Stalking the Firedawg

by Keely Jakes

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Keely Jakes

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-853-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To those who run in when others run away.

  STALKING THE FIREDAWG

  Stalking Love, 2

  Keely Jakes

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Boing. Boing. Boing.

  The metallic bong sounds silenced the chatter in the room as the members of B shift waited to hear who dispatch was calling out. Though on alert and ready to jump and run for the ladder truck he commanded, Justice “Hawk” Hawkins kept eating. As a Marine Corps firefighter who had been stationed around the world, the chance to eat a hot meal someone else cooked was a luxury he never passed up. Especially since his own cooking sucked sewer water.

  “Ladder one, report to base commander’s residence. Pie’s up the tree. Again.” The dispatcher’s tone was cool and collected, though her terminology was hardly professional.

  Hawk looked around the table when no one moved, wondering what the hell was going on. He had just transferred into the base, and after two weeks of classes in Raleigh to renew his certifications in the States and learn the particulars of the North Carolina fire code, he was finally working his first shift.

  Turning to the shift captain, he asked, “What’s a Pie?”

  “Piewhackit is Mrs. Brigadier General Randall’s cat. He is a housecat, but on bath day he always finds a way to escape. Sometimes more often if the Randalls are traveling and he has a new cat sitter. He thinks he is a squirrel, except once he’s up the tree in the general’s front yard, he refuses to get himself back down again.”

  Hawk nodded as the other three men from Ladder One continued eating. “Okay, so we have an angry cat who climbs trees. What are we supposed to do about it?”

  The captain smiled. “Get the cat out of the tree and back in the house before the general’s wife comes home.”

  “Uh-huh,” Hawk said.

  By this time, Hawk and the rest of his crew had finished eating. Leaving the dishes for others on the shift to deal with, the four men headed to their truck. Stepping out of the living quarters into the bay, Hawk paused a moment as the heat and humidity of eastern North Carolina in July wrapped around him like a wet wool blanket. He wondered how long it would take to get accustomed to the sauna-like weather.

  Watching the others, he mirrored their actions, tossing his turnout gear into the back of the truck cab. One of the base rules he could get behind was that for routine calls like this, the heavy turnout gear was carried in the truck, but not worn. It was too hot to wear an additional sixty pounds of gear in this heat unless they were actually fighting a fire.

  As the newest member of the team, even though he was the highest ranking, Hawk climbed into the back seat. He had never been one to pull rank, preferring to ride in the back where there was more leg room. At six foot three, he was thankful for every spare inch he could get. Fastening his seatbelt, Hawk met the driver’s eyes as the man looked over his shoulder, “Okay, boys, let’s go get Pie out of the tree.”

  ****

  “Come on, Piewhackit. Please come down.” Stewart Lytle fought back tears as he pleaded with the cat, who looked down from his perch high in the maple tree.

  Holding up the small can of herring he had found in the kitchen, Stewart hoped to coax the spoiled cat down from her spot in the tree before the fire department showed up. After all, it was his fault he was up there, and not in the house as he was supposed to be. After taking the uber-spoiled cat to his vet appointment for Mrs. Randall, Stewart had returned him home, then been distracted by a phone call from his ex-boyfriend.

  Fred Winston did not seem to understand that nothing in Heaven or on Earth would entice him to get back together with the man he had broken up with a month ago. A man who cheated and then lied about it was bad enough, especially when Stewart was not sure if he was the cheater or cheatee. What scared Stewart more than that was when confronted about his cheating and being told they were through, Fred had gotten physically violent. It was not the first time, but it had been the last time Fred had hit him.

  The bruises had healed, but Stewart would never trust Fred again even if he wanted to get back together with the man, which he did not. But Fred did not seem capable of understanding it was time to move on. As soon as he answered the phone, Fred began ranting about how they were soulmates and would be together forever. Stewart listened only long enough to confirm it was Fred before disconnecting. He was still brooding about how to deal with his ex, and not thinking about where he was, when he opened the front door to leave. He had several others errands to run for Mrs. Randall before he could call it a day. Unfortunately, he was too slow slipping out the door and Piewhackit brushed past his ankles. In the next second, the damn cat was up the tree before Stewart could process that he was out of the house.

  “Come on, Pie, I opened a can of the general’s best herring just for you. All you have to do is come down and you can have it.”

  That just earned him another sad meow.

  “What am I going to tell your mama when she gets home? She’ll fire me, and she’s my best customer. Please, come down.” Stewart knew he was getting nowhere with the persnickety feline, but he had to try.

  His business, Runaround Stew’s Errands and Deliveries, was still in its infancy. Having the base commander’s wife’s cat escape and get stuck up a tree, for the third time, while he was cat-sitting did not make for good reviews on Yelp. And he needed all the good reviews and recommendations he could get. His target customers were military wives, especially those of top echelon officers. If Mrs. Randall stopped using him then no one else would either. Which was why he had called the fire department.

  Stewart did not do heights.

  Ever.

  Hearing the low thrum of a heavy engine, Stewart turned toward the street just in time to see a lemon-lime-colored ladder truck roll into sight. It pulled up and parked in front of the general’s house. Four men climbed from the truck. They circled up and were apparently debating something.

  “Oh, Pie, look at all those beautiful men,” Stewart murmured, hoping they did not hear him. “If only one of them was gay, single, and looking for someone like me.”

  He stood in the middle of a Marine Corps base, which meant strong, macho, alpha-type men, and women, everywhere he looked. It also meant Stewart worked hard to tone down his gayness as much as he could. His best friends, Hudson and Bingham, would laugh themselves silly if they knew that every time he approached the front gate Stew had to work to butch up. Otherwise, he would fawn and drool over every man in uniform he saw, and on this base that was a lot of drool-worthy hotness.

  Patting his pocket with the hand not holding the can of herring, he sighed. As usual, he was out of business cards. He had left the last of them on the counter at Pie’s veterinarian’s office. He would have to go to the van and restock, just as soon as they got Pie down from the tree.

  The huddle of well-built men in sand-colored camouflage uniforms broke up. Two men went to the back of the big truck and pulled a ladder down from its place. The other two headed his way. St
ewart had to swallow twice as he checked out the taller of the two. Big and built, he had an exotic look of several races blended into one white-hot, sexy package. The café au lait skin and pale blue eyes mesmerized Stew.

  The other one cleared his throat, pulling his attention away from the big guy. “Piewhackit’s up the tree again?”

  Stewart nodded. “Yes. I took him for an appointment at the vet. After dropping him off here afterwards, I opened the door to leave. He slipped past me and was up the tree before I could blink.”

  The two men nodded and looked up. Piewhackit looked down at them and meowed again, sounding pitiful.

  “Where’s Mrs. Randall this morning?” The first one continued the questioning while the second man stood with his hands in his pockets, looking way too handsome for his own good.

  Stewart swallowed hard, not sure how much information he should share. “Um, she’s out of town for the day. If at all possible, it would be really nice if she and General Randall did not find out about this.”

  “And who are you?” tall, dark, and yummy asked. His voice was dark and delicious, sending a shiver through Stew that he hoped neither man saw.

  “I’m with Runaround Stew’s errand service. Mrs. Randall is one of our clients.” Stewart said. He always spoke about the business as if it was more than just him running errands for people.

  “Runaround Stew’s?” The man sounded amused and a little intrigued. But something about his tone rubbed Stewart the wrong way.

  “Yes,” Stewart snapped.

  He always got touchy when someone mocked his job, or the company name, which he thought was memorable, not prissy. Running errands and making deliveries was a way to make money while he finished his classes to become a paramedic. Once he finished and became certified, he would close the business and get a job with an ambulance service.

  “Cute name,” the big, sexy Marine said as one corner of his mouth shifted higher than the other.

  “Thanks,” Stew said, his temper immediately soothed.

  He stared at the big man, entranced. It was a smile, sort of, which shot the man to top place in Stewart’s bedtime fantasies. Taking a deep breath, Stewart tried to relax. Some body parts cooperated. Others stiffened further from being this close to a military god of a man. If only the big guy was gay and showed a hint of interest. That would make Stewart’s day. Hell, it would make his entire year.

  “Ladder’s ready, Hawk,” one of the other men called before Stewart could attempt to make a pass. Which was a good thing as he would just fumble it and probably get punched for his attempt. And he didn’t need any more bruises now that the ones Fred had left him had finally healed.

  The man called Hawk nodded before giving Stewart a wink and a cocky grin. “This should just take a minute.” With that, the big, hot, sexy Marine turned and headed for the ladder.

  ****

  Hawk knew the crew was testing him by sending him up the ladder. Could the new guy get a cat out of a tree? What they did not know was that animals loved him, even though he was not a big fan of four-legged pets. Cats topped his list of least favored pets. Someday, maybe once he retired, he would get a big, friendly, well-trained mutt from a shelter.

  But this moment was not about his preferences.

  This was about showing his crew that he could handle any task thrown his way. After all, he had not lasted more than ten years as a Marine firefighter without doing something right. And animal rescues were his specialty. He was not sure if it was his father’s Cherokee heritage or not, but he had always had a special connection with animals.

  He admitted to himself that if he were a cat, he would want the pretty little man with the long, white-blond hair to take care of him, too. Hell, he would not mind if the man took care of him even without his being cat. First, though he had to get Piewhackit out of the tree. Then he would do some reconnaissance to make sure the man was single and interested in his life being taken over by a firedawg. Then tomorrow morning, as soon as he was released from the twenty-four-hour shift they were on, Hawk would call the man. He had the next two days off and would be more than willing to spend them getting to know the cat sitter.

  He could not wait to see if there might be something between them. Though they had only exchanged a few words, Hawk had a feeling that life as he knew it was about to change forever. His cock, which had stiffened as soon as the man spoke the first time, told him to grab hold and never let go.

  After resetting the ladder back a few feet so it was leaning against the tree at a safer, more stable angle, Hawk stepped onto the bottom rung. Corporal Wild, codename Wildman, moved in behind him to hold the ladder steady as Hawk began his ascent. Knowing the ladder was secure, Hawk turned his focus upward.

  Locking eyes with the fat, multi-colored furball of a cat sitting on a branch a good fifteen feet off the ground, Hawk started talking. “All right, sweetheart, time for you to come to me so we can get you out of this tree.”

  He kept his voice low and soothing as he moved another step higher. He stopped climbing when the limb Piewhackit sat upon was parallel with his chest. He remained about three feet from the trunk, just out of reaching distance. Holding out his hand toward him with the palm down, Hawk continued murmuring sweet nothings as he waited.

  It took a couple of minutes, but the cat finally stood up on the limb. Another half minute and he took a single step toward him. Another few seconds and he took another step. And then another. Hawk waited until his rough tongue licked the back of his fingers.

  Moving slowly, Hawk kept talking as he ran his fingertips down his back. Piewhackit purred as he arched into his touch. Another pass, this time with more of his fingers. The third pass of his full hand down his back, and Pie pushed further into his touch. That was when Hawk made his move.

  Slipping his hand around Pie’s body just behind his front legs. He cupped his chest in his palm then scooped him off the tree limb. In the next instant, he was under his arm and tucked against his side like a football. As soon as he was secure, Hawk began down the ladder.

  It took Piewhackit about four seconds to decide he was not happy. First, he began to wiggle in his hold. Then he yowled his displeasure as he twisted and began to claw at anything within reach.

  Hawk’s attention split between keeping the cat secure against his body without squeezing him too tight, and continuing to climb down the ladder albeit at a faster pace than he had gone up. He managed one more rung before the cat turned his head and bit his right arm. At the same time, because he was trying to move too fast, his left foot missed the next rung.

  As he fell sideways his right boot got tangled in the ladder. Hawk felt a pop in his right ankle at the same moment he landed hard on his left hand. As his wrist snapped and his body landed heavily on the ground, his boot somehow came free from the ladder. He landed with an oomph on his left side before rolling to his back. Miraculously, he had kept hold of the cat, who suddenly had stopped fighting. Closing his eyes, Hawk concentrated on pulling air into his lungs to confirm that he was, in fact, still alive.

  When someone pulled the cat from his hold, he gratefully released it. Opening his eyes, Hawk looked up into wide eyes that were green as the new spring grass in the Tennessee fields where he had grown up.

  “Oh, my God, are you all right?” the civilian cat sitter asked as he cuddled the cat to his chest. The crazy beast began purring and nuzzled the top of his head against the man’s chin.

  Not knowing if he was talking to the cat or him, Hawk remained silent. For a crazy moment, he wished the little man would snuggle him like that. That moment ended when his brain registered the white-hot pain that shafted outward from his right ankle and left wrist. He sucked a breath and focused hard on not screaming. He was still trying to make an impression on his crew, and crying like a baby on his first shift was not the one he wanted to make.

  “What’s the damage, Staff Sergeant?” Wildman knelt on his other side, across from the cat sitter.

  Closing his eyes, Haw
k tried to move beyond his limbs. Did anything else hurt? Gritting his teeth, he said, “Right ankle and left wrist. Not sure if they’re sprained or broken, but they hurt like hell.”

  While Wildman called dispatch to send an ambulance, Hawk turned his head to look at the pretty blond, but the little man had disappeared. Tilting his head, he looked toward the house just in time to see the man disappear through the front door.

  It was not long before the door cracked open again just enough for the man to slip out. He moved quickly, and slammed the door closed behind him. After using a key to lock the deadbolt, the pretty man walked to the bright pink van parked in the driveway. Hawk forgot the pain as the man opened the door and leaned inside. He pulled in a sharp breath as he watched paper thin, well-worn jeans mold over the sexiest bubble butt Hawk had ever had the pleasure of ogling. Despite the pain, his cock began to fill, telling him it had been too long since he had focused on his own off-duty pleasures.

  “Damn, that’s a beautiful sight,” Wildman said.

  “Yeah, it is, but he’s mine,” Hawk growled as he turned to frown up at the man who was his second-in-command on the truck.

  Wildman froze, and the two men exchanged a look before the kneeling man nodded. “Message received. But if he turns you down, I want his number.”

  Hawk narrowed his eyes but did not respond. His crew mate did not know it yet, but the pretty blond was his, and Hawk refused to share.

  An ambulance siren grew louder by the second, effectively ending the conversation. By the time it pulled into the driveway, the little blond civilian had returned, though he stayed well out of the way and watched until Hawk was loaded on the gurney. Only then did he step up to Hawk’s side.

  “Call me if you need any help,” the man said as he tucked a business card into Hawk’s right hand. He looked like he wanted to say more, but glanced around at their audience and stepped away from the gurney instead.