Ignite: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Kim Loraine

  Ignite

  An Everyday Heroes World Novel

  Kim Loraine

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  K. Bromberg’s Everyday Heroes World

  If you liked Ignite…

  Also by Kim Loraine

  About the Author

  ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

  Acknowledgments

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Published by KB Worlds LLC.

  Cover Design by: Audibly Addicted

  Cover Image by: WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY

  Editing by: Patricia D. Eddy

  Formatting by: Audibly Addicted

  Published in the United States of America

  Introduction

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!

  I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! IGNITE is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.

  I truly hope you enjoy IGNITE. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.

  Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.

  Happy Reading,

  K. Bromberg

  Travis

  My mouth tastes like ashes. Acrid and bitter. I should be used to it by now. The scent of smoke permanently singes my senses, the heat of flames licks at my skin even in my dreams. But today, as I walk away from the firehouse and settle my dark Stetson on my head, the call we’d spent all night on haunts me. It could have gone so much worse.

  It didn’t.

  But fuck, it could’ve.

  Closing my eyes, I brace myself as the memory of the weight of the little girl in my arms hits me like a kick from a stubborn mare. It hurts. If we’d been a minute later we might’ve lost her. Close to twenty years as a firefighter and shit like this still stays with me.

  “Get some rest, lieutenant. We did good.” Declan Byrne’s British accent catches my attention as he waves from his silver Honda Civic, his face so filled with optimistic hope it makes my teeth ache. Poor guy hasn’t had life knee him in the balls more than a few times yet. It makes me sad to think about him ten years from now, a shadow of the young firefighter with a promising future ahead of him.

  Giving him a slight nod, I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket and stride toward my truck.

  “Ryker,” Chief Long calls from the firehouse door. “Some of the guys are grabbing a bite before heading home. You want in?”

  Three months here and I haven’t gotten to know these guys beyond our time on shift. I should be making an effort, but I spent my career in Sunrise, Montana, working alongside men I grew up with. This was the change I’d needed, but that didn’t make it easy. “Thanks, man, I gotta get to the stables.”

  He chuckles. “All right, cowboy. Invitation’s open anytime. I don’t know how they did it at your old station, but sometimes we just like to…decompress a little before we take it back to our families, you know? Birdie hates it when I come home with the stress of a bad call on my mind. She’s got enough going on.”

  I clench my palms into fists at the mention of his daughter, of families. “Yeah, well, I got no one to take it home to. Have a good one, chief.”

  I walk away before he can say anything else. I’m not interested in talking it out. My way of dealing has always been, and will always be, on the back of my horse with the quiet of the open air around me. That’s all I need.

  The drive to the ranch where I board my horse is a good thirty minutes away from Silver Lake. I don’t mind the winding roads, but it’s a far cry from the one stoplight town where I grew up. I shake my head to clear away thoughts of that place. It isn’t home anymore—for good reason.

  My phone buzzes from the dock attached to my A/C vent as I pull into the long driveway leading to the entrance of the ranch. A cold pit forms in my stomach as the name Gina flashes on my screen. Shit. I ignore the call and continue until I reach the parking area around the back of the indoor arena.

  But again, the phone buzzes. Gina.

  I answer the call with a lump in my throat and my chest burning as though it were only yesterday that she ripped my heart out.

  “What is it, Gina?” Every ounce of frustration she stirs in me comes through in my harsh tone.

  “Is that really how you talk to your wife?”

  “You’re not my wife anymore.”

  She laughs, a sound that used to make me smile. Now it reminds me of things better left buried. “I’ll always be your wife.”

  “Ex-wife. What do you want?”

  “I want to talk about the house.”

  My gut clenches. I park my truck and kill the engine while my pulse thrums in my ears. “The house?”

  “Yeah. It’s just sitting there. I’m not living in it. You’re off in California. We both own it. I think we should sell it.”

  “You can’t sell my house, Gina.”

  “It’s mine too.”

  Clenching my jaw, I sigh before I run my fingertips across my left hand where my wedding band used to be. “Why do you care so much? Money? Isn’t your rich boyfriend keeping you happy?”

  She scoffs. “If you must know, we broke things off.”

  I don’t offer her my condolences. “Gina, I got somewhere to be. Can we hurry this up?”

  “I need a smaller place, Trav. It’s too hard here. Too many memories.”

  I roll my eyes. Memories of what? Of her nights spent fucking some other chump in my bed while I was on shift? “I’ll get an appraisal. Buy you out if you need me to.”

  A soft sigh fills the line, grating on my nerves. “Thank you. You know, even though things went south between us…I always—"

  “No, Gina.”

  I hang up and toss my phone across the cab. Even now she can get to me. It’s been months since I broke it off, months since I started a new life, but that woman can pull me back into her orbit with a single call whether I want her to
or not. The only way to keep from making a mistake with her again is to stay far away. For two weeks after I found out about her and that asshole hotel owner, Dean, I spent every waking minute drunk off my ass feeling sorry for myself. Until I packed up my shit and got out of town, only returning once to say goodbye to my family and sign my divorce papers.

  Tucking my keys in my pocket, I get out of the truck and slam the door a little too hard. The young colt in the paddock near where I’d parked lets out a distressed whinny. “Sorry, little fella. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I walk to him and wait for him to come to me. He must’ve smelled the peppermint sticks I have in my pocket, because he prances over, ready for some attention. I stroke his neck and pull out a small chunk of peppermint for him, letting him lip at my palm as he tries to take the treat.

  It feels good to be surrounded by the sounds and even the scents of a ranch. It reminds me there’s more to my life than the bad memories Gina caused. The only thing I brought with me from Sunrise was my horse, Ben. He’s been mine since I was eighteen. A graduation gift from my Uncle George and Aunt Sandy. I trained him alongside my cousins at Ryker Ranch until he and I knew each other better than I knew myself. There is nothing on this earth that would make me leave him behind. Even if boarding him costs me an arm and a leg.

  “Hey there, Trav. You don’t have anyone on your schedule today. Coming in to take Ben for a ride?” Turning toward the sound, I catch sight of Kelsey Taylor, trainer, riding instructor, shameless flirt. She’s standing behind me, her jeans tighter than should be healthy, one hand cocked on her hip. She’s pretty, no doubt, but I’m not interested. I’ve made that clear on more than one occasion.

  “Yes, ma’am. He needs it. I can’t let him get fat on me. He’s a ranch horse. He’s used to working.”

  “You know, trail rides are more fun with company.” She bites her lower lip and seduction flashes in her eyes. Jesus, not now. It’s too early in the morning for me to let her down easy…again.

  “I’m more of a loner, Kelsey. Ben and me, we like the quiet and the peace of solo rides.”

  She pouts, twirling her hair. “Fine, but I’ll get you to give me a ride one day, Travis Ryker.”

  My skin prickles with apprehension. She’s not going to let up. Best to ignore her and get to my horse. I tip my hat to her and stride toward Ben’s stall. My spurs jangle with each step, a comforting sound that makes my pulse calm. It’s like a blanket of normal covers me when I’m here. I’ll get Ben saddled, we’ll ride for an hour, maybe two if we feel like it, then I’ll go home and crash.

  Except Ben isn’t in his stall when I get there. He isn’t grazing the paddock. He’s just…gone.

  I look around, frowning as I survey the surroundings. How the hell do you lose a horse?

  Did Hank take him out for something without telling me? Is Ben sick? Shit. Is he hurt? I remember when my cousins had a wild beast that needed breaking kick one of their older horses hard enough the poor thing had needed rehab. God, anything could have happened.

  Taking a deep breath, I stride toward the office where the ranch owner always sits, managing schedules, dealing with calls. “Hank? What the hell’s going on?”

  Hank’s in his chair, feet kicked up on the desk. “Travis, what’s got you in a panic?”

  “My horse ain’t where he’s supposed to be. I pay you good money to keep him. I should be able to find him when I want.”

  He checks the schedule, fingers running down the list of lessons and booked arena time. He won’t find me on that calendar. I ride in the open land, not enclosed in an arena. No need to book space for that. “He’s in Rojo’s stall right now. We had to do some repair work.”

  My chest loosens and my shoulders relax as the weight of anxiety lifts. “Why wasn’t there a note on his door?”

  Hank cocks a brow. “There was. You must’ve missed it.”

  I turn and start for the stall at the far end of the stables, but Hank calls out, “You give any more thought to teaching lessons?”

  I don’t look back, just wave a hand and continue on my path. Ben is standing in the paddock, his pitch black coat shining. Relief washes through my veins and calm overtakes me. A little bit of normal to round out my rough edges. Riding always helps me forget whatever else is going on. It’s the only way I deal.

  “Come on, boy. We got a lot to work through today.”

  Lark

  Pop. Pop. Pop. I hear it clear as day as I ease my Vespa toward the end of the neighborhood street. I know it’s not real. Or at least, it’s not what I think it is. It can’t be. It’s a car backfiring. Not a gun.

  Heart in my throat, I swallow the fear clutching my chest and close my eyes, counting down from ten as I sit at the stop sign. My watch buzzes against my wrist, bringing my focus to the appointment reminder I’d set for myself.

  Shit.

  I am going to be late.

  It’s my first appointment, and I’m already going to start on the wrong foot.

  I signal to turn left, then start across the two lanes on my way to the bike lane. But the sharp blare of a horn has me looking to my right a second time and seeing with absolute clarity the dark blue truck coming toward me. My only choice is to move faster. I can make it. Just a few more—

  The truck’s bumper collides with my back tire and amid the screeching of brakes, the continuous blare of the horn, and my scream, I fall right back into the darkness I’d just clawed myself out of.

  I don’t know what happened between the moment I flew through the air and the instant I hit the ground, all I know is, my whole body hurts. But I’m alive. Pain means I’m still here.

  “Jesus Christ.” A man’s voice fills my ears, muffled from the shock that rattled my brain, but real. “Stay still. I’ll call an ambulance. I’m…fuck…I didn’t see you until it was too late.”

  I blink a few times and take stock of my limbs. Aside from a scrape or two, I think I’m okay. The last thing I want is a ride in an ambulance. Sitting up, I let out a hiss of pain at the rough scratch on my elbow.

  “Stop, you shouldn’t be moving. You could have internal injuries.”

  “I’m fine. Just…a little rattled.” My words stick in my throat, and I can’t continue as a pair of soulful blue eyes lock onto mine. His perfectly chiseled cheekbones and jaw would be considered pretty if it weren’t for the lines around his eyes and the fatigue written all over his face.

  Standing before he can stop me, I tear my gaze from him and focus on the mangled remains of my scooter. My purse is still across my torso, a little worse for wear, but functional, and when I take off my helmet, I have to fight a wave of nausea at the sight of the dent marring one side. If that had been my head, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  “You hit me,” I finally manage.

  “You came out of nowhere.”

  “There was no traffic when I crossed the road.”

  “What the hell do you call me?”

  I don’t know how to answer him, and honestly there’s no use arguing this. “The guy who ruined my Vespa.”

  He reaches out, his fingers brushing my arm. “Let me at least take a look at this.”

  “I’m okay. Dammit, I have someplace to be.”

  I grab my Vespa and, with more effort than I want to admit, attempt to haul it out of the road. Of course, it weighs a ton. He helps me lift the thing, and I’m frustrated beyond belief that this is how my day is beginning.

  “Can I take you home?” His rough voice makes my belly flutter.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Uh, home. Can I drop you somewhere? Your bike is trashed, I doubt you want to walk it home.”

  His tight jeans and dark brown cowboy boots are such a contrast to the guys I’m used to. This man doesn’t belong here. He’s a transplant, same as me. Except I’ve been here two years now. I should feel more settled. Hell, I should feel a lot of things. Which is why I’ve been through five therapists in the last eighteen months.

  “I have a me
eting in Landry. I’m never going to make it now.”

  His brows rise so high I can’t see them beneath the brim of his dark cowboy hat. “That’s a ways away.”

  “You must be new here. There’s nothing in this town. Everything is a ways away.”

  I try to take a step onto the curb, but my head spins and everything blurs for a moment, fading gray around the edges.

  “Whoa.” He grips my arm and steadies me. “Come on, you need to get to a hospital and get checked out.”

  “I don’t want to go to a hospital.” Panic clutches at me, threatening to take hold once again. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m not letting you go anywhere until I know you won’t drop dead from internal bleeding.”

  “Who are you, my dad?”

  He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw hard enough a muscle ticks on one side. “I’ll call an ambulance if you won’t let me take you.”

  Shit. I’m sure someone has peeked out their window and seen this little exchange already. Word will get around and before long, everyone in town will know about my accident. Which means eventually, my father will find out too. I might be twenty-one years old, but my dad still treats me like I’m fifteen. He means well, but he holds me tight and I don’t know if he’ll ever let go after everything we’ve been through.

  “Fine, I’ll go to the hospital.”

  He holds out a hand.

  Cocking my head, I take him in fully. He’s clean, groomed, and he doesn’t creep me out. “Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?”