2020 Piper Davenport
Copyright © 2020 Trixie Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Fanning the Biker’s Flame is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Art
Jack Davenport
CONTENTS
Copyright
Praise
Acknowledgements
Back Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Revealing the Biker’s Destiny
Book List
Reading Order
About Piper
All it took was one page and I was immediately hooked on Piper Davenport’s writing. Her books contain 100% Alpha and the perfect amount of angst to keep me reading until the wee hours of the morning. I absolutely love each and every one of her fabulous stories. ~ Anna Brooks – Contemporary Romance Author
Get ready to fall head over heels! I fell in love with every single page and spent the last few wishing the book would never end! ~ Harper Sloan, NY Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Piper Davenport just reached deep into my heart and gave me every warm and fuzzy possible. ~ Geri Glenn, Author of the Kings of Korruption MC Series
This is one series I will most definitely be reading!! Great job Ms. Davenport!! I am in love!! ~ Tabitha, Amazeballs Book Addicts
Liz Kelly:
Thanks again. Your insight is always so spot on!
Jack:
Thanks for being my muse, and really great in bed!
Gail
You are a scholar and a saint, and I ADORE you!
Brandy
Thanks for keeping the timelines and characters straight. You are godsend!
Mary
Thanks for always being available to read! Even last minute. I appreciate you so much!
18+ for language and sexual situations.
Shadow
As a newly patched member of the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club, and a recruit for the Savannah Fire Department, the world is mine for the taking. With more women than I can handle and my brothers at my side, I feel invincible.
Turns out, my Achilles heel might be a woman whose life has just gone up in flames.
Posey
When an embarrassing disaster brings an unlikely hero to my door, I can’t help but feel like fate is trying to veer my life in a direction I had no intention of taking. When that direction forces me to take stock of just who my friends are, I find comfort in the arms of a man I did not expect.
I just have to figure out how to let him in without burning down the world around us.
For Melonie
You are truly a beautiful human, and I’m honored to call you friend.
Darling readers, if you want your world blown, you need to check out Melonie’s yoga!
Support her HERE!
Take classes HERE!
Check out her YouTube Channel HERE!
CHAPTER ONE
Posey
MY DOORBELL RANG and I opened the door to find a large box on the porch. I frowned. I recognized the logo because the ads for the recipe and ingredient company were constantly popping up on my social media accounts.
The problem was, I hadn’t ordered it.
“Oh my god,” I breathed out, suddenly realizing who had.
I locked my door, carried the box into the kitchen, and called my mother.
“Did you get it?” she asked.
“No, ‘hello my beautiful girl, how are you’?” I admonished.
“Hello, my beautiful girl, how are you? Did you get it?”
I laughed. “Yes, Mama, I got it, but I don’t know why you’re trying… again. I can’t cook. I celebrate the fact I can’t cook, and I don’t want anyone to change me.”
“But you have to cook for your husband.”
“Oh, my lord, Mama, it’s not nineteen-fifty! I don’t want a husband.”
“Yes, you do. You just can’t cook so you don’t think you can find one.”
My mother had absolutely no filter.
“This is not true, and you know it.” I ran a knife down the seam of the tape keeping the box closed. “If I find a husband because some man drops in my lap and says he can’t live without me, then he will be able to cook.”
She scoffed. “I have failed you as a mother.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m still southern to the core, Mama.”
“We’ll argue about that later.”
I grinned, pulling the items out of the box. “Or we won’t.”
“Please make your dinner, honey. Don’t order pizza.”
“I’ll try, Mom. I’ll send you photos of how it all turns out.”
“There’s the spirit. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I said, and hung up.
Once I read through the instructions, I felt like it wasn’t going to be that hard and set out to make my own dinner.
* * *
Shadow
“Probee!” my captain bellowed.
I dragged my hands through my hair as I swept it into a tight bun on top of my head, and rushed into the firehouse kitchen. I had been a probationary, part-time firefighter for about a year with the Savannah Fire Department, and I was taking my lumps. Much like when I was a prospect for the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club. I don’t know why I was taking this double barrel of abuse to the face, but I’d found my dreams colliding and I decided I’d take whatever they dished out.
Thankfully, I was now a fully patched member of the club and didn’t have long before I’d earn my stripes as a new firefighter.
“Yes, sir?” I asked, as I walked into the room, and stalled.
I glanced around and found my crew sitting at the large dining table.
“Goddammit, probee, it’s your night to cook, we’re all sitting here starving to death.”
“I’m sorry, Cap, I thought it was Rondle’s night.” I rubbed the back of my neck as my stomach churned. The cardinal sin of any firehouse was to miss a chow shift, and I was exhausted, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that I forgot. Despite the fact I was supposed to be only working one day a week, I often took extra shifts in order to get more hours under my belt, so I was working three twenty-four-hour shifts a week with a day off in between. But I was coming up on the max I was able to work in a month, which meant I had a week off starting the day afte
r tomorrow. “I must have got my days mixed up. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re goddamn right it’s not going to happen again. ’Cause this is your last screw up as a probee…”
Shit, I couldn’t lose this job. Well, I could financially, but I couldn’t mentally.
“…and your first as what I’m sure will be many as a member of SFD.”
The room erupted into cheers as everyone gathered around me, slapping me on my back, then the rescue team walked in, our head EMT Marney, holding a cake complete with sparklers in it, and I grinned. I fuckin’ loved cake.
Rondle handed me a can of whipped cream. “Time to put out your first official fire.”
I laughed and used the can like a fire extinguisher, smothering the fireworks.
“Since tonight is a celebration night, we’ve ordered from Boon’s,” Sarge said, and I grinned.
Boon’s was a local, hole in the wall, barbeque joint and it was a favorite among pretty much anyone who loved food.
“I fuckin’ love Boon’s.”
“Yeah, we know,” Rondle said with a laugh, punching my shoulder.
“Have a seat,” my captain ordered, and a plate of ribs was set in front of me.
I rubbed my hands together, lifted a rib to my mouth and took a bite… just as the alarm sounded.
“Engine Twelve, residential fire, 5-1-5 Montgomery Street,” our dispatcher said over the intercom.
Shit. The Bowery had multiple apartments that could be at risk. We all pushed back from the table and made a run for our boots. We suited up and then it was go-time. I climbed into the truck after Rondle and tried to stamp down the excitement as we hauled ass to the site of the fire.
* * *
Posey
I stood outside my apartment building and covered my face with my hands. I’d lived there for less than three months, and I’d only moved in because of a really nasty break-up with my ex. An ex whose apartment I’d been living in for two years, so I had to find somewhere else, fast. I didn’t need this.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” my elderly neighbor, Sharon, crooned, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
The flashing red lights of the fire truck lit up the exterior brick and a small crowd of residents gathered around me. I was mortified.
“This wasn’t a 9-1-1 level emergency,” I breathed out.
“Your kitchen was on fire, dear heart,” Sharon reminded me.
“I was putting it out!” I cried, my face flaming.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Hailey Calloway waltzed into the crowd and gave me a scowl before turning to her friend and shaking her head. Hailey was twenty-two years old and her father owned the building. He’d given her the top floor apartment, four times the size of mine, and she was the epitome of what you’d call a rich bitch.
“I heard she tried to cook the box,” Hailey said nastily.
I turned away with a quiet groan. I didn’t try to cook the box, the instructions just didn’t mention you were supposed to take the food out of the box before putting it in the oven. I was never going to let my mother try to talk me into anything cooking related again.
“Who’s the resident?” a very severe fireman bellowed.
“Um…” I raised my hand. “I am.”
He walked over to me, another firefighter following. “Ma’am, you have some minor smoke damage to your wall, but nothing structural that I can see. You will need to replace your range, but otherwise, you were very lucky.”
I nodded, my gaze drawn to the young firefighter next to him. He was beautiful, but he was also smirking. Obviously judging me and judging me harshly. I scrunched up my nose and focused back on the man in charge.
“Next time, make sure you don’t cook the box,” he suggested.
“I didn’t mean—never mind. It doesn’t matter,” I grumbled, my face blazing again.
“Everything’s clear, folks. It’s safe to go back to your homes,” the young, ridiculously gorgeous, and Judgy McJudgerson, firefighter called out.
With my head hung down in shame, I escaped to my apartment and closed and locked the door. Just as my phone rang.
“Shit,” I breathed out, then answered the call. “Hi, Mr. Calloway.”
“What’s this about a fire?”
“It was a small accident in my kitchen,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”
“Hailey said it was much, much worse.”
“It really wasn’t,” I rushed out.
“Do I need to come down and look at the damage?”
“No,” I stressed. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”
“Well, I’m going to be in town at the end of month. I’d like to see for myself.”
“I’m fine with that, Mr. Calloway. I’m sorry anyone bothered you.”
“I’ll see you then, Posey.”
“Okay,” I said, and hung up. Then I called my mom.
* * *
“Honey,” Mom spat out on a laugh. “You didn’t really put the box in the oven, did you?”
“Guilty.”
“I really have failed you as a mother.”
“Focus, Mama. I’m going to lose my apartment if I can’t figure out how to fix this damage. I have just over three weeks to get this kitchen back to status-quo.”
“Isn’t that something your landlord will take care of?”
I frowned. “I’m the one who nearly burned down his building, Mom, he shouldn’t have to take care of it.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I didn’t raise you all that wrong. At least you take responsibility for your mistakes.”
I rolled my eyes. “I would think that was more important than being able to cook.”
“Well…”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t keep Carl around,” Mom said.
“Carl was a douche, Mama, and you know it.” I frowned. “And, let’s be honest, it took me far too long to cut him loose.”
“There is that,” she conceded. “I’ll give Sterling a call.”
“Who’s Sterling?”
“My friend from high school. He’s a contractor. He’ll know how to fix it.”
I sighed. “And how much will this cost me?”
“He’ll take care of you, honey. I promise. He won’t rip you off.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Mama,” I said, and hung up.
I glanced around my kitchen and tried not to cry. A little smoke damage was an understatement and I felt like I might throw up. Instead, I turned off the light and walked out of the room.
* * *
Shadow
“Shadow!” Doom called through my door, his meaty fist banging on it.
“Jesus,” I hissed, knuckling my eyes. “What the fuck, Doom?”
“You up?”
I dragged my ass out of bed and pulled the door open. “I wasn’t. What the fuck, brother?”
“Dad needs someone to check out a job for him. You want it? It’s for a friend, so he needs someone who’ll be… ah, nice.”
Despite the fact Doom had married one of the sweetest and prettiest women on the planet, he still scared a lot of people, so I found I was asked to do things where people needed to be finessed and charmed. Plus, Doom’s dad paid better than most when it came to ‘jobs,’ and since I was banking every penny, I decided it was a good idea, even if I was wrecked.
“Yeah. Text me the details.”
Doom gave me a chin lift and I closed the door again, heading for the shower. Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs and grabbed a cup of coffee, checking my phone for the information about the job.
I stalled.
Then I laughed.
Well, shit. This was gonna be fun.
I climbed on my bike and headed down to the Bowery.
* * *
Posey
Apparently, Mom’s friend was out of town, so he was sending
one of his ‘people’ to assess the damage and give me a quote.
Great. One more person to whom I have to tell my humiliating story.
I took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. I piled my hair on top of my head, forgoing makeup since there was no way in hell I’d have enough foundation to hide my embarrassment, so what was the point?
I had just pulled a soda out of the fridge when my doorbell rang. I checked the peephole, but the man’s face was turned away, so I inched the door open. “Hello?”
“I’m here to give you a quote on your kitchen,” he said, and raised his head.
I gasped. “You’re a firefighter.”
He smiled. “I am. But today I’m here to check your damage.”
“Do you have identification?”
He handed me a laminated card, complete with his photo and the name of the construction company.
Nolan Grant. Sexy, strong. Of course his name would fit him perfectly.
I nodded and opened the door all the way. “Come in.”
He stepped inside and headed straight for my kitchen, pulling out his phone and a tape measure. “Is your landlord paying for this?” he asked.
I snorted. “Ah. No. I am.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“It was my screw up, so it’s my responsibility,” I explained.
“Right.”
He took some measurements and then recorded those measurements on his phone.
“Do you like being a firefighter?” I asked, filling up the silence.
“Yeah.”
“But you have a side hustle as a contractor?”
“Yeah.” His fingers flew over his phone as he focused on his work.
“Right.”
My phone buzzed and I answered without looking at the screen.
Rookie move.
“Hello?” I said, distractedly.
“Hey, pumpkin.”
“Oh, god.” I nearly threw up in my mouth. “Don’t call me that.”
“You love that,” Carl argued.
“I don’t love that. I’ve never loved it,” I snapped. “What do you want, Carl?”
Fanning the Biker's Flame (Dogs of Fire: Savannah Chapter Book 8) Page 1
