How to Seduce a Fireman

Book One in the Wild Heat Series

VONNIE DAVIS

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

Copyright © Vonnie Davis 2014

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Vonnie Davis asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

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available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © October 2014

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To all the fire personnel who keep our homes and our lives safe and to their loved ones who worry about their safety on a daily basis. Thank you.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Coming Soon From Vonnie Davis…

Coming Soon From Vonnie Davis…

Also by Vonnie Davis…

Vonnie Davis

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Quinn Gallagher was dead meat.

Cassie Wolford marched to the side door of Fire and Marine Rescue Unit Thirty-two in Clearwater, Florida. She swiped the entry pass she’d purloined a year or so ago from her oldest brother and yanked the handle when the light in the security lock turned green. Propping her hip against the door, she maneuvered the large box containing the remainder of her birthday cake through the doorway. Quinn better have a damn good excuse for being a no-show at my party last night.

She’d asked him twice if he was coming and, both times, he’d used that wicked smile on her before claiming he wouldn’t miss her twenty-first birthday for the world. So unless he was inside hobbling on crutches with two broken legs or wore a body cast from face to feet, he was about to get his jaw jacked. I don’t care if he does have a body built for sin and I want to be his number one sinner.

With both of her brothers serving as firemen in this top-notch unit, Cassie knew her way around the building. She crossed the threshold into the firemen’s living quarters, slapped the cake on the large dining room table and pivoted toward conversation floating in from the TV area amid the battle sounds of a warrior game on Wii.

Masculine laughter, deep and sensual, slithered straight to her core before spreading out to spark all her nerve endings. Quinn Gallagher did that to her, no matter if it was his laughter, his voice, or his eyes that fluctuated between blue and grey. Why Quinn? Why not a guy who is as crazy for me as I am for him? But no, I have to fall hard for Mr. I-Could-Give-a-Shit.

One quick glance in his direction, and she sucked air. Quinn, in his typically jovial manner, was recanting a story to her youngest brother, Jace, and a new fireman she’d yet to meet. All Quinn wore was a white towel slung low around his narrow hips.

Water drops lazily forged a trail down his tanned and toned body. Moisture dripped from his freshly shampooed dark hair, trailed over his perpetual five-o’clock shadow and plopped onto his collarbone, splatted onto his hardened pecs and washboard stomach, before skiing the hills and valleys over every ridge of his abs. Oh, to be a droplet of water.

Even though they’d jogged together often under the hot Florida sun, seeing his tribal tattoo over his broad shoulder, left pec and upper arm still made her fingers itch to touch and fondle, especially that strange indentation between swirls of ink that decorated his shoulder blade.

He was such a perfect specimen of male hotness with those magnetic eyes and firm lips that smiled easily and often, creasing his cheeks with deep dimples. Cassie wanted him so badly, she ached. Yet he treated her more like a little sister or a family friend. She scowled. Hell, why not spray-paint some black spots on me? Let him scratch behind my ears like he does the firehouse Dalmatian.

The new guy spied her first. “Hey, how’d you get in here?”

Jace’s head whipped in her direction. “Looks like my sister overrode the security system—again. Somehow she’s been doing it for years.” Jace strode toward Cassie and wrapped his arm around her shoulder before kissing her hair. “Boyd, meet my baby sister, Cassie. Sis, this is the newest pair of boots in our unit, Boyd Calloway.”

She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Boyd. Since I turned twenty-one yesterday, I now decree I’m to be classified as Jace’s youngest sister.” Her brother smirked when she elbowed him. “I’m serious, Jace, I won’t put up with being called the baby anymore.” She patted the cake box. “There was so much cake left from last night’s party, I brought it by for the guys. Not everyone who promised to come showed up.” She aimed a glare at Quinn.

“Hell, peanut, was that last night?” He shook his head, flinging droplets in every direction.

Did she mean so damn little? She’d had such high hopes for last night. She’d dreamed of a birthday kiss from him, and not one of those baby ones on the nose or forehead, either. A lip to lip, tongue to tongue, make-her-insides-quiver adult kiss. Tears threatened and she fought to blink them away. She would not cry in front of him. “You know damn well it was.”

“Hey, when a sexy woman shows up on a man’s doorstep with a bottle of tequila and a proposition, he’s prone to forget what day it is.” Quinn flashed her a cocky grin that flayed the edges of her heart.

The rest of the guys in the unit cheered in affirmation.

Jace’s arm tightened around her shoulder, his lips next to her ear. “Don’t let him get to you, sis. You know how he is.”

Yeah, she knew. Quinn was a player. She wasn’t; she’d crushed exclusively on him for three years, waiting for the jerk to notice her. What a fool she’d been to think once she turned twenty-one, he’d accept her as an equal, as a woman old enough to date. The man moved from woman to woman like she moved from one shade of fingernail polish to another. Just how was she to get him out of her system? Maybe she needed to play a little herself. Wasn’t that what tonight was about?

She breathed a kiss on Jace’s cheek. “Gotta go. Sara and Misty are waiting in the car. We’re going to Iguana Ike’s. Have some beers. Party a little.” She wiggled her hips. “Dance a lot. Girls’ night out.”

Quinn dared to take a couple steps toward her, his eyes narrowed. Gone was his previous fun-loving insolence. In its place was macho authority. “You’re going out, dressed like that?”

Geesh! Talk about mood shuffling.

Jace grabbed the cake box and headed toward the kitchen. “Boyd, let’s get some coffee to go with the cake. We’ll get the hell out of the way, and let kerosene and a match deal with their inevitable explosion in private.”

Boyd glanced from her to Quinn before following Jace. “What makes you think there’s going to be an explosion?”

“I know my ba…ah…youngest sister. Two things we don’t do with Cassie. One is tell her how to wear her hair. She’s a beautician and a damn good one. Second, we don’t tell her what to wear. Grab some plates, will ya?”

Cassie fisted her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? This is the outfit Wolf and Becca gave me for my birthday.”

Quinn reached to yank the off-the-shoulder sleeve to cover her shoulder. “I’m betting Becca picked this out for you. ʼCause I know damn well that protective older brother of yours would never allow you out in a black sweater that reveals more than it covers.” He propped his hands over the V of his sculptured abdomen and leaned in. “You go into a meat market like Iguana Ike’s with all that cleavage hanging out and you’ll have sharks circling for the kill.”

She pointedly glanced at her siren red fingernail polish with black swirls. “Not that it’s any of your business, but perhaps that’s exactly what I want. Sharks.” Maybe the player needed a dose of his own medicine.

His eyes narrowed for a beat and a muscle ticked in his square jaw. “Don’t play with me, Cassie. It’s been a helluva day, and I’m not in the mood. We just got back from a marine rescue off Sand Key Park and it didn’t go well. Wolf and Barclay weren’t able to save a teen. Booze and scuba-diving never mix.”

“Oh no! How’s Wolf taking it? He gets so upset when he can’t save someone. Taking care of everyone else is his thing. It’s what keeps him going.” He’d certainly taken care of her over the years and had gotten her to face some painful issues.

Quinn pointed toward the hallway. “The Wolf’s in a mood, that’s for sure. Been banging equipment around. He’s in the showers now. I’d love to see what his opinion is of your outfit. Hell, that red leather skirt barely covers the essentials.”

“Aw, hell. Here we go. Cassie in a snit is not a pretty sight.” Jace’s remark drifted in from the kitchen.

“I don’t dress to please my brother. Nor will I ever dress to please the likes of a man who can’t live up to his promises.” She slid the black sweater off her shoulder and down her arm the way she’d worn it earlier. Then she presented Quinn with a defiant glare. “Now that we have that clear, you, Mr. Romeo, can go to hell. I hope the woman who was more important to you than my birthday party gave you a good dose of the clap.”

Several fireman hooted and hollered at her snide remark. As usual, the place was wall-to-wall with male ears.

She snatched her purse from the table and took two steps before Quinn’s hand vised around her wrist and jerked her against his chest. She was nearly lipstick to pierced brown nipple with his very fine pecs. God, I’d like to bite one out of sheer spite.

“Watch your mouth, peanut—”

“Stop calling me ‘peanut’. I’m an adult now.” She heaved a sigh. Which would negate my biting his nipple, wouldn’t it?

Quinn’s gaze swept over her face for a second, his jaw clenched in annoyance. “All right, since you’re an adult, you ought to be able to handle this. I’m tired of you panting after me. I’m not interested. I mean, I love you like a sister and I’d do anything for you. Hell, we jog together often. Scuba-dive. Catch a movie now and then. But we do it all as friends. Nothing more.” He exhaled a long sigh and shook his head once. “Dating is out of the question. I want you to stop drooling over me as if I’m husband material.”

Oh, dear God. Are my desires that apparent?

He couldn’t have said such a hurtful thing. Not her Quinn. Her chest constricted, forcing her stomach to do a free fall to her stilettos. The block walls of the building warped inward for a few seconds and the tile floor tilted. A buzzing filled her ears and her breathing all but ceased in lungs clutched by pain.

Dear God, no.

Since the news of her parents’ death no one’s words had wounded her so deeply. Evidently she hadn’t hid her fascination with him as well as she’d hoped. Not only was Quinn well aware of her yearnings, but he resented them. So much so he felt the need to announce in front of everyone that he held zero desire for her.

He feels no attraction for me.

Happiness limped from her soul on a ragged sigh. Through her veil of tears, Wolf stood, hands on hips, like a storm cloud ready to erupt. Beside him were Jace and several firemen. She’d embarrassed her brothers, too. Had her behavior been so obvious, so humorous to everyone? What an idiot I am.

“I…I’m sorry.” She fought to keep her voice steady. God, please don’t let me cry in front of these men.

“Cassie, baby.” Wolf advanced, concern evident in his features. He’d resigned his commission in the SEALs to come home to care for her and her older sisters after their parents died. He’d pulled her through many rough days and nights. No one could pull her through this, though. It was time for her to face the cold hard bitchin’ truth: Quinn wanted her to leave him alone.

She stepped back and extended a hand in a stop gesture. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in everyone’s ass.” Reaching into the outer pocket of her purse, she grasped Wolf’s key card. “Here.” She extended it to him. “I won’t need this anymore.”

Wolf shook his head. “Keep it. I’ve known you had it all along. The Captain knows too. I want you to go to Becca’s tonight.”

Yes, her oldest brother would send her to the safety of his fiancée’s care. Everyone wanted to tell her where to go, who to be with, who to love…or not love. Would they ever accept the fact she was able to take care of herself? Perhaps she needed to prove she could. Hell, she was no weakling. All she needed was some time to adjust to a life without dreaming about Quinn and then move on. Eight or nine years ought to do it.

She tossed the entry card onto the table and strode out of the fire station for the last time. I’m a grown woman. I can do this. The hell with Quinn Gallagher.

CHAPTER TWO

Quinn’s eyes adjusted to the contrasting interior of Iguana Ike’s. Lights embedded in the edge of the teak bar, along with those strung around the shelves stocked with liquor bottles, twinkled in an annoying rhythm, while dimness hugged the tables and booths. Strobe lights, programmed to flash in time with the music, caused his headache to pound along with the song’s bass beat thumping in his chest. His gaze drifted beyond the wall of glass to the large deck with soft lighting and palms shifting in the evening breeze. Why couldn’t Cassie and her friends have chosen a table out there where it was quieter?

Getting last minute personal time off from the station had proven difficult but, hell, not as tough as prying Wolf’s hands from around his throat. Quinn rotated his neck and swallowed, the discomfort a reminder of performing the unpardonable sin—hurting Wolf’s baby sister.

Truth be told, Quinn wasn’t so fucking proud of his behavior either. Seeing the pain in Cassie’s almond-shaped eyes and watching the light go out of those green orbs had nearly done him in. But what choice did he have? She cared for him, that much was obvious and had been since shortly after she’d turned eighteen. He couldn’t allow her starry-eyed dreams to continue, not where he was concerned. Not when he had cast iron running through his veins. Loving was not in his emotional repertoire. Not anymore. Not since Renata.

If he were a different man, Cassie, the pretty brunette with the heart-shaped face and bright green cat eyes, would be his singular focus. But he wasn’t a different man. He was tainted goods with a damaged heart, a thorny background and a cold outlook on life and love.

Even so, here he sat, trying to work up the courage to approach Cassie and apologize. No doubt she’d refuse his request. Not that he could blame the entertaining blend of kitten and tiger. He’d been damn harsh. He twisted the lime over his bottle of Corona, popped the wedge of fruit into his mouth and chewed.

A blonde, with more cleavage showing than she had covered, shifted onto the empty bar stool next to him. Her overdose of perfume nearly closed his sinuses. “Hi, Quinn. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

He looked at her face, so artificially tanned it was almost leathery in appearance. Damn, he hadn’t been drunk enough to get close to that, had he? “Sorry, but I don’t recall the name. Have we met?”

Some of the brightness went out of her smile. “Brittany Cook. We dated a couple times last fall.”

“Right. Brittany. I’m sorry. Part of my memory’s gone. I don’t recall women’s names like I used to.” He pointed to his head. “Had a timber fall on me during a fire. Hell, I can’t even recall how to make love to a woman anymore. I’ve had to go on the ‘no sex’ wagon for a while. You know, until I get my game back.”

She gave him a scathing once-over, huffed an irritated you’re-an-asshole breath and sauntered off. No loss there.

Quinn spun the stool around and propped his elbows and back against the bar, his Corona in hand. One sip and his stomach returned a hell-no message. Last night he’d consumed an entire bottle of tequila—alone. There’d been no woman, just his worry about giving Cassie the obligatory birthday kiss and the concern that one touch of those plump pink lips wouldn’t be enough. Not that he led a celibate life, far from it. Lately, though, few women captured his attention the way vivacious Cassie did. He groaned and slapped the bottle onto the bar, his gaze zeroing in on the pretty brunette, with that go-to-hell streak of dyed red hair bisecting her dark tresses. By far, she outshone any other female on the dance floor.

When had Cassie matured into such a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places? The first time Quinn had set eyes on her was at her eighteenth birthday party. Wolf had conned him into manning the grill so he could visit with his guests, but Quinn’s gaze kept drifting toward little Cassie. She’d been like a bubbly cheerleader on steroids. Animated. A Pollyanna full of joy. Young with so much promise. Even then, he’d known he was a distant barren planet orbiting the sunny warmth of her personality. God, she was perfection, had always been so in his eyes and heart—pure magnetic perfection.

Now she was twenty-one, just as vibrant and as much fun to be around. Her friends, Sara and Misty, were laughing, trying to keep up. Cassie danced with her arms over her head, gyrating with the fast beat of the music, her red leather skirt hugging that fine ass of hers like he had in his last wet dream.

He brought the Corona to his lips to cool his parched throat. God, she’s gorgeous. To his annoyance, his cock twitched in agreement. The fact his cock paid more attention to Cassie of late was the driving force behind his earlier behavior. He could not use her for a brief fling, not his sweet angel. She deserved more, and he had less than more to give.

If he were honest with himself, which was a bad habit in his opinion, he’d admit how deeply his emotions ran for Cassie. They spent a lot of time together. Whenever anyone questioned or teased him if he was “tapping that”, he gave his typical response that he and the kid simply enjoyed doing the same things. His old “we’re just close friends” reply wasn’t going to work much longer, especially after watching her move that lithe body of hers and wanting to run his hands over every delectable inch.

He’d expected to find his jogging companion in tears, near desolation, not out on the dance floor having a helluva good time. His male ego was taking a bit of a beating. Was he so easily forgotten? Still, on closer observation, her cheeks were flushed. Even from across the dance floor, with that damn strobe light blinking on and off, her eyes held wildness. When the waitress taking care of Cassie’s table came to the bar with her next order, Quinn motioned her over. “What are the girls drinking tonight?” He jerked his chin toward Cassie and her friends.

“Two of them are drinking strawberry daiquiris. The other one, the one who’s been crying, is doing tequila shots.”

“Shots? Cassie doesn’t drink shots. A beer now and then.” He glanced toward the dance floor again. Cassie stumbled and Misty caught her. “Cut her off. Now.” Hell, with her dressed like that, tossing back shots and pissed at him, this could turn into a cluster-fuck in a hurry. Her sweetness was rarely marred by her temper, but when it was, she was a pistol to handle.

The waitress leaned back and studied him. “You the asshole who broke her heart?”

“Me?” He feigned innocence. If there was one thing he could do well, beyond fighting fires and saving lives, it was acting. In fact, his whole life had become a three-act play—both tragedy and comedy. “What makes you think that?”

“She’s been talking about some blue-eyed heartbreaker, and you fit the bill. Whoever tore her soul to hell and back ought to be hung up by the short hairs. She seems like a nice kid.” The chatty waitress filled her tray with the order the bartender set in front of her. “She’s thinking of leaving town.” Having dropped that effing bomb, she took off.

Christ. Cassie leave Clearwater because of him? This was where her family lived. Where she grew up. Where her clientele resided. Loneliness crept in and wrapped its cold, gnarly hands around his gut and squeezed. She’d been part of his world for three years. The sunshine of his existence. What would his life be like without her in it?

A group of guys moved in, surrounding Cassie and her friends on the dance floor, their playful intent obvious.

Quinn took a long swig of beer. The horny bastards merited watching.

The blond guy with hair past his shoulders stepped behind Cassie and grabbed her hips, rubbing his groin against her ass. She flashed the sumbitch a smile over her shoulder, and Quinn’s gut clenched.

His fingers coiled tighter around the bottle. Hadn’t he so much as told her to move on? Still, he hadn’t expected her to get drunk and allow the first asshole that came down the pike to put his damn hands all over her.

The music stopped and Cassie sauntered toward a table with her friends. A slow tune started and blond guy grabbed her arm, pulling her into an embrace. His grimy hands slid down her back to cup her ass.

Someone turned off the strobe lights during the bump and grind music, which gave Quinn a clearer view of the dance floor and blond guy’s touchy-feeling dance style. Evidently, holding a conversation while dancing was out. Asshole was practically chewing on Cassie’s neck.

Possessiveness rolled and burned in Quinn’s gut. No one had the right to touch his angel like that, dammit. Not that she was exclusively his. She was the angel in her family and at the fire station, too, if his co-workers’ anger at him after he’d blown her off was any indication.

God, his feelings for her jumbled his emotions and created havoc with his mind more and more every damn day. Breaking things off with her before they started had been wise. It was his method that sucked raw eggs. That’s why he was here, to explain…what? Why? Hell, he could never explain why.

He expelled a curse and jammed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Spinning on the barstool toward the bartender, Quinn slapped a bill on the bar. “Shot of Jim Beam and a beer chaser.”

Goddammit, some motherfucker had his hands on Cassie’s ass! Wildness burned so hot in him it nearly seared all rational thought—except for murder. Hell, murder was rational, wasn’t it?

Shot glass in hand, his gaze ricocheted back to Cassie. She reached behind her to ply the man’s hands off her bottom and place them higher on her back. Good girl. Words were exchanged. Blond guy acquiesced. Evidently he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Quinn tossed back the shot, hissed a breath through his teeth and ignored his stomach’s protest.

If he didn’t soon make his move, blond guy would have her out the door and on the way to who knows where. He downed a few swallows of beer and stood. As Grandpa Hudson was prone to say, “Eating crow never comes easy.”

By the time Quinn shouldered his way through the crowd on the dance floor, blond guy had his hands on Cassie’s ass again. Quinn slowly circled the couple. Her dance partner was too busy getting his rocks off by rubbing up against her to take notice. Cassie, on the other hand, caught sight of him and her eyes widened. Her mouth silently formed his name. She knew his work schedule at the fire and rescue station. Seeing him here must have really shocked her.

So, what was it to be? Option A? Act like a gentleman and tap blond guy on his shoulder, asking to cut in? Or option B? Belt the bastard in the jaw?

Possessiveness could be a volatile bastard, uncontrollable as hell and prone to rear its head at the worst times. The thought of tossing Cassie over his shoulder and carrying her to his Wrangler appealed, which totally went against what he’d told her back at the station.

The band announced they were taking a break and the ensuing silence birthed another option. One Quinn liked even better. Option C for crazy. “There you are, Dominatrix Cassie.” He took her hand, bowed over it and kissed her knuckles with feigned reverence.

She jerked her hand to her chest and narrowed her cat eyes. “What are you doing here? Why are you speaking to me now?”

“Is this the submissive you’ve chosen for our ménage à trois tonight?”

Blond guy’s eyes lit up. “A ménage? Hell, yeah!” His head bobbed, teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness.

Oh, this was going to be fun. Quinn extended his hand to the man. “Hi, name’s Georgio, but most guys just call me Donkey, ʼcause of the size of my dong.” He grabbed his crotch. “Not to worry, though. I’ll lube you up good first. Your name is?”

The kid’s smile dimmed and he shuffled his feet. “Ah…Dustin.” His gaze flicked from Quinn to Cassie. “Look, I’m not sure what all’s going on here. Maybe you better fill me in.”

“Georgio?” Cassie’s eyebrows rose, folding her forehead, and her hands went to her hips. “Georgio? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about those release papers. Did you have Dustin sign them? We don’t want another lawsuit.” Quinn looked at the blond guy who shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll handle this, Dustin.” Once again, Quinn captured both of her hands in his and bowed over them. “Dominatrix, at the risk of angering you, need I remind you what you did to Pepe, the last guy you chose for our threesome?”

Her jaw was agape. “The last guy?”

Quinn shook his head once and tsked a couple times. He clasped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. God this kid smelled like the make-up counter at Macy’s. “You see, Dominatrix Cassie is enamored of hot wax play. After Pepe got naked and stretched out on his stomach, she shoved the unlit end of a candle in big Pepe’s ass and lit the wick. While waiting for the wax to melt, she cranked the torture rack—”

Dustin’s eyeballs bulged. “Torture rack?”

He nodded. “After she clamps restraints on the man’s ankles and wrists, she cranks his legs and arms out until he screams. If they aren’t loud enough, she cranks a little more. Truthfully, she likes it when their shackled hands and feet meet.”

“Fuck.” Dustin wrapped his arms around his chest, pushed his knees together and scowled at Cassie.

“Liar! I would never hurt anyone like that.” She kicked Quinn’s shin. “Don’t piss me off, bucko. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.”

He fought the urge to laugh. She could be damn comical when she was pissed. “Thank you, Mistress Cassie. I do love it when you discipline me.” He winked. “You know how it turns me on.” He faced Dustin again. “Back to my story about Pepe. She’d crawled beneath the torture rack so she could force the man’s cock and balls into a cage.”

“Cage?” Dustin squeaked, his head whipped toward her and he stepped back.

Quinn nodded. “A little one, wired for electrical shocks.” His open hands mimicked the size of a coffee mug. “Poor Pepe was screaming, first in English and then in Spanish. Or was it Portuguese? Mistress Cassie thought they were shrieks of ecstasy.” He shrugged and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “How was she to know Pepe had farted and shot the candle from his ass onto his back, setting his hair on fire.” He shook his head again. “Pepe was a hairy bastard. The poor sumbitch went up like a roman candle.”

Dustin gasped. “Holy hell.”

Cassie jerked the bill of Quinn’s ball cap. “Listen you lying idiot. I’m so mad at you right now, I could ram your balls into a cage. Although I’d need a bigger one than you claim I used on Pepe.” She pointed to his crotch. “See his jeans, Dustin? They look like his crotch has the mumps.”

Dustin forked his fingers in his hair. “You’re a crazy woman.” He pivoted toward Quinn. “Tell me, what happened to the dude, Pepe? Did he…did he live?”

“Oh, he’s fine, even with second-degree burns. I was there to put out the fire.” He aimed a grin at Cassie. “I’ve got a fair amount of experience at that.”

Dustin pointed at Cassie. “You are one sick bitch.” He scurried back to his friends.

Cassie whirled on Quinn. “What the hell was that about?”

He grabbed her elbow and marched her toward her table. “That was me clearing out the shark tank. Get your purse. You’re coming with me.” Now that his comedy routine was over, his anger returned with a vengeance. Little Miss Cassie was in for one hellacious lecture before he apologized for what he’d said at the fire station and took her home.

“Like hell!” Her plump lower lip stuck out, and she reached for her drink.

He snatched the glass from her hand and slammed it back on the table. “You don’t want to push me right now. Not with all the anger I’ve got rolling around in my gut. What were you thinking to let a strange guy put his hands on your ass?” He glanced at her two friends sitting at the table, both of whom were wide-eyed, having just sucked air over his words. “Which one of you three is the designated driver tonight? And don’t you dare tell me it was supposed to be her.” He jerked his head toward Cassie.

Sara meekly raised her hand. “I am.” She slid her cocktail in front of Misty. The three young women had shared an apartment for over a year. Quinn would sooner Cassie still lived with Wolf, but he understood her need to exert some independence. He’d just wished her roommates exerted a more mature attitude. Hell, if he had his way, her roomies would be a passel of nuns, especially after Cassie’s behavior tonight.

“I’ll see that she gets home safely, ladies.” Anger, scalding hot, seared part of his brain even as he snatched Cassie’s wrap and purse from Sara’s outstretched hands. He couldn’t get beyond the vision of another man touching Cassie. He shook her arm and marched her toward the door. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t paddle that fine ass of yours once I get you out to my Jeep.”

She aimed a finely waxed dark eyebrow at him, her heart-shaped face pulling at the possessiveness in his soul. “You don’t have the balls.”

CHAPTER THREE

Quinn shoved open the door and Cassie’s feet tangled as he jerked her through it, the fresh air a welcome relief on her skin after the stuffiness inside the bar.

“I want you to take a few deep breaths to help clear that booze buzz you’ve got goin’ on.” His familiar woodsy cologne overtook her senses when he hauled her against his hard chest and leaned to whisper in her ear. “ʼCause you just made the foolish mistake of telling me I don’t have the balls to do something. Little girl, you have no idea what I’ve done in the past, or what I’m capable of doing in the future.”

In the moonlight, augmented by the parking lot security lights, his eyes glittered an odd mixture of blue-grey beneath the bill of his black ball cap. His proclamation triggered an unlikely concoction of fright and craving that poured through her system like hot chocolate on peanut butter ice cream. The desire to lean into him and curl her fingers into his faded Harvard t-shirt was so keen she had to fight to resist.

“Why are you so angry with me?” In the three years she’d known him, he’d never revealed this aspect of his personality. “And don’t call me little girl.”

His hands settled at her waist. “Turning twenty-one doesn’t automatically make you an adult.”

“Yeah, well, bragging about your conquests doesn’t exactly make you a good lover either.” She was tired of hearing about the females in his life, knowing he’d never give her ten minutes of his time, much less a corner of his heart. Which, of course, was the problem. She wanted his whole womanizing heart, not just a jagged edge. She didn’t care how many women he’d had before her; she just wanted to be his last. Yeah, fat chance, Cassie. Wise up.

He wound his fingers around her upper arm and steered her toward his Wrangler. “You allowed a man to put his hands on you.”

If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn he’d spoken through clenched teeth as if he were pissed. But why? “We were slow dancing. People touch when they slow dance, or haven’t you noticed?” Earlier, on the dance floor, Quinn had deliberately circled her and Dustin twice, glaring as if he could kill, as if he were… Joy blossomed and warmed her soul. “Wait, are you jealous that someone had their hands on me?”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped. “Jealous? Me? Peanut, don’t go reading more into this than a good friend merely covering your back. You’re grasping at straws.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe some overconfident man needed his buttons pushed. “I’m glad, because I do need to move on. Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean another man won’t feel differently if I give him half a chance.”

He stopped for an instant before his hold on her tightened and he marched her forward.

“Dustin gave me his cell number earlier. I’ll call him tomorrow and explain your wild story was just that, a wild story. Maybe I’ll have him over for some homemade lasagna.” If Quinn showed no qualms about her making his favorite dish for another man, then she’d have to face reality: the man she’d crushed on for years had no feelings for her.

“Lasagna?” Quinn backed her against his vehicle. “You’d make lasagna for him?”

“Well, yes. You’ve tasted my pot roast. It’s not always the best, but my lasagna—”

He grabbed her upper arms and shook her, his body practically vibrating with anger. “You make lasagna for no one, but me. Do you hear? Me.” As if the emotional force behind his words registered, a pained expression narrowed his eyes and pinched his lips. “Dammit, Cassie, you’re killing me here.” His head slowly inclined. “Killing me,” he groaned. “Surely,” he kissed one corner of her mouth. “Fucking,” he kissed the other side. “Killing me.” His lips made contact with hers and all the moisture in the upper half of her body dropped to the apex of her thighs.

Fingers that had dug into her arms seconds earlier now forked into her hair, holding her head while his lips molded and seduced hers, sipping, tasting, taunting.

Cassie backed farther into the metal of the Jeep as if she could absorb some of its steely strength because her legs were quickly turning to jelly. All these years, she’d jokingly called him hot lips, but she’d had no clue. Dear God in heaven. This is better than I ever dreamed.

His tongue brushed across the seam of her lips twice. “Open for me, angel.” His deep voice sent sensations up her spine like the stroke of a lover’s hand.

She did and his tongue swept in to lay claim, as if she hadn’t always been his. He tasted of beer and lime and sexual potency. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he stepped closer until their thighs touched, the heat from him nearly frying her brain cells.

His lips left hers and moved across her cheek to her jaw, where he kissed, bit and soothed with his tongue. Warm lips trailed down her neck, sucking, pulling moans from her throat. “When I saw you with that other guy, I nearly went insane. I wanted to get twenty kinds of possessive, no matter what I told you earlier. You’ve got me so freakin’ tied up in knots I can’t think straight. All I know is, at this moment, I want to mark you like some wild beast so no male will ever approach you again.”

“Yes, Quinn!”

As if her exclamation had carried a bucket of ice water, he broke contact and his hands lifted in a stop gesture. He stepped back and shook his head. “I did not say that.”

Her heart beat so fast, she could barely breathe. “Yes…yes, you did.” No way was she going to allow him to recant those words. She’d been waiting for three long years to hear them.

“This,” he motioned with two fingers from him to her and back again, “is not happening. I’m not…we’re not…” He spun and inhaled loudly as if to purge something from his body. “Fuck.”

She grabbed his arm and spun him around. Having two brothers, she knew how to get in a guy’s face. “Why not? Give me one good reason, because this running hot and cold thing you’re doing is driving me nuts.” She jabbed her index finger into his pecs. “One minute you tell me you’re not interested.” Her second finger-jab was harder and his dark eyebrows rose. “Then you show up here and kiss me senseless.” A firmer finger-jab made Quinn grunt. “The next minute you’re pushing me away again.” She curled her fingers into a fist and bumped his pecs—and God knew how she loved them. “You know what, Quinn Gallagher? I think, when it comes to me, you’re chicken shit.”

He grabbed her fist and wrenched her hand behind her. “Damn you, Cassie.” His other hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back. “Stop pushing me.” His handsome face morphed into a mask of dark scowls. “Can’t you get it through that pretty head I don’t want more than friendship from you?” He leaned his forehead against hers. “God sakes, don’t do this to me. To yourself. I adore you,” he exhaled a ragged breath, “but as a friend, a jogging buddy, someone to hang out with.” He stepped back. “Nothing more.”

She took in his tortured expression. Which one of them was in denial here? What the hell was his problem? Her arms wrapped around her waist as if to shield herself from any more emotional blows. She knew what her problem was. It was loving six-foot-three of finely corded muscle with zero capacity for deep emotion. “You can put away your spear now. You’ve wounded me twice in one evening with the truth according to Quinn Gallagher. I can’t take anymore. I’d ask what you’re doing here, why you aren’t at the station, but what the hell does it matter?”

He slid fingertips into the front pockets of his faded jeans, the muscles of his shoulders and arms shifting under the cotton material of his shirt. “I took some personal time. I need to apologize for the things I said to you. I hurt you and I’m sorry. It was all uncalled for.”

“Wolf made you come, didn’t he?” This had her brother’s imprint all over it. He’d been doting on her since the fire that took their parents’ lives. Tears burned the back of her throat and pricked her eyes. “So you took off work to ease tensions with your jogging partner. My feelings as a woman meant nothing.” She could play the guilt card with him. Hadn’t Misty told her to make him feel like an ass for hurting her? A car pulled into the parking lot, drawing her attention for a beat before she looked at his tense face again. No, playing emotional games was never her thing. “Look, it’s obvious I can’t hide the way I feel about you. Maybe it’s best if we stay away from each other.”

“Cassie.” There was a deep strain in his voice.

Twin tears spilled over and tumbled down her cheeks. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep me around for a buddy and then reject my feelings.” She tugged her cell from her purse and scrolled through her contacts. “I’m calling a taxi to take me home. Go on back to the station.” A hot bath, comfy sleep clothes, a quart of chocolate brownie ice cream and a few hours of crying and maybe…maybe she could make it through the night.

Quinn unlocked the door. “Get in. We’re not done talking. When we are, I’ll take you home.”

She couldn’t endure one more minute with him, not when she knew how he really felt about her.

“No. We’re done. Have a good life, Quinn.” She’d made two steps before his arm banded around her waist and lifted her.

“I said we’re not through talking, dammit. Now, get your sweet ass in my Jeep.” He plopped her on the seat and buckled her in. “If you want me out of your life, my friend, fine. But before I walk away, I have some things to teach you.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t have a damn thing to teach me. Although I am a little intrigued how you knew about hot wax play. Isn’t that some BDSM shit? Beyond that, we have nothing to discuss.”

He shrugged. “We watch the occasional movie at the station.”

She glared at Quinn, sauntering in front of his vehicle. So he enjoyed watching dirty movies. What guy didn’t? Was that what made him disinterested? Her innocence? She glared out the passenger window and swiped at a tear. Hell, the closest thing she knew to sex games was Spin the Bottle—and if that wasn’t damn pathetic, what was?

He settled behind the steering wheel and clicked his seatbelt. “How about a walk on the beach?”

“How about you telling me why I don’t do it for you?”

“Peanut.” His voice was almost a moan of remorse.

“Don’t you peanut me. Am I so ugly, so immature, so annoying?” She lifted her open hands in a helpless gesture. “What? I’m good enough to hang out with, to jog with, to go see a movie with, but not date. Why? You’ve already humiliated me today, so fess up. Tell me why the thought of our being a romantic couple makes you want to throw up.”

He started the engine and shoved the Jeep into reverse. “I never said that. You’re overreacting.”

She punched him. Once, twice, three times in the arm. “Overreacting? After all you’ve put me through today? You arrogant asshole.” She slapped his arm again and shifted in her seat so her back was toward him. Good god, what a day.

“Would you settle down?” He pulled onto route 60 and sped toward Clearwater Beach. Since he had the top off his Wrangler, the cool evening air blew over them. Cassie wrapped her black knit shawl tighter around her shoulders. Both were silent, the tension between them hanging thicker than early morning fog off the gulf. He hung a left onto South Gulfview Boulevard and zipped into the parking lot at Mossie’s Island Grill.

“You’re favorite place. Have you eaten, pea…Cassie?” He undid his seatbelt and shifted in his seat.

“Not hungry.”

“Well, I am. Come on. Let’s get something. You know you love Mossie’s food.”

I’ll never be able to come here again. How often have we come here together?

After placing an order to go, the two of them removed their shoes, locking them in the wheel hub along with her purse. Spending time with him alone on a darkened, deserted beach would have been a dream come true a day or so ago. Now, it was merely another nail hammered into the coffin of her dreams. How many ways could he tell her goodbye?

He removed a blanket from the back of the Jeep and passed it to her before he shrugged into a jean jacket he discovered jammed under some tools. She followed him toward the beach while he carried the bag of food and a six-pack. Gone was their usual jovial rapport. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and she wished she were home where she could fall apart in solitude.

“How’s your soft crab sandwich?” Quinn shoved a curly fry into his mouth.

Is that what she was eating? Her taste buds were suffering from a broken heart, too, if such a pitiful thing were possible. “It’s okay.” She drained her second beer and reached for a third.

His warm hand covered hers. “Go easy on that stuff.”

She popped the top and guzzled, not because she was thirsty, but because she was through taking orders from anyone.

Quinn crumpled the empty French fry bag and shoved it into their take-out tote. His arms angled over his raised knees. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but you need someone to teach you a few things.”

The can of Coors stilled near her lips. “Oh, really? I suppose you are the fountain of feminine knowledge.” She finished off the beer. Between the greasy fries and three beers, her stomach had expanded to the size of Eagle Lake.

“I know enough not to take a drink of anything I’ve walked away from to use the restroom or dance. Someone could easily slip in a date rape drug. Remember that.”

She nodded and belched. “Got it. Quinn is afraid of being raped.”

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her down on the blanket. “You think this is funny?” His breath skimmed her face. “If you’re not more aware of your surroundings, one day you’re going to wake up in a strange place, naked, sore and bleeding from the rectum. You won’t know who or how many men have had you…or in what ways.”

How dare he? “I’m not that kind of person.” Her stomach rolled in time with the waves.

He tossed his hat aside and his eyes widened in the moonlight. “Are you that naïve? The drug will render you powerless. Read up on it. You dress in scanty I’m-yours-for-the-taking clothes and sashay into a bar? No wonder guys come flocking over. Hell, you’re a damn attractive woman, Cassie.”

“Just not attractive enough for you.”

“Don’t you get it? Our problem isn’t with you. It’s with me.”

She pushed him aside and sat. The shoreline seemed to tilt for a few seconds. She glanced at Quinn over her shoulder. “Are you gay?”

“Hell no, I’m not gay.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, little one. I’m not falling for that challenge.”

“And I’m not begging anymore. I’m through.” Her pride could only take so much trampling. She stood and bent to gather their trash. It took three tries to grab an empty beer can. Damn thing kept moving. “Take me home, Quinn. My ego can’t survive another beating.”

He stood and reached for her. “Peanut.”

“I’m finished. I love you, but I have to love myself more.” She hurried to one of the nearby beach trash receptacles and tossed everything away, including her hopes and dreams. Quinn wasn’t far behind as she trudged through the sand toward his Wrangler. She’d lost everything.

First her parents. Then, not long ago, her beauty shop had burned to the ground a mere ten days after the grand opening. Until renovations were complete in the little strip mall where her business once stood, she was working part-time at a national chain of salons in a larger, more modern shopping mall. Now, Quinn had made it all too clear they could never have a romantic relationship. She’d made such a fool of herself, mooning over him at the station, she couldn’t step foot in there again.

The world spun for a few seconds, and she wrapped her arms around the trunk of a palm tree to keep from sliding off the planet. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and neck. She swallowed convulsively.

“Cassie?” Quinn’s hands were at her waist. “What’s wrong?”

She leaned over and vomited until everything she’d eaten and drank in the last day, or maybe the past week, was purged from her stomach. Quinn scooped her into his arms and ran with her to his Wrangler.

CHAPTER FOUR

Quinn thumbed Wolf’s number on his cell. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Watching a flick with the guys. Did you find my sister?”

“I’ve got her in the Jeep with me. She got sick and passed out. You want to call Becca and tell her I’m on my way with Cassie?”

“What did you do? Get her drunk?”

Quinn snorted. “Hell, she did that her damn self.” He ended the call before Wolf could fire off more questions.

The lights were on at Becca’s townhouse and the front door hung open. Einstein, her German shepherd, barked from the yard where she walked him. Quinn crouched, bracing himself. “Hey, buddy!” Einstein barreled toward him, his large paws making contact with Quinn’s shoulders and pushing him against the front tire of his vehicle. A wet tongue slurped across his face. “Yeah, I like you, too.” He stood and the dog sat at his feet, panting.

“Is she still asleep?” Becca leaned to capture Einstein’s leash.

“I think it’s more a matter of being passed out than asleep. She was doing shots. Then we ate some greasy food at Mossie’s and she guzzled a few beers.”

Becca’s lips pursed and she forked her fingers in her red hair. “Wolf’s going to give her such a lecture. You know how protective he is where his family’s concerned.”

Boy, did he ever. His neck still throbbed at times. “I’ll run interference on that as best I can.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping form slumped in the passenger seat. The street light in front of his vehicle created a yellow glare over Cassie’s pretty face. “I said a lot of things to hurt her.”

Wolf’s fiancée stepped toward him. “Why? Why do you hold her at arm’s length when it’s obvious you care for her?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t.” Maybe if he told this damn lie enough he’d start to believe it himself. “Hell, Becca, she’s just a friend. We hang out. Nothing more.”

Einstein whined and Becca bent to scratch his neck. “Who was she?” The redhead straightened and stared him straight in the eyes. “Who was the woman in your past who hurt you so badly you’re afraid to care again, to love again?” Her head tilted to the side as if waiting for a name, an explanation. “Because I’m not buying the load of bull you’re trying to shovel on everyone.”

Quinn forced a chuckle. “You interviewing me for that blog of yours or your newspaper column?” Becca wrote a popular and sometimes snarky blog entitled “The Things Men Do.” She’d used it as a stepping stone to getting her own column in the local newspaper.

She glanced down the street, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. Her open hand gave a dismissive wave. “You forget. I was once in your place. Scarred and scared and determined to outrun Wolf.” She shot him a quick glance. “It won’t happen, you know. Once one of those Wolfords set his or her sights on someone, that person doesn’t stand a chance. I think it’s a family trait.”

“Didn’t take him long to capture you.” Less than two months after moving into the townhouse next door, Wolf had a diamond on Becca’s finger. He’d storm-crashed through the walls she’d erected around her heart after her ex-husband left her a year earlier.

No one, including the woman in front of him, could understand why Quinn lived behind an emotional fortress. After the cluster-fuck of his mission in Chile, he’d encased his warped heart in cold, hard lead. Renata’s betrayal, the ensuing loss of four members of his team and the damage to his reputation with the agency had pretty much corroded the hell out of his soul. Putting a bullet between Renata’s scheming eyes had further twisted him so severely inside, he wasn’t fit for anyone, much less someone as sweet as Cassie. She was sunshine to his darkness, emotional openness to his secrets, purity to his evil. Yet, damn if he wouldn’t give his right nut for things to be different. Yeah, crap into your ball cap and wish, Gallagher, and all you’re gonna have is a hatful of shit.

He exhaled a long sigh, pushing his dark thoughts to the dank recesses of his mind. “Where do you want me to put Cassie? I need to get back to the station.” He had a long night of thinking and planning ahead of him. Before he’d let Cassie leave her family, he’d resign from the fire and rescue station and head for parts unknown—or home. His stomach cramped at that thought. Wouldn’t his old man just shit a brick if he returned to the Truman Building, near the White House, or back to the Pentagon, across from Arlington?

“In the guest bedroom upstairs.” Becca pivoted and pointed toward her front door. “Ah…there’s ibuprofen in the upper cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink, if you can get her to take them. Otherwise she’s going to have a terrible headache in the morning. Bottled water’s in the refrigerator. If you think you can handle Cassie by yourself, I’ll take Einstein for his walk before bedtime.”

“Sure. No problem.” If Becca and the dog left, she’d take her inquiring mind along with her. Damn if she didn’t read him too well.

“Put Cassie in the blue bedroom at the top of the stairs and close the door behind you.” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my key.”

“Okay, will do.” He circled the front of the Wrangler and unlocked the door to lift Cassie out. Before he did, he unlocked the glove box and retrieved her birthday gift, shoving it into the interior pocket of his jean jacket. After snatching her purse, he slung his unconscious passenger over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Gentle snoring drifted from her lips and her appealing fragrance of peaches and cream filled his nostrils, as did the stench of vomit and Dustin’s strong aftershave. Jesus, what an unholy combination.

Once inside, he strolled through Becca’s townhouse to her kitchen to retrieve the water and headache medicine. His gaze drifted to a framed cross-stitch picture of Einstein hanging on Becca’s dining room wall. No doubt the crafty person who’d made it was the same individual who’d sewn and framed the fireman’s insignia hanging in his living room. Cassie believed in giving gifts she’d made herself. His arms tightened around her legs, molding her to him. He’d never met anyone as selfless as she.

The birthday gift he’d tucked into his jacket pocket rubbed against his chest as he ascended the steps. It was a present he should never have bought her. Yet it was the only thing he’d found during his long hours of searching that even came close to suiting her personality. After all that passed between them tonight, giving it to her probably wasn’t a wise choice. He should take it back to the jewelers for a refund. Hell, the thing was solid gold and the diamonds top quality.

He gnashed his teeth in resolve. He’d be damned if another woman would ever wear her necklace.

Cassie groaned and shifted on the bed once he laid her down and flicked on the bedside lamp. Her dark hair with a splash of red dye in the front feathered across the pillow. He set the water and bottle of ibuprofen on the table before slipping off her red stilettos. Pretty red toenails greeted him, and he rubbed them, brushing off a few grains of sand.

He rolled her to her side, unzipped the back of her red leather skirt and snaked it down over her hips. Holy hell. He pinched his eyes shut. A red lace thong. One quick yank and he had the skirt pooled on the bottom of the bed. He forked his fingers through his hair in frustration, his need growing greater by the second. You cannot freaking touch her, man.

Next would be her sweater. If she hadn’t thrown up, he’d let her sleep in it. But waking up reeking of vomit would only acerbate the headache she was sure to have. Lifting one arm at a time, he worked them out of the pullover.

The jostling pulled her from a deep slumber.

“Don’t. Want Quinn.”

“I’m here, peanut.” He tugged the sweater over her head and tossed it on the floor. High, firm breasts nearly spilled from her red lace bra. He allowed his gaze to take a long, slow journey over her body. His cock rose to take a peek too. No little girl ever looked like this. She really had grown up. His fingers flexed. He’d seen her in a bikini many times, but her swimming attire was nothing compared to red peekaboo lace—what there was of it.

“I’ll be right back.” He slipped off his jean jacket and tossed it on the foot of the bed.

“Don’t go.” Her lips formed a pout.

If he didn’t put some distance between them, he’d have his hands all over her. Hell, he’d be all over her. The last thing he ever wanted to do was take advantage of this sexy bundle of innocence and sweetness.

He stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, sticking his head under the cold spray for a good thirty seconds. He gasped and sputtered, hoping, willing the coldness to subdue his cock. Grabbing a towel, he blotted his face and hair dry. He snatched a washcloth and held it under hot water to clean Cassie’s face, neck and hands. If he could, he’d wash her all over to cleanse her of Dustin’s touch. She should smell of Quinn’s scent, not another man’s. Never another man’s. Keep your head on straight, man. Pack that possessive shit up and lock it away.

He sat on the side of the bed and wiped off her face, neck and shoulders while she mumbled and complained in her sleep. “Cassie, open your eyes.” He shook a couple pills into his hand and held them out to her.

“Mmm?” Her eyelids fluttered.

He slid an arm under her shoulder and lifted her into a sitting position. “Open your mouth and take these pills.”

She stuck out her tongue to accept the medicine.

He exhaled an unsteady breath. His cock grew again with a pink-tongued destination in mind. Cassie was day-by-day, hour-by-hour becoming his obsession. Fighting her off hurt like hell, but giving her false hope of a happy ever after would be damn cruel. That’s why he had to leave Clearwater. She was already talking to her friends about moving to get away from him. Her family was here; she needed them. If anyone had to go, it should be him. Really, besides his job, a small circle of friends, and her, what did he have to hold him in this Gulfside community?

He tumbled the pills onto her tongue and held the bottled water to her mouth. “Swallow.”

She obeyed, with a tiny stream of water dribbling off her pointy chin.

“Open.” He wanted to make sure she’d swallowed them.

She mindlessly complied, her eyes still closed.

Yeah baby, his cock commented, pointing its selfish head in her direction, straining Quinn’s jeans to the point of bursting.

“Lie down.” He needed to get the hell out of here. Just how much temptation was a guy supposed to take? He slid the covers over her shoulders. “Sleep well.”

“Quinn?” The enticing sultry sleepiness of her voice drew him closer like a magnet.

“Yeah, baby?” God, he had to leave.

“I love you.”

Even in her sleep, she could rip his heart in two. He closed his eyes and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. After tonight, he’d never see her again. “I love you, too, angel. Be happy. Live well, baby.” When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on a tall, slender form in the open doorway, shadowed in the darkness by the light in the hallway. Einstein pranced into the room and rested his chin on the sheets next to Cassie’s arm.

Quinn stood, his gaze slowly sweeping over Cassie for one final glimpse, devouring and memorizing every beautiful detail. He snatched his jacket and removed her birthday present to set it on the nightstand, whispered her name on a pained exhale and did what he did so well—denied and buried the pain.

Becca reached to stop him when he exited the room. “Why won’t you tell her how you feel? I can see what this is doing to you and I know how crazy she is about you.”

Silent, he shouldered past her and stormed down the steps, abandoning the better part of his world.

CHAPTER FIVE

Quinn slouched in the orange plastic chair, his legs spread, eyes half closed. Despite his nonchalant state, he cataloged his surroundings—like the organized interior of Captain Noah Steele’s office and the captain’s end of a phone conversation regarding a firefighter’s treatment at the emergency room. Muffled sounds of running showers and typical station banter filtered through his superior’s office walls. Smoke stench still hugged the lining of Quinn’s nose, fainter now after a shower and flushing out his nasal passages. He tilted his head to the right and absorbed Wolf’s tense demeanor. The man hadn’t stopped glaring at him since he’d set foot in the fire captain’s inner sanctum. Evidently Wolf was still pissed over the way he’d spoken to Cassie yesterday.

Requesting a meeting with his two bosses so soon after a three-alarm fire at a high-rise probably wasn’t the best timing. The call had come in about twenty minutes after he’d returned from leaving Cassie at Becca’s, and the blaze had taken nearly six-hours to contain. Everyone was drained, physically and emotionally. Still, he needed to put his plan into effect before his candy ass chickened out. God, walking out of Cassie’s life was going to rip him apart inside, yet he’d been sliced-and-diced before and endured…in a half-assed manner of speaking. No doubt he’d survive another ration of pain.

Noah settled the receiver back on the desk phone. “Boyd’s got smoke inhalation, diminished lung function and signs of angina.” He stretched his arms over his head, fisted his hands and yawned. “Typical stuff. They’re keeping him overnight and running more tests in the morning. He’ll be off a week and then light duty for a few more.” He leaned back in his chair and locked his hands behind his head. “I want his equipment checked. Should never have happened.”

“Maybe Boyd didn’t connect everything correctly. His first fire with us. New gear and all.” Wolf lifted a shoulder. “Could happen. I’ll inspect his apparatus once numbnuts here spills his guts.” He jerked his head toward Quinn before slumping farther into his chair and gulping from his water bottle.

Quinn inhaled and searched deep for the right words for his fire captain and the commander of his Marine Rescue Unit. Hell, just spit it out. “I’m giving my notice. One more forty-eight hour shift and then I’m gone.” He owed them more notice than this, but he had to get away from Cassie before he lost the battle to keep his hands off of her.

Wolf jerked upright in his chair and fired the empty water bottle into the trash can, the plastic clanking against the metal container. “The hell you say.” His dark eyes narrowed on Quinn and his broad hands slowly swept up and down his jeans as if he was trying to keep from wringing Quinn’s neck.

“First the Drug Enforcement Agency and now us.” Noah pinned Quinn with a hard stare. “You’re starting a dangerous pattern of not sticking, man. Careful, it’ll quickly become a loser’s habit.” His chair squeaked when he straightened and planted his forearms on the desk. “You better have a helluva good reason for walking out on us like this.”

“Wait!” Wolf’s gaze hinged from Noah to Quinn, his mouth agape. “You were DEA? Fuckin’ DEA?” He leaned forward, his piercing eyes stared at Quinn as if seeing him for the first time and taking his measure.

Unable to hold it back, Quinn laughed at Wolf. “Can’t stand being left out in the cold, can you?” Wolf obviously had a nut in a twist discovering he knew so little about his co-worker and friend. He shifted his attention to Noah. “To answer your question, Captain, my reasons for leaving are personal.”

“Are you having personnel issues with a member of the squad? ʼCause if you are, I’ll haul his ass in here, and we’ll have it out.”

Shit, if he did, he’d handle it his damn self. “No. Things here are cool. These firefighters are a great bunch of guys. I’m honored to be counted among them.” He shrugged. “Just feel a need to move on.”

“You were DEA?” Wolf seemed caught on that one nugget. “Why the hell am I just now learning this? Man, we’ve been tight. I’ve included you in my family circle. Allowed you to spend time with my baby sister.”

“True that.” And I’ve fallen in love with your baby sister. If I don’t get away from her, I’m going to ruin her life, and damn if she doesn’t deserve better.

“Are the pressures of the job getting to you? Part of being a firefighter is seeing everyone’s pain after they’ve lost everything. Their belongings, a pet…family members.” Noah exhaled and shot a pained expression at Wolf.

The ex-SEAL crossed a booted foot over his knee and picked at the worn sole, his mouth a firm, straight line. Several years before Quinn came to Clearwater, an arsonist had set Wolf’s parents’ house on fire, killing them and leaving his four younger sisters orphaned. Cassie had barely been a teenager at the time. From what Wolf and his brother Jace had shared with Quinn over the last three years, it had been a particularly rough time for the family.

Wolf resigned his commission with the SEALs to finish raising his sisters and to keep Jace in college. Cassie went through some major behavior issues, which she nor Wolf rarely mentioned. Quinn always imagined Wolf easing her through whatever teenage angst she dealt with at the time, his steely fingers encased in kid gloves. He still handled his little sister with strict yet gentle commands. The bond the two siblings shared was substantial.

Noah repeated his question, irritation tingeing his voice. The fire captain was ex-military and didn’t suffer fools lightly.

“No, I can handle the job stress. I’m thinking of moving up north with my parents.” Or not. His dad had never forgiven him for losing his men in Chile and resigning from the State Department. As soon as he was through with this meeting, he planned to email some of his old co-workers to test the waters—at least the ones who’d still give him the time of day.

He’d already emailed his remaining team member, asking if he needed a new fellow on his mercenary squad. T-Bone had turned paranoid after Chile and did strange things to hide his identity. Imagine, an ex-military explosives expert using “SparklePrincess” as his email address. Quinn had to chuckle at the thought. If no openings were to be had with T-Bone’s ragamuffin gang of brothers and a couple old Army buddies, or one of the government agencies, Quinn would start an online search at various fire stations in other states.

“You’d move back to DC? Leave the sun and sand? They just got eight…nine inches of snow up there a couple days ago. You feel the perverse need to shovel that shit?” Wolf slung an arm across the back corner of the chair and arched a dark eyebrow. “Or the need to walk away from Cassie?” He exhaled a harsh bark of laughter. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it, you son of a bitch? Damn your soul to hell for the pain you’re going to cause her. You think Becca didn’t start texting me the minute your sorry ass cleared her doorway? You think I don’t know what the fuck she saw and overheard?”

“Wolf, stay on track. This is station business.”

“Hell to the no. This is family business. My sister is crazy about this lying motherfucker. Hell, we haven’t had a family meal or party that he hasn’t been a part of. Now I find out he’s been hiding a past. Does she know about this shit?” His eyes widened in question. “No, or she’d have mentioned it. And neither did I, dammit. You’re one closed-mouthed son of a bitch.”

“Calm down, Daddy Wolf. I was working for the government not hanging around some schoolyard, selling red tops to kids.” Wolf was obsessively protective of his family. When he and Becca got married and started having kids, Quinn didn’t even want to be around. Wolf would be a totally insane parent, micro-managing the child’s every movement. Sadness pulled and twisted at Quinn’s soul. He wouldn’t be around, though, would he? No. He’d be long gone from this city he enjoyed, the angry man across from him, whom he respected like a brother even though he drove him crazy at times, and Cassie—every emotion always brought him back to his heart-faced love. Man, I’ve got to pack this shit away.

Noah scowled and leaned across his desk, his hands clasped and his gaze locked on Quinn. “Does this have anything to do with what went down in Chile?”

Aw hell. Quinn’s stomach sank. How did Noah gain access to confidential information? “That’s not open for discussion.”

His captain’s index finger rose like a flag on a pole. “Wolf knows what’s said in this office stays between us. When you came here over three years ago with eyes as vacant as my brother-in-law’s mind, I got curious. Damned curious. Magna cum laude in college—Harvard, no less—hellacious high scores on the civil service exam and a pristine background check. Exemplary service with the State Department. Yet you wanted to charge into burning buildings?” Noah grunted. “Made the back side of my balls tickle—and not in a good way. I made a few calls to some old Army buddies who work in the State Department.”

“What the hell are you two talking about? This man’s been my boat pilot for over two damn years, and I’m just now hearing he used to work for the Drug Enforcement Agency? Why wasn’t I clued in?” Wolf’s narrowed scrutiny swept over Quinn like a Mack truck over a pothole. “When were you with the State Department? And what the hell happened in Chile?”

Wolf would expect a full report. Quinn stared at the tiled ceiling for a few beats, coming to a decision about how much info to share, how much he could, according to the department’s confidentiality agreements he’d signed. Hell, he wasn’t sharing a damned thing beyond general information.

“I worked for the State Department for two years or more before being assigned to temporary duty with the DEA. Any information beyond that is on a ‘need to know’ basis. You know how that works. I don’t recall you regaling the family with tales of your old SEAL missions.”

Wolf scowled for a few beats and then nodded. Quinn could have sworn a new level of respect glistened from his commander’s eyes. “I feel what you’re saying.”

Noah leaned on his chair’s two back legs and grinned in that smart-ass way he had. “So, Quinn, if this has nothing to do with your former work experiences—and I don’t believe that song and dance for a minute—then what are we going to do with little Cassie after you run and hide?” He smirked at Wolf and winked. “Boyd’s newly separated from his old lady. Bet he could use some of your sister’s sweetness to help him over this smoke inhalation thing.”

Like hell.

Wolf chuckled, the bastard. “Yeah, he might at that. I’ll have to introduce them, if they haven’t met already.”

Quinn straightened in his chair, every muscle tensed. Boyd and my angel? No fucking way.

Wolf’s eyebrows raised in question. “How are you going to feel once the rest of the single guys here find out you’ve cut Cassie loose? Man, you’ve got to know they’ve held back from asking her out because of you. Once they hear you’re leaving, especially after the way you cut her down yesterday, they’ll be sniffing around her like the horny sonsabitches they are.”

A green haze poured over Quinn’s vision field like monster goo from Cassie’s favorite animated flick and, in a nanosecond, the green morphed to dark red boiling rage. He’d be damned if anyone sniffed around her. Not after he’d gotten a taste of her last night. His chair clattered to the floor as he lunged for Wolf.

CHAPTER SIX

A swath of sunlight burned Cassie’s eyelids while some evil fiend inside her head, armed with a blowtorch, scorched her brain cells. She rolled away from part of the source of her discomfort and met Mr. Hangover, the booze beast, the harbinger of queasy stomachs and banger headaches. A long groan escaped as she covered her ears to keep them from tumbling off her head. She pried her eyelids a crack and noted blue and white striped sheets. Where was she?

Toenails clattered on the steps. Einstein, who must have heard her groan, charged around the corner into the bedroom, jumped on the bed and licked her face, whining a wail of concern.

“I’m okay, buddy. Just don’t jar the bed, please.” Her hand slipped from the covers to pet Becca’s German shepherd. How did she end up here? Where were her clothes? Memories of last night slowly crept into her muddled mind.

Quinn.

She’d thrown up and he’d rushed her to his Jeep as if she was about to disintegrate into a bazillion bits of barf residue. He’d kissed her forehead and murmured words of comfort. Then he’d put her shoes on her feet after wiping off the sand. Her hand covered her eyes, gently, because they were about to pop out of her head and roll down her cheeks. I certainly know how to make a good impression, don’t I?

Footsteps trunked up the steps. “Cassie? You up?”

She gasped and snatched the covers over her head. “Stop yelling, Wolf. And don’t come in, I’m not decent.”

“You’ve got ten minutes to shower and get dressed. Becca’s at work, but she put some clean clothes on the vanity in the bathroom for you. I’m making breakfast and then we’re talking. Don’t dawdle.”

“God, I feel like I’m fourteen again.” How many times had he told her not to poke around, and how often had she done it just to hear him growl. After her parents died, he’d become her rock, her security.

Footsteps sounded on the steps as Wolf descended. “Hell, if you were fourteen, you’d be grounded and on some serious-assed restrictions. Ten minutes and counting.”

She rustled under the covers and scratched behind Einstein’s ears again. “Big man doesn’t scare us, does he?”

Einstein whined and licked her face.

A pink wrapped gift on the nightstand caught her eye. Was it for her? Or was it something Wolf had left for Becca? But why would he put it here and not in Becca’s bedroom? She reached for the oblong package and fingered the silver ribbon. A small gift tag read “To Cassie, from Quinn. Happy Birthday, Peanut.”

Her heart rate kicked into the happy-to-be-me category. He’d bought her a gift. Even if it was something cheap and goofy, he’d thought enough of her to buy it and have it wrapped. So why didn’t he bring it to her birthday party? Her eyes narrowed. Oh yeah, his mystery female visitor.

Pushing that thought aside, she slid the metallic ribbon off the box. No way could he have wrapped it so carefully. She slid her fingernail along the taped edge and folded back the iridescent pink paper. The embossed logo on the white jeweler’s box impressed her. Had Quinn really gone to Zales to buy her a gift? She snapped the lid open and gasped. From a delicate gold chain dangled a filigree heart pendant. An angel nestled within the open scrollwork edging the heart. Small brilliant diamonds covered the angel’s outstretched wings.

She blinked back tears. “Oh, Quinn, you do care. No matter what you say, you do care.” When he’d kissed her last night, he’d called her his angel. Is this how he thought of her? As an angel who’d wormed her way into his heart? She slid two fingers beneath the pendant, the warmth of the gold soaking into her skin like the sun’s rays on a bright June day. So beautiful. So fragile-looking and yet solid, just like her feelings for him.

She pressed the white box to her heart and sighed. Her first jewelry gift from a man, and the man was Quinn.

Einstein sniffed what she held and then laid his chin on her shoulder, his black eyes studying her. She ran a finger between his eyes and down his muzzle. “I have an admirer. He’s just too scared to admit it yet. Poor schmuck.” She giggled with glee and the dog licked her face. “Poor chicken shit schmuck.” The canine’s tail beat a happy rhythm on the bed.

“Cassie? Six minutes and thirty seconds!”

Her brother’s booming voice snagged the dog’s attention and he growled deep in his throat.

She placed a hand on Einstein’s head. “Doesn’t that man know I have a hangover? Why does he have to yell?”

The German shepherd woofed once. He bounded off the bed, charged to the top of the steps and barked as if he were saying, “Shut the hell up! Woman with a hangover up here!”

“Six damn minutes! Einstein? Want some kibble?” Toenails jangled down the stairway. Evidently the canine’s stomach overrode being chivalrous.

Cassie placed the gift from Quinn back on the nightstand and slowly sat, willing her aching body to cooperate. Just to prove Wolf didn’t scare her with his macho bossiness, she took ten minutes to shower, dress and put on her angel necklace. Although if she were honest, she had to move slower than normal to lessen the effects of the Westminster chimes gonging in her head—in triplicate. If she lived through this hangover, she’d never drink booze again.

Wolf sat at Becca’s dining room table, his rigid body posture familiar. He was about to give her holy hell. His narrow-eyed gaze swept to her before he pointed to the chair next to him. “Tomato juice. Drink. Coffee. Drink. Fried eggs. Eat.”

She pointed to him. “Mouth. Close.”

“Don’t fu…play with me, Cassie. I’m not in the mood. You had no business doing shots and getting shitfaced.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped. “I’m twenty-one. I can drink if I want.”

He crossed his arms and assumed his faux-father bearing. “Being twenty-one also carries a passel of responsibilities, young lady.”

Oh God, he was dragging out the “young lady” speech. She gulped the tomato juice and choked. “Holy hell, what’s in this?”

“Two raw eggs, minced garlic, Tabasco sauce and a shot of whiskey.” He had the audacity to wink. “Hair-o-the-dawg. It’ll cure what ails ya.” He made a wiggling motion with his fingertips. “Drink up.”

“Will I feel better or worse?” She forced down a little more and her stomach churned and clenched. Then she noticed his winking expression continued. She tilted her head and studied him. “What’s wrong with your eye?” His broad hand rose to cover it and she coiled her fingers around his wrist to yank it back. For a few seconds they played tug-of-war in the air until he relented and relaxed his muscles.

She stood and leaned over him, peering closely at his face. “Wolf, your eye is swollen. It’s turning black and blue.” Her fingers lightly traced the curve of his face. “Your cheek is bruised and your bottom lip is split. Are these work-related injuries?” His silence was telling; so was the fact he wouldn’t make eye contact. “Were you in a fight?” This was so unlike her brother. “What on earth happened?”

“Quinn’s fist and I had an intimate conversation.”

“Quinn did this?” She collapsed in her chair and sipped more of the doctored tomato juice. “Why?” Quinn and her brother were close. Sure they teased, but never got out of hand with it. If either one needed help, the other one was there in a heartbeat.

Wolf gulped his coffee and slung an arm over the back of the chair. “I was pushing him. Trying to find out his true feelings about you.”

Her hand covered the golden angel pendant. “And?”

He pointed to her eggs. “Eat those before they get any colder than they already have.”

What had Wolf said to Quinn to set him off? Knowing her brother, if she didn’t eat, he’d never tell her. She shoveled in a couple of bites and washed them down with coffee. Just to be sure he’d answer her questions, she drank most of the god-awful tomato juice, gagging a time or two. She blotted her lips with the napkin and tossed it at him.

Wolf snatched it mid-air, his normal smirk somewhat crooked since his cracked lower lip grew puffier by the minute.

“Okay, I’ve done like you asked. Now, it’s your turn to tell me what happened between the two of you.” She hoped their friendship wasn’t ruined because of her. In some ways, Wolf and Quinn were as close as brothers.

Wolf leaned back in his chair, the front legs rising from the floor. “I’ve always suspected how Quinn felt about you, but after the way he spoke to you yesterday, I wasn’t sure. Becca overheard him whispering some things to you after he’d put you to bed last night.”

“What kind of things?” So Quinn had put her to bed. Had he taken off her clothes? No biggie, really. They’d gone swimming together before, so seeing her in a bra and thong wasn’t the end of the world. Perhaps with another man, yes, but not with Quinn. Still, what had Becca overheard him saying to her?

“You’ll have to ask Becca.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her brother. Damn, he could be so annoying. “If you know, why can’t you just tell me?”

Wolf stood to retrieve the coffee carafe. He filled his mug and then topped off hers, before setting the empty pot on the table. “Because.” He slumped in the chair and brought his mug partway to his lips. “Conversations between a couple are private. You’ll learn that one day.” He slurped his coffee and shook his head. “Okay, sis, here’s the thing…” He ran a hand across the back of his neck and exhaled a long sigh. “Quinn turned in his notice this morning. He’s leaving the station, and Florida.”

Cold fingers of panic clutched her lungs and wrung every centimeter of air from their spongy honeycomb confines. Leaving Florida? No, he couldn’t. Not her Quinn! “He what?”

“He’s leaving. He’s freaking scared and he’s running. The man’s in love with you.” Wolf pointed to his face. “The fact he attacked me when I teased him about the guys at the station coming on to you after he leaves proves that. I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. The thought of another man touching you drove him freaking crazy.”

Her index finger caressed her angel necklace. “Why move away? I don’t understand.” Maybe Wolf didn’t either. If she wanted answers, she needed to go to the source. “I’m going to his place. We need to talk.” A thousand things, like grains of sand, sifted through her mind. “I’ve waited on that man for three years.”

“Three?”

She stood, gathering her dirty dishes and silverware. “That’s right. I fell in love with him when I was eighteen, but I sensed the situation was hopeless. For one, he treated me as if I were too young. And number two, would you have allowed me to date him?”

“When you’d just turned eighteen? Hell to the no. He’s seven years older than you, which might not be so bad now, but not then.” The sharp tone of his voice caused Einstein to whine.

“Exactly. So, like a good baby sister, I waited until I turned twenty-one.” Meanwhile, she’d done the responsible thing. She’d earned her associates degree in business and then her cosmetology license. “If he thinks he’s getting away from me now, he doesn’t know how damn determined a Wolford can be.” She charged into the kitchen, began loading the dishwasher and spun to shake a fork at Wolf. “I will hunt that man down.”

Her brother followed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me, now. Something happened to Quinn in his past. I don’t know what it was, but I get the gut feeling it was bad.” He turned her to face him. “Real bad, Cassie. I’m guessing it was job-related, yet I get the feeling some parts of it were personal and have warped how or why he can’t handle his feelings for you.” His brown eyes bore into hers. “If anyone can tear down the walls he’s built, I’m thinking it’s you. If anyone can show him how to feel again after some catastrophe, sis, it’s you.”

Tears pooled. “You’re talking about my cutting.” She extended her arms, studying for the millionth time the faint scars scoring her flesh from her wrists to the bend of her elbows. Because she hadn’t been home the night the arsonist started the fire that killed their parents, she’d blamed herself. The worst part was she had lied. Told her mom and dad she was at a friend’s pajama party when, instead, she and Renee, both barely thirteen, had gone to a party with some older kids. Her sense of culpability numbed her and she began cutting herself to feel pain.

His hand trailed over her hair. “Don’t go back to your dark place, Cassie.” Her brother knew her too well, could read her body language. “A lot of kids lie about where they’re going. Doesn’t make it right, but it happens. Hell, I did it a time or two, myself. The fire was not your fault. You know that.”

She nodded. After a couple of years of counseling and an intervention by her siblings, she’d finally released the guilt. “So you think Quinn’s in the same emotional place I was? He’s always joking and acting a fool.”

“Yes, but sometimes a man wears a mask, especially when he can’t face the man in the mirror. I bet you dollars to donuts, he’s using the laughing disguise to hide his pain. He’s a good man, sis. Beneath all the smart-ass attitude, he’s a decent sort. Loyal. I’d want him guarding my six any day.”

She studied him for a few beats. “What’s changed your mind?”

He snatched two sugar cookies from the cookie jar, shoved one in his mouth and tossed one up for Einstein to catch mid-air. “Some things men just don’t discuss, you know?”

She poked a finger into his stomach. “You are so full of that macho shit.”

Her brother grinned before he enveloped her in his arms for a hug. “Yeah, but my woman digs it.”

“Well, not your sister.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder and he laughed. Still, what Wolf said made sense. If Quinn was hiding behind a false face of humor, he’d never heal. Hadn’t she’d learned that during her intense, often agonizing, counseling sessions? The man she loved would always hurt. Her heart ached for him. If anyone knew the hopelessness of that kind of emotional torment, it was her.

She had to convince Quinn to stay, to face his demons. If he moved away, he’d take a large piece of her soul with him. Her stomach swirled and twisted like a cyclone, the resulting pain making her gulp for air. She couldn’t deal with the loss of him or the dream of a shared future.

By damn, she wouldn’t allow it.

“I have to go. If that man thinks charging into a burning building takes guts, just wait until he comes up against Cassie Jacqueline Wolford when she’s in a full rant. I’m telling you he doesn’t stand a chance.”

Wolf laughed behind her. “You go, baby girl. Show numbnuts who’s gonna be boss of this outfit.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Quinn dragged his tired, sorry ass down the steps of his apartment building, two filled boxes in his arms. He wanted his belongings packed and ready to go as soon as his final shift at the fire station was over. Acid rolled in his gut. Contrary to what Wolf and Noah insinuated, he was not running from Cassie or his feelings for her. Not in the way they suspected. Hell, it wasn’t commitment he feared.

Thanks to a recent text, it was Cassie’s safety.

He hadn’t stopped trembling since a text had dropped into his cell’s message box not more than an hour ago. Ur joggin buddy dies if U return 2 the agency.

No sooner had he read the text twice than rage and panic joined forces. He rammed his fist through the closet door in his bedroom where he’d been about ready to start packing his clothes. Unless he replaced the door with three fist-sized holes in it, he’d probably forfeit his security deposit. As if I give a good rat’s ass.

The message meant two things. One, he’d been watched for a long time, maybe his entire spell in Clearwater. And, two, one of the men he’d contacted about job openings in the State Department and the DEA was the mole who’d informed the cartel of his team’s activities years ago. Renata hadn’t been the only person to apprise the drug lords of their progress. And his team had been damn good at ferreting out intel. Working together the way they did, they’d become a very real threat to the drug trafficking in that country.

One might say he owed it to his fallen team members to find out who in the agency had ratted them out.

But he could not…would not risk Cassie’s safety to do it. She had to come first.

Returning to the grind of government work was now out of the realm of his possibilities. He’d stick to the adrenalin-pumping, rewarding fire and rescue business. He’d survived for three years without knowing the identity of the mole, but he wouldn’t survive for a minute knowing his angel had been harmed.

There’d been three responses to the dozen or so emails he’d sent before his shift at the fire station ended. A few of his previous co-workers at the State Department and in the DEA still cared enough to pass along some contact information. Two referenced security firms that did clandestine work for the government—mercenaries. Another, Lance Blakewell, shared information about an opening within the department, low-level, but it was a foot in the door. He’d considered it until he got the threatening text.

What the hell? Fuck it all, right?

After he grabbed a few hours of sleep, he’d make a list of everyone he’d contacted and contact them again. Put the word out he’d found a firefighting job somewhere.

No, that wouldn’t be good enough. Whoever the asshole was, he’d probably check behind Quinn. He’d have to apply at a few fire departments to back up his claims. Meanwhile he’d do what he could to protect Cassie. It never once occurred to him that he or anyone he held dear would be in danger because of a mission that went bad, but why would it? And what was the reason behind keeping track of his mediocre life? What did he know that made him a liability for some lowlife who lived in the shadow of the beam of right and wrong?

Just who the hell was the ass-wipe? Did he really care enough to reenter that fucked up world of deception and danger?

If it put Cassie at risk, then no. Hell no.

He elbowed the building’s door open and trudged into the sunlight, the late-morning glare intensifying his headache. The middle of January and it was a balmy sixty-eight degrees. Man, he was going to miss the hell out of Florida. Life here had practically been a ceaseless vacation, even with the forty-eight hour shifts at the station. On days off he jogged on the beach with Cassie or went to beer parties or Buckaneers football games with other firemen. Often he rode his Harley, Cassie’s arms and legs wrapped around him, across Dunedin Causeway to Honeymoon Island, a favorite snorkeling destination of theirs. Wolf and Jace included him in their jet ski races off Gulf Boulevard. Then there were picnics and beach-combing on Caladesi Island, also with Cassie.

He would miss it all—the weather, the beautiful scenery, his friends, the satisfaction of his job.

Cassie.

If sadness had a color, it would be navy blue, for damned if a severe case of blues wasn’t settling in. He’d have so many memories of Clearwater, Florida, and almost every one would revolve around Cassie Wolford.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Mr. Hot Lips Chicken Shit.”

Fuck.

He plopped the boxes at the rear of the U-Haul trailer he’d backed into one of his two assigned parking spaces before unhitching it from his Wrangler. With a push of one hand, he slid open the retractable door. Meanwhile, he braced himself for the five-foot-five, dark-haired tirade barreling down on him, that infernal streak of red hair standing on end as if it were a battle flag flapping in the wind. By the murderous expression on her face, now probably wasn’t the best time to mention the hairdo. What the hell made women do that to their hair anyway?

He lifted each box and swung at the waist, tossing them into the interior. Hopping in, he began arranging the boxes around his Harley he’d tied to the inner sides of the trailer. He wanted to create a second support system for the bike to secure it in place for the trip to wherever he’d end up going. After careful measuring, he knew how much room to leave for his bed, box springs, mattress and sofa. The rest of his furniture he’d donate to Goodwill.

The U-Haul bounced slightly when she scrambled in behind him. “I’m talking to you. Don’t you dare ignore me!”

“I don’t have time for your drama. And shouldn’t you be in bed with a hangover?”

Her open hand fluttered like a crazed butterfly. “Pffft. It would take more than a hangover to keep me in bed. I want to know when you decided to move and why?”

He jumped out of the trailer, trudging for the building. God, he was bone-tired. “Since when do I have to report my comings and goings to you?” She was in a mood. If he invited her up so he could keep an eye on her, she’d no doubt refuse. Better to ignore her, so she’d storm up to the safety of his apartment to continue her rant.

“This discussion is not over.”

“Yes, it is, peanut.” The gauntlet had been thrown. She’d be pounding on his door within the minute.

The sound of a foot stomp behind him made him smile. “Don’t call me peanut!” The woman was damn adorable when she was pissed. “I’m warning you, Quinn Gallagher, you don’t want to make me blow a gasket. It’s not a pretty sight. You have no idea the extents I’ll go to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m trembling in my shoes, little one. Go home. Leave me the hell alone.” Yanking the door open, he charged inside and jogged up the steps to his second-floor apartment. With any luck he’d outrun her. Looking into her sad emerald eyes was more than he could handle right now. Her voice may have sounded angry, but her pinched expression cried sadness…and it tore at his soul.

He’d already packed up his closet and chest of drawers, stuffing enough clothes to wear his remaining four days in Clearwater into his duffle bag. Furball had quickly hopped into the open piece of luggage as if he wanted to make sure he wasn’t left behind. Or maybe the cat instinctively knew his owner couldn’t beat holes into the canvas. He’d gone into hiding as soon as Quinn took his first hit on the wooden door, raging at the world, and came out when his owner calmed down enough to place his fist into a sink full of ice cubes.

Quinn scratched under the grey feline’s white chin and was rewarded with a loud purr. “Sorry I scared you earlier. We’ve got big changes ahead, buddy.” He rolled over for his owner to rub his white belly. “Cat’s aren’t supposed to like this.” His palm ruffled fur from the animal’s neck to groin. “Besides, I’ve got work to do.”

Furball nipped the edge of Quinn’s hand. “You little grey bastard, and after the way I saved your ass too.” This was an ongoing argument between the two since the night Quinn found him scratching frantically on the outside of his sliding glass doors in the living room, drenched, wild-eyed and scared all to hell and back. A category two hurricane was blowing through and, the best Quinn could decipher, the hundred-mile-per-hour winds had propelled the scrawny kitten onto his second-story balcony. How it had survived had been a miracle. He’d shown signs of malnutrition according to the veterinarian he’d taken him to as soon as the hurricane abated.

That stormy night back in September, when Quinn slid open the door, Furball teetered in on his last leg of energy and collapsed as if he’d finally found home. The man, who’d never been allowed to own a pet as a child, wrapped the sodden animal in a hand towel—hell he’d been too small for a bath towel—and laid him across his lap while he watched a New England Patriots football game. During halftime, he’d fed the weakened kitten by dipping his pinky finger into warmed milk and allowing its roughened tongue to lick it off. A few minutes later, the power went out, and both cat and new owner snoozed on the sofa.

Five months of constant feeding, deworming, flea dips and care had fattened the Furball. Someone had spoiled the feline, too, and Quinn had no clue who that bastard was. Surely not him. The trouble was the kitten’s harrowing experience in the hurricane had left him traumatized. He trembled during storms, seeking refuge in the crook of Quinn’s neck or in a pile of old beach towels he kept under the bed for the tomcat’s sanctuary, along with a stuffed toy or two.

The cat also hated riding in the Jeep. Quinn wasn’t so sure how he’d handle a long trek on some highway confined in his cat carrier. He’d have to call Furball’s vet to see if he could prescribe some tranquilizers. Still, thank God he hadn’t turned into one of those doting cat owners. His concern was merely…responsibility.

Pulling his extra towels and sheets from his linen closet, Quinn carried them into the kitchen to use as packing material. He shoved his toaster and blender into the interior of his microwave, jamming washcloths around them. After taping the bottom of a box, he set the appliance inside and shoved a sheet around it.

Any minute now Cassie would be pounding on his door.

Tape roller in hand, he put together four more boxes. He pulled containers and junk from his cabinets and drawers, packing everything but his coffee pot and one mug. How had he accumulated so much cooking stuff and plates? Reaching up on the wall, he snatched two roadside fruit signs he and Cassie had found at a church bizarre last spring. All of his cabinets were empty, except for one nosy cat who insisted on sniffing every corner. He’d keep the doors open a few inches so Furball could come and go as he pleased. The food in the pantry remained. He’d make more boxes and tackle that job next.

He stopped and frowned.

Still no Cassie.

Had she given up and gone home? He carried the box containing his microwave into the living room and peered out the sliding glass doors overlooking the parking lot.

Holy Mother of God!

How in the fuck had she gotten his Harley untied and out of the trailer? She’d pushed it onto the small patch of yard in front of the apartment building. All of his neckties flapped from the handlebars and what looked to be his jock strap was stretched across the back of its seat. Jammed into the ground at both ends of his bike were his water skis. The rope that had

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