Fire Games (The Men 0f Fire Beach Book 1)

by Lorana Hoopes

  “So, what’s the problem? She sounds perfect for you.”

  Jordan ran a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated breath. “The problem is that she reminds me of Jasmine, you know, the other woman you thought was perfect for me.”

  Graham’s head shot up, a hurt expression on his face. “Hey, you can’t blame that on me. She was perfect for you. If you hadn’t been a cop.”

  Jordan threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “But I am a cop! And what happens if Cassidy turns out to be the same?” He didn’t think he could put his heart out there again.

  Graham folded his arms and leaned back. “Okay, so that’s the worst that could happen. What’s the best that could happen?”

  “What?”

  “I mean if she doesn’t turn out to be like Jasmine, what could life be like?”

  Jordan shook his head and raked a hand across his cheek. “I don’t know. She’s a firefighter and I’m a cop. Our schedules would probably never work. And her job is nearly as dangerous as mine. That’s no way to raise a family.”

  “But?”

  Jordan frowned at Graham. Why was he pushing this? “But when she kissed me, I felt alive. For the first time since Jasmine.”

  Graham shrugged and leaned back over the blueprint. “So, I guess the question you need to ask yourself is if it’s worth it. Are the fears and the hardships worth feeling alive again?”

  Jordan narrowed his eyes at his brother. They didn’t talk about their dating lives much, but the last he knew his brother was single, so when did he get so insightful? “When did you get your counseling degree?”

  Graham glanced up. “I didn’t. I’m actually sharing something Dad said to me before he passed.”

  Jordan tensed at the words. He wasn’t sure he wanted any advice from his father.

  “Hear me out,” Graham continued holding up a hand. “You know he tried really hard to be sober the last few years. He wasn’t perfect, but he was trying. One day, he told me he was having a hard time. Only he wasn’t talking about women. He was talking about his next drink. He could stay sober and live with the pain of what he’d done, who’d he’d hurt, or he could let the drink take that pain away.”

  Before he could stop the words, Jordan opened his mouth. “What did he choose?”

  “He chose to feel the pain, to own up to his mistakes. I know you don’t want to be like him, but he wasn’t all bad, Jordan. He let alcohol take ahold of his life and that ruined him. Don’t let the fear of heartbreak do the same to you.”

  Jordan wanted to argue, but what Graham was saying made sense. Fear wasn’t the same as alcohol, but he could see how if he let it control his life, his opportunities, that it could have the same hold on him. He walked to the table and scanned the blueprint. “You might be right.”

  Graham leaned forward as well. “I know I’m right. Anyway, all I’m saying is that you can’t live your life in fear. What if this firefighter is the one you’re supposed to be with and you never give her a chance? Now, can we pick an interior design?” Graham pointed to the blueprints spread out on the table. “I’d like to get started on this as soon as possible.”

  Jordan chuckled at his brother’s abrupt switch in topic. Now that he’d had his say, he was all ready to get down to business. “Yeah, just give me one second to call her and see if she can meet up later.”

  Having made the decision to give love a shot, he suddenly couldn’t wait to see Cassidy again. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. At nearly nine thirty in the morning, he expected to hear her voice pick up, but the phone simply rang. And rang. Until finally her voice mail clicked on. He listened all the way through it and then left his message. “Cassidy, it’s Jordan. I was hoping maybe we could get together today. Please call me when you get this message.” He hung up, briefly wondering where she might be but sure she would call him back when she received the message.

  “Okay,” he said walking back toward Graham. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  * * *

  Cassidy moaned as she struggled to open her eyes. Her head hurt though she wasn’t exactly sure why. In fact, her whole body felt stiff and sore. She touched her forehead wincing as her fingers pressed on a raised bump. Where had that come from?

  Then it came back to her. She was on her way home from the hospital when her tire had blown and then something had hit her car. She’d hit the steering wheel which explained the bump on her head, but why wasn’t she still in her car?

  Was she in the hospital then? Her eyes opened the rest of the way and she took in the room – what little of it she could see in the dim light. She was in a bed, but this was not a hospital room. The dark walls were nothing like the sterile white of a hospital, and the one window in the room was boarded over allowing only a sliver of light into the room.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position gritting her teeth against the pounding pain in her head. There was nothing in the room beside the bed and a pail against the wall. Was that where she was supposed to relieve herself? The door was solid metal except for a rectangular panel that appeared to open and close. This wasn’t a room. It was a cage. Her stalker must have found her.

  When the throbbing in her head lessened, Cassidy stood and walked to the window. The boards were nailed on the outside, so she couldn’t even try to pry them off from in here. She supposed she could try to break the glass and push on them, but she didn’t know what the noise might bring. Also, there was no way to bandage herself if she cut herself on broken glass from the window, and she had no desire to bleed out in this depressing room.

  Fear tightened in her chest. How was she going to get out of here? She wasn’t expected at work today so no one would even know she was missing until tomorrow unless they found her car. And even if they did, how would they know where to begin looking for her? She didn’t even know where she was.

  A scraping sound drew her attention back to the metal door. “Who’s there?” she called out. “Where am I?”

  There was no verbal answer, just a gloved hand appearing with a bowl. Cassidy couldn’t even tell if the hand belonged to a man or a woman though she suspected a man. Not wanting to give her captor the satisfaction of knowing she was hungry even though she was starving, she simply waited.

  “Grab the bowl.” The voice was deep and gravelly, but also machine like. He was altering his voice.

  “No. Let me out of here.”

  “You will eat,” the voice commanded.

  Cassidy crossed her arms enjoying the power it gave her even though her captor couldn’t see them. Her stomach ached and rumbled displeased at having missed dinner the night before, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “You can’t make me.”

  “Suit yourself.” The hand let go of the bowl and it dropped to the floor. The bowl didn’t break, but the contents, which looked like runny oatmeal, spilled out on the floor. Then the rectangular door closed.

  Cassidy walked back to the bed and curled her knees to her chest. She would have to eat sooner or later or she wouldn’t have the strength to attempt an escape if the opportunity arose. Tears filled her eyes and a vice closed on her throat. How was she going to get out of here?

  She turned her face to the ceiling and did the only thing she could do. She prayed.

  Chapter 12

  Jordan glanced at his watch. Four hours had passed since he called Cassidy and there had been no reply. Was she angry at him for the day before? Had she been called into work? Work. He could call her work and see if she was there. Jordan typed the firehouse into his search engine and dialed the number that popped up.

  “Fire Beach Firehouse, how may I direct your call?” the woman on the other end asked in a pleasant voice.

  “Is Cassidy Marcel on today?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give that information out.” The pleasantness had dropped from her voice and she was all business now.

  Of course, he should have known they wouldn’t give out personal information. “I apologiz
e; this is Detective Jordan Graves with the FBPD. I’m investigating her stalker case and need to speak with her, but she isn’t answering her phone. If she’s there, can you connect me?”

  “I’m sorry, Detective, she isn’t on shift today, and I haven’t seen her.”

  Jordan hung up the phone without saying goodbye and chewed on his bottom lip. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe she’d decided to unplug and lay low, but he didn’t think so. His gut was churning again, and it was telling him something had happened to her.

  “What’s wrong?” Graham asked as Jordan paced the room.

  “I’m not sure. Cassidy hasn’t returned my call, and I’m worried about her.”

  “Dude, maybe she’s just busy.” Graham rolled up the blueprint they had chosen and secured it with a rubber band. “I think you’re overreacting.”

  It was possible, but Jordan didn’t think so. His gut was rarely wrong, and right now it was twisting and turning into knots. “Maybe, but I met Cassidy because she had a stalker. What if he found her? What if something happened to her?”

  A look of sympathy crossed Graham’s features. “We’re done here. Why don’t you go see if she’s home and lying low?”

  “Thanks, man.” Jordan strapped his gun back in place and shoved his arms into his jacket. It was ten minutes to her apartment and each minute seemed like eternity. He was tempted to throw on his lights and sirens to get people to move out of the way, but this wasn’t an emergency. Yet.

  A broken lamppost appeared on his right and snagged his attention. He didn’t remember seeing it before and while it might mean nothing, the hair on the back of his neck now stood at attention. He pulled the car over and stepped out.

  The dent in the lamppost held a streak of red – the same color as Cassidy’s car. His eyes dropped to the ground, and he spied broken plastic and streaks on the curb as if tires had rubbed against them. There had obviously been an accident here but where was the car?

  Jordan pulled out his phone and dialed Stone.

  Stone’s gruff voice filled his ear. “Jordan? I thought I told you to take the day off.”

  Jordan shook his head. He didn’t have time for explanations. “You did, but, sir, I think something’s happened to Cassidy Marcel. Can you see if DOT transported a wrecked vehicle from 72nd and Trosper last night or this morning?”

  “Hold on. I’ll check.” This was why he liked working for Stone. The man knew when to ask questions and when to trust his officers. “Yeah, they towed it this morning to lot A. Said no one was inside.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Jordan jumped back in his car and turned it around. Lot A wasn’t too far away. He just hoped he would find some answers there. “Hold on, Cassidy, I’m coming.”

  * * *

  Cassidy stared at the walls around her and wondered how much time had passed. Her watch was missing, probably taken, and she didn’t have her phone. She had nothing but silence and four walls.

  For a while, she had prayed, but soon her words ran out. Not that she thought God wasn’t still listening – she was sure He was – but she could only ask Him to save her so many times. Then she’d tried to sleep, but hunger had started gnawing its way up her stomach. The smell of the runny oatmeal on the floor hadn’t helped.

  The sound of scraping metal came again and Cassidy hurried to the door hoping to catch a glimpse of the room outside. She didn’t know what she’d do with the information as she had no way to get out of the room she was in or tell anyone where she was, but the tiny room was closing in on her, and she needed to know there was more out there to regain her sanity.

  “Please, let me out of here,” she said as she squatted down to try and see out of the rectangle. A pair of legs clad in denim appeared before another plate of food filled the window. This time a sandwich and a bag of chips.

  “I can’t let you out until I’ve convinced you we belong together.” The voice was still altered but Cassidy was sure she’d heard it before.

  “You’ve convinced me,” she tried. “We belong together. Now, please let me out.”

  “Nice try, but I haven’t yet. Take the food.”

  Well, it had been worth a shot. “No, I’m not taking anything from you. You’ll have to watch me die in here and then we’ll never be together.”

  “You will eat.” Once again, the plate dropped and the window slid shut. The sandwich landed in the oatmeal – guess she wasn’t eating that – but the bag of chips managed to avoid the brown mess. Cassidy had no intention of breaking them open right now, but they were bagged. It would be harder to poison something bagged, so she plucked them up and took them to the bed. Chips weren’t enough to sustain energy for long, but she was not going to die in here.

  Chapter 13

  Jordan opened the door of Cassidy’s car and tried not to dwell on the worst-case scenario as he spied the dried blood on the steering wheel. She’d probably hit her head or her face, both of which tended to bleed more than other areas. It was clear from the car that something had hit her from behind, probably pushing her into the lamppost.

  There was no other blood on the seat or anywhere else which gave Jordan some hope. He moved farther into the car searching for anything that might give him a clue as to what had happened to her. Nothing in the seats caught his attention other than the fact that her bag still sat in the passenger seat.

  He opened it feeling as if he shouldn’t be snooping in it but knowing it was necessary. Her wallet was still there and when he popped the snap, he saw her credit cards and cash still inside. So, this wasn’t a robbery. He hadn’t thought it was but finding this confirmed it.

  A glance in the backseat revealed nothing new there either, but Jordan hoped Cassidy would have left him some clue if she could have. He backed out of the car and bent down to check the floorboard. There his eyes landed on her phone. He plucked it off the mat hoping he would be able to access it. She had never sent him the text with the information on the possible stalkers and now it might hold the only clues.

  He pressed his finger to the power circle, but the keypad screen came up. Darn it. He didn’t know her well enough to have any idea what her password might be, but he knew someone who might.

  After examining the car one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, Jordan shut her door and hurried back to his own car. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the firehouse parking lot. He just hoped Ivy would be working.

  The same woman he had met a few days before was at the desk. “Can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to the paramedic. Ivy something or other. I’m sorry I don’t know her last name, but it’s important I speak with her.”

  His eyes must have shown the frazzled sense of urgency he felt in his bones because the woman picked up the phone and paged Ivy Hopkins.

  She appeared a moment later, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a quizzical expression on her face. “Jordan? What can I do for you?”

  He held out Cassidy’s phone and watched as Ivy’s eyes widened. “Do you know how to unlock it?”

  “Why do you have this?” Fear threaded her voice and her eyes darted around as if she thought he might harm her.

  “Cassidy’s missing. I found this in her car. She never sent me the information about the possible stalker, but she said she had the man’s name and number in her phone. So, can you open it?”

  “Um, I think so. She told me what it was once.” Ivy grabbed the phone and closed her eyes. Her face scrunched in thought. Jordan wanted to shake her and tell her to hurry up, but he knew that would accomplish nothing, so he waited. Ivy’s eyes popped open and she tapped a few numbers in the phone. “No, that’s not it.” She tapped the screen again and a triumphant smile lit up her face. “Got it.”

  Jordan snatched the phone from her and clicked on the message icon. There was no draft to him, so she hadn’t even started forming the message yet. He supposed that made sense since she had been taken before she got home, but it didn
’t keep him from kicking himself for not getting the information from her before he let her go.

  “What was the guy’s name?” As he scrolled through her contacts, he realized she had never told him the guy’s name. Why hadn’t he asked better questions?

  “The guy who stopped by here with the flowers?” Ivy asked.

  Jordan’s eyes shot to her. “Yes, did she tell you his name?”

  “Yeah, his name was Scott. I was there when she exchanged numbers with him.”

  Scott. He flicked the scrolling arrow to get to the eses. Yes, there it was. He took out his own phone to take a picture of the number. “Could you describe him?”

  “Of course. He was handsome, but kind of nerdy with the glasses and all.”

  “Great, I need you to come to the station with me and describe him to a sketch artist. What about the other guy?”

  Ivy’s forehead furrowed as she shook her head. “What other guy?”

  “The one at her apartment. She said there was a guy who seemed odd at her apartment complex. One who walked his dog and stared at her.”

  “Dustin? I’m pretty sure he’s harmless. He’s always walking his dog outside. I spoke to him once or twice when I was checking on her apartment for her.” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, could he be the stalker?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to investigate them both.”

  Ivy’s face paled and her hand covered her mouth. Jordan knew that look. “What?” he asked.

  “I just… I thought they were friends, so I talked about her when he asked. Like he wanted to know why I was there and I told him I was watching her apartment while she was on the show. Did I do this? Did I get her kidnapped?” Her eyes took on a vacant stare.

  Jordan had no time to console the woman, but he knew she was beating herself up. “We don’t know who the stalker is yet, so stop blaming yourself and let’s find this guy. Can you come to the station with me now?”