Firestorm (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 4) Read online

  Swallowing back bile, she allowed the touch, even thinking she could do this, could perform another night. When he pinched and twisted her hardened bud, she took a step away, breaking the connection. “Not tonight.”

  “Oh, come on. We haven’t been intimate in months.”

  She wanted to tell him all the reasons why, but she bit her tongue. He’d already had too much to drink.

  Exhaling, he took a swig of his drink before tipping his head. “You have no idea what you just did.”

  “And you have no idea how that monster is trying to destroy my life!” She glared into the glass, eyeing his terse reflection.

  “Comes with the territory, sweetheart. You’re on public display at all times.”

  “Not like that.” Anger swelled from deep within, dragging her back to so many years before, a past she’d rather leave buried like the dead. Snorting, she took a gulp of merlot, savoring the flavor, the slight burn given her parched throat. Chance could care less that she was being harassed. He was more worried about his career, his brand than anything else.

  “Don’t be a child. You should have just blown him off.” Chance mumbled something else under his breath.

  “What did you say?”

  Laughing, he moved back toward her couch, plopping down. “I said, you need to learn your place.”

  Swinging around, she took several long strides toward him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I won’t tolerate that kind of insolence from anyone. Do you hear me?” You bet this was the perfect night to get rid of excess and unwanted baggage.

  Chance took a long gulp of his drink, allowing the ice cubes to clink against the glass. His eyes never left her as he slapped the crystal down on the side table. “I think you need to mind your manners. In fact, I think you need a hard lesson tonight.”

  Trinity watched as if in slow motion as he patted his lap. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “You need to be whipped.”

  The words were ridiculous, hysterical. “You are such an asshole.”

  He jerked up, unbuckling his belt. “I’m in charge here. Get your fuckin’ slutty ass over here or the whipping will be worse.”

  There weren’t enough words to issue the statement that had been brewing in her mind for the last several months. To think she’d actually allowed this man, this freak to take certain levels of control, even issuing spankings when he considered her a bad little girl was disgusting. “Get out.”

  “What did you say?” He folded over the strap and narrowed his eyes.

  “You heard me. We’re done. We are so done. Get out of my house and my life.”

  He shook his head, his eyes flashing amusement. “I know you’re joking. We are together, even though you really are a bitch.”

  Trinity wanted nothing more than to physically throw him out, but at this point, she needed a clear head and anything other than a direct and bitter end would give him a reason to try and weasel. She’d allowed him to suck up to her, showering her with roses, diamonds and even a car. What a damn fool she’d been. He meant nothing to her. The objects meant nothing to her. Nothing. She’d lost her self-esteem and her vibe by allowing him to drag her down a road of discipline. No more.

  “Did you hear me?” he demanded.

  Smiling, she walked out of the room and toward the hallway. Of course, he followed. He had to have the upper hand, a belief that he was top dog. The moment she heard his footsteps, she opened the door, damn glad she’d never given him a key. “Get out. I’ll have your things sent to you when I get a chance.” When Hell froze over.

  Chance swaggered toward her, his smile equal to one of her own. Crowding her space, he kept his tone of voice bland, the volume little more than a whisper. “I know things about you, secrets from your tawdry past. I will ruin you. Trust me, babe. You’re done in Hollywood.”

  She pushed the door back against the hinges until the door thumped. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

  Sniffing, he brushed both hands through his hair then stormed out, stopping just outside. “This isn’t over by a long shot.”

  “Take a number.”

  Bam!

  The door reverberated after the hard slam and she shivered as the adrenaline rush created an instant headache. She quickly locked and bolted the door, her hands shaking. What a horrible night. Ugly thoughts and visions swam through her mind, images of a happier time at least until…

  “No!” Slapping her hands against the door, suddenly her legs gave out and she slowly slid down to the floor as the tears began to fall.

  Every contrived picture, every ugly representation of her previous life was such a lie.

  But the real truth was eating her alive.

  Riker Sheffield rounded the corner, pushing the Harley to its limits. He loved the crisp spring air, the way the wind whipped around his body as he accelerated. Leaning into another curve, he could see a line of cars ahead, moving at a snail’s pace. When he was on a straight section, he jutted out and bolted ahead, passing all four vehicles. He had a couple days off and the free time would allow him to play.

  The end of the bitter cold winter meant a new fire season. As if the past season had allowed the smokejumping team any concept of rest. Too many dangerous fires had destroyed thousands of acres of land in three states. He was exhausted and antsy, longing to spend a few weeks by himself. He hissed as he rolled into town, shooting by Ziggy’s. While he’d developed real friendships with the Jackals, the majority of the smokejumping team would never understand the man inside.

  Neither did he any longer.

  He remained bitter, full of anger to the point he’d succumbed to drinking alone, something he swore he’d never do. At least the pain was dulled enough he could sleep, freefalling into a drunken state and away from the constant nightmares. He wanted to say enough was enough, but there was nothing that could drag him away from the anguish. Nothing.

  After stopping at a red light, he contemplated where he was going to land for the night. A single thought came to his mind. The biker bar was on the other side of town and far removed from a location his buddies would consider, perhaps with the exception of Landen. However, his best friend and a man after his own heart had a woman. A damn woman. Yeah, he couldn’t help but smile. Someone deserved a level of happiness.

  He took off, roaring past the sightseers and tourists, heading in the direction of the dilapidated bar. He’d been to the place a few times, his presence never questioned. Tonight, he needed some kind of relief, or he was going to crawl out of his skin.

  Rolling into the parking lot, he darted a glance at the other vehicles. Mostly bikes of various sizes and types, he knew he’d feel comfortable, even fitting right in. He parked in the back and climbed off, securing his helmet. He could hear the loud music pumping through the thin walls. The time wasn’t even nine-thirty and already things were getting wild.

  Exactly what he needed. A damn good time.

  Riker headed inside, taking only a moment before walking straight for the bar. There were no odd looks, other than perhaps given his massive size. Yeah, he towered over almost every man, but his look was basically the same. Jeans, shit kicker boots, a T-shirt and jacket, only his being leather instead of tattered denim. The place was crowded, wall to wall with mostly men. He could see more than one game of pool, a few throwing darts and all were drinking.

  Easing onto a bar stool, he tapped his fingers on top of the bar. Almost instantly the bartender acknowledged him, giving him a respectful nod. Not a single one knew of his status, a supposed hero to so many in town, nor would they give a shit. This was just the way he liked it. He was nothing to no one, which meant there wasn’t a thing expected from him.

  “What’ll ya have?”

  “Budweiser. Bourbon chaser.” Riker thought of Stoker, the man’s usual drink and snickered. Wouldn’t the jumper be proud?

  The place was hot. Too many bodies in one damn place. After removing his jacket, he settled into the worn wooden stool an
d gave a quick glance at the ancient television, the grainy picture highlighting some game that he sure as shit didn’t care about. The thought made him sigh. He’d been forced to face some ugly truths as of late. He didn’t give a shit about anything but his job. Not a single blessed thing.

  “Here ya go. You got a credit card?” The bartender asked as he slid the drinks across the bar.

  Riker grabbed a twenty, tossing it past the drinks. “Cash still good?”

  “Works for me. Let me know when you need another one.”

  He raised the bottle, taking a swig. At least the beer was ice cold. Polishing off half the bottle, he noticed a group of females sitting together at a table in the back. An unusual site in a place like this. Biker women were well attached and not a single man would let them come out in a pack. So, why were they here? He snickered and shook his head. Listen to his barbarian thoughts. Things had certainly changed in a few years.

  The bourbon was just smooth enough, settling his aching head and he could feel a portion of the tension easing away. Even the headaches had occurred more often, keeping him grumpy, or so he’d been told more than once. This would be a good respite, albeit brief, to find his soul. This time, he resisted laughing. His soul had been ripped away one fateful night.

  When one of the girls eased out of her chair, he couldn’t help but notice. She was striking. Long, reddish-blonde hair and a killer body. As she walked through the crowd, swishing her hips in a way every red-blooded male would notice, he watched. He didn’t mind enjoying the view.

  “Hey ya, hot mama. Wanna play?”

  She stopped, gave the man a hard look and pointed her finger. “Sorry, dude. You don’t have what it takes.”

  “Ooh!” Several men yelled then whistled their approval.

  The damn bars were all the same. At least this one had some entertainment value. He fingered the glass before polishing off the bourbon, lifting the finished product so the bartender could see.

  “Gotcha,” the man said, immediately grabbing a glass.

  The girl slid her hand against almost every shoulder as she passed, her walk becoming more exaggerated. And she was headed right for him.

  Riker looked away, concentrating on the second drink as it appeared, the man behind the bar no longer asking for an instant payment. He swirled the drink, listening to the various conversations, none of which were interesting in any manner.

  “Hi ya. Haven’t seen you here before.” Her voice was sultry, laced with a hint of huskiness, either practiced or from too many nights of cigarettes and booze.

  He gave her a once over and shrugged. “Just stopping in.”

  “Mmm… Our luck. Would you like to join the girls? We’re out for a night of fun and you’re the kind of man we’re looking for.”

  He shot the table a glance. “All of you?”

  Giggling, she inched closer, resting her arm on the bar. “Could you handle all five of us?”

  The question was asked as if he’d honestly consider. “Not interested. Thanks for the offer.”

  “Oh, you’re a one-woman kind of guy. I like that.” She bit her lower lip and reached down, taking the drink from his hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she took a sip then licked the rim. “Tasty. No doubt just like you.”

  He inhaled, gathering the scent of what she no doubt considered French perfume and twisted in his seat. “Would you like a drink?”

  “I believe I would. What you’re having is just fine with me.”

  Riker simply lifted his glass and nodded in her direction. He knew the bartender would follow along.

  “So, do you have a name?”

  “Don’t we all?” He could tell she was surprised at his answer.

  “An anonymous kind of guy. I like that. Mysterious. Very kinky.” Using the tip of her nail, she trailed down the length of his arm, swirling around his various tattoos. “Nice ink.”

  “Thanks.” The flirting was interesting.

  “So, what do you do, big boy?”

  Riker fingered his drink and tipped his head. “I’m a smokejumper.”

  “A what?” Her eyes opened wide.

  Chuckling, he took a sip of his drink. Even stationed out of Missoula, a big little town as he liked to call the place, very few residents knew the term or the horrific concept of danger. “Like firefighters without the use of water.”

  “How in the hell can that happen? I mean…” Wrinkling her nose, she shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

  Lifting a single eyebrow, he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “We get into the belly of the beast, the raging fires that consume thousands of acres. Sometimes we go in by truck, sometimes by airplane, parachuting in. It’s always very dangerous work. We dig trenches, cut down trees that would fuel the ongoing fire in an effort to stop the monster from growing. All this to prevent, protect and preserve property and life.” He took another gulp and waited to see her response.

  “That makes you a true hero.”

  Riker was taken aback not only by her statement but by the look of respect in her eyes. “Appreciate it, but I’m just doing my job.” An awkward silence settled in.

  She leaned closer, the move pushing her breasts further out of the skimpy and very tight top. “You know, you seem like a man who knows exactly what he wants. I could help you with that.”

  “I’m sure you could, given how beautiful you are. Just looking for a night alone, a couple of drinks.” In truth, his cock was already swelling, a need he hadn’t satisfied in a hell of a long time bridging the surface.

  “Oh, poo. I want to have some fun. The girls are great, but I prefer a man, his touch and lips, his big, thick cock.” She offered another giggle and grabbed the drink the moment it was placed on the bar. “To new friends, Mr. Sexy.”

  Riker allowed the toast and enjoyed the sexual bantering. She wasn’t as young as she appeared from a distance, but she was very pretty, even though her makeup didn’t suit her face. Still, she had a nice set of tits and long legs, her ass sculpted in the tight, leather skirt. The bustier was flaming red, the single leather string a dangling teaser. Yeah, he wanted to see her swollen nipples, her rosy buds. Then again, he wasn’t looking for a relationship, or even the concept of dating. He was ready for a single night, maybe two and nothing more.

  She slipped her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers flipping through his short-cropped hair. “All rugged and male. I can only imagine the rest of you.”

  Now, his cock was aching, pushing hard against the tight jeans. He took another sip, contemplating accepting the bait. No, this wasn’t what he wanted. “Like I said. Just here for a couple of drinks. Nothing more.”

  She wrinkled her nose and took a step back, her expression turning hard. “Well, fine. You have no idea what you’re missing. Thanks for the drink.”

  “Anytime. Enjoy the evening.” He didn’t need to know she’d left. He could tell by the hungry words spouted off as she walked by several drunk men.

  The bartender walked closer, a grin on his face. “Careful with that one. Hear she’s a bit of a gold digger.”

  “Well, then she came to the wrong guy.” Riker broke into a smile as he thought about his meager belongings. The girl would be mighty disappointed.

  “I hear that, brother.”

  Barely thirty minutes later and he’d grown bored, the tension returning with a vengeance. Dropping another set of bills, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, acknowledging no one. The moon was bright, illuminating the shadowed sky. Exhaling, he glanced at the billowing clouds, the twinkling stars, wishing for another time.

  “I thought I’d try one last time. I really do think you’re one hot man.”

  Riker wasn’t surprised she’d followed him outside. There wasn’t much of a choice with the dudes hanging out in the bar, the majority far too drunk to be of any benefit. “I play hard.”

  “I like that. The kinkier the better.” She rubbed her hand through her hair and adjusted the trench coat covering her outfit.


  He debated as he reached for his helmet. There was an erotic vibe, a sensual appeal about the woman. She certainly knew what she wanted.

  “I live close by. We could go there.” Her words were little more than a purr.

  “What’s your name?”

  She cocked her hip, her smile seductive. “What do you want it to be?”

  Exhaling, he climbed onto the bike, starting the engine. “I’m not into games. Period.”

  Taking a few quick steps, she rubbed her hand down his arm. “Kiki. It’s Kiki. Okay?”

  The offer was too good to pass up and maybe even what he needed to get him out of his funk. Without saying another word, he grabbed the second helmet from his satchel, tossing it to her. “Get on.”

  “Purr, baby. I’d love to. You’re going to have a damn good time.”

  Yeah, he’d have to see about that. After all, he was in a predatory mood.

  The air was invigorating, the moonless night allowing him to maneuver through the darkened streets with ease. He knew exactly where he was going. Rolling down the street, he turned the lights off before he reached his destination. The neighborhood was large, the houses positioned on several acres. He wouldn’t have to worry about sound. Not that the asshole would have any time to react, let alone scream for help.

  Easing out of the car, he grabbed the pistol, placing it inside his jacket then looked down the street. There was no one coming, no lights even in sight. As he headed for the house, he crouched down and moved around the side. There were a few lights on inside, but there was only one person home. Timing was everything.

  He crept through the well-manicured grass toward the back gate. He knew the area very well, the house and the exits like the back of his hand. The house was secure but there were no annoying systems to hamper his entrance. As he unlatched the gate, he was careful to make certain there had been no recent purchases at the houses surrounding, dogs to keep a watchful eye. Snickering, he closed the gate behind him before advancing.