In the engine bay at Station Forty-Three, located in downtown Singer Springs, Washington, Jackson slammed his bright red locker shut with more strength than he’d intended. Being a firefighter and paramedic was one of the best damn jobs in the universe. But today was one of those few days where it sucked. An entire mountainside home had burned to the ground, the small occupants—two children and their pets—trapped inside while the parents were out who knew where. Any loss of life was difficult to deal with, but losing kids had to be the worst.
He turned, leaned against the metal locker, and rested his head on the smooth surface, allowing his eyelids to slide closed. It shouldn’t have happened. The thought urged all his frustration, grief, and anger to the surface. He pounded the locker with his fists, eliciting a noisy clatter that echoed through the garage.
He longed to put this day behind him and get home to his girlfriend, Blaire. Everything about their six-month-old relationship was as fresh and exciting as the day he’d laid eyes on her at the horse stables on the west side of Singer Springs.
It had started with a blaze; the fire had spread to his soul and continued to burn to this day.
Yes, life with Blaire was perfect…the stuff of fairytale romances…except for one thing—the situation with his brother, Jake, stood in the way like the Great Wall of China.
One of his buddies, Griffin, aka The Grifter, came up beside him and interrupted his daydreaming. “Rough day, huh, Hollerback? When was the last time we got called out to back-to-back fires?”
“Right?” Jackson pushed away from the locker. “And that last one…brutal…having to drag a three-inch hose up the hill. I’d rather be dragging single jacket wildland hoses, any day. I’m beat.”
Griffin shook his head. “No way could we get the engine up that steep, icy driveway. We’d have slid all the way to the highway like we were one giant sled.”
“I know.” A dullness settled into Jackson’s chest. “And the death toll—two kids, two dogs, a cat, even a potbelly pig—trapped in the house to incinerate.”
His eyes moistened with tears.
Griffin scratched his cheek. “Yeah, and something about the story doesn’t make any sense. They left the owner’s twenty-five-year-old brother to watch the kids. But he was nowhere to be found. I haven’t been able to locate him to interview him.”
“What was his name?” Jackson said.
“Let’s see…” Griffin fished a small notebook from his pants pocket. He flipped the scribbled-on pages, then, stabbed one and said, “Here it is. It’s a mouthful. His name is Jovantay Macavelli.”
A sharp stab of anxiety rocketed through Jackson’s belly. Isn’t that the name of Jake’s dealer? The guy’s a total scumbag loser. What the fuck is he doing watching two little kids? His eyes slid toward the exit as he wiped his palm across his pants.
“You know him?”
Jackson’s gaze jumped back to Griffin’s. He cleared his throat. “Do I know him?”
“That’s what I asked you.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed.
“Nah. The name sounds familiar, but…” He rubbed his lips with his thumb and forefinger. The last thing he wanted the department to know was what side of the law his brother was on or the kind of company he kept. “Nope, can’t place it.” He hated to lie, especially to one of his best friends. Beads of sweat popped onto his forehead. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Well,” Griffin said. “If you get any clues, let me know. I’ve got to find that guy.” He huffed out a sigh. “Captain Menendez is already arranging a Critical Incident Stress Debriefing. It will probably be here at the station the day after tomorrow.”
Jackson nodded and cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have saved the kids at least if we had better access.”
“Nah,” Griffin said. “The whole place was torched by the time we got the call. Someone from across the bay saw it through his telescope.”
“No shit?” Jackson said.
“No shit,” Griffin said. “That place was remote as they come.”
“It was that.” Jackson folded his arms over his chest. “That sure was a nice house sitting up on the hill like that. Someone’s dream hideaway along Egg Ranch Road.”
“Yep,” Griffin said, pressing his back to the lockers next to him. “Log cabin and then some.” He raked his hand through his red hair. “Complete with a water feature stretching the length of the property. Now? Nothing but charred wood and ash.” He let out a deep sigh. “There are a lot of nice homes up there tucked into the pockets of the woods. Big money buys big houses on several acre plots along with the promise of isolation.”
“What are your thoughts about what sparked it? You done with your investigation?” Jackson jingled the keys in his pocket, eager to hear more about the fire and then get home to Blaire. He longed to bury himself inside her and forget about burned structures and death tolls.
“Just about. I have to interview a couple more folks, but…” He snorted. “The owner—the kids’ dad—sure seemed twitchy about something. The first thing he said was, ‘it wasn’t my fault, I swear. My brother was watching the house.’ The second thing he said, was, ‘I didn’t light candles or anything.’ I didn’t say a word about candles.”
“Oh, that’s usually a guilt statement,” Jackson said. His lips pressed into a hard line.
“It seems to be. I try to stay impartial, but I also have to stay mindful of what a witness does or does not say.” Griffin gave him a shrewd blue-eyed gaze. “Am I boring you?”
“What? No, not at all.” Jackson squeezed the back of his neck. “Tired is all.”
“And you’ve got your boo waiting for you at home, am I right?” Griffin grinned.
Jackson shrugged. “She lives in the same house as me, as of two weeks ago.” His mind drifted back to the day he met her. He’d parked the rig near the stables to tend to a fire at a ranch across the street. They’d managed to get the fire out in the barn before it had done any serious damage and spread to other structures. He’d been packing the hose, getting ready to depart.
She and her Appaloosa had trotted into his line of sight. She’d approached him to inquire about the fire. He’d zeroed in on her with the desperation of a starving man finally being offered some good food—and not just any food, but the mouth-watering, yes, please, give me more kind. With her petite form, shoulder-length auburn hair, and lilac-colored eyes flecked with dusky blue that lit his insides…he was hooked from the start.
Up until that point, his track record in the romance department had been mostly misses. Women didn’t like it when he wasn’t interested in talking about the past. Somehow, it was easier to let them leave thinking he was hiding something than to revisit his nightmarish childhood. It haunted him enough as it was, both at random and predictable times.
But meeting Blaire had changed everything. She’d been the torch to his existence, shedding light on all those dark places. She made him want to show up and be a better man than he was the day before.
The guys at the station still teased him about the awestruck way he’d looked at her. Apparently, Griffin asked him a question, oh, about eight times, before Jackson had finally regained his senses and answered him.
And, from day one, their sexual chemistry had been off the charts. They found endlessly creative ways to explore their passion.
Like last week, in a canoe at the lake. A smile tugged at Jackson’s lips. We almost tipped the boat over in the middle of Clearfall Lake. But, man, the moment was off the charts hot. Even today, after his messed-up shift, his body stirred at the thought of her. He thanked his lucky stars for the thousandth time to have met her in the first place.
“You’re getting that glazed-eye look again.”
“Huh?” Jackson said, coming out of his memories.
“You. You’re getting that same dazed look you had the day you met her.” Griffin grinned.
Jackson scoffed. “I was not.”
Griffin smirked. “You two are like a couple of teenagers. Go on, get out of here. I’ve got another half day here.”
“I’ll save you some,” Jackson said, grinning.
“What? Some of Blaire?” A huge smile spread across Griffin’s face.
“Hell, no. Some of whatever she’s cooking tonight.” Everyone knew what a fabulous meal Blaire could create.
Griffin laughed, waving him away.
Jackson tromped to his Ford pickup truck, parked in the back. He slid in the cab and headed for his home, which sat across the street from a beach at the edge of Singer Springs.
As he drove, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty around him—the kind those two kids would never get to witness again. His heart twisted into a knot of regret. If there was anything—anything at all—he could’ve done to save those kids, he would’ve done it. But Griffin told it true—the house and its occupants were already deceased by the time they’d arrived. His cheeks puffed with air, and he slowly let it out.
And, Macavelli somehow involved…which makes me wonder what my brother was up to today. He shook those thoughts free from his head. The trees…Take in the trees…Stay in the moment.
Blaire often gushed about the “breathtaking beauty around us,” followed up with statements like, “we’re so lucky to live here.”
And, as his eyes swept his surroundings, he had to admit it—Singer Springs looked like one of those picture-perfect postcard regions. The early evening sky held tinges of warm color, heralding a spectacular sunset, dancing along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The looming Sun-a-Duc mountains provided a stunning backdrop. And the town itself was an eclectic blend of buildings from the 1800s interspersed with modern-day dwellings and businesses. Tourists flocked to the region every summer.
When he pulled his truck into the driveway of their small home overlooking the Strait, his heart ignited, and a grin split his face. He parked his beast of a truck, killed the motor, and then stepped out onto the gravel. The same feeling of excitement filled his belly every time he came home.
He opened the front door, and immediately his mouth watered. The smell of garlic, basil, and tomato sauce grabbed at his insides and tugged.
He looked around for his two Border Collies, Midget, and Maxine. His forehead furrowed.
Huh.
Usually, the dogs were all over him before his boots struck the floor.
The clatter of pans alerted him to Blaire’s whereabouts. He tossed his keys in the basket on the stand underneath the wood-framed mirror and made his way toward the kitchen.
Blaire stood with her back to him, clad in a loose-fitting garment he’d never seen before. It looked like something soft and silky, in shades of blue and green. It draped along her body, undulating as she reached for a jar of spices off the rack in front of her.
“Smells fantastic in here,” he said, striding through the doorway. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a chair.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, stirring whatever sauce she’d made in a pot on the stove.
Her shoulders hunched over her cooking. She didn’t turn around, which seemed odd. Typically, they greeted one another with a kiss at the door or something a bit more enthusiastic.
He pulled up short before coming up behind her and squeezing her shoulders. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to the dogs?”
His stomach clenched.
Why isn’t she looking at me?
“Why would you say that?” She stirred faster.
“Because neither you nor the dogs are greeting me the way we usually greet one another.” Not sure what to do with his hands, he stood stiffly, staring at the yellow ceramic jar full of wooden cooking utensils sitting next to her.
“Why should we do everything the same?”
“No reason,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “As long as you’re okay and the dogs are somewhere safe.”
Slowly, she set down the wooden spoon. Red sauce spilled onto the white stove top. She pressed her hands against the edge of the stove and took a deep breath. Then, she flicked off the burner.
Jackson’s breath caught in his throat. “Blaire, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
“You wondered if I’m okay,” she said, still not turning around.
“Yes. I feel like you’re about to drop a bomb on me and I’ve already had the day from hell.”
“Oh, I’m going to drop a bomb, all right.” As practiced as a pole dancer, she turned to face him, letting her garment fall from her shoulders. “Ka-boom!”
Clad in the sexiest blue lingerie he’d ever seen; she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“Oh, you wicked little witch,” he said, his cock already twitching in his trousers.
“I didn’t think I could pull it off,” she said, a laugh escaping her throat. “I was dying while I stirred, trying hard not to laugh. Midget and Maxine are going to be pissed. I kenneled them in the backyard.”
“They’ll live. Come here,” Jackson said, stepping toward Blaire.
Right as his arms wrapped around her, his phone began playing Imagine Dragon’s Radioactive from the pocket of his coat. He ignored it, hooking her bra straps with his forefingers. Next, he urged the straps down her soft upper arms. His palms slid up, and he caressed her shoulders.
The silky smoothness of her skin stirred him into “ready to rock and roll” territory.
“You gave me quite a scare there,” he murmured into her ear as the phone ceased its singing.
“I’m sorry. I listened to dispatch on your spare radio all day. I knew you had a rough day, so I prepared to make it all better.” She began to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers found their way under the fabric, and she let her long nails trail seductively across his muscles.
He stroked her back and then kneaded her fine ass.
She undulated against his one hell of an erection that waited to be released from the confines of his jeans.
“Someone’s hard.” Stretching on her tiptoes, she kissed a trail along his neck, his collarbone, and his chest.
“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He hefted her in his arms and stepped toward the table where he gently set her on the polished surface. Dropping his head, his lips met hers in a scorching kiss.
God, she feels good. She knows just the right thing to do to make me forget about my day.
He slid his tongue into her mouth to glide against hers, and they vied for dominance of the kiss.
She moaned, the sound vibrating into him. Her hand reached for his pants and began to unzip him.
His phone interrupted them again.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered and pulled out his phone. “One sec, I’ve got to see whose pants are on fire besides mine.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, yanking down the zipper. She tugged his cock free and began to play.
He slid the connect button on. “O’Halloran here,” he snapped.
“Hey.” The word emerged like a long, breathy slur.
“Hey, what? Who is this?”
“Come on, Jackson. It’s me. Your bro.”
Jake. His jaw solidified into a granite block.
Blaire stroked his cock, momentarily teasing him out of his sudden mood shift. He looked at her and grinned.
“You’re wicked,” he mouthed.
She laughed.
“Can you spot me a few? I’m a little short for rent, bro,” Jake said.
Jackson rocked into Blaire’s hand, barely hearing his brother.
“Are you there?” Jake said. “Jackson? I’m short for rent.”
“Fuck,” Jackson said, dragging his attention away from Blaire. “You’re high is what you are.”
Blaire’s lips formed a thin gash indicating her disapproval. She tugged up her bra straps.
“One sec,” Jackson mouthed to her, holding up his finger.
“I’ll pay you back in a week, I promise,” Jake said, sounding ten-thousand miles away in some distant dimension.
“Yeah, you said that last time and the time before that, and the time before that, Jake. We’re a little tight this month.” Jackson raked his free hand along his face. “Where were you today?”
“What?”
“What I said. Where were you?”
“Why do you need to know?” Jake said, his voice taking on a jittery tone.
“I just do. Two kids are dead today from a fire.” Jackson’s teeth ground together.
“Why the fuck do you think I had anything to do with it?” Jake said, a little too defensively.
“Where were you today?”
“Hanging with friends, I don’t know.”
“Was one of the friends Jovantay Macavelli?”
A heartbeat of a pause met his ears before Jake said, “No. I said I was with friends, all right? Macavelli and I don’t hang out.”
Jackson wanted to reach through the phone and strangle his brother. He’s lying.
Blaire scooted from the table and stepped around him.
He reached for her shoulder.
She wriggled away.
“Look, I’ve got to go,” he said, and then disconnected the mobile phone. He set it to silent and turned to Blaire. “Now, where were we?”
“I can’t remember. Total buzzkill alert, Jackson.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her.
She shrugged free of his embrace. “Stop. I’m so over your mooching brother and his constant cycle of drama I can hardly stand it.”
“I said ‘we’re tight right now,’ didn’t I?” Jackson felt like the ground underneath his feet dissolved into quicksand.
“It doesn’t matter what you say. I’m sure in his mind, Jake thinks he’s going to get the money.” Her hands went to her hips. “Look. I know he’s your brother, but he’s a leech, a loser, and an addict. He can’t be trusted. Our finances have taken a hit because of him, and it doesn’t sound like it’s getting better. I’m done sucking up to Jake.”
She flung her hand over her head.
“Okay, I’ll stop giving him money, I promise.”
Blaire shook her head. “Not good enough.” She tied the sash at her waist, cinching her flowy garment around her luscious skin, trapping it out of reach from his eager hands. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry.”
He began to sink into the quicksand.
“Baby, please. I promise to stop giving him money.”
She pulled her lips between her teeth before speaking. “No. I’m done.”
His heart stopped and started like a faulty engine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, find a solution to Jake or else.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Or else what?” He blinked rapidly like a complete moron.
“I can’t take your waffling anymore. I’m sorry. Your refusal to set boundaries with your brother is a real problem. It’s affecting you; I know it. And it’s affecting our relationship.” Her head dropped, and she stared at the floor. “Besides,” she said, lifting her head and directing a pointed glare at him. “You know he stole my grandma’s heirloom brooch. That was precious to me.”
“Fuck. This again? I thought we’d resolved that topic.” Jackson’s anger stabbed him in the chest like a guilt-tipped arrow.
Jake had stopped by a couple of months ago, asking for rent. When Jackson had said, “no,” he’d become quiet. Then, he asked to use the bathroom, and he’d taken his sweet time about coming back to the front room.
Blaire said she’d never seen her beloved brooch after that.
Jackson still couldn’t believe his brother would stoop so low.
“Apparently, it’s still an issue,” Blaire said. “In that my grandma’s brooch hasn’t been found and I’m convinced Jake took it.” She fixed her jaw in a rigid block.
“Okay, I get it.” Jackson stepped away from Blaire.
The quicksand had nearly swallowed him at this point. He knew Blaire was right. He had to set some boundaries. But he and Jake had raised one another in their messed-up childhood, and old habits die hard.
“We can work this out,” he said. “I can change.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. “Good. Because I don’t think I can live this way anymore with your brother standing between us.”
With that declaration, this day swiftly became one of the worst days of his entire life. Jackson could face fires and save lives, but he couldn’t set a solid boundary with his brother. And, unless he set some walls, his relationship, his career—all of it could be in jeopardy.