by Kim Loraine
Table of Contents
REDEMPTION
Acknowledgements
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
REDEMPTION
A Golden Beach Novel
KIM LORAINE
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
REDEMPTION
Copyright©2017
KIM LORAINE
Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No 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, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-298-0
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BY KIM LORAINE
THE GOLDEN BEACH SERIES
Restoration
Renovation
Resonance
Foundation
Redemption
To my children,
You are loved.
Acknowledgements
As always, huge thanks to my family. Without you crazies I wouldn’t have so much joy from day to day. Thank you Jennifer, your critiques keep me from doing things I shouldn’t. Cindy, you’re the best editor. Thanks for talking me down when I thought I wasn’t going to finish this one.
I had the pleasure of getting to spend a day in the fire house with the CKFD firefighters of Station 51. I learned so much from you all. Thank you Rob, for meeting with me, answering my questions, and helping me navigate the mind of a firefighter.
To my readers, I can’t do this without you. Thank you so much for buying and reading my books! Drop me a line anytime!
XOXO,
Kim
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Chapter 1
Michael Oliver groaned as yet another emergency call catapulted him from the edge of sleep.
“Engine 31, Rescue 31,” the voice blared over the loudspeaker at the firehouse.
Michael pushed out of his bunk for the fourth time in one shift and they were only twelve hours in to their full twenty-four. He raced to his waiting bunker gear and suited up as the rest of the crew joined him.
“Another one?” Tommy Klipper shook his head in disbelief.
“Looks like it. Been a busy Fourth of July.”
“It’s always busy on the Fourth. Damn idiots and their constant need to light shit on fire.”
Michael pulled himself into the cab of the engine and offered a sarcastic, “Really?”
Klipper put the rig in gear and switched on the lights and siren as he eased the massive fire truck into the street.
“What? I’m allowed to play with fire. I’ve got a title that makes it okay.”
Michael stifled his chuckle and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Another potential fireworks-related casualty. They’d already responded to two brush fires set by unwitting kids whose bottle rockets went haywire and seen one kid with severe burns to his hand because he thought it would be awesome to hold his roman candle instead of plant it in the sand.
“Think we’ll break the record tonight?”
“Ten?” Michael shook his head. “I hope to hell not.”
Two hours later, after washing the grime off his face, he landed back on his bunk willing himself to sleep. He dreamed of dark, almond-shaped eyes and long espresso-colored hair, flawless coppery skin and lush, pillowy lips.
Lena—his wife.
He hadn’t seen her in nearly three months and his body ached to be with her.
By the time he woke, he had less than two hours left in his shift. He stretched and yawned, working through the aches in his shoulders before heading into the kitchen for some coffee. Klipper sat at the table spreading cream cheese on an onion bagel. He looked more refreshed than Michael had seen in a long time.
“Guess we didn’t break any records,” Michael muttered.
“Thank the sweet baby Jesus. I slept better than I have in weeks.”
As he poured a heavy dose of cream into his coffee, Michael eyed Klipper. “You been doing all right?”
Klipper shook his head. “I’m fine. Just some stupid shit with the ex-wife. She wants to sell the house, I want to keep it.”
“I thought the house was hers.”
“We split everything fifty-fifty. She owns half of the house, I get the other half. I can’t afford to buy her out, but I built most of that house myself. I don’t want to see it going to some yuppie assholes who’ll gut it and try to make a profit.”
“Shit, man. I didn’t know it was like that. Sorry.”
Klipper shrugged. “It is what it is. We’ll figure it out.” He took a bite of his bagel and chewed for a moment before his eyes brightened. “So, when’s Lena getting back this time? She bringing you anything special from Thailand? Maybe some pirated copies of crazy Thai porn? I hear it’s out of control.”
He bypassed Klip’s questions and took his mug to the sink; the mention of
Lena making him uncomfortable. Their last few conversations had turned into shouting matches. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone.
“I’m going to hit the weight room before shift’s up.”
Klip nodded and kept silent. Wise man.
As Michael moved on the rowing machine, breaths heavy and measured, he tried to keep his mind off his strained relationship with Lena. Just the thought of her made his chest tight.
He stopped when he caught sight of Sheriff Kelli Franklin’s reflection in the mirrored wall. Her expression was grim and laced with pity. Fear lanced his heart. He knew that look. It was the look of someone about to deal a crushing blow.
“What is it, Kelli?”
She shook her head and handed him a large manila envelope. “I’m sorry, Michael. You’ve been served.”
Before he could ask her what the fuck was happening, she turned and left the room.
He tore open the seal and pulled out the papers.
His stomach turned to stone as he read the words:
PETITION FOR DIVORCE.
Chapter 2
Eighteen months earlier:
Lena Shirakawa swayed in her spot as the unseasonably warm October sun beat down against them. She wiped the beads of sweat from her brow and waited for the models to get into position.
She heard them as they approached, filling the quiet beach with rowdy banter. Twelve drop-dead gorgeous firefighters from different stations across the Virginia coast filed into the partitioned section of sand and surf. Her heart raced at the sight of the men in uniform—chiseled, well-muscled, and confident.
“Where do you want them?”
Lena snapped her mouth closed as her assistant waved a handkerchief in her face.
“I wasn’t drooling,” she told Hallie, aware of the indignant tone in her voice.
“It’s for your forehead. You’re sweating . . . but now that you mention it—”
“Shut it, Hal.”
Hallie laughed as she gathered a reflector and started her stroll toward the group.
“Can you line them up by month? I want a few shots of all of them and then we’ll go down the line, January through December.”
“Any particular poses?”
Lena shook her head and snickered as her gaze fell to the collection of props. A few axes, a coiled fire hose, rope, chains, and a bottle of baby oil covered the surface of the table. This was going to be fun. She counted the men as Hallie lined them up and stopped short at eleven.
“Hal? There’s one missing. And where’s my truck? I was told we’d have a truck and that I’d get real flames to work with.”
Hallie nodded. “The truck is on the way, along with Mr. December . . . Michael Oliver.” She nodded to the pile of driftwood stacked about twenty yards down the beach. “There’s your fire.”
Lena cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “I trained you right, didn’t I?”
Hallie chuckled and continued positioning firefighters which turned out to be more difficult than it seemed. They were loud, boisterous, and Lena couldn’t stop herself from snapping candid shots as they teased and flirted with her assistant.
Six of the men were from Station 31, Golden Beach’s local firehouse. She knew most of them by reputation alone, and one due to a mistake she’d made a year earlier.
“Okay, fellas. Line up. Backs to the waves, if you please. Let’s go ahead and get your shirts off.” Hallie directed them without batting an eye while Lena stood back and watched.
She started plotting the next few hours in her head, planning for the best poses, but lost her focus as bare chests, tattoos, and washboard abdominals came into view.
Stop it. You are a professional. Ogling is not okay.
She snatched the bottle of baby oil and tossed it at Hallie with a wink. “Glistening,” Lena instructed.
“Some days this job sucks. Today is not one of them.”
As Hallie offered oil to each of the guys, Lena turned her back, organizing her thoughts and planning the shoot. The waves crashed behind them, and the sun hung low in the sky. All she needed was the damn fire truck and Mr. December.
The sound of a siren broke through the chatter. Engine 31 rolled down the beach, lights flashing, and Lena rolled her eyes.
Michael parked the truck and jumped down from the driver’s seat, a wide grin on his perfect face.
“Damn. That man is beautiful.” Hallie’s breathy whisper echoed Lena’s own feelings. He was beautiful. Pouty lips, a chiseled jawline, gentle eyes graced with soft laugh lines. She knew what those lips felt like . . . everywhere.
“Physical perfection. Too bad he’s only pretty on the outside,” Lena muttered.
“I don’t know. Might be worth it.”
Lena offered a light shrug and walked over to inspect the truck.
“Freshly waxed just for you.” Michael’s deep baritone drew a layer of arousal over her body.
“Good. You’re late!” she snapped.
“You’re welcome.”
She eyed him, trying to get past the jaw-dropping good looks and focus on the reason she was here—a calendar for charity.
“Shirt off, please,” she ordered. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”
That had been a bad choice. He stripped off his thin, blue t-shirt and tossed it at her. It smelled of leather and something spicy. She had to force herself not to bring the fabric to her nose and inhale deeply.
“Do I get your stamp of approval?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked as he flexed his chest.
She had to clear her throat before she could get her voice to cooperate, then she shrugged.
“You’ll do,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked away, gripping her camera tightly and trying to control the shaking of her fingers.
After a few deep, calming breaths, she got past the sparks of attraction she felt for Michael, and the shoot fell into place. At the end of the night, all that remained were the embers of the bonfire and three firefighters, including Michael. They sat around the dying fire, talking and watching the waves.
“Should we leave?” Hallie asked under her breath.
Lena shrugged as she continued packing up. Donovan Miller, the newest firefighter at the station, had already taken the truck and borrowed props back to the firehouse. All that was left to do was make sure the flames were extinguished and load the table into the back of her van.
She tipped the table on its back and started collapsing the legs while Hallie carted a bag up the path to the parking lot. Struggling to gain traction in the sand, Lena lifted the long rectangle at one end and began to pull.
“Let me help you with that, princess.” Michael’s voice sent warm tingles down her spine.
He grabbed the other end of the table and lifted it with ease, grinning as he followed her lead and they made their way to the waiting van.
Hallie snickered and cast her a knowing glance as she passed the pair on her way back to the beach. “I’ll get the boys to help me put out the fire. You don’t need to hang around on my account, L.”
She could practically feel his broad smile behind her and she shook her head, fighting a laugh.
The idea of a night or two tangled in the sheets with a gorgeous man sounded exactly like what she needed. Unfortunately for Michael, she wasn’t willing to give him the satisfaction of adding her notch to his bedpost—again.
As he helped her load the table he brushed his fingers along the exposed skin of her shoulder. She fought off an involuntary shiver, pushing the door closed and turning to face him.
“So, are we doing this?” His tone was confident as he closed the distance between their bodies—his hips touching hers.
A wave of need crested over her. It was all she could do to wait for it to recede.
His lips turned down in a playful pout, but instead of backing away, he pressed closer, one hand on either side of her face.
“That’s not a never.”
Her breaths came in soft gasps as she tried to keep her eyes from drifting to his luscious mouth.
One kiss would be okay—just one.
He smelled even better up close. Bergamot, maybe? She watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he brought his face a breath away from hers. A feather-light brush of his mouth on hers sent tingles running down her spine. Eyes closed, she leaned in to deepen the kiss and give in to her baser instincts, but was met with empty space. He was gone—walking away without a word.
When he was out of sight, she leaned her head back against the van and took steady, even breaths, willing herself to calm the storm of lust raging inside. He could have had her, right then and there.
So much for keeping her name from doubling on his bedpost.
Lena lay in bed, eyes trained on the sliver of light escaping her curtains. She’d been awake most of the night—thinking. She wanted to wipe the smile off her stupid face at the memory of Michael’s warm lips on hers, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep him out of her head. His overconfident murmur of That’s not a never sent tingles across her skin as she rolled the words over in her mind for the hundredth time.
Before long, the soft glow of dawn brightened into an undeniable announcement of morning. She groaned as she gave in to her insomnia while her alarm blared. Yawning and stretching, she stripped out of her pajamas in favor of a swimsuit. She needed the solace of the waves and the focus she knew would come from time on the water. There was no room for anything but the ocean—distractions were dangerous.
As she loaded her surfboard onto the rack she’d installed on her bicycle, she laughed to herself. Years ago, before she fell in love with surfing, she remembered watching people as they rode to the beach, their surfboards along for the ride. She’d thought they looked ridiculous pedaling along with a gigantic board strapped to their bikes. Now, here she was, one of them.
