by Elle James
The bleached blonde scooted to the side of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her naked body. She glared at Randy. “You mean to tell me this isn’t your apartment?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Oh, shut up and get dressed.”
She tossed her hair and snorted like a horse. Then she grabbed clothes from the floor and hurried toward the bathroom.
“At least let me get my jeans and shoes on,” Randy said.
Kate shrugged. “Fine. But make it fast.”
“What about my things?” he asked.
“The apartment is mine. Everything in it is mine. You’re lucky I’m letting you take the jeans. Now, could you hurry it up? I’ll throw whatever I don’t want out. You can sift through it when I’m done.”
“Really, Kate, be reasonable. There are things...” He took a step toward her.
Bacchus growled, baring his teeth.
Kate patted the dog’s head. “You’re done here. Just leave.”
Jeans in hand, Randy turned away and dropped his towel. As he pulled the jeans up over his naked ass, a bag fell from the back pocket of his pants.
Kate stiffened. “Uh, Randy, you dropped something.” She moved aside to make sure the policemen could see what he’d dropped.
Randy turned and looked at what was on the floor. His face blanched.
When he bent to grab the packet, a policeman stepped forward. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step away.”
“Fuck.” Randy hesitated, but then thought better of it and stepped backward.
The policeman drew the gun from his holster and aimed it at Randy. “Sir, put your hands behind your head and turn around.”
With two cops blocking his route of escape, Randy had no other choice but to do as he was told. He locked his hands behind his head and turned. While one cop held the gun on Randy, the other cop bent to retrieve a plastic baggie full of what looked like white powder.
“Is that what I think that is?” Kate asked, holding her hands up as if afraid to touch anything.
“If it’s what I think it is,” the cop said, “it’s cocaine.”
Kate shuddered. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you, Randy.”
The blonde chose that moment to open the bathroom door. She took one look at the cop holding the gun and screamed, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Don’t shoot.”
For the next few minutes the policemen frisked Randy and his girlfriend. They handcuffed their wrists together and led them out of the building and down the stairs to the squad cars. More cops appeared and combed through her apartment, looking for additional drugs. By the time they’d finished it was dark outside, and Kate was allowed to begin moving the things she was going to keep.
The police helped her move her grandmother’s desk into the trailer before they left. Once she was alone, Kate packed a few of her clothing items into a suitcase and a couple of photo albums of her family. A final trip back inside, and she was done.
The charity she’d called arrived with their van.
Kate stood in the doorway of the apartment she’d shared with Randy for a year prior to her deployment. At twenty-nine years old, she’d thought that she would have accumulated more items that she might have cared about.
Apparently not.
It was time for her to start over.
She held the door for Bacchus. He leaped up into the passenger seat of her pickup. Kate slid in behind the wheel, and the two of them headed north.
A job and a new life awaited Kate in Hellfire, Texas. She was determined not to make the same mistakes she’d made with Randy. As she shifted into gear, she vowed that men would remain off limits. At least for the near future. They were nothing but trouble, and she had a track record of picking losers.
Chapter 2
Chance Grayson revved the engine of his dirt bike as he paused at the top of the embankment. He glanced down at the narrow, winding trail leading to the bottom of a ravine and ultimately out onto the highway. Rocky, full of bumps and dangerous, it was just the kind of track he found most challenging. He didn’t pause for long before he tipped the front wheel over the edge and plummeted down the hillside.
The faster he went and the more challenging the course, the less time he had to remember.
The handlebar jerked in his grip as he twisted it back and forth, following the narrow path through the bramble, brush and trees. On more than one occasion, he’d thought about letting go of the handlebar and seeing where the bike and the terrain would take him. If he hit a tree head-on, the helmet he wore would do little to protect the rest of his body. He’d either die or break every bone in his body. So far, the subconscious desire to live overruled those self-destructive thoughts and made him focus on traversing the path all the way to the bottom and the smooth pavement of the highway leading into Hellfire.
Now traveling along fairly even asphalt, he had little to task his mind. The road was straight, leaving too much time for his memories to resurface and haunt him.
Chance twisted the throttle, giving the bike all the fuel it could take, shooting it forward, faster and faster. He shot past one hundred miles per hour as he reached the outer edges of Hellfire.
Nash would bust his ass if he caught him going that fast. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from all his brothers, his sister and parents. He throttled back and let the motorcycle slow on its own, dropping back to eighty, then seventy, sixty and ultimately a tame forty as he passed the first houses on Main Street. A truck with a moving trailer blocked the road as it backed into a driveway.
Chance came to a complete stop, frowning. The driveway belonged to Lola Engel. The fact that a strange truck was backing in wasn’t what had his brow dipping. Lola’s house had burned to the ground in a fire a couple weeks ago. She was lucky to be alive. The charred debris had yet to be completely cleared, making it a sad reminder of what a fire can do to an old, wood-framed building.
Though the fire had destroyed the house, the detached garage still stood. The side closest to the house had been covered in soot. Hell, Chance had been there to help douse the flames and keep the fire from spreading to nearby structures.
As close as the garage was, it had to still smell of smoke. It was hard to get that smell out after a fire. Someone would have to be pretty desperate to rent the apartment above.
Because the road was blocked, Chance had to remained stopped, his foot on the ground, balancing the bike between his thighs.
The truck continued expertly backward, pushing the trailer straight onto the concrete drive. Not every man had the knack for backing a trailer. The windows were tinted, so Chance couldn’t see the man driving. But he had respect for his skills moving it up the narrow drive.
Curiosity made him pull to the side of the road and engage the kickstand. He wasn’t expected at the fire station until the next day. His workout could wait. He wanted to know who was moving into his town. Perhaps he could offer to help the guy.
Then the “guy” switched off the engine, shoved the driver’s door open and dropped down from the pickup. Only it wasn’t a guy. She was a tall, slim drink of water with rich brown hair and deep green eyes. Without looking his direction, she rounded the front of the pickup and opened the passenger side. A large, light-brown dog leaped out of the seat and ran toward Chance.
Bracing himself, Chance stood fast, praying the dog was friendly and only wanted him to scratch his belly.
The dog sniffed his pant leg and circled him before jumping up on his hind legs and planting his forepaws on Chance’s chest.
Chance staggered backward, and normally he wouldn’t have fallen, but his heels hit the curb. He stumbled and fell on his ass.
“Bacchus. Platz!” The woman with the dark brown hair raced toward them.
The dog backed away and dropped to his belly, still watching Chance, his head canted to one side.
“I’m sorry.” The brunette placed a hand on the dog’s collar. “He’s never done that before.” She frowned down at the animal, though her hand g
ently rubbed the dog’s neck.
Chance picked himself up from the ground and dusted off his jeans. “It’s okay. I think he likes me.”
“Some police dog you are,” she muttered and stuck out her hand. “I’m Kate Bradley.”
Chance gripped her hand in his, a spark of awareness rippling up his arm and through his body. His brow dipped. He hadn’t felt anything like that in couple of years. And he wasn’t sure he liked it. Pushing aside the feeling, he shook her hand and pasted a smile on his face. “Chance Grayson.” He tipped his head toward the garage. “New in town?”
She nodded. “I am. Just getting settled in.”
“Need a hand moving anything?”
“Not in here. I was told it was fully furnished.”
Tipping his head toward the charred remains of Lola’s house, Chance grimaced. “Hopefully the apartment doesn’t smell like smoke.”
“Frankly I don’t care what it smells like. I just need a place to sleep and shower.” She glanced toward the staircase leading up to the apartment over the garage. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get moving. I start work tomorrow, and I want to be ready.”
“Work?” Chance cocked his eyebrows.
Kate turned away from him and opened the back of the trailer. From inside, she grabbed an army-green duffel bag and a small suitcase. Slinging the duffel over her shoulder, she started for the stairs. “I’ve got a job as a deputy with the sheriff’s department. Bacchus and I are a package deal.”
“That’s right. Nash was telling me they had a new deputy. I don’t remember him saying anything about a police dog.”
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Nash?”
Chance tipped his head toward other suitcases in the back of the nearly empty trailer. Only one item of furniture stood strapped to the interior. “Taking all of this up?”
She shook her head. “Only the suitcases and bags. The desk is going into storage.”
He shoved a bag under his arm, curled his fingers around two suitcase handles and followed the woman up the stairs. “Nash is my brother. He’s a deputy. He mentioned a new recruit would be starting. I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”
“Yeah, I freed up sooner than I expected,” Kate said, her tone flat, her back stiff. She stopped at the top of the stairs and dropped the bags she’d carried. Reaching over the top of the door, she ran her hand along the door frame. “Ms. Engel said the key would be up here somewhere. Ah, there it is.” With the key in hand, she unlocked the door and threw it open. “Is it safe to leave keys out where anyone can get to them?”
“It’s a small town,” Chance said. “Most people don’t even lock their front doors at night.”
“In this day and age?” She shook her head. “Crime doesn’t skip the small towns.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Chance’s glance shot to the rubble next to the garage.
Kate moved the duffel bag and the suitcase through the door and stepped aside for Chance to enter. “What happened to the house?”
“Some crazy son of a bitch tried to burn it down, with Lola inside.”
Kate’s eyebrow lifted. “Seriously? I spoke to Ms. Engel. She’s okay, right?”
“My coworker, Daniel, got her out in time.”
“Your coworker?”
“A fellow firefighter from the Hellfire station.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re a firefighter?”
He nodded. “One of the few full-timers. Most of the department is made up of volunteers.”
“Good to know, in case I set the kitchenette on fire.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “I’m a terrible cook.”
“Not to worry. There’s a great diner a couple blocks down. They serve food like your mother cooked.”
Kate shook her head. “My mother worked a full-time job. She was a terrible cook as well. I think it’s genetic.” She reached for one of the suitcases Chance carried. When their hands touched, she frowned and jerked her hand away. Grabbing it with her other hand, she tipped her head toward the middle of the small room. “You can set those anywhere. I’ll sort through them later. I need to get to the sheriff’s department to unload the desk. I want to turn in the rented trailer this afternoon.”
After Chance set the cases and the bag on the floor, he straightened. “Is that all you have?”
“When I found out the apartment was furnished, I donated the rest of my household goods to charity.” Kate’s jaw tightened. “None of it was worth keeping.”
He’d bet there was a story behind the hard look. An ex-boyfriend who’d done her wrong? The bastard.
His fists curled.
Based on the dark circles beneath her eyes, she probably hadn’t slept much since whatever breakup she’d had to endure.
Not that he cared. Chance wasn’t a candidate for picking up the pieces of someone else’s life. He couldn’t even pick up his own since leaving the military. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where the sheriff’s department is.”
“Thanks.” She followed him out of the apartment, locking the door behind her.
He mounted his dirt bike and waited as Kate and Bacchus climbed into the truck.
The brake lights blinked, and the truck’s engine roared to life.
Chance drove his bike past the hood of the truck, aiming for the sheriff’s department, located a block from the fire station. He told himself Kate was just another face in town. The electric currents he’d felt when their hands had touched had been purely imaginary. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and she probably wasn’t either. Which was just as well.
Once he’d done his civic duty to welcome the new deputy to town, Chance would head to the fire station and work out on the weights. Riding a dirt bike was strenuous, but he still had memories pushing at the back of his mind. Pumping iron and a long jog helped increase his endorphins and wear him out so that he could get a little sleep between nightmares.
Being home for an entire year since he’d left the military, he’d thought he’d be past the bad dreams. But they still plagued him every night as he lay his head on a pillow and closed his eyes.
As soon as he drifted off, he was back in Afghanistan and the day his heart shattered into a million pieces. He relived those last few minutes of Sandy’s life as she bled out in his arms.
A man who looked much like Chance Grayson stepped out of the sheriff’s office as Kate pulled her truck and trailer into the parking lot. He frowned as the man on the motorcycle slid up next to him.
Kate lowered her window and caught a few of the words they exchanged.
“Found her unloading at Lola’s,” Chance was saying. He turned to Kate. “Kate, Nash Grayson. Nash, Kate Bradley.” He touched two fingers to his temple toward her and faced his brother. “She’s all yours.”
“See you at dinner tonight?” Nash asked.
Chance shrugged. “Maybe.”
Nash’s brow dipped. “Maybe we’ll save you a seat at the table. Mom and Dad got back in town last night. They’ll want to see your ugly mug.”
Chance’s lip curled in a grimace. “Sorry. Yes, I’ll be there.”
Another glance her way and a slight tip of his head and Chance Grayson shot forward, burning rubber on the pavement.”
“Damn it!” Nash shook his head. “I need to impound that motorcycle. It’s barely street legal.”
Kate climbed down from the truck, snapped a lead on Bacchus and let him jump down beside her.
Nash Grayson waited on the sidewalk for her to join him. “Welcome to Hellfire.” He held out his hand.
Kate shook it, not feeling the same electric charge she’d experienced at Chance’s touch. Perhaps the ground near Lola’s garage apartment was somehow charged with electricity. That could be the only explanation for the jolt she’d felt. After kicking her ex-boyfriend out of her apartment back in San Antonio, she sure as hell wasn’t interested in starting anything new. Men were trouble and strictly off limits. She needed to get her life together bef
ore she even considered dating again. If that took two, three or more years, she didn’t mind. That’s what BOB was for. Her battery-operated boyfriend had kept her company on more than one occasion, and it wasn’t nearly as messy physically or emotionally.
The thought of BOB, Chance and the need to satisfy herself seemed incongruous the moment she shook Nash Grayson’s hand. Kate released her grip and jammed her hands into her jean’s pockets. “Is Sheriff Olson in?”
“Kate Bradley?” A booming voice called out.
“Yes, sir.” Kate looked over Nash’s shoulder at a tall, barrel-chested man, with salt-and-pepper gray hair and bright blue eyes. He grinned and closed the distance between them.
She held out her hand. “I got here as soon as I could.”
He gripped her hand in a strong but gentle hold. “You don’t have to start work Monday, if you aren’t ready. I’m sure you have business to take care of with your move.”
She smiled. “I appreciate the extra time, but I don’t need it.” What she really needed was to get to work. The sooner, the better. During her deployment, they hadn’t had days off. She was used to working every day without a break. Work helped keep her too busy to think about her failed relationship with Randy and the fact she had nothing to show for being almost thirty years old. No one waiting for her with open arms…hell, no home and no stuff to call her own.
She would miss being a part of the Army. During deployment, her unit had become her surrogate family. Now that they were back, the soldiers had gone home to their loved ones, leaving Kate to go home to a cheating boyfriend and a trashed apartment.
She had no one to blame but herself. Unlike many of the soldiers in her unit, she’d looked forward to going to Afghanistan. The time overseas had given her an excuse to put off the decision she’d known she needed to make about Randy. Kicking someone out of your apartment wasn’t easy when things weren’t rocky, but surprisingly easy when she’d returned, and he’d been in bed with another woman. She should thank Randy for making the decision for her.
“Have it your way. We can get started training you and your dog on how things work around Hellfire.”
