by Zoe Chant
Commander Ash's telepathic voice abruptly crashed into his head. *What are you DOING?*
*Trust me!* Chase sent back.
He couldn't spare the time to explain further. All of his concentration was focused on sound and touch, tiny cues that told him how to navigate safely through the burning building.
His lungs burned in his chest, but he didn't dare draw in a breath. He could taste how thick the smoke was, bitter and acrid on his tongue. Even a single lungful would put him helpless on the floor, coughing his guts out.
Holding his breath, he charged down a flight of stairs, leaping the ones that had already fallen in. Embers swirled around him. His uniform jacket and trousers protected him from most of them, but some still burned the bare skin of his neck and face. Chase barely felt the pain. His stallion danced in agitation, urging him on.
There. There!
Chase scooped her up, cradling her protectively against his chest. There was no time to check whether she was breathing. His own lungs were burning, every instinct in his body desperate to draw in air. White spots danced behind his closed eyes as he blindly raced back up the stairs.
His chest felt like he was being squeezed by iron bands. Chase stumbled, strength draining out of his legs as his body cried out to breathe. Only the weight in his arms kept him moving forward. His entire world narrowed to the single desperate need to get his precious burden to safety.
Just one more step. Just one more. One more—
He stumbled out into light and cool air. Chase collapsed to his knees, still cradling her tightly in his arms. Clean air had never tasted so good. For a moment, all he could do was blink his streaming eyes, and breathe.
Ash seized him under the arms. The phoenix shifter dragged both Chase and the woman he'd rescued further away from the burning building. “Hugh!” he shouted.
A second later, Chase felt Hugh's bare hand on his neck. A familiar, comforting warmth spread out from the paramedic's touch. The pain from his burns eased as Hugh's healing talent took effect.
“I'm okay,” Chase said, jerking away. “Concentrate on her. Please, now!”
Hugh shot him a curious look, but transferred his focus to the rescued woman instead. Chase watched anxiously as the paramedic ran his bare hands over her throat and face. She was pale and motionless, limp in Chase's arms. Terror filled him, as thick and deadly as smoke in his lungs.
When she finally took a breath, all the air rushed out of him. He sagged in relief.
“That's it,” he said to her, stroking her singed red hair back from her beautiful face. “There you are. There you are at last.”
“Chase. Explain yourself.” Chase had never heard Ash so coldly furious. A faint heat-haze shimmered in the air around his shoulders, in the shape of burning wings. “What is going on here?”
“Commander Ash, allow me to introduce Constance West.” Chase never took his eyes off Connie's face. A broad grin spread across his own face as she started to stir. “That's it. You're okay, Connie. Everything's going to be okay.”
Connie's eyelids fluttered open. She looked straight up at Chase. Her eyes widened with recognition.
“Oh, no,” she croaked, and promptly fainted again.
Chase beamed up at the rest of the fire team. “She's my mate.”
CHAPTER THREE
Connie drifted up into consciousness to the reassuring sound of beeping equipment. A faint scent of roses mingled oddly with a stronger smell of disinfectant.
Hospital. I'm in a hospital. I think.
How did I get here?
She had a confused, dreamlike memory of being pulled out of a burning building. But she must have been hallucinating from smoke inhalation, because she could have sworn she'd been rescued by—
“Hello, Connie,” said an impossible, Irish voice.
Connie opened her dry, scratchy eyes, blinking. The vague blur of color next to her bedside resolved into an instantly familiar, infuriatingly handsome figure. The ghost from her past grinned down at her, as cocky and charismatic as ever.
Connie groaned aloud, closing her eyes again. “Chase Tiernach, go away.”
“All right,” Chase said, unexpectedly.
Connie reopened one suspicious eye. She couldn't see him anymore.
“Is this better?” Chase inquired solicitously from the foot of the bed.
“I mean go away entirely. Out of my room. Out of my life. Again.” Connie sank lower down in the bed, pulling the sheets over her head as if she could hide from her past under the covers. “What are you even doing here?”
“The rest of my team had the fire well under control and didn't really need me any more, so my Commander very kindly agreed that I should accompany you in the ambulance.” The mattress dipped as Chase sat down on the edge of the bed.
She was acutely aware of the warmth of his hip through the bedclothes. “What?” she said blankly.
She felt him shrug. “Well, actually, I didn't bother to ask him until we'd arrived at the hospital, and his response was more along the lines of ‘Chase, it is a very good thing you are already five miles away from me,’ but I think that counts as agreement, don't you?”
“None of that,” Connie mumbled into her sheet, “made the slightest bit of sense.”
“How about this, then.” Chase shifted on the bed. Even without looking, Connie knew he was leaning over earnestly, his brilliant, lying black eyes full of sincerity. “I've missed you desperately. I'm overjoyed to find you again. Will you marry me?”
Connie pushed herself up on her elbows to stare at him in disbelief. “Are you completely out of your—”
She stopped mid-sentence as more of her surroundings came into focus. Every flat surface in the small private room was covered in roses. For a moment she had a mad thought that perhaps Chase had bribed the paramedics to bring her to a florist rather than a hospital. It was exactly the sort of thing he'd do.
Chase himself was set off by a background of glorious white roses that made the perfect contrast to his dark good looks. His shoulders were broader than she remembered. His long, muscled arms bore unfamiliar scars, the barely-visible traces of old burns. Instead of a custom-made designer suit, he wore a smoke-stained fire-resistant uniform. His thick black hair, once so carefully cut and styled, was now tousled and singed.
But his face was exactly the same, unchanged even after three years.
She should know. Despite her best efforts, that face had haunted her dreams every night.
Connie tore herself away from those bright, compelling eyes. Remember what he did, she reminded herself. He’s a lying, womanizing cheater.
Don't fall for him again.
“Okay,” she said firmly. “First things first: No. I am absolutely not marrying you.”
Chase's hopeful expression fell. “So you’re still mad at me.”
“I caught you naked in bed with two other women, Chase!”
On the night I’d finally decided to sleep with you, Connie didn’t add aloud. Chase didn’t need to know that little detail.
She glared at him. “Of course I’m still mad at you.”
“But you never even gave me a chance to explain,” Chase said, so rapidly that his strong Irish accent made his words run together. “You see, I went to the club for a drink, and the next thing I knew-”
“I wasn’t interested in excuses then, and I’m definitely not interested now,” Connie interrupted. She pushed the old hurt back down into the bottom of her heart. “It was a long time ago, anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes, it does,” Chase insisted. “Please, Connie. You have to believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I don’t even know what happened!”
“I said I’m not interested.” Connie rubbed at the bridge of her nose, feeling the start of the familiar headache that prolonged exposure to Chase tended to inspire. “Why are you wearing a firefighter's uniform? Why is this room full of roses?”
Chase spread his quick, agile hands. “The room is full of rose
s because you like roses. I'm wearing a firefighter's uniform because I'm a firefighter.”
None of that made any sense, either, but Connie let it go as a far more urgent question finally occurred to her.
She sat bolt upright in the bed, panic seizing her. “Where is my dad?”
“He's fine,” Chase said, and Connie's heart started beating again. “We found him outside the bar. He's been pretty badly roughed up, but he'll be okay. He's here in the hospital, too.”
“I have to see him.” Connie threw back the sheet, struggling to her feet. “Take me to him, now!”
Chase caught her as she swayed. His gaze flicked downward. Connie belatedly realized that she was wearing nothing except a backless hospital gown. Literally nothing.
“Here.” Chase shrugged out of his firefighter jacket, offering it to her. His lips quirked teasingly. “Not that I don't like what you're wearing…”
With what dignity she could muster, Connie put the jacket on over the hospital gown. It was streaked with soot and reeked of smoke, but it was better than wandering the corridors bare-assed. She pulled it closed around her ample hips as best she could. “Thanks. Now take me to my dad.”
#
“Dad!” Forgetting her own aches and bruises, Connie rushed to his bedside.
Connie's dad gave her a pale shadow of his usual wide grin. “Hello, pumpkin. We've both had better days, eh?”
She would have squeezed his hand, but both his arms were encased in plaster casts and suspended in traction. “Are you okay? How did you get away from those goons?”
“Ah, once they broke my arms, they lost interest.” Despite his light-hearted tone, Connie could tell that he was deeply upset. “Connie, I was trying to get back in to you, I swear. But they kicked me in the head as they ran away, and I couldn't get up, and—”
“Shh. I know, Dad. It's okay.” She sat down on the chair next to his bed. “You'd never have left me.”
“It's all my fault.” Her dad blinked rapidly, his eyes suspiciously damp. Connie pretended not to notice. “The nurses said you were all right, though?”
“I'm fine.” It was, surprisingly, true. For someone who’d been unconscious in a burning building, Connie felt pretty good. “I was lucky. I guess the firefighters managed to get me out before I breathed in too much smoke.”
Chase, who was hanging back in the doorway, made a small, choked sound, like a hastily stifled laugh.
Her dad's gaze moved to him. For a moment, he just stared blankly… and then his jaw dropped. “Good God. That's never young Tiernach, is it?”
“It's good to see you again, Mr. West,” Chase said, coming forward. His black eyes danced. “Just to let you know, I still haven't crashed. Well, at least not a plane.”
“You are still the most god-awful student I've ever had the misfortune of teaching to fly,” her dad informed him. His brow creased. “What in the name of all that's holy are you doing wearing a firefighter's uniform?”
“Why do people keep asking me that?” Chase said to the ceiling.
“Apparently, he's playing at being a firefighter,” Connie said to her dad. “Don't ask me why.”
“I am not playing,” Chase said indignantly. “I happen to be a very respected and valuable member of my crew. Just ask…” He trailed off, apparently searching for a name. “Hmm. Actually, perhaps it would be best if you didn't.”
“Chase Tiernach, a productive member of society. Now I really have seen it all.” Connie's dad shook his head. “Well, if you did rescue my daughter, I'm eternally in your debt, sir.”
“Excellent!” Chase said brightly. “In that case, may I ask for your blessing?”
Connie's dad looked across at her in a wordless request for interpretation.
“Ignore him,” Connie said firmly. “He's leaving now, anyway.”
“Oh, I don't have to be anywhere else,” Chase assured her. “I already told Commander Ash that I'm taking an indefinite leave of absence. He thought it was an excellent idea.” He paused, a slightly worried expression briefly flashing across his face. “I think I still have a job. Though I might have to persuade him on that point, later.”
Connie glared at Chase. “My dad needs peace and quiet to recover. He doesn't need you. I don't need you. Go away, Chase.”
Her dad shifted uneasily, despite his broken arms. “Ah. Well. I hate to say it, but there might actually be something he could help us with.”
Connie threw up her hands. “Dad! Don't encourage him!”
“I can be excessively helpful,” Chase assured him earnestly. “What do you need?”
Her dad cleared his throat. “You know the big air race next week, over at Shoreham Airfield?”
“The Rydon Cup? Of course!” Chase's eyes brightened. “I've been looking forward to it ever since they announced it was going to be flown here this year.”
“We were going to enter our plane. Me flying, Connie navigating—we were sure to win. But now…” Her dad made a helpless little motion with his head, indicating his broken arms. “I, ah, was kind of counting on winning that race.”
“We're not going to ask the Tiernachs for money, dad,” Connie said sharply. “Don't worry about the race. We'll just have to pull out. Things will be a little tight, but I'll manage.”
Already she was making mental lists of air shows where she could display her plane, places she could advertise for passengers, evening jobs she could take… It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to hustle to cover her dad's debts. No doubt it wouldn't be the last.
It's not a disaster. I can get us through this. I always have.
Her dad dropped his head. “It's about more than the prize money,” he mumbled.
With a sinking sensation of dread, Connie recognized that guilty, hangdog expression. “Dad, what did you do?”
Her dad's eyes shifted from side to side, as if seeking an escape route. “You know the money we used to transport the plane here from America?” he said reluctantly.
“So that's where you were,” Chase said. He scowled. “I have to sack my private detectives. Apparently they've been chasing wild geese all over Europe.”
He hired private detectives to find me?
Connie brushed away the thought. There were more important things to deal with right now.
“You didn't want to tell me where the money came from, so I assumed you won it gambling,” she said to her dad.
“I did! In… a manner of speaking.” He fidgeted. “I just haven't quite won the bet yet.”
Connie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Let me guess. You bet that you could win the Rydon Cup.”
“It was a sure thing!” her dad protested. “Hardly a gamble at all! More like a, a loan. And we did need the money to get out of the country right away.”
“Oh?” Chase said, cocking his head to one side with interest.
“He got deported,” Connie said grimly. “My mom was American, so I'm a U.S. citizen, but he isn't. Let's just say that in future, I'm handling all his immigration paperwork. Not to mention our taxes.” She sighed. “Okay, Dad. How much do you owe this time?”
Her dad avoided her eyes. “Well…I didn't really bet money, as such. Sammy wasn't interested in that.”
“Sammy?” Connie sucked in her breath. “Not Sammy Smiles. Dad, tell me you didn't make another deal with him. Not after last time.”
“Sammy Smiles?” Chase said, his eyebrows shooting up. “The shark?”
“How on earth do you know Sammy Smiles?” Connie said, momentarily distracted. She couldn't imagine that Chase, the son of a billionaire, had ever had need of a loan shark.
“We move in some of the same social circles, shall we say.” All the good humor had slid away from Chase's expression, leaving him looking uncharacteristically grim. “He's pretty notorious. Well, that explains why you're lying there with two broken arms, Mr. West.”
“I knew his reputation, but I thought…” Connie's dad trailed off, hanging his head in shame again.
<
br /> He thought he could talk his way out. He always thinks he can talk his way out.
Connie shook her head in despair. “Dad. What deal did you cut with Sammy Smiles?”
“He offered money. A lot of money. Enough to pay for our move. Tickets, shipping the plane, an apartment, everything. And all I had to do was win the Rydon Cup, and he'd write off the entire debt.” Her dad peered up at her sidelong. “It was a good deal, Connie.”
Cold dread closed around Connie's heart like a fist. “And if you lost?”
Her dad swallowed hard. “Then he got our plane.”
Connie was struck literally speechless. She stared at her dad, overcome by the sheer scale of the betrayal.
“Wait,” Chase said, looking from one to the other. “The plane? Connie's plane? You gambled Connie's airplane?”
“Technically it's half my plane,” Connie's dad said defensively. “And it was a sure thing.”
Chase looked like he would have loved to break Connie's dad's arms himself. He took three quick, agitated paces back and forth, running his hands through his hair as though physically unable to keep still. Connie still couldn't move, frozen in disbelief.
The plane. He gambled my mother's airplane. The only thing we have left of her, and he staked it in a bet.
“Right,” Chase said, swinging round. There was a determined set to his jaw that Connie had never seen before. “I'm going to fix this. Mr. West, I'm going to need to talk to Sammy. I presume you've met him?”
“Yes, I met him in the Marina a few days ago,” Connie's dad said. He was looking at Chase with the sort of hopeful, ingratiating expression he usually turned on Connie when he wanted her to clean up his messes for him. “He's in town for the race. I think he's staying on his yacht, though. Do you think you'll be able to find him?”
“If he's within my range,” Chase said, mysteriously. He stared at her dad in an oddly intent way. “Can you describe him for me? And the men who attacked you, too.”
“Well, they were about—” Connie's dad began.
“That'll do,” Chase interrupted, his smile reappearing. “Yes, I can find them. Connie, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine.”
