Caught In Flames
Page 1
Caught In Flames
Natalia Banks
Contents
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Unbridled Pursuit: The Full Knight Brothers Series
Part I
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Unbridled Pursuit: Knight Brothers Series
Part II
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Unbridled Pursuit: Knight Brothers Series
Part III
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
N o part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, etc. without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by copyright law .
N OTE: This is a work of fiction, names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real life is coincidental. All characters in the story are 18 years of age or older. Intended reading audience 18 +
Copyright ©️2017, Natalia Banks Publishing, All rights reserved .
Chapter One
Sarina
S arina Dunne leaned over the little round table to hold her grandmother’s fragile hand. Billie Dunne smiled at her granddaughter, a fading glint in her eye—the dying embers of a life well-lived. Sarina’s smile matched her own, and she could see the family resemblance which had stared at her so often in the bedroom mirror: soft, sad, green eyes, her black hair graying where hers was still dark and shiny with the vigor of her youth .
But Sarina could feel that slipping away, more and more as she crept past her twenty-third birthday. And that wasn’t the only thing slipping away. Sarina looked into her grandmother’s eyes and she into hers, no words needing to pass between them. They’d only grown closer since her father’s death five years before—a tragedy which broke both their hearts. But they’d been there for each other for healing and support, creating a bond that only one thing could threaten .
“I thought we might take a stroll through the park,” Sarina said, her voice buoyant and cheerful. “It’s such a beautiful day .”
Billie nodded, glancing around the little sandwich shop. “I-I don’t really feel like eating,” she said, rubbing her lean belly. “I’m not very hungry .”
Sarina glanced down at the plate in front of her, where only a few crumbs of bread, a smear of mustard, and half a pickle remained of her grandmother’s former lunch. Sarina didn’t have the heart to tell her, and it took all of her strength not to break out in tears. So she forced another smile and nodded. “Maybe we’ll get something later .”
But Sarina’s stomach turned, her bowels churning. I should wait, Sarina told herself, shouldn’t leave her alone. But her stomach groaned, suggesting a walk through the park wouldn’t be very comfortable without a quick trip to the powder room .
“Gram, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Are you going to be okay while I’m gone ?”
“Of course I am! What—? I’m I—? Who’s the elder here, young lady ?”
“You are, Gram. I just mean, y’know, sit tight and I’ll be right back.” She gently tapped her hand and got up to cross the little restaurant to the bathrooms .
Sarina stepped into the little lavatory and released a long, sad sigh, leaning against the sink, her head sinking down. She’s only getting worse, Sarina told herself, damnit! She looked up and saw her own face in the mirror—a younger image of her grandmother’s. Is this what’s going to happen to me, Sarina had to wonder, is dementia hereditary? Poor Gram, how much longer does she have ?
But Sarina had more urgent business, and the second stall was available .
Two minutes later, she had washed her hands and was drying them, the door of the bathroom opening as a very large woman pushed her way in. Sarina offered her a polite smile and slithered out behind her, back into the restaurant to the little table where Billie Dunne was waiting .
Except she wasn’t .
“Gram? Gram!” Sarina scanned the crowded sandwich shop, the other patrons looking up at her from their wool hats and flannel shirts, coffee and mugs of soup sending wafts of steam to fog their round granny glasses. But there was no sign of her grandmother. “Gram !”
Sarina pushed through the crowd to the front door and then out onto Pike Street, Seattle’s famous Space Needle standing in the distance. Sarina looked up and down the crowded boulevard, with pedestrians shuffling and slouching this way and that. But Billie was lost in the crowd. Could she have wandered out through the back into the alley? Every second she’s only getting farther and farther away
!
Sarina looked around, confused and intimidated, the summer sun glaring. She knew then how her grandmother felt: easy befuddled, unsure where to turn or where to go. But for Billie, it would be even worse. That was the reason she had to find her grandmother and fast .
She could wander out into the street, Sarina told herself, or into one of these dive bars… Who knows what could happen to her !
It would come down to luck and chance. She picked a direction and headed down the sidewalk, nervously pushing her way through the crowd. Pedestrians glared at her, a parade of funky beards and man buns and tie-dyed shirts stepping back to clear a path .
“Gram! Gram?” Sarina stopped at an intersection, looking down each of the three possible crossroads that could have lured Billie away from her. But there was nothing to distinguish one stretch of busy city street from another: lines of cars belching toxic clouds into the air, a rat running along the wires strung from pole to pole to pole. Sarina’s heart started to beat faster, sweat collecting in her palms. Tattoo parlors, barber shops—each storefront becoming a blur. Sarina scolded herself again, This is no place for a woman like my grandmother. I should have taken her away from here last year, at least moved us down to Lake City or North Seattle, somewhere more…rural or suburban or something !
But there was no more time for self-recrimination. Sarina had good reasons to stay and she still did, but they were hard to trace with her grandmother lost on those bustling city streets. She probably went the path of least resistance, which means she likely didn’t cross the street .
So Sarina turned right, and walked down the sidewalk, a strange feeling growing stronger inside her. Her feet passed each other, quickly gaining momentum, her body almost bouncing in a brisk jog. She glanced around with greater urgency, her mouth going dry. A vague muttering leaked into her ear, barely heard above the music leaking out of the nearby record store. She heard voices, and one of them almost sounded familiar .
“Gram? Gram !”
“Sarina?”
Sarina’s heart leapt in her chest. “Gram !”
“Sarina!”
An alley stretched outward from the street, behind a row of shops lining the street around the next corner. Sarina ran headlong into the alley, hands reaching out. “Gram!” She almost slipped on the grime as she ran into the alley, sunlight slipping away in the shadows of the tall, dank buildings. “Gram !”
“Sarina.”
But she wasn’t alone .
One of the three punks surrounding her grandmother now had Sarina in their sights. “Welcome to the party, Sarina .”
“Leave my grandmother alone,” she said, grabbing Billie’s hand .
“Leave her alone,” one of the others repeated, “she’s the one hassling us !”
“Then I’ll just take her home,” she said, “get her outta your way .”
The three young men, who looked to be in their late twenties, only moved in closer. They had bad skin, rotting teeth, shabby jeans and T-shirts. And one of them had a knife .
“Just take it easy.” The one with the knife moved in closer and said to Sarina, “we only wanna talk. You got any money ?”
What happened next, happened quickly. He was big, and he appeared behind the punk with the knife from out of nowhere. There was no quip, no chance for Sarina’s attacker to defend himself. And he didn’t deserve one .
Instead, he spun around, his arm bent back, the knife falling, to clatter against the concrete ground. But that sound couldn’t compete with the crack of the man’s arm, and then the sound of his blood-curdling scream .
Sarina and Billie looked on in shock, as did the other two punks: four opened mouths, eight round, stunned eyes. The man standing behind the first attacker was tall and broad and cloaked in shadow, still holding the injured man’s broken arm as his victim cringed and whimpered. With an angry grunt, their big, burly rescuer threw the man into the street behind him and lurched toward the other two to prevent them from launching a counterattack against Sarina or her grandmother .
While the injured punk ran for his life, the other two followed some uncontrollable urge to attack, to prevail, to destroy. Sarina put her arm out in front of her grandmother instinctually, in an attempt to shield her. The big rescuer stepped in, just in time, battling it out with the other two punks .
One of them pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He lunged at the big man with a vicious swipe; the brawny man stepped back. Sarina wanted to scream out for help, for greater numbers to help this brave Good Samaritan. But her breath was trapped in her lungs, hairs stood on the backs of her arms .
A second swipe of the blade was another miss, but it left him open to a counterattack, and it was all the big, burly man needed. He moved with amazing speed and grace for a man of his size, easily six-feet tall and packed with muscle. He lifted his massive leg and kicked the punk in the chest with the flattened sole, knocking the breath out of his lungs and the knife out of his hand. But instead of sending the punk flying backward, the punk fell back-first onto the ground, to be pinned by the big man’s foot. The punk grabbed his ankle and kicked, struggling to wriggle out from under his boot .
Keeping the punk pinned, the heroic mystery man picked up the knife and turned it to face the third punk. The two men stared each other down before the punk ran down the alley in the other direction, his footsteps fast disappearing with his panicked escape .
Sarina and Billie stood in each other’s arms, astounded at this courageous and incredibly gorgeous stranger as he pulled a smartphone out of his pocket .
Beneath him, the punk said, “Get ‘cher fuckin’ foot off me, man !”
But the big man ignored him. Standing relatively still, he came into clearer view. His blond hair was long and wavy, hanging over his strong face and beautiful blue eyes. A tight SFD T-shirt was strapped across his thick torso, heavy with muscle and not a speck of fat, a sharp V leading from his broad shoulders to his narrow, compact waist .
In a deep, gravely voice, he asked Sarina and Billie, “You two okay?” Sarina looked at Billie, who nodded. So did she .
The attacker asked, “What about me? I can’t breathe down here, man!” But his words choked off, a greater heft to his wheeze as the big man stepped down just a little harder, turning his attention to the phone. “Yeah, this is Ty King, Seattle Fire Department. I’ve got a two-forty-five, two-sixty-one-A, five-oh-seven, five-ninety-four, alley near the corner of Pike and Third. Can you send a couple officers ?”
“And an ambulance,” the punk said, “I need an ambulance !”
The man glanced down at him, then went on, “Just a patrol car. Much appreciated.” He pocketed the smartphone .
“Your name’s Ty,” Sarina said. “I’m Sarina — ”
Police sirens were soft in the distance but quickly got louder. “We’ll chat down at the station,” Ty said, calm and poised .
Sarina took a deep breath, conflicting emotions swirling in her lungs and in her brain: relief, intrigue, anticipation .
And dread .
Chapter Two
Sarina
S arina and Billie sat together while they gave their statements, the police station bull pen bustling with ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and uniformed officers weaving between the desks carrying files in manilla folders, weary expressions on their aging faces .
A tired-looking officer, with a round body and an unimpressed expression, sat on the other side of the desk, typing their statements into a computer. The name on her badge read L. Coleman .
Officer Leanett Coleman asked, “And why were you in that alley in the first place ?”
Sarina glanced at her grandmother before, very casually, Billie answered, “I thought I saw my son .”
“Your son,” the officer repeated as she typed. “And did you ?”
“No, dear,” Billie answered, turning to gaze into a soft, sad distance .
“I see. And where is your son now, ma’am ?”
&nb
sp; Sarina leaned forward a bit and said softly, “My father passed away about ten years ago .”
Officer Coleman’s eyes shifted from Sarina to Billie and then back again. “I see,” she said, a flutter of clicks and clacks streaming up from her keyboard, fingers flying .
“What’s all that,” Sarina asked, “what’re you writing ?”