When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (2 page)

Should I do it? It would feel good. So, good. He hurt me. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Images flashed in my head of what could occur. I could pull the trigger and watch the bullet explode from the tip, slice through the air with a boom, and pierce his skull. I could do it. Pain hardened my bones. Resentment swelled in my chest. Rage breathed life into a woman that had been walking around like a zombie in a loveless marriage.

I could do it.

I could witness his skull crack from the impact and watch his brain matter explode, splattering all over his whore’s face. I would laugh. Why not? Sometimes, we had to enjoy the dark moments. Sometimes, we had to do more than fall upon our knees and cry.

I could make blood rain. I could change another man’s mind, and make him reconsider stepping out on his wife, because of Ellis’s tragic story.

Then my son’s face entered my mind, and I knew that I couldn’t carry out my plan of revenge.

“You said I wasn’t as beautiful anymore.” Angry tremors ran through me. “And then you turned around, found this human tampon, and brought her into my house.”

“I’m sorry,” Ellis cried. “So sorry.”

“I know.” I pointed to his leg, pulled the trigger, and let the bullets fly.

Chapter 1

Kassie

One year later

I
can’t believe Richard pulled the fire alarm.

I jogged over to my son’s teacher, Mrs. Thompson.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Mrs. Thompson pointed to the front of the elementary office. “He’s up there with Lieutenant Hornsby.”

Sirens blared all around us. A long line of cars, filled with worried parents, crowded the streets. Two big fire trucks and an ambulance blocked both of the school’s entrances.

“Principal Ziff already talked to Richard,” she said. “Lieutenant Hornsby is now lecturing him.”

“Thank you.” I squinted and spotted a huge man towering over my son. Next to my eight-year-old, he looked like a giant. “Who is that?”

“Lieutenant Hornsby.” Mrs. Thompson turned away, directing traffic toward the football field.

I walked toward them and the Lieutenant looked my way.

Fuck. I don’t need this right now.

Sensations sparked across my flesh. Horniness ensued.

Really? Do you have to be this good looking? Just go away.

I had nothing against this guy, but to me, he was a fire starter. I couldn’t care less that he wore a firefighter uniform. All I knew was that when our gazes met, he set a blaze through my body. Hazel eyes burned every inch of my flesh. Flames rippled. Heat rose. I stumbled and had to catch my breath.

He was a fire starter.

I walked toward him and my son, Rich. They both had been engrossed in conversation. Then the sexy man looked at me and he no longer concentrated on my son.

I now had his attention.

Oh, put out a fire or something.

I simply didn’t have time for penises. I’d spent most of last year in a mental hospital for shooting my ex-husband. My writing career had fallen into ruin. My romance novels weren’t selling as well as they used to.

I needed to rebuild and start over. I had to focus.

I marched forward. Twenty feet lay between us.

Tanned skin spread over his muscular arms. His bulging chest stretched out the t-shirt showing his station’s number inside a fire hat. He had black, cropped hair that was tapered with a dose of swag on the sides.

He couldn’t have been only one ethnicity. He was composed of a lovely mixture of genes. Maybe, Black and Irish or Japanese and Puerto Rican? Something exotic. He had to be at least six feet of sex and warm flesh with sensual memories and dark groans as one gripped the bed sheets and prayed that he wouldn’t stop.

“Uh oh. That’s my mom.” Rich pointed to me.

I ignored the heat in the firefighter’s eyes and the sweetness of his mouth.
I don’t have time for this.
Instead, I turned to the reason I’d come to the elementary school in the first place.

Rich.

My son. The one who set off the alarm. The one who triggered hysteria in teachers and students and had fire trucks blocking the entrance. Every parent hoping to pick up their child, now had to wait in a car line that extended ten blocks away from school.

Lieutenant Hornsby kept his eyes on me as I closed the distance, feeling more naked than I already was.

The principal’s call had ended my work out early. I wore tiny black shorts that gave my legs freedom to move while I ran, but didn’t hide the fact that I carried a big curve of plumpness behind me. A red athletic top finished the outfit and hid the extra cushion on my tummy. My auburn dreadlocks were gathered in a big ponytail atop my head.

I fit in at the gym. But, on school grounds, I felt more like some hip-hop video dancer—ass and titties out to the world, jiggling and bouncing around like I didn’t have a child and wasn’t over thirty.

The firefighter’s hazel eyes drank me in like we were in a nightclub and he was on the prowl.

Stop that.

I moved to them and glared at my son. “Really?”

Rich didn’t look my way. Instead, he ducked behind
Mr. Gorgeous.

The hottie extended his arm. “You must be Mrs. Jones.”

Of course, he has a sexy voice.

“I’m Lieutenant Hornsby.”

“Nice to meet you. Sorry about the circumstances.” I shook his hand. “I don’t know why Richard would do something like this.”

“Apparently, it was a dare.” The Lieutenant continued to hold my hand. Warm skin heated mine. I tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let me. “Will Mr. Jones be arriving, too?”

“Why?”

“Department policy says that we explain our volunteering program to both parents, if possible. Is there a Mr. Jones?”

“Yes. There is a Mr. Jones.” Unease began building. “We’re divorced.”

“How long have you been divorced?”

“It’s been a year.”

He pulled out a pamphlet, but didn’t hand it to me. “How long were you married?”

“Ten years.” I almost added more, but I’d already said enough.

Fire starter frowned. “I’m sorry.”

No judgment lay on his face. That eased the tension away from my neck and shoulders. Sometimes, I swore people studied me while I answered questions about my divorce as if they were trying to discover what my problem was. Like they wondered why I couldn’t keep a man. Lieutenant Hornsby didn’t have that expression. Concern etched around his eyes. Slowly, he moved his hand away and kept his gaze on me.

“How have you been dealing with everything?” he asked.

Okay. Let’s get off me and back onto my son.

I gestured to the pamphlet. “So, about this policy. What is it?”

He handed the paper to me. “When a kid pulls a fire alarm, we have them do an hour of volunteer work with us. Nothing big. It’s more for them to learn about our jobs and earn respect for what we do.”

“When can Richard start volunteering?”

“He’ll need to do an hour at the station within in the next two months.”

“In fact, let’s make it two or three Saturdays, if that’s okay.”

My son let out a tiny groan.

I leaned his way. “Excuse me? Did you have something to say?”

Rich mumbled, “No, ma’am.”

I pointed behind me. “Head to the car, please.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Rich slung his book bag over his shoulders and scurried away.

I stuck the pamphlet in my pocket book. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Call me Lorenzo.” He curved those sexy lips into a sweet smile. “What’s your name?”

“Kassandra. Everyone calls me Kassie.”

He watched Rich run off. “Are you dating anyone?”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“How about this?” He leaned in closer. “Are you interested in dating anyone?”

“No. And uh—”

“I’ve been divorced for five years. The entire process from separation to full acceptance is one of the hardest things I had to do in my life. In some ways it’s a mourning process.”

I stood there, speechless.

He continued, “You said you were together for ten years. That’s amazing. But, you feel defeated. Right? Maybe, even lost.”

I raised my hands. “Okay, this is getting weird. Thanks for the psychic reading.”

Teachers passed by us. A few of the women glanced his way and giggled.

“This is probably inappropriate,” he said.

“It is inappropriate,” I said. “And I’m not interested in dating anyone, right now. That’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

“Good. It means you’re comfortable with yourself. You don’t mind being alone, while you heal.”

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my son had safely gotten into the car. “Yes,
Dr. Phil
. I’m learning that it’s not so bad to be without a man. Okay. . .so we need to end this conversation.”

“That’s fair. You’re not ready to date, now.” He raised one finger. “But when that moment comes, when you’re ready to dip your toes into the dating pool—”

“You want the first stroke?” I crossed my arms.

“Yes.” Then he scrunched his face into confusion. “Wait no. Not stroke like sex.”

I tossed him a skeptical look. “So you have no intentions of ever having sex with me?”

“Well yes, one day, but I would want us to take our time.”

“Sure,” I said. “Look, buddy. I’m not interested.”

His expression radiated extreme arrogance. “I get it.”

“Cool.”

He smiled. “You should still get my number.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Take it.” He gave me a business car. “One night, you might have a fire that you need to put out.”

“Wow. A fire to put out?” I stared at the card. “Does that line actually work with women?”

“Always.”

“I bet you bring your
little hose
to douse every lonely woman’s fire.”

“It’s not little.”

“It would be little when I’m done with it.” I got on my toes, tilted his way, and whispered, “You’re going to want to put that card back in your pocket. I’m what genius scientists call a crazy bitch. You don’t want to put out my fire. You want to run. And if you ever bring your hose around me, I will chop it off.”

That was the moment he was supposed to show disgust and inch back. Instead, he leaned my way and brushed his lips against my ear. My skin tingled. A sensual scent surrounded me.

Why must he smell so good?

His words lowered into a seductive growl. “Does that usually work?”

The word barely left my mouth. “What?”

“When you get on your little toes and threaten the guy’s penis, does it scare him off?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.” He winked at me. “That’s the sort of statement that separates the men from the boys. Keep it up.”

“And did that scare you away?”

“I’m a man. I’m a mixture of warrior lines. The black part of me knows how to face struggle and still win. The Irish part of me will never give up without a fight.”

“And the humble part of you was chewed up and consumed by your big ego?”

He had the nerve to crack his neck, like he was stepping up to a challenge. “Take my card. Call me when you need me, and I’m not just talking about my hose.”

I snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Really, Mrs. Crazy Woman. I’m talking about offering real help. I have four sisters. I’m the only brother. I’ve seen their struggles with men that didn’t appreciate them. I know what it is to realize, one day, that you’re raising a child, alone.”

“Wow.” I nodded. “I bet you bang a lot of divorced women.”

The arrogance left his face. “Some guys will see how hot a woman is and run to her fire, only to stop, surmise that the flames are too much, and not save her, but instead, wait for when the smoke clears.”

“But you like to run up, take out your hose, and spray all over the woman’s face?”

“You’re good with mixing my words.” He drank me in, again, from head to toe, slipping his gaze all over me. I tried to ignore it, but my flesh ignited and the area around us darkened, spotlighting only him and me. He licked his lips and whispered, “You’re different. I like that. Take my card.”

“I won’t be using it, but thanks for the offer. Now, this is where we end the odd conversation outside of my son’s elementary school. Thanks for being professional.”

“You're welcome. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’ll see
my son
on Saturday.”

His jaw twitched. “Nice meeting you, Kassie.”

I hated my name on his tongue. It sounded so damn nasty, like he was imagining opening my legs with each syllable. Even worse, my clit jumped a little as if she had nothing better to do.