio door. This was her cabin, passed down to her through the generations, starting with her great-grandfather, who had built the place. In the beginning, it really had been a cabin, but like the town of Big Banks itself, over the years it had morphed. Grown. Sprawled out. What had once been a one-story hunting lodge where her patriarchal lineage from ‘great’ all the way down to ‘father’ had loved to take their hunting buddies, now was a luxury cabin. Two stories high with a full basement, it still sported the huge golden log pines and original cut wood flooring her great grandfather had planked by hand and the massive river-stone fireplace he’d built. But onto that, every generation had added more until, at last, the cabin had come to Sophie.
It was Sophie who had put in the floor-to-ceiling windows all throughout the first floor and the dozens of picture windows everywhere else. It was Sophie who’d built the wraparound balcony that made the most of the spectacular views Crystal Lake offered. And it was Sophie who had built the basement, filling it over time with St. Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, and bondage cages, and opening it up to select members of the community who shared her ‘special’ interests.
Oh, yes, this was her cabin and her club, the ownership and responsibilities of which she shared with her husband of almost thirty years. Walt was her lover, her best friend, her dom, and be it the loss of a job or the loss of a friend, he had been there for her at every hard turn her life had ever taken. Now, when he needed her the most, she was ready to do whatever she had to in order to give some of that back.
“Welcome, ladies, come on in,” Sophie called, beckoning to the new arrivals coming up the walkway from the parking lot around the side. Although most of tonight’s guests were long-time members of the club, she only knew one of these women: Emma Reed, wife of the town’s late doctor. The other woman Sophie guessed to be the ‘plus-one’ that Emma had recruited from one of the event flyers they’d discreetly distributed to anyone and any place Sophie knew to be ‘kink friendly.’ Usually, the only people she allowed inside the luxury cabin were vetted members, but she needed this auction to be successful and to that end, she welcomed everyone who came, whether she knew them or not.
The two women were laughing and chatting as they hurried up the cobblestones, high heels echoing sharply across the patio and past the bonfire in the fire pit, where the smokers huddled, also laughing and chatting, winter coats drawn up to their chins against the still icy mountain breeze. The weatherman said it was spring now, but winter in Montana rarely conceded its authority to the dictates of a mortal calendar. Snow wasn’t just expected this weekend, it could be expected all the way up to June.
“Sophie.” As she neared, Emma reached for Sophie, grasping her shoulders as she leaned in. They kissed cheeks, something that meant so much more than the superficial greeting most considered it to be. Draw
ing back, the widow offered a sympathetic smile that just as quickly vanished with a sniff behind a mask of ‘well, that’s enough of that.’ She turned and introduced her companion. “This is Lauren Roberts, the young lady I told you about.”
Sophie shook the much younger woman’s hand when she extended it, taking quick stock of her fine pale hair and striking blue eyes. She looked very elegant in her evening gown. Mostly what she took notice of, though, was the woman’s apparent age. “You’d best keep your ID ready tonight, Ms. Roberts, because I guarantee my boys are going to card you at the bar.”
Emma barked a delighted laugh, but Lauren merely grimaced a good-natured frown and dutifully dug into her dress purse for her wallet. “I’m used to it,” she said, her British accent light and lilting. She whipped out her driver’s license, twiddling it between two fingers before tucking it away again.
“Is he here tonight?” Emma asked, peering over Sophie through the glass double doors. “How is he?”
“At the bar.” Drawing her black knit shawl tighter around her, Sophie folded her arms. “And he’s…” she hesitated before nodding, “he’s processing it. His dad died of cancer, you know, so he’s always had it in the back of his mind that this day might come. But the specialist at St. Peter’s says we caught it early and we’ve decided on an aggressive form of treatment. We’re going to fight this.”
“You’re not alone,” Emma said, firm and determined. “If you ever need anything—a ride back and forth, help with housework, a couple of hot meals—I mean it, you call me.”
Sophie smiled her gratitude, hoping it would soften the honesty with which she replied, “What we need is money.”
Digging her wallet out of her sparkling plum-colored purse, Emma shook it. “I cashed in a couple of bonds, darlin’. Money I’ve got, honey. And while I know a certain someone won’t be getting up on that stage tonight, you better believe I’m not leaving here without a winning bid on somebody.” Emma leaned in, hardly bothering to whisper as she said, “Maybe it’ll make him jealous.”
That ‘certain someone’ happened to be Lance Howard, the only firefighter who’d been at their firehouse longer than Walt. He looked the part too, and was every bit as toned and physically fit as the younger set, despite the pepper of his hair carrying more salt than it used to. It was no secret that Emma harbored a crush on him and had for years. Unfortunately, Lance was not a member of the CCC and, as far as Sophie knew, did not share in their kinky proclivities. Still, a girl could hope, and judging by the look on Emma’s determined face, tonight was the night she might just stop hoping and do something about it.
“He’s manning the bar,” Sophie leaned in to whisper. Getting the door for both ladies, Sophie gave Emma’s back both a pat and a push. “Go get him, tiger!”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘cougar,’ but I thank you—oh, my God,” Emma froze halfway across the threshold, her gray eyes widening as her jaw dropped. “Is that Dakota Channing? I didn’t know she was back in town! Look how much weight she’s lost; she looks fantastic! Dakota!” Emma shouted across the room, drawing more than just her target’s startled gaze. “Look at you! Good night, honey,” she shot back over her shoulder as she hurried to the bar to sweep her now blushing target into a bear hug. “You look fantastic! Where have you been squirreling yourself?”
Sophie rolled her lips to keep from laughing. Poor Dakota. She looked like a deer in the matronly social butterfly’s attentive headlights. Ah, well. Dakota had lived here once before. She knew these people almost as well as Sophie did. The dark-haired beauty had chosen to come back; she could deal with a little of Emma’s hen-clucking now.
Almost as if called, Sophie’s gaze skipped past them, past Lance mixing drinks and laughing with a small gathering of people at the bar, past the ten-piece orchestra set back near the balcony overlooking the lake, where the soft music they played drifted easily through the massive cabin, past the stage set up near a river-stone fireplace so large that it took up the entire wall. There her wandering eye halted, first upon the stage and then upon the salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman setting up an audience full of empty folding chairs around it. Only a few years older than herself, one would never know to look at him that an insidious disease was eating him from the inside out. He looked so strong, as strong he had ever been. Strong enough to toss a two-hundred-pound man over his shoulder and carry him down a ladder. Strong enough to keep her in line—Sophie’s mouth curled, despite herself—not just through all the years of their crazy youth, but to this day. Her bottom tingled beneath the sparkling black sequined layers of her dress. Her heart tingled too. Still. After all these years.
She was not ready to lose him. She’d never be ready, but especially not now. Not to cancer. Not to anything.
As if he could feel her watching, Walt looked up. Their eyes met. He probably knew exactly what she was thinking, but he smiled anyway and winked all the same. Because he was strong that way too. He might be sick, but he still gave her courage.
He also tapped his watch and cocked an eyebrow. They were on a schedule tonight. Time wasn’t going to wait for them, and in just the short period in which she had stood here, mooning over him like a new blushing bride, several people had entered through the patio door behind her, handing their winter coats to David, another volunteer from the fire station, before joining the growing crowd at either the bar or near the orchestra.
Already more than sixty people had shown up. She expected perhaps only twenty or so more. She was grateful for the turnout. She was even more grateful for Walt’s ‘boys’ as she liked to call them. But they weren’t boys; they were the men who worked for him down at the fire station, the local Ladder 54. If not for them… well, the entire motivation (not to mention entertainment portion) for what was scheduled here tonight simply would not have happened.
Sophie went back to her self-appointed post at the door, catching the handle right before the next group of guests could admit themselves. “Welcome,” she greeted, smiling warmly at the vetted patrons of the CCC, as well as the few new faces that slipped in along with them. The group probably didn’t even notice shy, quiet, petite Rylee Mercer, who’d likely tacked herself onto their shadows before flashing Sophie an almost apologetic smile and quickly veering off to find a quiet drink and (most likely) a quiet corner in which to watch. Just like she did at the bi-monthly CCC meetings. Frankly, Sophie was surprised she’d showed up today. Of course, every month when the scheduled get-togethers rolled around, she was always a little surprised when Rylee showed up. To date, she’d never seen Rylee play. Not with anyone. She just… watched.
Movement from the kitchen caught her eye and Sophie forgot about everything except Liam, a firefighter volunteer who’d graduated from the culinary arts years ago and who, once upon a time, used to make his bones as a fine-dining chef. From the moment they’d started to pull the concept of this charity event together, he’d stepped up to take control of the kitchen. He wasn’t even a member of the CCC. Neither were Lance or David. Of all the firefighters who worked under Walt, only five shared enough of the Lassiters’ kinky proclivities as to attend more than one of their CCC parties. And yet, eleven firefighters were here tonight, showing their support for the fire chief who treated them all more like sons than employees.
Liam signaled that dinner would be ready on time. Sophie checked her watch. It was ten minutes to the official starting time listed on the invitations. She nodded her head, but ready wasn’t at all what she was feeling. This was all starting to get too real, too fast. She wasn’t ready for any of it.
She braced herself. She also got the door for the next group, a lovely couple from two counties over who made the hour-long drive through Yellowstone every month to get their kink on and who hadn’t batted an eye over the two-hundred-dollar admission to participate in tonight’s event.
Dinner was called and everyone adjourned to the dining hall where a hundred and sixty formal settings were spread out across two sixteen-foot o
ak tables and many additional folding tables, cleverly disguised beneath fine scarlet tablecloths, and topped with black and white lace runners and china place settings. The massive cabin had been redesigned for lavish parties practically from the moment her mother had inherited it, and this dining hall could have held two hundred, but the number currently taking their seats were the most that Sophie had ever personally presided over. Classical music from the orchestra kept the atmosphere light, and despite the seriousness of the illness that had spawned all this, people were smiling and laughing and happily getting to know those seated around them.
Oh, how Liam outdid himself. The food was wonderful, and for a man who had dedicated himself to winning the highly acclaimed World Food Championship, BBQ division, two years in a row, it wasn’t at all surprising that he could cook. That he could cook prime rib for a hundred and fifty as perfectly as what was set out on the buffet—along with the black and white rice salad and the savory lobster bisque, garlic buttery rolls that absolutely melted in her mouth, not to mention the five-layer, melt-on-the-tongue coconut cake placed among the pudding and the fruit tarts on the dessert cart—was nothing short of amazing.
“This is fantastic,” Tammi Lou exclaimed, and how that gold-digger had managed to slip into a seat not two chairs down from Sophie, she didn’t quite know. She was too much of a lady to comment on it, however; she just smiled as Tammi Lou laughed, “He’s not going to be in the auction, is he? I might just have to bid on him instead, and there goes my diet.”
Several around the table laughed. Sophie did too, but she felt pulled. Now it was starting to feel like a party—like a CCC party, when she knew an evening full of kink and fun awaited all the members she would invite, but not her. Because Sophie never played when she was acting the part of the hostess. She was too busy making sure everyone was having fun, that the rules of the cabin were being obeyed, and that the stations and equipment were being utilized safely. She was the one the newbies came to when they wanted to play but didn’t know anyone to partner with. She was the one who provided instruction for those wanting to improve their skill sets and sometimes even offered implements from her own play bag to practice with, if they didn’t have their own.