Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(65)

“Hey, girl. Just thought I'd drop by and check on you. I've been out and about this afternoon with my new guy that I've been telling you about,” Angela said, thumbing toward her vehicle idling in her driveway. She could barely make out the countenance of a man sitting behind the wheel of Angela's car. He waved at her.


“Isn't he gorgeous?”

“Sure, I guess so. It's hard to tell from here,” Jacqueline said shielding her eyes from the sun.

“So are you okay? I was worried about you after the craziness of last night. That Toby didn't hurt you or try to get too friendly, did he?” Angela squeezed her arm.

“Well…” Jacqueline blushed, and her friend squealed.

“He did try to get friendly, didn't he? I knew he had a thing for you.”

“It isn't exactly like that—”

“Wait. Don't give me the details yet. I have to go, but Derek and I are having dinner tonight, and we totally want you to come. Say yes.” Angela pleaded. “It will be so much fun.”

“I'll think about it.” Oh god. Going out with Angela in a normal situation would have been fine, but so much had changed. Jacqueline didn't know if it was safe to make plans. “I need to check with someone first.”

“Who?” Angela's eyebrow lifted. “Oh. Wait. Do you have to check with Toby? Are you already… well, you know.”

Jacqueline’s blush returned. “No… I mean, yes, I do need to talk to him first, but not for the reasons you think. How about I call you?”

“Hmm…” Angela pouted. “Okay, but I'm not taking no for an answer. I expect you to come with me. You'll just love Derek.”

The car honked and she jumped. Unaffected, Angela waved and departed. Jacqueline watched them drive away and stepped back into the house. Locking the door behind her, she shook her head.

She headed upstairs to the bedroom. With a sigh, she lay on the bed and closed her eyes. Just a few minutes to think, to plan. That was all she needed. Yet, even as she lay there, she had the feeling that something was off, like she was alone on a dark deserted road.

Jacqueline opened her eyes and covered her mouth to keep from screaming. At the foot of her bed stood Gabe, the Keeper of Souls. Green eyes glittered with rage, offset by the silver knife he gripped in his hand.

“You should never have been born,” he whispered.

The blade pointed at Jacqueline's heart; he lunged for her.





Command Me




Worry gnawed at Toby’s stomach.

For thirty minutes he’d been working at the bar, but the feeling wouldn’t to go away. Normally, the cleanup of Merlyn's Bar was enough to get him into the routine of for the day, but the last twenty-four hours had been more than a little crazy. Toby wiped the same table four times in the past five minutes as he stared out of the window. Banshees, rogue wizards, soul keepers, and near death experiences would take a toll on even the best of men.

I shouldn't have left Jacqueline alone.

There. The thought that bugged him was leaving Jacqueline alone. Yes, he understood that she needed a little breathing room, and he placed his best and strongest spells around her home in order to protect her, but something about leaving her raised the hairs on his neck and twisted his stomach.

He brushed the feelings aside and returned to tidying the tables. She wasn’t alone. The Keeper of Souls—Gabe—had insisted on staying behind, promising to keep a watch on the place, and claiming that he wasn't able to wander too far from the box anyway. It made him feel a little better but there was something else.

I like her, banshee freakiness and all.

Oh shit. Toby froze as another thought plagued him. He sensed an attachment forming towards the woman, one that he shouldn't have allowed to grow. The explosive kiss they'd shared had caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but imagine her in his bed. Her soft blonde hair resting on his pillow, the way her plump lips would tug at his—made him a little dizzy. As far as he could see, there was no happy ever after in this story. Jacqueline had to die in order to become whole.

Unless…

No, he slammed his fist on the table. Unless didn’t exist in this scenario. She was going to die and face her destiny, and for Toby, that meant no further attachments. He couldn’t go through that again.

From now on, Jacqueline Huston was just a supernatural who needed assistance. Not the object of his affections. Not a woman he intended to have any further thoughts about that weren't strictly professional. He'd done as the Brotherhood had instructed a year ago—keep an eye on the half-banshee and made sure she stayed out of trouble. However, the Brotherhood had told him that if trouble came, it would be up to him to deal with the fallout.

Still… she is hot.

Toby shook his head, mad at having thoughts that just wouldn't quit.

“What's the matter, Toby?” His mother sat in her usual spot at the bar, sipping on a cold beer. “You got it bad for that girl, don't you?”

“No, I don't.” His knuckles cracked.


“You don't have to pretend with me.”

“Good. I'm not pretending. Jacqueline means nothing to me.”

“Really? I saw you kissing her. Didn't look like nothing.” His mother smiled; her eyes rimmed red from excessive alcohol use.