Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Emmett
Running into burning buildings? Bring it on.
Finding out who has a penchant for arson? It's what I do.
Falling for the curvy siren I pulled out of a burning house?
Yeah… I might be in over my head on this one.
Nina Gregori is the last thing I expected.
She might also be the only thing I need.
Unfortunately, this gorgeous little spitfire wants nothing to do with me, my investigation, or my brand of protection.
She thinks I'm the devil. I think she's my future.
And I'm not giving up until she's in my arms…and I know exactly who she's trying so hard to protect.
Nina
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
That's my baby brother's motto, at least.
I just didn't expect his "desperate measures" to include arson.
Or require an overgrown firefighter with a sexy smirk to carry me out of our burning childhood home.
Now, I'm in way over my head. And my brother is nowhere to be found.
Emmett is determined to find out who started that fire.
I'm hellbent on keeping the truth a secret.
But this ridiculous man is not making it easy.
When he touches me, I'm in serious danger of going up in flames…and so is my little brother's future.
In a small town where the residents have it all, you'd think the heroes on the frontlines would have it easy. But in Silver Spoon Falls, chaos is always one call away. Unfortunately, love is a little harder to come by for the boys in blue (and red) who protect this town. Until now. They never imagined finding love like this—but everything worth having in this town is worth fighting for. And they'll fight like hell for the women who set their souls on fire. But convincing their soulmates to give forever a chance? Well, they made handcuffs for a reason.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Nina
I'm going to die in a bathroom.
It's a grim realization. But as the water in said bathroom trickles to a stop, preventing me from soaking more of the room to protect myself, and the roar of the flames creeping closer grows louder, it's the only thing I can think.
I'm going to die in a bathroom with garish, peeling wallpaper from the 1970s and a toilet seat with shag carpeting.
And I'm pretty sure my little brother, Nate, started the fire that's going to take me out.
"Dammit, Nina, think," I whisper to myself, trying desperately not to panic as smoke slips through cracks in the door despite the dusty old towels I shoved under it to try to save myself.
I frantically look around, searching for a way out…but there isn't one. My curvy ass is too big—and too short—to fit through the tiny window strategically placed in the shower for optimal perving. Seriously, whoever came up with in-shower windows was foul. Even if I could squeeze through the small rectangle of glass, I'm pretty sure it was painted shut before I was even born.
I press a wet towel to my face, shivering. Everything in the bathroom is drenched—me included—but wetting everything down isn't going to be enough to save me from the fire currently raging through the home where I grew up. Especially since the fire just cut the flow of water to the bathroom. The inch of water I'm standing in, and the overflowing tub is all I get.
Does it hurt to die in a fire? I'm not sure.
But it's definitely going to hurt my seventeen-year-old brother when my ghost catches up with him after the fact. I told him to stop worrying and let me handle everything. He didn't listen. When he started talking about desperate times requiring desperate measures, I knew he was up to something.
I didn't expect arson, however.
Did he even check the house before he set it on fire?
Ha! Do I even need to ask? The fact that I'm trapped in the bathroom is answer enough, isn't it? Of course, he didn't. He panicked. Mobsters have a way of eliciting that kind of reaction from scared kids.
Our father died recently, leaving behind an ungodly amount of unpaid gambling debt. We barely had a chance to bury him before the men he owed started following me around town, demanding payment. I don't make the kind of money they want. I'm a teacher, for crying out loud! And raising Nate on my own hasn't been easy since I took custody of him when I was eighteen.
I planned to convince my father's bookies to give me enough time to sell his house. It wouldn't cover everything he owed, but it'd be a start. And then Nate saw the insurance paperwork on the house while we were cleaning it out.
Long story short, I guess he thought committing a felony to save our lives was the logical solution. Spoiler Alert: It wasn't.
Now, I'm going to die, and he's probably going to prison.
The smoke in the room grows denser, burning my eyes. I choke, inhaling shallow breaths into the towel as my fresh air supply rapidly dwindles. Maybe it won't be the fire that kills me. It'll be the smoke.
Is that a better option? I don't know. Probably not.
How the hell did he start a fire that raged out of control this fast? I was packing up the attic when I smelled smoke. I tried to get out, but by the time I made it to the top of the stairs, the entire first floor was on fire, and it was spreading fast. I tried to get to a bedroom window to crawl out, but couldn't get to it.
Nate was right about one thing. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I ran into the bathroom when the bedroom went up in flames. I figured maybe water would save me. Clearly, I was wrong.
It's already getting hard to breathe.
I search around for something to try to break the window in the shower to buy myself as much fresh air as possible for as long as possible. My heart pounds, anxiety churning through me. I'm terrified out of my freaking mind, but I don't have time to panic.
If I freak out, I die. If I curl up in a ball, I die.
"I'd really like to not die, Baby Jesus. I have cheesecake in the fridge. And I haven't even finished my book yet," I whisper, dropping to my knees on the floor to rummage through the cabinet. My hand closes around a piece of unattached pipe. "Aha!"
I nearly sob with relief. I don't know if it's a match for the window, but it's long and sturdy.
Time to break shit.
"Please work. Please work." I practically dive for the shower, grunting when I bang my hip against the side of the tub. Pain radiates through me, but I ignore it, dropping my towel into the overflowing water I ran in a last-ditch effort to save myself.