by Dora Hiers
“Jake was chatting with the resource officer in his office. The officer was called out for a fight.”
“Let me guess. He left Jake sitting in his office while he took care of business?”
“Yep. Avery’s advertising fliers were on his desk.”
“Ah. Pretty slick kid.” Trent still wanted that chat with the brother. It was due to his negligence that Carpocelli’s kid had landed here. That burned his gut. He popped another antacid in his mouth before stuffing the roll in his pocket.
Gunner grinned and opened his door wide. “Let’s go, cowboy. Home sweet home.”
Trent glared at his partner. Gunner’s joking manner only set him further on edge. Didn’t he know who they were up against? Tony Carpocelli? He wouldn’t put anything past that scum. His drug money would buy anything. Or anybody. Trent knew not to trust Carpocelli, even if Carpocelli was locked up, but nobody else seemed inclined to take Trent seriously.
“Maybe it’s time for a new partner.”
Gunner scoffed. “Yeah, right. Nobody else will put up with you like I do.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
Gunner threw his head back and laughed. “Could be. But after your conversation with the chief this morning, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”
Trent gritted his teeth and forced his legs out of the car. “Don’t remind me. I should have tendered my resignation. While I still had a job.”
Gunner walked around the car to join him, his dark eyebrows raised. “Meaning you won’t have one after this is over?”
“You never know,” Trent mumbled, looking away from the troubled eyes of his partner to scan the yard.
Two other agents were staged at vantage points around the perimeter, but this area was his worry. He wanted to make sure he knew what he was up against before trouble came knocking. And he was fairly sure it would. It was just a matter of time.
His eyes settled on the wrap-around front porch. Water gurgled softly down the side of a ceramic pot. Giant green ferns swayed gently in the breeze. Rocking chairs, Adirondacks and a swinging bench beckoned visitors to step onto the porch, to relax and embrace the solitude, the serenity.
He took a deep breath, appreciating the scent of freshly mowed grass.
This place whispered peace, quiet, and tranquility. He could see how it would be a beacon to a troubled soul. His lips twisted in a grimace. Too bad it had to attract the likes of Carpocelli’s son.
Most of the time Trent liked kids. But this was Carpocelli’s son. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the chief had given him responsibility for the widow and Gunner the kid.
Trent licked his dry lips.
“Nervous, buddy?” Gunner asked.
Trent shot him another annoyed glance. “Shove it, Gunner.”
His gaze jerked back to the house. Their two-hour trip from Raleigh didn’t seem nearly long enough. Focusing on the front door, he took the first step and willed his mind to cooperate, but his boots felt weighted down with mud. Gunner’s movement from behind forced him forward.
He licked his lips again. The widow Derose would be standing in front of him in about four minutes.
Three years and he still wasn’t ready for this.
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Or maybe you’d enjoy a firefighter series? Check out Fully Involved, the first book in the Merriville Firefighter Heroes series? He fights fires. She saves kids. Can they stop battling each other long enough to realize they want the same thing? Love, family...forever.
1
“We can’t win them all, Cammie.”
Campbell “Cammie” Parkson wrangled her car into an empty parking spot on the opposite end of the hospital’s emergency room entrance. Sheesh. Talk about a hike.
Of all the stupid things to say—
If she ignored her boss, maybe he’d think their connection had dropped? She switched off the engine, thankful for the brief period of silence.
Wouldn’t last long, though. Not with the ambulance due to arrive any minute.
She snatched the phone from the cradle and her purse from the seat and dashed to the entry, the phone sandwiched between shoulder and ear, coming awfully close to smashing her nose against the glass entrance door before it slid all the way open. The phone dropped, snagging between her coat and sweater.
“Argh!” Growling, she dug it out and forced herself to slow down. Enough to flick a cursory nod toward the curly white-haired volunteer behind the reception desk and flash her credentials. The wet soles of her boots squeaked down the long narrow hall.
We can’t win them all.
Her supervisor’s words ricocheted in her head until she wanted to spit them out. Or resign.
So, she held her tongue.
Keeping children safe was about protecting innocent lives, about listening to little people who couldn’t speak up for themselves. About valuing life, every life. Period.
Not…winning! Please, God, let this boy survive.
“Cammie, you still there?”
Drat!
“Yes. Sorry, Mr. Alexander. I’m winding my way through the hospital. Everybody in Merriville must be in the emergency room tonight.”
Why hadn’t she acted on her gut instinct last week and went higher up the food chain of her division in the Department of Family and Children Services? If she’d emailed the director, like she’d considered when Alexander had vetoed her petition to remove five-year-old Jayden from his home, maybe then she’d still be dressed in her pajamas, snug in front of a cozy fire. Shuffling the thousand pieces of her latest jigsaw puzzle until they fit and slurping the melting marshmallows from the hot chocolate now cooling on the kitchen counter.
Not shivering in February’s late evening chill, waiting for the rescue unit to arrive at Cherrydale Children’s Hospital with the tiny tyke, used as a punching bag by his mother’s latest boyfriend.
What if the older boy in the home hadn’t called 9-1-1? Where was the boy’s mother?
And why hadn’t Cammie found another job yet? Wasn’t there at least one organization out there willing to dedicate resources to educating parents to better care for their children?
She huffed her frustration. Shifted her legs into overdrive again.
“They haven’t made it, yet?” Alexander’s whiny voice startled her, as always, sending a shiver up her spine. And not in a good way. More like a squeaky wheel that hadn’t been greased in decades.
“No. I got an update just before I called you. They were about five minutes behind me.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Of course.”
“And Cammie?”
Her finger hovered above the disconnect button, sorely tempted to ignore the man. When had he ever listened to her? But, rudeness wasn’t in her DNA. And the man was still her boss, whether she approved of his leadership style. Or not. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.” With his parting words, the phone screen dimmed, and she let out a pent-up breath.
His apology for overruling her petition to remove Jayden did nothing to make her feel better. What if it was too late for the boy?
Cammie checked in with the reception nurse and propped her jacket on one of the handful of vacant chairs in the crowded room. She slung her crossbody bag over her head and paced the tiled hall with arms crossed, slicking her palms over the soft material of her sweater. As if that could possibly warm the stark icicles of fear popping up in her belly.
Every time she completed a lap, she stopped to peer out the glass door. Where was the rescue unit? What was taking so long? She had to have burned up the five-minute lag walking from the other end of the hospital.
Maybe she should ask the desk nurse for another update. She pivoted, but the wail of a siren stopped her. Remote at first, but it quickly overpowered the other noises, dimming the chatter from the waiting room.
She hurried to the door, placed her palm against the frigid glass just as red lights strobed, flashing their arrival.
The siren silenced as the back doors of the truck flung open and medical personnel rushed out the hospital door to greet and assess their patient, the area now a buzz of activity and doctors’ commands.
Cammie hung back, giving way for the gurney and the entire medical team hovering around as it rolled down the hall, but caught a peek at the patient. Somewhere underneath that bleeding, purplish mass of flesh was a little boy’s face.
A wince escaped her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed. One hand covered her mouth, the other hugged her waist, the guilt clamping her chest almost unbearable. Nausea rose up, threatened to spill. Oh, God…
The door opened, and a much-needed blast of frigid air seeped inside before it closed. Just enough to cool her cheeks, to quell the queasiness.
“We go out on a ton of calls, but the kids…” A loud swallow punctuated the deep male voice etched with pain just over her shoulder. “The kids are always the toughest to deal with.”
Her eyelids jolted up, but she didn’t need to turn around for a glance at the man to confirm his identity. Especially not after the familiar woodsy combination of fruit and spices suppressed the sterile scent from the hospital and ratcheted her pulse in a different direction.
The too-handsome, too-much-of-a-player fire captain.
She took a deep breath, nodded a greeting, even managed a small smile. “Yes, they are, Captain Madison.”
“Keegan,” he corrected.
“Kee…gan.” She tested the first name of her best friend’s boss on her tongue. Not as if she hadn’t called him Cap, like Nic, or Keegan lots of times in her head. But never out loud. And never to his face.
Oh, mercy. His face. Tan. Steady and sure of himself. Those eyes, more blue than green up close, studied her from behind rectangular spectacles. As if measuring her interest.
Well, she wasn’t interested. Not even one iota.
He was a player, much like Liam, her most recent ex-boyfriend, and Daniel before that. And maybe it had taken her longer than the average female but she’d finally learned her lesson. She would wait for a man who entertained the possibility of something long-term, something permanent. At the very least, open to the notion of building a lasting relationship.
So what if her breath hitched every time she was around the guy and her heart thumped out a traitorous rhythm. She curled her hands into fists to keep from following through on the urge to weave her fingers through that longish brown hair. Hair that curled up in the front like a surfer’s prized ocean wave.
Pathetic.
“What are you doing here?” She slid a sideways glance, trying not to be obvious. Which chick was hanging on to him tonight? Chances were not in favor for the same redhead wobbling around the lawn in crazy four-inch heels at last week’s fire department barbeque fundraiser.
“Drove the rescue unit so the paramedics could work on our boy.”
Duh. How could she not have noticed the uniform pants below the jacket? Had her just-turned-thirty hormones totally hijacked her brain? Evidently. Because she couldn’t force any response other than a breathy “oh” from her mouth.
The glass doors swooshed open and two more firefighters stepped inside. Cold air clung to their uniforms. They glanced toward the reception desk then scanned the room, recognition lighting Bear’s face upon spotting them. He tugged his partner toward them.
“Hey, Cammie.” Bear Stanford reached them first and gave her a one-armed hug around the neck while Rand’s attention remained focused on the reception area.
“Hey, guys.”
“Wake up.” Bear elbowed the other firefighter.
Rand grunted and angled to face them, his normal olive skin pale as paper, his customary grin noticeably absent. “Oh, sorry. Hey, Cammie.”
She acknowledged him with a nod and a smile.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Bear teased.
“Feels like it,” Rand shook his head, as if discarding the vision.
Did Keegan just scoot closer to her?
She stood statue-still. Held her breath.
His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned in to peer around her toward the reception desk. His fingers touched the small of her back, igniting a slow burn from the tips of her boots all the way north.
Yeah. Definitely. Too. Close. Her lungs failed and her breath whooshed out. Big mistake. Because then she had to breathe in. And it was all him.
Clean. Confident. Masculine.
Trouble!
She took a jerky step back, swallowed the jumbo-sized lump clogging her throat. “Thanks, guys, for taking such good care of Jayden. I better go check on him now. I foresee a long night of reports ahead.”
Doubtful that she could get an update this early, but she’d wait somewhere else, away from the captain. Her boots scrambled for escape from the invisible bond chaining her to the man.
Not cool, Cammie, not cool! Falling for a man who’s just as bad for you as Liam and Daniel. Don’t look back. Do. Not. Look. Back!
Her rebellious heart disregarded the warning. At the door, she twisted over a shoulder for one last glimpse.
With crossed arms and legs planted, he stood tall, at least six glorious feet, his back and shoulders straight and regal. A true hero in every sense of the word, confidence and courage literally bounced off him. He caught her ogling and winked. As if he knew the magnetic pull he exuded.
She shook her head. But, unlike Rand, the act did nothing to erase that image from her memory.
Oh, blast! How would she ever be able to tell her best friend that she was attracted to the firefighter’s boss?
****
Keegan filled his lungs, hoping for one last whiff of Cammie’s warm, spicy scent, some subtle blend of cinnamon and flowers, to tide him over until he saw her again. Addicting, that’s what it was. What she was. He couldn’t seem to shake her from his thoughts lately. Or his dreams.
Usually, she wore her silky-looking dark hair straight, but tonight long wavy curls bounced against her back with every step. Her hips swayed in a soft hypnotic rhythm, the relaxed brushed denim a welcome change from most women he dated, with their tight pants or clingy dresses, high heels, and an exaggerated swagger.
He liked Cammie’s casual vibe. Liked it a little too much.
Desire stirred to life and rocketed through his limbs, but he had no plans to act on his attraction. Dating Cammie would be like dating a best friend’s sister. And, after Miranda, he’d formed a hard, fast rule for himself about not dating women too closely tangled up with his friends or family.
Which didn’t make this crazy, unwelcome attraction any easier to manage.
He watched her until she disappeared through a swinging door.
“Hey. What’s wrong with you two tonight?” Bear chided, taking turns giving both him and Rand a less-than-gentle shove against the shoulder.
What was wrong with him tonight? It wasn’t as if he hadn't noticed Cammie before. How could he not? But she was everything he tried to stay away from.
Beautiful inside and out. Comfortable to be around, always a smile and a kind word on her lips. A forever type of woman.
And he didn’t do forever.
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About the Author
Dora Hiers believes that a person should love what they do or choose to do something else. She’s doing exactly what makes her heart sing and considers every day a gift. When she takes a break from cranking out heart racing, God-gracing romances, Dora enjoys quiet mornings sipping coffee on their mountain cabin deck and lazy afternoons in her hammock reading a great book. Life’s too short to be stuck in traffic, to drink bad coffee, or to read books with a sad ending. Dora and her real-life hero make their home in North Carolina, but with a world full of amazing places to explore, that’s only a landing point. Connect with Dora:
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Dora also writes stories minus a distinct faith element but still sprinkled with hope, grace and second chances using her pen name, Tori Kayson. Clean and wholesome romance, no sex scenes, no cursing, no need to hide the books from your kids or grandkiddos. But definitely a tad more heat than most Christian books. Check out Sweet Romance that Sizzles by Tori Kayson.
Books by Dora Hiers
Potter’s House
Her Cowboy Forever, coming March 2020
Her Christmas Cowboy, coming August 2020
Her Cowboy the Spy, coming February 2021
Merriville Firefighter Heroes
Fully Involved
Fully Committed
Fully Surrendered, included in Autumn Hearts anthology
Marshals with Heart
A Marshal’s Secret
A Marshal’s Promise
A Marshal’s Embrace
Cider Lake
His Valentine Promise
Her Valentine Vet
Holiday Novellas
Christmas on Mistletoe Mountain
Where Wishes Live
Books by Tori Kayson
Kester Ranch Cowboys
Roping the Cowboy
Roping the Marshal
Roping the Daddy
Holiday Novellas
Kissing Santa Nic
