Burn For Me (The Burn Series Book 3) Read online

  “Ew, no. Too far. My brother calls Charli “Sugar”. I had to withstand hearing that groaned, mid coitus, the last time they were at our place. No thank you. Gross. Be careful, Lola.” Her concern both warmed me and made me feel on edge.

  After she climbed into Finn’s monster of a blazer, promising to do lunch with me soon, I was alone. I was often alone, and after the life I had led before, I relished the freedom of that. Sometimes, though, I craved the press of crowds and the loudness of the city.

  Tonight, as I waited for my exchange, it was quiet. Too quiet for me to ignore the shadows and the sounds. Not nearly loud enough for memories and panic to quiet enough for me to feel okay. To feel safe.

  I had just stepped off the L stop a few blocks from my place when I heard it. The burn of cigarette papers, the sweet smell of cigarillos, and the heavy breath that kept me running. I don’t even know if there was someone in the shadows, but like always, I ran.

  Just in case.

  I’d run a few blocks, darting between people on the busy sidewalks before I stopped. I realized how ridiculous I must look; in a paint covered smock with calf length bibs and heavy Doc Martens. I was also blocks out of my way without a jacket, and it was freezing.

  After getting a hold of myself, I ducked into a touristy corner store. I watched every face that stepped into the harsh light of the store for nearly two hours before I would head back out. When I did venture back out, I was wearing a two-sizes too big Chicago hoodie, and a lot of fear.

  By the time I walked the several blocks to my place, I thought I was okay. It was late, I was exhausted, and the burst of adrenaline had me alert and anxious. I was just sliding my key into the lock when the shadows had me on edge again. From the corner of my eye, I was sure I saw the cherry end of a cigarette burning.

  Instead of locking myself up inside the safety of my place, or I don’t know, calling for help, I ran again. This time, I jumped on my bike and steered it through the clogged streets. I rode until my legs were tired and icy cold sweat had my smock clinging to my skin.

  Somehow, I ended up at the diner. I was a mess, but Mable didn’t ask questions, and I loved her for that. I sat in that booth, once again watching each face that entered after me, for hours. Nothing settled me, not even her amazing soup or the slice of pie I loved so much.

  That is, nothing until I felt Hunter enter the diner. I didn’t know it was him until I heard him laugh with Mable. When he shifted his eyes around the place, I wanted them to skip me. I didn’t want him to see me like that.

  But, right then, I really wanted him to see me. I wanted him to ask me what was wrong; why I was so clearly terrified. Why I was hiding away in a too-big hoodie, in a corner booth, at that mostly empty diner at almost two am. Then his eyes landed on me, and I saw all of those questions in his handsome face.

  Damn, he did see me and I don’t know if I liked it.

  Something flickered in his pretty eyes, as if he too realized he saw me. Not just saw me hiding in that booth, in that diner in the middle of the night. Saw that I was really, truly, hiding from something. I saw the moment he considered joining me. Hunter wanted to ask the questions I never answered for anyone.

  What scared me more than what sent me to that diner was right then, I wanted to answer for him. I silently pleaded that he not join me, as another part of me willed him to do just that. I knew if he did, I was going to answer his questions. Because, I wanted Hunter to know the truth.

  I wanted him to know me.

  Instead, he seemed to realize at the same moment I did that neither of us were in the right place for that. At least, not right then. Not right now. For the briefest of moments, his eyes lingered, though. Then, as he headed out later, I felt him hesitate more than I actually saw it.

  Hunter Byrne wanted to have my answers, and in that moment, we both knew I wanted to give them to him.

  3

  It was a shit day to be a firefighter. At least, if you wanted to actually perform any of the heroic duties that people assume we firefighters do all day. Today, I was writing out schedules and working around leave requests and one suspension. Nothing heroic about pushing papers at a desk.

  Also, the quiet of my office let me think. Often, I needed the quiet to calm my thoughts. There was too much going on in my head most days, so a little focusing was good. Today, though, I was focusing on one thing and one thing only.

  Lola. Fucking. Von.

  I’d left that diner last night and sat on my bike for fifteen minutes. I wanted to go back in. I wanted to know why Lola was there at three am and why she was so clearly hiding. In fact, I wanted to know every fucking thing Lola would tell me.

  I saw in her eyes last night that she wanted to tell me. That first run-in at Deacon’s house, in fact, I saw something more. In the months since, Lola and I have danced a fine line between need and want, and it’s getting thinner every fucking day.

  Call it a hero complex; I see that girl is hurting and I want to make it stop. Not only do I want her to stop hurting, I want to be the one to make it stop. In fact, the idea of anyone else making that darkness in her eyes go away just about guts me.

  I don’t claim to understand what this thing is. Probably the last thing I need; another project that could explode in my hands. But damn, I know for a fact she would taste good and feel good in my hands. Maybe I want us to wreck each other.

  Something tells me Lola could absolutely destroy me. Lola can hide behind sexy hair, a filthy mouth, and quirky clothes all she wants. I see the pain and fear in her eyes; I saw it that night we almost took it too far. I see it when she lets her guard down and her eyes go soft. No one else sees it, maybe, but I sure as shit do.

  Last night, her guard was down and I saw it, and fuck, it was beautiful. Her pain shouldn’t make me want her more, but it does. I want to right every wrong and chase away her darkness. Instead, I walked away because my own darkness has just about consumed me.

  “Hey, Dick,” Boomed a voice from my doorway, “Before you write the schedule, I need two Wednesday’s from now off, if you can swing it. There’s a show at the Orpheum, and um...yeah, my woman loves the Orpheum.” Finn waggled his brows, and I knew he loved the Orpheum more because of what that fuck did to his woman in the dark in those box seats I’d scored for him.

  “You need the fifteenth off, then? I just bet you go for the culture, dick.” Finn stepped inside and sank into one of the club chairs facing my desk.

  “Absolutely. Sometimes, I even pay attention and learn some shit. Most times, though...” For a moment, he got a dreamy look on his face.

  I envied the prick, no joke. Everyone thought once that Gigi was too good for him. I knew better; even if I had questioned it once as well. Gigi was good for Finn, but he was damn good for her too.

  They were getting married in the summer, after Cage and Charli’s wedding in the spring. I was happy for both of them. At the same time, I was absolutely green with jealousy. Still, I don’t think I’d want that kind of thing again; not after failing at it so miserably before.

  “Most times you’re playing out your own Greek tragedy; I know, bro. How’s the wedding shit coming?” I should know some of this, since I’m in both weddings.

  “Awesome. Gigi thinks Lola can score us that old firehouse on Market for the venue.” I perked up at the mention of Lola, setting my papers aside.

  “Oh, yeah? Lola figures in how, exactly?” I tried to play it cool, tried to pretend I wasn’t as interested as I think Finn realized I was. Well, shit.

  “Lola knows people, Gigi said. I guess Lola did some work for the owner; some art shit. I saw some of her work at one of the classes Gigi takes. It’s good shit.” Leave it to Finn to call an artist’s work “shit”.

  “I saw some once too, actually.” I didn’t elaborate, and I could tell by the look on Finn’s face that he knew I was desperately trying to play it cool.

  “Did you, now? Please, do tell.” I flipped him off as he smirked, making a show of messing with my
paperwork.

  “Do you really want that night off, Coops? Or you want to sit here and bust my balls?” Finn laughed, and I had to look away or I’d be laughing at my stupid ass too.

  “I want to sit here and bust your balls. I won’t, though, because I want some ball action of my own, know what I’m saying?” Just when I was ready to call him on his mouth about his girl, the alarms sounded.

  “Saved by the bell. Get the fuck out of my office, you lecherous fuck.” I laughed when he grabbed his junk and flipped me off.

  “Gigi knows I’m filthy. My woman loves me because I’m filthy, my man. Later, Cap.”

  The briefest mention of Lola left me unable to concentrate on the schedules. I did pencil in that request of Finn’s, though. The idiot made Gigi happy, and I considered Deacon’s family my family. They were all I had left after Holly walked out with that slick suit two years ago.

  Lola was the first woman I had thought about this way since then. Since her. I didn’t know what it meant, but I thought I might want to find out. I could have treated Lola like the others and fucked her good and left her raw. I gave no shits about doing that to the badge bunnies.

  I had no intention whatsoever of doing that to Lola.

  That art of hers, I had seen it one of the nights we had all been hanging out at Finn and Gigi’s place. Weeks before, we had celebrated New Year’s there with them. I’d gotten a little taste of Lola that night too; I couldn’t start the new year without her taste on my lips.

  Lola wanted more, and fuck, so did I.

  Then she pissed me off by kissing Levi. Trying to pretend she didn’t feel the shit I did when she kissed me back as if she needed it to breathe. I knew better. When we hung out for dinner one night, just a little over a week ago, she was different. Softer.

  I liked Lola hard and mouthy, but fuck, when she got soft like that? Mesmerizing. I had been under her fucking spell ever since. We had all laughed and talked and had a good time. Lola was beside me, and I had vibrated with need all night. What made it worse? So had she.

  After dinner, Charli insisted we play games, and I was absolutely down for anything that kept me right there next to Lola. I loved her laugh and the sparkle in her lovely violet eyes. I’d never seen eyes like that; dark around the edges, almost blue, but violet in the center, with flecks of gold. They were striking.

  Sitting beside me as we played an epic game of monopoly, Lola began to doodle. First, on the napkins from dinner. Little sketches of the others. When she ran out of room, she stopped. Until she pulled a notebook from her bag at her feet and started up again.

  “Let me see.” I had insisted, because we had been flirting like mad all night.

  I couldn’t get enough of her, and I felt like it was the same for her. That was fucking intoxicating. Lola touched me whenever she could and laughed at my stupid jokes. When she handed over the notebook, she slid closer, and I breathed deep her minty freesia scent. Also fucking intoxicating.

  “Be nice. It’s for fun.” I tilted a look at her, my chest tightening when she peered up at me, soft and fragile.

  “Of course, Lola Bear.” My hand dropped between us, and we both sighed when it wrapped around her thigh.

  The notebook was full of amazing comic-like caricatures. Of her and the girls as book-wielding superheroes. Of all of us guys as superhero firefighters. Some city scenes; people on the L, in the park, at the library. Damn, it was all so good.

  “Wow, Lola. This shit is good.” For a moment, we had stopped dancing around things; it felt like we were alone in our own space together.

  “Thank you,” Her eyes went downcast and then came up to mine again, “I thought one day, maybe, I’d write a graphic novel. I mean, I paint and sculpt, but this is for me.” Just as she said this, I stopped on a page.

  A page that took my breath away. It was all of us on New Year’s. Except instead of kissing Levi and laughing about it, our night ended very differently. After the kiss that had rocked me for weeks after, we were together by the Pier. Watching the fireworks. Kissing again.

  “Lola...” My hand had slid higher between her legs.

  The softness in her eyes then changed how I looked at Lola. Because it wasn’t just softness because she was relaxed, having fun with our friends. It was softness because of me. I wanted her so badly then. By the thrumming of her pulse and her uneven breathing, I knew she did too.

  I ruined it, because I pushed too hard. I had never felt anything like I did that night. I wanted more. Needed more. Then, I demanded more. Right there, with our friends laughing about Park Place and Baltic Avenue, I touched her.

  I shoved my hand between her legs and cupped her pussy. Lola was wet, and I was hard as shit. My fingers shoved at the tiny leather shorts she wore, and found her bare. How the others didn’t hear my groan of approval, I have no idea. I sunk two fingers inside her slit and watched her open up to me.

  As my fingers started to pump into her tightness, her breathing hitching, I knew I was in trouble. I never wanted anything like I wanted to see Lola come for me. Feel it around my fingers. Then, soon, around my cock. I didn’t get to feel her come. Beside us, Cage and Finn were laughing as Finn was accused of cheating as banker.

  Finn slammed his hand down on their mahogany table and Lola changed. That lovely, sexy softness she had worn all night vanished. Just like that. Her tiny hand grasped my wrist as I pumped my fingers slowly into her pussy. I let her stop me, of course. But when she tried to pull away, I tried to yank her close again.

  That was a mistake.

  Something dark and almost feral twisted her beautiful face. The glittery golden nails she had gushed to the girls about when she arrived dug into my flesh. It didn’t hurt and I don’t even think she meant it to. I saw the fight or flight take over her.

  Slowly, my hands fell away from her. I watched as she shut down, a little bit at a time. Before I could find a way to fix it, to get her soft again, she left. I knew better than to push, but still I did. Because, I am a fucking idiot.

  “Lola Bear,” I’d husked into her hair after following her to the door, “wait for me. Let me get you home.” My hands smoothed over her curvy hips, tugging her back against me.

  “Goodnight, Hunter. Let. Me. Go. Please.” The way she said please cracked my heart. Lola was terrified.

  “Please, wait...” I didn’t stop her as she stormed into the night.

  I could handle fighting fires and saving people’s lives. I had no issue with risking my life. I, apparently, could not deal with a broken, damaged, and scared Lola Von.

  All I wanted to do was fix her.

  “I don’t really care. I just want out of that fucking place.”

  “I am just looking out for the bottom line. Your bottom line, Hunter.” Rolling my eyes, I took a long swig of my beer and snorted.

  “Rourke, I don’t care. I already have a place lined up. Just sell the fucking house. No more stalling.” I slammed my phone down and pulled at my beer again.

  I’d lived with the ghost of my failed marriage for long enough. Why I had not moved out and sold the place after Holly left, I don’t know. Well, of course, I know; the first few months, maybe even longer, I’d wanted her back. After everything we put each other through, I wanted a second chance.

  Then when she wanted it, about a year after I’d fucked my way through the regular bunnies at the bars, I didn’t. Not even because I no longer thought about it or even missed her a little. No, by then, I was no longer the same man. Holly was certainly no longer the woman I had grown up being in love with, either.

  Really, I don’t remember a time I didn’t love Holly, in some way. We grew up in a Podunk town, just a few miles apart. Our families were good friends and we spent most our childhood together. There was nothing Holly didn’t know about me, and I thought, nothing I didn’t know about her.

  “We’re going to be together forever. One way or another.” Holly had whispered as we held hands tightly in the sunshine the summer before high school began.


  “‘Course we are, baby. Of course, we are. You’re my biscuit.” Holding hands and taking on the world seemed like a fine idea to me.

  We were growing up though. Holding hands led to making out in the basement of her Daddy’s house. Soon, it was fucking in the back of my truck. Or by the lake, or in the barns. I couldn’t get enough of her. I thought I’d showed her how much I loved her.

  Thought she loved me that much. For most my life, I’d known I would marry Holly. Once I did, I thought it couldn’t get better. I had been right, of course. It never gets better than your first love. That time when you don’t have to worry about bills or jobs or fucking paint colors.

  All too soon, the real world showed me I didn’t know Holly at all. The sweet, gentle, loving woman I had spent half my life wrapped up in, or buried inside, changed. It felt like overnight, but it was slower than that. Then that fucking house; it was as if it were symbolic of growing up, and Holly couldn’t stand it, no matter what we did to it.

  Now, I couldn’t wait to be rid of the fucking place. I wasn’t waiting that long to get out from under it, though. I was moving into Finn’s place, no matter what happened with that house. It was nothing more than a bad memory to me now.

  “You know I’m leaving the furniture, right?” Finn hollered from the stairs beneath me, “Gigi hates my shit. Don’t know why you need this fucking chair.” I laughed, broken from my thoughts as I watched he and Cage struggle with the recliner.

  “Because it was my Daddy’s. I like to keep something from home. You are two of the biggest brutes I know and you can’t move a recliner up twelve stairs?” I had counted them, yes; I was mildly OCD with things like that. Six doors, twelve stairs up, four stairs out.