Blazing Hotter (Love Under Fire Book 2)

by Chantel Rhondeau

  First things first, she had to figure out who had ordered the flower delivery. That would be the key to learning whether Kenneth Morgan was behind them or if she should worry about someone more sinister... like a murderer.

  Cassie grabbed her laptop off its spot on a nearby end table, opening it up and linking to the internet. She didn’t know much about strippers or the strip clubs in town. It was entirely possible that Tammy at The Flower Shoppe was a judgmental woman who had berated some poor woman for having a naturally large chest. On the other hand, maybe Tammy visited the nightclubs and had actually seen the blonde perform but didn’t want to admit it.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Cassie did a search on strip clubs in Sayle, Washington. Within a few heartbeats, a new page loaded onto the screen, showing a map with two addresses pinpointed on opposite sides of town.

  The link for ‘Benny’s Bootylicious Bimbos’ was most prominently displayed, so she clicked on it.

  “How many bleached blond bootylicious bimbos with huge boobs could there be?” She chuckled at her alliteration and searched the page for a list of performers.

  Luckily, Benny was proud of his bimbos. Each dancer had a profile page with a picture and information about the performer, including likes and dislikes, and what she looked for in a man. Of course, it was probably all made up information designed to inspire male lust—and a subsequent parting of horny men from their money—but the pictures of the performers were likely actually the women working there. After all, if a guy went to the club just to see Meghan Mega-Tits and she never danced, eventually the place would lose money.

  The only drawback to her idea of looking for the woman was how many of the workers at Benny’s were blond. In looking at the list of twenty performers, eleven of them had blond hair. Remembering that Tammy said her boobs looked way too big for her body, Cassie tried to weed the women further by that criteria. In the end, there were still seven girls with blond hair and huge breasts.

  With a sigh, Cassie used her cell phone to snap a shot of each woman’s picture. Maybe Tammy could still pick the right one out of a lineup.

  With stops to check on dinner and a thorough search of the second strip club—more discretely named Guy’s Nite Out—Cassie had a total of twelve pictures. Twelve blondes done up in makeup, wearing lingerie, and all with bigger than average chests. How in the world was she supposed to figure out which one was the correct woman? Even if she showed these pictures to the florist, Cassie had high doubts the guilty party went in looking like she did in these glamor shots. It would call too much attention to her.

  When someone delivered a threatening letter, Cassie thought it was a fair guess that they didn’t want to be remembered.

  The front door opened, pulling Cassie’s attention from the computer. Big Frank helped push Frankie over the ledge of the doorway, taking his chair to the center of the room before turning back to shut the door.

  Frankie looked around, open curiosity on his face. “Nice place.” He took in the lack of furnishings in the living room other than Cassie’s lounge chair and a small loveseat. “I take it you don’t entertain much?”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “I think you and your father are the first people to come into my house other than my brother and nephew. Mostly, I visit at their place and babysit Aaron over there, so I don’t need a lot of furnishing.”

  “There’s just one problem with that.” Frankie eyed the small loveseat. “I thought I’d sleep on your couch. I hope you have a guest room.”

  Well, crap. She knew there would be issues having Frankie stay at her house, but she hadn’t thought it through. Of course, he couldn’t sleep on the tiny sofa. He needed to stretch out at night and relax his muscles. Not squeeze himself into a semi-folded position.

  “I’ll take the couch,” she said.

  To her surprise, Frankie shook his head. “If someone busts in here in the middle of the night and you’re the first person they encounter, how would I protect you, exactly?”

  Big Frank let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously, you two. You aren’t children. Share Cassie’s bed and keep a loaded gun on the nightstand. Even if you’re just friends, or so you say, I’m sure you’re mature enough to share a bed.”

  Cassie felt heat rush to her face as she imagined what all they could do in her bed, but was slightly less mortified to note that Frankie’s cheeks colored as well. “Let’s figure that out later,” she decided. “Are you guys hungry? The chicken is resting. All I need to do is pull the salad out of the fridge and we can eat.”

  “It smells delicious,” Frankie said, his eyes holding hers.

  A hunger that Cassie was sure had nothing to do with chicken was plain to see behind his brown-eyed gaze, but she tried to ignore it. The bed situation might be a tricky one to resolve. Maybe she could sleep on the floor in the same room as him. That would make it harder for her to jump him in the middle of the night.

  “Let’s get washed up, Frankie,” Big Frank said. “Is the bathroom down that hallway?”

  Cassie nodded. “The door on the left.”

  Of course, going there would put them directly across from her bedroom and able to stare in at her bed. She should have closed the door, but if Frankie shared the room tonight, she’d have to get used to the idea that he would invade every space in the house, not just her living room and kitchen.

  She tapped her smartphone to put it to sleep and closed the laptop, stretching before setting the computer aside and heading back to the kitchen. Last week at his birthday party, Laura had cut up Frankie’s food before giving him the plate, and Cassie realized that was a good idea. Hopefully, he didn’t take offense at it now that he was trying to do more on his own, but she feared he needed to slow down soon. It was one thing to decide he could use his hand and legs again. It was another to do so much the first day that he wouldn’t be able to move tomorrow.

  By the time she finished cutting up the meat, the men already sat around the table. Big Frank had moved a chair away to scoot Frankie’s wheelchair to the place setting Cassie had set at the head of the table.

  Cassie set plates of food in front of both men, each with the chicken cut into bite-sized pieces. Neither of them said anything about it, but Frankie’s smile grew large and he gave an exaggerated sniff.

  “Smells divine, Cass. I should have found a way to come to your house a long time ago.”

  She shook her head, going back to the kitchen for her plate and the pitcher of water before rejoining the men.

  Big Frank took the pitcher from her. “Let me handle that, since you’ve done everything else.”

  “Thanks.” She sat down, watching as he filled the glasses she’d set out earlier. “If you want something else to drink, there’s some orange juice in there, and I think there might be a couple cans of soda left.”

  “Water’s great,” Big Frank said, sliding a glass across to her. “I don’t get a lot of home cooking since Elise moved. Thanks for this.”

  “Just don’t get used to it, you guys.” Cassie winked at Frankie. “If my life wasn’t in danger, I would have never let you over here.”

  Frankie’s right hand moved across the table, inching toward her. “You mean my company wouldn’t be enough for you?”

  Cassie sighed and looked down at her plate. She wasn’t sure how to answer that. True, she found Frankie incredibly attractive, even more so now that he was fighting again. But she knew herself. She lost interest in men quickly. None of them seemed to be worth much beyond a few dates. She’d always been career oriented, so hadn’t worried about that overly much beyond the way she was losing friends lately.

  It couldn’t happen, no matter how much his brown eyes seemed to beckon to her. If she started something with Frankie, it might crush him if she moved on after a couple weeks. After all, the man had barely found the strength to leave the rehab center. She needed to get things back on a friendship footing, no matter how much she’d slipped up by letting it go beyond that today. />
  “You’re company’s great,” she said, smiling softly. “But we’re friends and that’s it.”

  “For now,” he countered, staring at his plate with a smug grin spread across his handsome face.

  It was no use. He obviously didn’t take her warnings to heart and fighting with him wasn’t an option. She’d have to keep pushing away when he tried to get close. Eventually, he’d get the picture, but in the meantime, he was making leaps and bounds toward getting better. She couldn’t take that from him.

  ***

  Flirting with Cassie while they ate was a heck of a lot better than thinking about his mom and dad’s pending divorce. Divorce! Frankie couldn’t believe it. He knew his mother had a hard time accepting his injuries, but he hadn’t known she’d lost so much faith in her religion.

  As a devout Catholic, his mom had always believed with her whole heart, thrusting that belief down the throats of her reluctant husband and son. She didn’t believe in divorce at all. Despite the acceptance of it by the church, to his mom divorce was a sin that would land a person in hell. And adultery? Frankie nearly fell out of his chair when his father admitted that his mom had a boyfriend and Big Frank had also started dating—before the divorce was final.

  Frankie had been too wrapped up in his misery, not realizing the effect his accident had on his mom. He rarely called her, not wanting to hear constant nagging about what he should do with his life, but obviously the entire situation had been as life-altering for her as it had for him.

  As they finished dinner, Big Frank’s cell phone rang. He slipped it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sorry, but I need to take this.” He stepped into the living room, his muffled voice coming through the wall.

  Frankie only hoped it wasn’t his latest girlfriend on the line.

  “You’re quieter than normal.” Cassie’s small hand brushed against his forearm before she jerked it back, looking for all the world as if his skin was poison.

  She was definitely determined to stay his friend, but Frankie wasn’t going to have that. Now that he knew she was attracted to him as well, not caring a bit about the scars and limitations he suffered since she knew them almost as well as he did, he wasn’t letting her get away that easily.

  Forcing a smile to his face, he scooted his right hand across to her, brushing her fingertips with the edge of his hand. While it was painful for him, Cassie didn’t shudder or draw away in the manner he expected most women would when being faced with his deformity.

  “I’m okay,” he answered. “My dad gave me some disturbing news about him and my mom, but it’s not important.”

  Her eyebrows drew together and she shook her head slightly. “Of course it’s important. What happened?”

  It had been so long since Frankie felt he had someone he could confide in that he couldn’t resist. Maybe Cassie’s problems with this threat were bigger than a divorce, but she cared about him and wanted him to share his problems.

  “My mom filed for divorce. She and my dad are both dating, and she’s pretty much stopped going to church.” He shrugged. “Maybe that seems like small potatoes compared to the flowers today, but I’m worried about her.”

  Cassie closed her hand over the top of his, this time not pulling away. “It’s not small potatoes. You should call her, just to check in. When’s the last time you guys talked?”

  “It’s been a while,” he admitted. “I haven’t wanted to deal with her, so I’ve been avoiding. I had no clue she was actually living near my sister now, and even less clue that she and Dad had split. I’ve been a bad son.”

  “You’ve had other things to deal with.”

  Maybe that was true, but that didn’t excuse him from checking out and ignoring the people who had always been there for him. His family might not agree about every little detail of his life, but he loved them all fiercely. It just drove home the fear he’d had running around in his head ever since the accident.

  His mom believed so much in God and nagged about the depravity of sinners. Perhaps getting caught in that fire was his punishment for being a shitty son, a cocky player with the women, and overall a man who didn’t think about much beyond the glory of being a fireman and when he was going to get laid again. He deserved what he got because he’d been such an asshole. Maybe that was the reason he’d never fully recover.

  “What are you thinking?” Cassie asked. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

  He shook his head, realizing his smile had slipped. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my mom sometime soon.”

  If she wanted to press the issue further, Cassie was smart enough to know it wouldn’t get her anywhere. She simply squeezed his hand once before getting up and clearing away the plates.

  “I wish I could help with that,” he called to her back as she stepped into the kitchen. “Doesn’t seem fair that you did all the work.”

  She set the dishes on the counter, scraping leftover food into the garbage disposal before opening the dishwasher and loading them inside it. “You and your dad set up all the security. I think we’re even.”

  Cassie returned to the table, pulling out her cell phone before sitting down. “I did research while I cooked, however. I don’t know if it was a good idea or not, but remember the lady at the shop said she thought the person who ordered the flowers was a stripper?”

  Not exactly a road Frankie wanted to explore. If this had happened two years ago, he’d known all the strippers in town and wasn’t exactly a favored customer given some of his bad behaviors. He wondered if Bambi and Candy were still working at Guy’s Nite Out. He’d hate to run into either of them. Last time he saw Bambi, she’d gotten her friends to beat the shit out of him in the alley behind the club.

  “I’ve been thinking about that too,” Frankie said. “I’m not sure going in and talking to every exotic dancer is going to get us anywhere. The lady might have been wrong.”

  “I agree. That’s why I did some research.” She tapped on her phone, bringing up the picture gallery. “I went to the websites of both clubs in town and looked for performers who fit the description. Maybe Tammy could look at these pictures and pick out the right woman for us?”

  Although he tried to swipe the screen sideways to show him the next picture on the phone, his scarred flesh couldn’t make the touch screen work.

  Without comment, Cassie flipped it to the next photo, giving him a few seconds to look at it before going to the next.

  They all looked similar, although some of the stage names visible under the pictures Cassie snapped made him grin. Lola Lapdancer and Horny Harriet got outright chuckles. These women were definitely more inventive than Bambi and Candy had been.

  Speaking of Bambi!

  “Wait. Go back a picture.”

  Cassie complied.

  There on the screen was the familiar shot of Bambi posed in her white lace teddy, the same picture he’d used back when he was trying to decide whether to date her or Candy. He’d shown this very picture to Thayne, right before Thayne told him he was an asshole for not learning her real name if he planned to date the woman.

  In actuality, he’d planned to bang her. He didn’t think getting more than her stage name was required for that. Yet another sin to add to the list of reasons he was now stuck in a wheelchair.

  “Do you know her?” Cassie asked.

  What were the chances this woman would be the same who threatened Cassie? Why would she do it?

  “This is Bambi who works over at Guy’s Nite Out, right?” he asked.

  She nodded, her lips thinning marginally. She definitely didn’t like hearing he knew strippers, that was for sure.

  “Look, I think I told you I was a punk before the fire.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I once asked Bambi and her coworker to have a three-way with me.”

  Cassie’s eyebrows rose and her face reddened, as though she was uncertain whether she should hit him.

  “I see that look.” Franki
e held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry. Bambi had me taken care of. Three guys jumped me and beat me so badly that Thayne had to come pick me up. Granted, she felt bad afterward and gave me a lot of whiskey to dull the pain until Thayne arrived, but I learned my lesson.”

  Cassie nodded and her face assumed a more normal appearance. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  Frankie let out a rueful chuckle. “Nice to know you’re happy I got beat.”

  “Not that.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked at him. “But you did deserve it.”

  “Great. Now you’re laughing at me.” He pretended to pout.

  “Oh, you poor baby. What do I need to do to make it better?”

  Frankie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I can think of something.”

  Cassie giggled and swatted his arm, hitting him lightly above his elbow. “Be serious. What I meant might be good is that if Bambi felt bad for getting you beat up, she might feel like she still owes you something. Maybe she can help us figure out who sent the flowers.”

  The girl he intended to date wanted to meet a woman he’d once been a major asshole to? Sure, sounded like a good plan. Nothing could go wrong there.

  “Why don’t we ask the florist first?” he asked. “If she can pick out the right girl, I’d rather not bother Bambi.”

  Chapter Seven

  Big Frank came back into the dining room, a wide smile on his face.

  Cassie couldn’t help but glance at Frankie to see if he was okay. While she knew what divorce had done to her teenage self, she wasn’t sure what it would do to an injured firefighter. His guilt and need to call his mom endeared Frankie to Cassie even more, but it also worried her. If Big Frank was in the other room talking to one of his new girlfriends, that could be a major problem for Frankie’s sanity.