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Smoke And Ashes
Danica Winters
Montana's bravest…and hottestWith a mysterious arsonist on the loose in Missoula, fire inspector Kevin Jensen saves more than Heather Sampson's house. The sexy single father rescues her from an abusive marriage—and discovers his own past failures don't have to rule his life.Especially when sparks between him and Heather ignite irresistible desire.But who's the arsonist? Why target Heather? What's his shocking motive? When Heather faces off with him in a brutal attack, she needs her "white knight" as much as he needs her. Both have looked into their souls and risked their broken hearts for each other. Now Kevin will risk his life.
“Are you sure that it’s okay if I stay, Kevin?”
“I can go. I’m sure that I can stay with—” She stopped before she said Brittany. Her only other friend didn’t have a place in her life for Heather’s mess. She had her hands full dealing with the fire at her house. “I can stay at a hotel or something.”
“You’re not staying at a hotel.” Kevin set her bag next to the wall, but his movements were awkward and tight. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”
“Kevin, I…Thank you.” She didn’t know what to say. Thank you just didn’t seem like enough when what she really wanted to say was that he was part of the reason she had the strength to leave.
He had shown her there could be more in the world. That there could be something besides heartbreak and the constant thoughts that she could be doing something more to make someone else happy, even if that meant being miserable in her own skin.
Kevin had saved her life and he probably didn’t even realize it.
Smoke and Ashes
Danica Winters
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
DANICA WINTERS is a bestselling author who has won multiple awards for writing books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts (quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise). She always believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at www.danicawinters.net (http://www.danicawinters.net).
This book is dedicated to those men and women who have lived through the turbulent cycles of abuse. May this book help you find your voice, live your truth and experience the love you desire.
This book would not have been possible without the support from a multitude of firefighters and law enforcement agents, including: Sergeant Ryan Prather, Retired Training Officer Jerome Kahler, and the men and women of the Frenchtown Rural Fire Department. Thank you for taking the time to help answer questions and making sure that events portrayed in this novel were accurate. You make this world a safer place.
A thank-you cannot be complete without thanking Lane Heymont, Denise Zaza and the Harlequin team. Thank you for helping to bring this book to life.
Contents
Cover (#u1bb034d9-ec86-5979-a359-9f1cb6898872)
Introduction (#ufa3310c9-a1c9-5ce0-9262-b3547fd43135)
Title Page (#ufacaa9d2-9900-55cd-a904-5f9459bfb215)
About the Author (#u5facfe1c-7f6e-5817-aed4-188e7ce704a0)
Dedication (#u4b7f2ced-e921-5546-8dae-8f5a7d1a36e0)
Prologue (#ucce5e429-b85b-5298-b76f-a8b0c7459b6c)
Chapter One (#u4eca8332-e96c-5976-afeb-e0b269dc944b)
Chapter Two (#uc291044d-ddc4-5a58-b579-68125909fa2c)
Chapter Three (#uf72f93f2-0dda-57ef-921e-a884017b2145)
Chapter Four (#u314e882d-5971-5b46-8064-a6cfe9966c75)
Chapter Five (#u1a5317a9-1d19-5089-922f-9b32a2978ff8)
Chapter Six (#u379cfdd0-35ba-5459-ab56-bbc1c60c335d)
Chapter Seven (#u79468e51-ce37-5b01-a59d-a838e4d897df)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_4404cedb-a188-5eb2-a9a8-27d6b3a1518d)
He looked down at Heather Sampson as he pulled the matchbox from his pocket. The box dropped from his hand, spilling matches onto her bedroom floor in a heap of deadly promise. Crouching down, he scooped them back into the container, careful to move quietly, afraid that at any second she would awaken and find him standing over her.
Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted, as if she waited for a kiss from her Prince Charming. She should have known better. There was no such thing as Prince Charming. There were only toads and a precious few men like him—men who worked to make everything just.
The sad truth was that there was no justice in marriage—at least not in any of the marriages he had witnessed. No. Marriage was one lie after another. One hurt feeling masked with a fake smile, only to have another lie strip it away. It was an endless cycle of pain.
What was the point? What was it all for?
As far as he could tell, it was for nothing more than ego and some idealistic hope that if they acted happy, if they faked it well enough, maybe they could finally believe it themselves.
He was here to make her a martyr, not that she would understand, but this was his chance to show her and the world what her marriage truly was—nothing more than smoke and ashes. A fire that had yet to burn itself out. But at last the time had come. The hour was here for him to stoke the flames and let them consume every crumb of her failing marriage.
The inferno could have it all.
He walked out of her bedroom and made his way downstairs, where the glorious scent of gasoline filled the space. Unlike the others, Heather’s house would go up in a flash. In one giant fireball the whole charade would be over—the secrets, the lies, the fake smiles and the hurt feelings. It would all be gone and all her pain could be for a higher purpose.
The night air blew into the house, diluting the gas’s perfume. He made sure to leave the door open as he stepped out and walked toward the garage. A puddle of gas sat on the sidewalk, just waiting for him.
He struck the match.
It was so much easier this way.
The fire’s smoke curled skyward, creating a trail that led to the heavens. If he had his way, life would be better and she would be free.
Chapter One (#ulink_661ea7e2-2f7a-5240-8a70-7a8d8f014131)
A few days earlier
The note had been simple. Two little words. Two haunting, terrifying and humbling words. Words that had the power to rip out Heather’s heart.
I’m leaving.
The paper sat on the kitchen counter where David had left it, a glass of water as a paperweight. The condensation on the glass had dripped down, leaving a ring of water. Like her tears, it was long dried, but it would never disappear.
She fought the urge to turn around and leave the kitchen, lunch be damned for the second day in a row, but the pressures of the day and her nagging hunger drove her forward, past the stained note on their newly installed granite countertops to their perfectly polished stainless-steel fridge.
David had been adamant that they have the finest of everything—the finest appliances, the finest table, all the way down to the silk table runner they’d had specially made and shipped from India. Now, in the lifeless kitchen, the bloodred runner made the entire room seem like a picture out of a home decor magazine, but nothing like a home.
None of it had ever really mattered, not when all she was left with was an empty kitchen and anger in her gut.
Opening the fridge, she was met with its cold, stale air. The only contents were a single bottle of Perrier and a half-eaten piece of week-old cheesecake. God, she loved cheesecake. The way it melted on the tongue, leaving behind the luxurious texture of butter. David hated for her to have it, complaining it made her gain weight.
She grabbed the plate and folded back the plastic wrap. David could hate the cake and her all he wanted. He had made it clear he was leaving. If she wanted to eat cake, she could. He wasn’t here to stop her.
Grabbing a fork, she stabbed the tines into the cake and lifted it to her mouth. The scent of cream cheese filled her senses, making her mouth water. David would have hated this defiance.
She threw the fork and the uneaten bite into the sink and dropped the cheesecake, plate and all, into the garbage bin. David would come back. He always came back. And when he did, he would know she had gone against his wishes.
She stared down at the garbage. David would notice the plate was missing from the stack of exactly eight.
She had every right to be angry, but she would pay if he thought she had done something to intentionally upset him.
Reaching into the bin, she retrieved the plate and scraped the cheesecake off the edge. She couldn’t disappoint him no matter how much he disappointed her.
She stood at the sink and washed the plate as she stared outside. There had been so much more that she had wanted to do with her life. When she’d been young she had dreamed of helping people, of being a nurse. She smiled as she thought of her old teddy, Mr. Bear, who’d always stood in for a tragic victim of some terrible accident. She would use Band-Aid after Band-Aid fixing his wounds. Now he sat at the top corner of her closet, a reminder of a path not taken.
Because of David, she had given up everything,
There was a knock on the door and she set the plate in the drying rack. Reality was calling. Grabbing David’s note, she stuffed it into her pocket.
There was another knock, this time harder, more urgent.
“Coming.” She made her way out to the living room.
Looking in through the window in the door was her neighbor Kevin. He smiled and his eyes lit up as he saw her. As he moved, his sexy, prematurely graying hair sparkled in the sunshine. Heather tried not to notice the wiggle of excitement she felt at seeing him.
She opened the door. “How’s it going?”
“Great, but I need your help,” Kevin said. “I just got called to work. Do you think you could keep Lindsay for a while?” He pushed his daughter out from behind his legs.
Lindsay clutched the straps of her pink backpack. “Hi, Mrs. Sampson.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Why don’t you come in?” Heather dropped her hand onto the girl’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here. I got a bunch of new craft supplies. There’s a new bracelet designing kit you’ll love. And I needed a friend today.”
“Awesome!” Lindsay beamed.
“Thank you so much, Heather. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Kevin reached out. “Lindsay, can I get a hug before I go?”
Lindsay threw herself into her father’s arms. Kevin closed his eyes and squeezed her as if no one was watching. “Love you, honey. Be good, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Lindsay let go.
“Don’t forget you have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your backpack if you need a snack.”
Lindsay nodded.
Kevin turned to leave and Heather couldn’t help but glance down at his black uniform pants. As he moved, they seemed to hug the muscular shape of his body. Warmth rushed through her.
“Wait,” she called out to him, hoping to see his handsome, slightly mischievous grin one more time. “Where’s Colter?”
He looked back and the grin reappeared, making the heat in her core intensify. “He had baseball this afternoon. He should be done in time for the Millers’ barbecue. You going?”
Weeks ago David had promised they would go, but now, with everything that had happened between them, he would never agree.
“I’m not sure.” Heather forced a tight smile.
“I hope you do. It’d be nice to catch up.” Kevin paused. “I’ll be back to pick her up as soon as I can.”
Heather nodded. “No rush.” She needed all the excuses she could get to keep from having to focus on her life, and a nine-year-old girl and her much-too-handsome father were the perfect distractions.
