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  IGNITE

  A White Mountains Thriller

  Book #2

  by Nancy Lee Badger

  Copyright © August 2015 Nancy Lee Badger

  Revised November 2016

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic

  or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval

  system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a

  magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no

  relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Names, characters, places, and

  incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. SW

  Originally published in 2011 by RRP as Love to the Rescue, but has been heavily revised

  Cover illustration copyright © 2015

  by Nancy Lee Badger

  All rights reserved

  THE STORY

  The author has again used her EMT, Firefighter, and 9-1-1 background to create this story. Josie Miller senses that fellow paramedic-firefighter, Pete Thayer, is hiding something behind his sketchy history. He has a reputation for one-night stands in the small town of Fairfield, New Hampshire. He doesn’t look at her that way, but Joe finds she is falling for him.

  They respond to accident calls, medical emergencies, and fast-moving forest fires amid sparks of another kind. Outside influences come in to play, and Pete is accused of murder. After he professes his innocence, and their relationship ignites, her brothers intervene. A suicide note, a fight, stolen moments of love, and a desire to listen to their hearts, lead these two heroes toward a climax filled with tension, pain, bloodshed, and atonement.

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to all the exceptional men and women whose work number is 9-1-1. These people are highly trained to respond to THE CALL. Also, to all the first responders, EMTs, Paramedics, police officers, state troopers, and firefighters who race to the scene to help victims of crimes, sickness, or accidents. And to the members of New Hampshire 9-1-1 and the Rumney New Hampshire Volunteer Fire Department, and the Rumney F.A.S.T. squad, I miss working with you guys!

  Books by Nancy Lee Badger

  Clan of Dragons

  Spark

  Smoke

  Smolder

  Kilted Athletes Through Time

  My Lady Highlander

  My Dark Highlander

  My Hunted Highlander

  White Mountains Thrillers

  Shiver

  Ignite

  Highland Games Through Time

  My Honorable Highlander

  My Banished Highlander

  My Reluctant Highlander

  Highland Games Through Time-boxed set

  Dragons

  Dragon Bites

  Southern Fried Dragon

  Dragon in the Mist

  Dragon’s Curse

  Military

  Unwrapping Chris

  Find all buy Links on Nancy’s Blog

  http://nancyleebadger.blogspot.com

  CHAPTER 1

  “Miller! Grab the pike and check those walls!” Pete Thayer’s shouted order, muffled by his facemask, rumbled low and gruff. Josie Miller cringed. Couldn’t he see she’d already grabbed the hooked pole? Irritated, she cursed beneath her helmet.

  I know what to do!

  Firefighter training in this neck of the woods was thorough. She’d fought many a chimney fire in Fairfield, New Hampshire before he showed his handsome face in her town. Ignoring him, she stopped to give their record keeper her name and tag number before she headed for the stairs. With all this smoke, Pete probably didn’t see the pike in her gloved hand. Shouldn’t she give him the benefit of the doubt?

  Josie trudged up the stairs, her heavy fire boots thudding on the bare treads. The house was mostly wood, inside and out. A tinderbox ready to ignite, if they couldn’t snuff out the fire inside the chimney in time. Her helmet weighed a ton and her arms felt cocooned in a bearskin. Her turnout coat and pants magnified her body heat, making her climb seem twice as toasty.

  Sliding her gloved hand along the rail, the stairway turned toward the third floor. The hundred–year–old–home’s central chimney meant every wall touching it needed venting to check for spreading cinders. Other firefighters climbed ladders to the roof, to fight a frontal assault.

  The owner acknowledged the old chimney lacked a ceramic lining. Ancient bricks settle or deteriorate over the decades, leaving air spaces where thick, flammable creosote lodged until just the right moment. The sticky tree sap congealed over time, until it had finally ignited. Who knows how much of the internal chimney—and adjacent walls—could be next?

  Josie stumbled on the last step. She grabbed the banister, before falling to her knees. She didn’t want Pete to witness her awkwardness. He’d stick her in the basement, next time. Hunched over in a low–ceilinged dirt floor cellar while shoveling hot cinders from a flaming chimney’s clean–out made her claustrophobic. Been there, done that.

  She reached her assigned area and located the wall on the north side. Thick gray smoke hovered near the ceiling and seeped into the halls. The owner stated the house had no fireplaces on this level, so she searched for another heat source near the open hallway. Clenching her fingers, she forced them straight then removed one glove. She swept her fingers along brittle wallpaper and handcrafted wooden door casements. No extreme heat there.

  Slipping the glove back on, she entered the first room on her list. The small bedroom contained a single bed, stripped of its coverings. A mesmerizing swirl of smoke drifted toward her. She looked at the windows then back at the bed. Through the smoky vapors, its striped cotton–tick surface rippled and heaved, as if someone gently shook its frame. Gripping the top of her helmet, she arched her back and looked up.

  “Not good.” With the pike still clenched in one fist, she walked back to the stairs. Another firefighter appeared through the drifting smoke like a scuba diver surfacing in a sheet metal-gray lake. He stopped on the landing.

  “We’ve got smoke seeping in through the ceiling lights,” Josie said.

  “Attic’s probably on fire. I’ll call it in.” Her companion plucked a radio from an inside pocket. A thud and rumble slammed against the edge of the roof, announcing the arrival of extension ladders against outside walls. The floor beneath their feet shook, while plaster rained down on their helmets.

  “Damn.” The men with ladders would get the attic vented and hopefully relieve the pressure. Otherwise…

  Josie returned to her mission. She stepped back inside the small room and thumped across the wide wood plank floor to the back corner of the room. A mysterious breeze teased the formerly white lace window curtains above the old brass bed. She slid her gloved hand along the outer wall, then moved to the closed closet.

  She pulled off her glove once more and instantly felt the increase in air temperature outside the small, wooden door. As she cracked it open, tendrils of black smoke slid past her facemask as they escaped the dark, hot cubicle. She shoved her hand back inside its flame-resistant covering, and shook her wrist.

  “Double damn.” Standing inside a clothing–filled enclosed space, she beat back the fear. As she sucked oxygen from the tank on her back, she flung hangers full of clothes onto the bed. They were already ruined from the smoke, so a few wrinkles wouldn’t hurt.

  The pike measured six feet of solid metal, too long to work in the confines of the closet. Slipping a gloved hand under her coat to her waist, she slid out the small axe, a birthday gift from her brother, Gunnar. He’
d meant it as a joke and expected she’d hang it on a wall.

  “Jerk. Guess he doesn’t know his little sister as well as he thought.” The facemask muffled her words, but the sound of her voice offered another ounce of confidence to again enter the tiny, dark closet. She slammed the head of the axe into the back wall. White plaster crumbled to the floor. Splintering wood gripped her tool. She forced it free, and hit the wall again. A huge chuck of plaster fell on her left foot.

  “Ouch!” Josie shook it off then felt a presence at her right shoulder. Sensing danger, she backed up and collided with a large form. Through the wisps of smoke and wavy shadows, someone tapped on her helmet. Her heart leapt to her throat, but she stifled a screech.

  “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

  Josie stiffened at Pete’s words. She recognized his voice and his endearments through his mask. He’d blocked her between his hard body and a thin layer of plaster that hid a possibly burning wall. She’d take her chances with the wall.

  His six–foot height barely outdid her own five–foot–ten inch frame, yet he enveloped her inside his embrace. Heat of another kind flared beneath the bulky gear that failed to insulate her from his masculine heat.

  Shoving him away, she stepped forward and slammed the axe into wood lathing. When it broke free, the ominous crack and sizzle of burning studs brought both her and her nemesis to their senses.

  “Get out. Now!” Two other crewmembers hustled in with a four–inch hose. Josie stepped aside, but obviously not quick enough for Pete. With her arm in a stranglehold, he pulled her toward the stairs.

  “I can walk, you know,” she shouted above the water’s hiss, as she clomped down the stairs. An eerie noise caught her attention. A roar echoed down the stairwell from above.

  “All out! All out!” the two with the hose yelled as they ran empty–handed in their direction.

  Why had they stopped hosing down the wall? That’s what firefighters did. They put the wet stuff on the red stuff.

  Something had changed. Josie knew enough to obey now and ask questions later.

  Once outside, all members converged on the main engine where the record keeper took roll call. More slid down extension ladders, their gear clanging. The single chimney shook, vibrating with the force of trapped hot gases.

  “No one else inside, chief,” Pete said.

  “Good news. Thanks,” the chief responded as he surveyed the home’s exterior.

  Josie pulled off her helmet, fire–resistant hood, and gloves. She turned off her oxygen tank then wiped her forehead. Sweaty strands of hair plastered over her eyes, so she wiped them aside with the back of a soot–covered hand. She knew from the chief’s quick glance she looked a mess. Typical. Then she followed his gaze to the roof. Several of the crew kept cutting holes with chainsaws. Black smoke leaped from each one. The house soon looked as if it owned a dozen chimneys.

  “They’re venting the entire roof,” she muttered. Pete’s shadow fell over her face. She felt his presence like a rabbit sensed the fox. Of course, with the thoughts she’d been harboring toward him these last few months, the tables might turn at any second. All she needed was the courage to act.

  A gray haired member of the fire auxiliary walked by and Pete took a bottle of offered water. When he gulped, her attention latched on his tanned throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed until he smacked his lips. She licked her own lips. When he splashed his face and head with the remainder of the bottle’s contents, and shook, she stepped out of the line of fire.

  I can’t take my eyes off him.

  His thick, wavy, sandy hair clung to his head like a gold crown. He’d closed his eyes, but the dark blue eyes, lurking beneath dark gold lashes she’d kill for, had already been burned in her memory. She pushed a few more dark strands of her own brown hair from her brow. She looked a wreck and he looked perfect…as always.

  CHAPTER 2

  Josie scanned the wedding announcement, again. Whenever she thought of her best friend’s happiness, her heart fluttered. Destiny’s blue eyes, long honey–gold hair, and constant smile matched her big heart. Her friend had found love, the one thing Josie had believed was all too elusive.

  Sipping sugary iced tea in her kitchen, she shook her head at her lack of willpower. Fitting into a bridesmaid dress meant cutting back on the sweets, but after a stressful day fighting fires and saving lives, she loved nothing better than to come home to a carton of Moose Tracks ice cream.

  A breeze fluttered through pale blue kitchen curtains, stirring the tepid summer air. She ambled over to the living room window to check the sky. The valley needed rain, but nary a cloud drifted by. She leaned out, stared down on Main Street, and sniffed. The aroma of baking bread floated up, making her stomach growl.

  As she rubbed her abdomen, the gentle splatter of a garden hose caught her attention. A shopkeeper watered pink begonias, yellow marigolds, and red geraniums in oak barrels in front of his store. Dark green ivy spilled out between the petals and drooped toward the sidewalk. Everything needed rain.

  A compact car pulled into a parking spot. Matilda Johnson looked up and waved, her gray bun jiggling atop her head. Happiness pulled her rounded face and red lips into a welcoming smile.

  “Hey, Josie. You comin’ to Tanya’s Grill tonight?” She waddled toward the store.

  “Sorry, no. I have to go see Destiny tonight.”

  “Can’t you postpone?”

  “Nope. Her wedding is two weeks away and I’m Maid–of–Honor.”

  “I know. I’m catering the reception, but I have time to worry o’er that. How’s she doing, otherwise?”

  “Come on. She’s marrying a handsome college professor who loves her to death. I should be so lucky. I’m sure she’s eager to get on with married life. How you doing? You look a little pale.”

  “The farm and this new catering business is runnin’ me ragged. A stiff drink’s all I need.” Tilly waved good–bye then slipped inside the hardware store.

  Their friend, Destiny, had suffered mental and physical injuries last November due to a murderous stalker, while Josie worried about a stupid dress.

  The worn plastic kitchen chair chilled her bare thighs, so she tugged her shorts lower. She chose to live above Main Street to blot out loneliness and to dull unwanted thoughts of a certain sexy, blond paramedic.

  The phone rang and Josie jumped. Snorting at her foolish response, she inhaled a deep breath then grabbed her cell.

  “Hi. I called to remind you about the menu,” Destiny Blake said.

  Josie glanced down at the table where the catering list lay. Two weeks had passed and still the sheet lay unread, waiting for her opinion. Her initial thought was to blurt out ‘what the heck do I know about wedding food?’ but she held her tongue.

  “I realize you and your perfect, exciting life get busy, Josie, but Tilly has a deadline.”

  She thinks I have a perfect life?

  Josie probably did project the modern, single woman with an important job, a fantastic downtown apartment, and tons of friends. The truth? Even surrounded by people, the lingering need for something else grew and grew.

  “Doesn’t Jacob have a say? After all, he’s the groom and the man loves to eat,” she teased. She also knew the former city boy had a more sophisticated palate.

  “I tried to get him to help but he’s too busy putting the finishing touches on the new house. He finished the steps to the back deck, but still has to stain the entire thing. He ordered a tent, but guests might want to dance under the stars.”

  Josie grimaced. She wiped suddenly clammy hands on her thighs. Dancing? She hadn’t graced a dance floor anywhere…ever.

  “I’ll drop off the menu tonight. I promise.”

  Trembling fingers returned the disconnected phone to the table. Destiny had caught her with her mind on Pete, again. Grabbing a pen, she checked her favorites, stretched her arms up and over her head, and arched her back. Destiny insisted she look like a lady at the wedding.

  The only p
roblem? I don’t do dresses and heels. I’ll trip over my feet.

  Growing up with four older brothers might make people assume it prepared her for life in a normal world. Wrong. She and Pete shared the exhilaration of responding on ambulance calls. They united in the thrill of fighting fires. Work linked them with the horror of motor vehicle accidents where people died. They never shared intimate dinners, just a sandwich here and there. No nights out at the movies, unless the guys at the fire station headed out as a group. He treated her like one of the guys. Almost twenty–seven years old, and she had no idea how to proceed.

  She stormed back to the window and leaned on the sill. This town had plenty of eligible men, especially now since the fair skies of mid–June brought out the tourists. She glanced at two bathing suit-clad males ambling toward the river. Fanning her face, and rubbing her thighs together, she remembered why she loved summer. Healthy, athletic tourists came from far and wide to hike, kayak, swim, and fill the shops and bars in and around Fairfield. She’d have to be blind not to like the view. Too bad not one ignited a spark, like a certain paramedic.

  She’d been attracted to Pete from the moment he arrived in town looking for a job. After his six–month probationary period with the fire company ended, everyone seemed pleased with his performance. He’d been in town about a year, now, and proved himself capable of handling everything their job threw his way. Still, no one knew anything about his history or family, just his paramedic credentials. They’d sent him through the fire academy program and he had become an integral part of their lives.

  Then, surprise! He stirred her insides with a simple smoky glance. Unintentional touches while performing their jobs, heated her blood. Sexual yearnings grew in intensity, while her body heated and trembled. With Pete around, breathing became a chore. She perspired more, making her even more self–conscious. While working, she hid sweaty palms inside latex gloves. When he acknowledged her competence after a particularly brutal rescue, her heart leapt with joy while she kept her face frozen, like a chunk of New Hampshire granite.