Forged (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 3)

by Piper Stone

  Breaking the kiss, he shook his head, finding it difficult to focus. “Damn, woman. You need to learn a lesson about obedience.” He didn’t care where they were or who might see their shameful actions. He only knew what he craved, what he needed at this moment. Grabbing her wrist, he pushed her against the thick metal railing and wrapped his fingers around her long strands. “You obey me.”

  “I’m not good at following orders.” Leaning over, she kept her hands firmly gripped around the railing.

  Garcia kicked her legs apart and yanked her short skirt up above her hips. “We can fix that.” His voice husky, he brushed the tip of his finger down the crack of her ass, following the skinny material of her crimson thong. “All women need a hard spanking every once in a while.”

  Crack! Slap!

  “Oh God!” Rachel’s exclaim was loud, breaking the quiet, night air.

  Whap! Pop!

  He repeated the move, grunting with each slap of his hand. Every part of his body was tingling, turned on in a way he wasn’t used to. Tonight, there was no room for romance or being a gentle lover. He would take what he wanted. Inhaling, the scent of her pussy wafted between them.

  Smack! Crack! Pop!

  “Oh, yes! Harder!”

  Crack! Slap!

  Wham!

  The sound of a door slamming just below them forced a giggle from her mouth. She tossed her head over her shoulder, her eyes glassy from desire. “My neighbors are boring.”

  The spell slightly broken, he rubbed his hand through his hair.

  Twisting, she gave him a look. “Oh, come on. You aren’t going to let a few nosy neighbors bother you, now are you?” Giving him a pouty look, she sidestepped him and raced up the flight of stairs.

  “You are so gonna get it!” Laughing, he bounded after her.

  Rachel continued squealing as she worked to unlock the door, making it just inside before he caught her. “You’re such a trouble maker.”

  “Me?” Garcia asked as he kicked the door closed. “You’re the one, missy.” The only light the luminescent glow of the full moon, he marveled at her voluptuous breasts and full hips. He needed release soon and yes, he would take all he wanted.

  She took a few steps back before removing her top, swinging the material before dropping it. Taking another step back, she cupped her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples as she swayed her hips back and forth.

  “You are a wanton tease.” Garcia yanked off his boots and socks, then rolled his shirt up and over his chest and shoulders, waiting as she continued her sexy dance. He took a giant stride forward before dropping the shirt. Then he beckoned with a single finger.

  Shaking her head, she gave him a heated look as she shoved both thumbs under the waistband of her skirt, pushing down, her hips undulating back and forth then kicking it away.

  “Somethin’ else. Whew.”

  Yawning, she placed one hand on her cocked hip, the other across her mouth then blew him a kiss. “Catch me if you can.” She bolted, racing out of the living room.

  Garcia followed, tripping over shadowed items on the floor and laughing. When he tumbled into her kitchen, he stopped short, waiting for his eyes to adjust. She was nowhere in sight. “Come out, come out, or your punishment will be worse.” He took a step forward, craning his neck. His steps almost silent, he crouched low and eased around the kitchen island. “Gotcha.” He snapped his hand around her wrist, yanking her to a standing position.

  She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “Maybe I have you, cowboy.”

  When she bit down on his chin, he threw his arm across the top of the island. The sound of pans crashing on the floor, papers flying in the air and other items hitting with a solid thud did nothing but fuel his almost desperate desire. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He turned her around, pushing her over the edge.

  Rachel clawed at the remainder of items on the island, her arms flailing.

  “All mine.” Garcia bent over, sucking on her neck as he fumbled to release his cock.

  “Yes! Oh!” She struggled, pushing up on the counter yet she wiggled her hips back and forth across his crotch. “Oh God!”

  He smacked her ass twice more before wrapping one hand around her hair and gripping her hip with the other. Thrusting the entire length of his shaft inside her pussy, he threw his head back and roared. “Yes!”

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

  Pulling out, he drove in again. And again. The moment she squeezed her cunt muscles, he bellowed.

  Laughing, she continued struggling, now tossing the last few items off onto the floor.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  “What the hell?” Jerking his head up, Garcia cringed. They were in a damn paper-thin apartment.

  “Uh-oh.”

  The way she said the words was as if she’d been prepared, even happy that they’d been interrupted. He eased back, jerking up his jeans.

  Bam! Bam!

  “Open up. Sheriff’s department.”

  Groaning, Garcia rubbed his forehead and took several steps back. “Not good. Not good at all.”

  “Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll get rid of them.” She popped a kiss on the side of his mouth and strode out into the living room. A few seconds later, a light was turned on.

  Garcia cursed under his breath as he fastened and zipped his jeans. This wasn’t just a bad situation, this was ridiculous. Yes, he’d started the spanking bit in the hallway, but… This he didn’t need.

  “No, I’m fine. My date and I were just having a little fun.” Rachel’s tone was almost teasing.

  He walked toward the doorway.

  “Are you certain, ma’am? Two of your neighbors called, concerned you were being assaulted.”

  Garcia froze, recognizing the voice of the deputy. He’d be the laughing stock of the first responder world.

  “No, trust me. Just a little hard play. Nothing more,” Rachel cooed.

  Was she making fun of the situation? He clenched his fists.

  “Let us just see your date, then you can go back to doing whatever it is you were doing,” the second deputy chimed in.

  Yep, he recognized the other officer’s voice as well. He was doomed.

  “Oh, baby cakes. I think the deputies want to see you,” Rachel called, her lilt sing-song and far too happy.

  Garcia dropped his head, sweat popping along his forehead. He was going straight to Hell in a handbasket. Exhaling, he brushed both hands through his hair and took a quick look down before walking into the living room.

  Both deputies tipped their head, wry smiles crossing their faces after just a few seconds.

  “Why, this man looks like a criminal that’s on the loose. What do you say partner?” the first deputy asked as he took a step forward.

  “I agree. We should take him in.” The second pulled out his handcuffs.

  While the deputies were both fairly new, he’d worked with them before. This would make him legendary, and quite possibly in the worst way. “Funny. Rachel, Deputies Randy O’Brien and Carter Worth.”

  “Nice to meet you, officers and he is one very bad man,” Rachel added, smiling.

  “Deputies, ma’am,” Deputy Worth said as he grinned. “But we still carry big guns.”

  It was at that moment Garcia noticed she was wearing his shirt and nothing else. “I’m doomed.”

  “We might be able to work something out,” Carter teased. “How’ve you been, stranger?”

  “Not bad. Busy with the smokejumpers. We’re short-handed with the budget cuts.”

  “Yeah, horrific fire season and don’t think the budget cuts are only affecting your department. We’re not even getting new recruits. Think we were both damn lucky to get hired when we did. Besides, why would you place your life in danger in this day and age?” Randy snorted as he walked closer. “Heard all that you guys did the past couple of months. Your team should be proud.”

  “Doing my job,” Garcia added, darting a quick glance at Rachel then lowering h
is voice. “Hey, have you heard any scuttlebutt about some recent fires occurring in town?” He noticed an immediate look between the two.

  Carter shrugged. “Nothing criminal, if that’s what you mean. Carelessness with heaters. You know how it gets in the winter. Besides, shouldn’t you be asking the fire investigator?”

  “Yeah, I will at some point.” He knew the deputies well enough that they would have normally had no issues telling him about recent cases, even without mentioning details. They were harboring information as if the issue was being swept under the rug. Fascinating. City Hall at work yet again.

  “Well, we better get out of here. Real crimes to solve,” Randy said as he winked.

  “Do you guys need me to leave a pair of handcuffs?” Carter teased.

  “Get out or we will have a crime on our hands!” Garcia chortled as he pointed his finger.

  Randy grinned and turned toward Rachel. “Do try and keep it down. We’ve had reports regarding your apartment on several occasions. Next time we may have to give you a summons.”

  “Will do, officer. I mean deputy with a large gun.” Rachel gave him a seductive look as Garcia led them to the door.

  For the first time in years, Garcia was uncomfortable as hell and not merely because of the situation with Rachel. A nagging settled into the back of his mind and he was determined to get to the bottom of why.

  He followed them out and stood on the landing. Sirens could be heard in the distance. His gut was telling him there would be another casualty reported and he was chilled to the bone. When he walked back inside, he headed for the kitchen, grabbing his things.

  “What are you doing?” Rachel asked, her smile fading.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Why? Because the police were here?”

  Sheriff’s department. After thinking about the night, he gave her a look. “This isn’t going to work out.”

  “What? We were having a damn good time.” Walking closer, she brushed the tip of her index finger down the length of his crotch. “Better than good.”

  “We had fun.” Garcia pulled her hand away. He didn’t want sex. Hell, he was no longer certain what he did want, but being with Rachel wasn’t it.

  Rachel shook her head and ripped off his shirt, popping several buttons. “You’re an asshole. That’s what you are. You got exactly what you wanted, a little fun then poof. You’re gone.”

  “That’s not what’s happening here. I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

  Whap!

  The sting of her hand was sharp, a ring smacking him in the eye. He slapped his hand over his face and smacked one foot down on the linoleum. “Goddamn, woman.”

  “Just get out. I don’t need this kind of shit.” She tossed the shirt and crossed her arms.

  “Sounds like you had enough shit before. You’re right.” Wincing, Garcia wanted to take back the curt words. He removed his hand and blinked. There was no doubt his eye was going to swell. Perfect.

  Rachel’s expression remained venomous. “I said, get out or I might call the cops again, recant what I said earlier. I know your kind. Prick.”

  He inched closer, his own anger fueled. Inhaling, he clenched his fist and grabbed the rest of his things. As he stood with the door open, he tilted his head. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Not trying to hurt you.”

  “Bastard!”

  Garcia glanced over at the clock and slapped his hand on the comforter. The morning light was moving just over the horizon. He hadn’t slept more than an hour since crawling into bed. Granted, the two glasses of whiskey didn’t do anything but further agitate him. He sat up and gazed out the window, studying the full moon in the sky. The bright orb had cast a glow around the trees and mountains, creating the effect of an oil painting. At least in his eyes.

  He rubbed his fingers together, wondering what he’d do if he could no longer fight fires. Well, he could always fall back on his business degree. Wincing, he touched his eye. Her right hook had hit the mark. Maybe the kids would think he was wounded in the line of duty. What would the teacher think?

  Bastard. The word remained playing in the back of his mind. He’d spent too many years running from relationships. Christ. He was almost thirty-one years old and his body, albeit in the best shape of his life from his daily two-hour grueling regime, also had the aches and pains to match. How many years would he be able to continue the grind? With no one to come home to and his only friends the smokejumping team, he realized for the first time how pathetic his life truly was.

  Grabbing his phone, he dialed Stoker’s number. He’d bailed on his best friend for a night with a woman he could have never seen being in a relationship with. Stoker had asked very little during their friendship. He owed the man.

  “This had better be good,” Stoker grumbled.

  “Rise and shine, sunshine.” Garcia laughed. “You have training bright and early, remember.”

  “And you don’t?” He yawned then mumbled, the sound muffled.

  “Tell the lovely Miss Jessica good morning for me.”

  “Asshole said get the hell out of bed,” Stoker huffed.

  “You’re terrible!”

  Stoker chuckled. “That’s what you get for waking me up. I was very much enjoying a peaceful sleep. What about your night?”

  “Long, ugly story. Hey, I just called because you wanted to ask me a question. I didn’t want to forget.” Garcia headed for the bathroom, flicking on the switch. “Shit.” He glared at the condition of his eye. He looked like he’d been three rounds with a prizefighter.

  “The feisty woman do you in last night?”

  “Something like that and don’t you dare ask.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Garcia could only imagine what stories would be told at the morning law enforcement meeting. “Why do you keep asking me?”

  “Because you’re acting weird, weirdo.”

  “Just didn’t want to fuck up our friendship too.” Garcia heard Stoker’s deep sigh.

  “You’re not fucking up anything. I’ll ask you later when I’m actually awake. Maybe we can get that beer tonight. Okay?”

  “Sure. I gotta do something for the captain this morning, but see you later. Don’t kick too many asses while I’m gone.”

  “Not unless you were right there, buddy.”

  When he ended the call, he held the phone out, fighting not to toss the damn thing across the room. Why the hell was he so freaking anxious? After turning on the water to hot, he stripped off his clothes, eying the various scars. His body was as scarred as his mind. When he stepped in the shower, he planted his hands against the tile and lowered his head.

  Then he began to shake.

  After his shower, Garcia studied his reflection, fingering his eye. Tender to the touch, unfortunately, he was going to have a nasty bruise. Exhaling, he adjusted the collar on his shirt for the second time. “Fuck this.” Hell no. He looked like a damn pencil pusher. Hissing, he yanked the crisp linen over his head, tossing it onto the floor. That portion of the uniform was only used for funerals and state events, none of which he’d been forced to attend. The kids would respond to his normal gear: blue khakis, a matching blue tee-shirt with the kick ass Jackal emblem and his box of gear.

  He sat down on the bed, pulling the oversized canvas bag from underneath. Since joining the team, he’d traveled to other states three times and to other parts of Montana almost a dozen. And each time, the bag was refreshed and packed with the appropriate gear. As he pulled out the contents one by one, he turned them over, remembering the utter excitement the first time he was handed a list of requirements. Thank God, Sawyer had taken him under his wing, helping him assemble all the necessary pieces.

  Fingering the rope then the bag holding the special cocoon, a lifesaving blanket if the team was caught in a fire, gave him shivers today. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling worthy of carrying the bag or even wearing the emblem. He allowed an exaggerated breath to escape as he opened the first aid kit. They were alway
s scraped, bruised and filthy. A package of tiny band-aids certainly wasn’t going to help. Even the aspirin packages had remained intact.

  Still, he made certain everything was accounted for and operational before grabbing his boots. The kids deserved to know and experience what they did. Grinning, he thought of taking one of the team’s chainsaws. He could only imagine the teacher’s face when he pulled the starter string, allowing the tool to purr. The bag was enough.

  He grabbed his keys, the bag and his leather jacket and headed out the door. Training kids. This should prove to be interesting.

  The late January day dawned blustery, snow in the forecast for the end of the week. Laney stood over her counter, a hot cup of coffee in her hand. She usually refused to watch the news, but the fire engines had raced past her car, fueling her morbid curiosity. She was terrified of fires, loathed the concept to the point she couldn’t even stand the profession. Men and women wanting to get close to what she thought of as the devil. She knew the type, danger lovers who stared into the belly of the beast. Her thoughts drifted to the smokejumper. Did he crave danger like a drug? She imagined he was powerful, both in and out of bed.

  “Ugh!” Shivering, she couldn’t believe she was thinking of a stranger in this manner. But he was adorable, sexy and she could envision kissing his full lips. The moment she moved, her nipples scraped against her bra. She was turned on by a mysterious good Samaritan. She allowed a giggle before topping off her coffee. Today was another regular day in her world.

  She took a sip and winced seeing the horrific video of the damage done to the house and grounds. A single life had been lost while two others were in critical condition at the local hospital.

  The Wild Orchid Bed and Breakfast had been a landmark, a beautiful location with a vineyard attached. She’d been to a wine tasting there her very first month in town. The owners must be devastated. The reporter stood somewhere close. Swirls of smoke remained, twisting in an ominous pattern given the wind. There was little left of the buildings but a scorched tall brick chimney and part of the house foundation.

  Woof!

  She smiled as Topper jumped up, placing his paws on the kitchen counter. “Hungry, boy? I know. Mommy threw your schedule off last night. I’m sorry, baby.” The evening had been delicious on one hand and disturbing on the other. Troy was absolutely fabulous in so many ways. He was a wonderful conversationalist, sexy as hell, had dreamy eyes and even under his expensive suit and starched shirt, she could tell he had an amazing body.