скачать книгу бесплатно
Sweet Justice
Cynthia Reese
The toughest call he ever had to makeFollowing protocol during a fire that badly injured a young woman leaves Georgia firefighter Andrew Monroe racked with guilt. He hopes to make amends by helping Mallory Blair’s kid sister heal through equestrian therapy on his family ranch. The big obstacle is Mallory, who blames Andrew for what happened in spite of the daring rescue that placed his own life at risk. He knows that falling for Mallory is asking for trouble…especially when their mutual attraction ignites more conflict. But Mallory’s a fighter. Like her sister. Like him. Together, can they find a way to turn the past into hope for the future?
The toughest call he ever had to make
Following protocol during a fire that badly injured a young woman leaves Georgia firefighter Andrew Monroe racked with guilt. He hopes to make amends by helping Mallory Blair’s kid sister heal through equestrian therapy on his family ranch. The big obstacle is Mallory, who blames Andrew for what happened in spite of the daring rescue that placed his own life at risk. He knows that falling for Mallory is asking for trouble...especially when their mutual attraction ignites more conflict. But Mallory’s a fighter. Like her sister. Like him. Together, can they find a way to turn the past into hope for the future?
“That’s better. You don’t look so polished now. You look all rumpled and kissable.”
“I do?” Mallory tilted her head up, staring into clear, calm blue eyes.
Andrew cupped her jaw. His mouth on hers was soft, tentative at first, then more confident. It was a good kiss, a near perfect kiss, all the better because he didn’t push things, but let it happen naturally. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“Mauve is the pink trying to be purple,” she murmured for lack of anything else to say.
“Never can keep those straight.” His hand slid along her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. She felt his gaze upon her, smelled a hint of smoke on his skin.
He was wearing his uniform under the denim jacket, she realized with a start—navy blue with the insignia stitched onto the pocket.
The same uniform he wore when he’d abandoned Katelyn to that demon fire.
Dear Reader (#ulink_af14d36a-771b-5628-b76c-07b6f1063ecd),
I still remember the night a kitchen fire devastated the heart of my parents’ home. Luckily, no one was injured. Others, including many firefighters on duty and off, haven’t been as fortunate.
In Sweet Justice, Andrew and Mallory find themselves dealing with the fallout of just such a fire, one that injures both a civilian and a firefighter. It all starts with a single bad decision with the potential to send hopes, dreams and futures up in smoke.
The worst thing about most structure fires? They’re imminently preventable. Writing this book has reminded me to be safe—and to check those smoke detector batteries!
Cynthia
Check out me and my fellow Mills & Boon Heartwarming sisters at heartwarmingauthors.blogspot.com (http://heartwarmingauthors.blogspot.ca).
Sweet Justice
Cynthia Reese
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CYNTHIA REESE lives with her husband and their daughter in south Georgia, along with their two dogs, three cats and however many strays show up for morning muster. She has been scribbling since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and reading even before that. A former journalist, teacher and college English instructor, she also enjoys cooking, traveling and photography when she gets the chance.
To my lovely gal pals—Leslie, Bobbi and Fran. Thanks for talking me down from the ledges.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_969b29d8-ee43-58fc-a2b1-7e9bc3a45424)
Kathryn Lye and Victoria Curran are the best editors on the planet—this book wouldn’t have been possible without them. I also owe a huge debt to my Harlequin Heartwarming sister Karen Rock, who patiently brainstormed with me to work out the lives of the Georgia Monroes.
For technical help, thanks goes to Sergeant Tommy Windham and all the firefighters at the City of Dublin, Georgia’s Fire Department. Dr. Jean Sumner first gave me the idea of what injury Katelyn might suffer in a fire. Eric Carney and Stacy Watson graciously taught me what burn victims endure during rehab. All mistakes are mine!
Inspiration also came from the Love family—they’ve shown me what a wonderful thing a big family can be.
My critique partner, Tawna Fenske, as well as my readers, Jessica Brown, Wright and Dusty Gres, Kandice Williams, and Lee and Kathy Cheek, helped me tremendously.
And to my husband and my daughter—I owe you loan-shark big for putting up with my MIA self.
Contents
Cover (#u1480e901-4965-515b-a7d7-053a7e6d3931)
Back Cover Text (#ue3f40781-56f0-5010-9e69-d0144f5c5e0e)
Introduction (#u3281172c-4c0e-5551-ad90-f39c02d8ffbc)
Dear Reader (#ulink_00733ec4-a890-518b-b383-f66a8b4beb0c)
Title Page (#u74c9dfd0-f496-561d-9142-1493c941aa0f)
About the Author (#uca99502a-0598-59c7-a759-a18112df28c1)
Dedication (#uf3e7be9d-4f69-545b-8f4c-540248202fa0)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_d538c768-4e26-580a-8e5f-ade1f5f3d40c)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4b0275c0-ee67-54d7-91bd-3dcc6d7ff398)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4379a42e-af9e-599c-a789-03bd7847ff5d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_447eb610-d6d3-5765-92fa-d92dabc329dd)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8b1fcc6a-7f08-5c33-b83c-cd90296f6fe6)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_1dbb5e1b-f18e-52c7-8a1c-6a5b94d82ba3)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_38efa605-58e0-5c9a-866b-3bf1a0233012)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_26e6613b-2006-5985-9a3d-c286304e7ef5)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7758d03e-45ca-56de-a39b-aecc9e1e26f0)
BLACKNESS.
A solid wall of blackness.
Andrew Monroe crawled farther into the darkness, the grit of the floor biting into his knees, the heft of the fire hose under his right arm. His left hand secure on Eric Russell’s turnout gear, the only way he even knew his fellow crewmember was ahead of him.
And the girl they were trying to find? Who knew where she was? Or was she even here?
Eric had called out to her, but the only noise that penetrated the darkness was the rasp of their own breathing.
Captain had said that her roommates weren’t sure the girl, Katelyn, was still in the house—if you could call the tumbledown two-story much of a house. It seemed to go on forever, just room after room. It was like so many of the big old homes in this college town—taken over by students in search of cheap rent, and who cared if the place was nothing more than a firetrap?
The roommates, Cap said, weren’t even sure this girl, Katelyn, had even come home the night before. No one had seen her since yesterday afternoon.
She was probably out for an early-morning run or getting coffee or had slept over at a friend’s—at least, she was if she was lucky.
Whether she was in here or not, it was Eric and Andrew’s job to clear the structure and make sure no one was still in the house. So they started at the bottom, intent on working toward the stairs.
Eric moved forward, and Andrew crawled behind. He heard Eric’s muffled call for Katelyn again, then his waiting silence.
Only the sound of their air packs answered. Andrew’s heart sank. This was a mess, and he could sense time was running out for her if she was in here. She was just a college kid.
Nobody needs to die that young.
Eric pulled up short, and Andrew almost crashed into him. He stayed still, listening. Yeah—there it was again, ahead and above them...on the stairs?
A girl screaming. Even through his mask and the rest of his gear, Andrew could hear the panic in her voice.
Why do they always go up?
Was she coming down the stairs? In this smoke? She’d be dead—better for her to stay where she was until they could get a ladder setup outside, pull her from one of the upstairs windows.
He felt more than heard her as she dashed back and forth across the landing above their heads.
Hasn’t anyone taught you to get on your knees in a fire? Sheesh. You’re like a jackrabbit up there. Slow down, otherwise you run out of air. Get to a window.
Had Eric heard? Andrew signaled to Eric, who was in charge of their two-man sweep team. They needed to radio the captain. As the guy in charge, that was Eric’s call to make.
Once the girl was safe, Captain could assess whether it was worth the risk to save this heap of junk.
Eric and Andrew’s history of teamwork paid off. Andrew sensed that his buddy had either heard the girl himself or realized that Andrew had.
Eric moved—for his radio? To tell Andrew to make the call?
Andrew didn’t have the time to figure it out, because in the next breath, the floor next to Eric gave way. Hot air belched upward, along with a cloud of blackness tinged with an unearthly glow from the flames beneath them.
His buddy would have dropped into that glow if Andrew hadn’t had a hold of him. Even so, Eric slipped, his hands scrabbling for purchase, his feet digging into part of the floor that still held. Andrew tightened his grip on him, praying that the floor wouldn’t give way beneath them.
C’mon, c’mon, hold still!
For a heart-stopping moment, Andrew was sure they were going to tumble into the yawning pit of darkness below, the heat billowing up...
At least I’m not married. I won’t leave a wife like Dad left Ma.
Something in Andrew fought back at that and doggedly held on. They were too young to die in a death trap like this, Andrew was twenty-five to Eric’s twenty-eight. Fire couldn’t have them today.
Not today. Maybe someday, but not on my watch.
The big firefighter swung sideways and Eric’s head rammed into something thick and heavy. The sickening thud reverberated through Andrew’s fingers and arm.
