Face the Flames Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE SUGARLAND BLUE NOVELS

  “Romance suspense at its best . . . [A] fantastic addition to this fabulous series.”

  —The Reading Cafe

  “This exciting contemporary romantic-suspense story continues the saga of the delicious detectives in the Sugarland Police Department . . . [A] thrilling story.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “[A] roller coaster of emotion and action that will keep you gripped until the last page . . . With just the right combination of both romance and suspense.”

  —Cocktails and Books

  “What’s not to love about sexy men in blue with fast hands, true hearts, and the courage of their convictions? . . . Plenty of pure, steamy romance and family drama.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “[A] smart, sexy, and fast-paced read.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  PRAISE FOR THE FIREFIGHTERS OF STATION FIVE NOVELS

  “The perfect blend of romance and suspense . . . Jo Davis creates a great combination of romance [and] steamy love scenes with mystery and suspense mixed in.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  “[A] great blend of hot romance with suspenseful, well-plotted action.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Grab a fan and settle in for one heck of a smoking-hot read.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  “Surprisingly sweet and superhot . . . If you want a hot firefighter in your room for the night, grab a copy and tuck right in with no regrets.”

  —The Romance Reader

  ALSO BY JO DAVIS

  Sugarland Blue Novels

  Bring the Heat

  On the Run

  In His Sights

  Hot Pursuit

  Sworn to Protect

  Armed and Dangerous

  (eNovella)

  Firefighters of Station Five Novels

  Ride the Fire

  Hidden Fire

  Line of Fire

  Under Fire

  Trial by Fire

  BERKLEY SENSATION

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright © 2017 by Jo Davis

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and BERKLEY SENSATION are registered trademarks and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780698407565

  First Edition: March 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Praise for the Sugarland Blue Novels

  Also by Jo Davis

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  To you. My readers who’ve been with me, loving my boys in Sugarland since the beginning. It’s been a helluva ride, hasn’t it? But wait—maybe I’m not quite ready to say good-bye to my Sugarland heroes just yet.

  Just maybe, there are one or two stories still waiting to be told.

  For now, Clay’s story is for you. With love.

  Acknowledgments

  With special thanks to:

  My beautiful daughter and handsome son, who are my champions and the light of my life. I love you both so very much.

  My parents, who support me unfailingly and hold me up when I fall. I love you both to the moon and back.

  To my dearest friends for making me laugh when I want to cry, and for forcing me into the world when I’d rather hide. You know who you are, and I love you all.

  To my agent, Nephele Tempest, for encouraging me and believing in me.

  To all the great people at Penguin/Berkley for working so hard to put out my books and make me the best I can be.

  From the bottom of my heart.

  Prologue

  “Got a hot date tomorrow night, right?”

  Clay Montana stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel off the hook on the wall next to the stall, and rubbed his head vigorously. God, it felt great to get the stink of the grass fire out of his hair and off his skin. That shit lingered.

  Toweling off his torso, he shot his friend a grin. Julian Salvatore was a fellow firefighter/paramedic at Fire Station Five. “Why? You want a piece of this fine, Grade-A beef? You’ll have to stand in line, buddy.”

  Julian barked a laugh and jerked on a fresh pair of uniform pants. “Um, no. Grace has me covered in that department, trust me.”

  “Your loss, Sylvie’s gain.” He thought a second. “Or is it Tracy?”

  “You hound dog.” Julian shook his head.

  “And you’re a poor, old reformed hound dog. I’ll bet you have to ask permission to have a beer with the guys, and even have a joint Facebook account with the sweetie. How sad is that?” Clay shot his friend a look of sympathy and got the finger in return.

  “I don’t even have a Facebook account.”

  “Not helping your case.”

  “Whatever,” Julian grumbled, pulling on his shirt. “At least I know I’m going home to a beautiful woman who loves me, every single night. You should try it sometime. You know, someone who loves you, besides your madre.”

  Why that barb stung so much, Clay wasn’t sure. He wasn’t ready to settle down. Right? He was enjoying the hell out of his wild and free bachelorhood, so why not live it up while he was still young? And who cared if the only woman in his life was his mother?

  “My mother is a goddess, just so you know,” he said in Charlene’s defense as he pulled on his clothes.

  “So’s mine, but a man needs more in the way of a positive female relationship, eventually.” Julian paused and his dark eyes widened. “Shit, listen to me. Maybe I have gotten a little domesticated.”

  “More like totally pussy-whipped.”

  Laughing, Clay dodged the playful punch to his shoulder. As Julian walked out of the men’s common shower area, Clay caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused. His smile died as he stared at himself, a kernel of truth in what his friend had said bothering him a little.

  What did his playmates think when they looked at him? He wasn’t really a vain man, but he knew he was good-looking and didn’t mind employing the tools nature gave him when it came to having a good time. At just over six feet, with messy sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and a lean, muscled build, he cut a decent enough figure.

  But Julian’s words made him wonder whether anyone special would ever bother to look beneath the surface and really see him.

&nb
sp; “Is there anything worth seeing?” he muttered. Then he snorted at his sudden, uncharacteristic moment of self-reflection, pushed the idea aside, and left the showers.

  As he strode into the kitchen, the station’s lieutenant, Zack Knight, was arguing with their captain, Howard “Six-Pack” Paxton, over who was going to get the last of the chocolate chip cookies Clay had baked earlier.

  “You ate a dozen already!” Zack protested, trying to reach the cookie Six-Pack was holding way out of reach. “Give me that, you big thug!”

  Six-Pack grinned at the shorter, slimmer man. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If you can take it from me, you can have it, squirt.”

  Nearby, Eve Tanner chortled and Clay joined in. Jamie Blackburn, the newest guy on the team, just watched from his spot on the sofa. Zack, at just over six feet tall himself, was definitely no squirt. It was just that Howard was so fucking huge at six feet six inches and around two-fifty or so, that nobody dared to fuck with him. Except, apparently, when it came to the last chocolate chip cookie.

  Around here, that was serious shit.

  “Uh, guys, I can make another batch,” Clay offered. “They came from a box of mix, so it wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

  Zack stopped reaching and turned to Clay, his gaze hopeful. “You’ll make more?”

  “I just said I would.”

  “Good thing, too,” Six-Pack said, popping the whole cookie into his mouth and chewing in bliss. “Mmm.”

  Zack scowled at the big captain. “You’re such a jerk sometimes.”

  “But you love me.”

  “No. I really, really don’t.”

  The lieutenant seemed somewhat mollified, however, as Clay moved into the kitchen and retrieved another box of cookie mix from the pantry. Unfortunately, before Clay could even reach to turn on the oven, three loud tones over the intercom system alerted them to an incoming call. A collective groan filled the kitchen—after the grass fire, nobody was looking forward to another callout so soon. Especially to a major traffic accident.

  Abandoning the cookies for the time being, Clay followed his captain and lieutenant out of the side door leading into the bay. As he did, his gaze snagged on the words etched into the glass of the door:

  Everybody Goes Home.

  The first time he’d ever read them, on his very first shift as a firefighter, they’d caused a shiver down his spine. On every shift since then, they’d never failed to do the same. So many of their friends over the years hadn’t made it home. Clay couldn’t help but wonder when or if his number would be up one day.

  His morbid thoughts were interrupted as Julian called, “You drive.”

  Clay barely reacted in time to catch the keys to the ambulance. “I drove last time, man. It’s your turn.”

  “Consider it a favor.”

  “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. Just don’t feel like driving.”

  “Maybe I don’t, either.” They didn’t have time to argue about it, though. And what did it matter anyway? Clay shrugged and walked around to the driver’s side. “Sure. But you owe me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Pulling out of the bay, Clay hit the lights and the siren. Behind him, Zack followed in the big quint carrying Six-Pack, Jamie, and Eve. Julian manned the GPS, giving him directions to their call, and then they settled back for the ride.

  After a few moments, Julian’s thoughtful voice broke the silence. “So, what do you think about Jamie?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure yet. He seems a little quiet, but I don’t know if that’s because the rest of us are so rowdy or because he really doesn’t have much to say.”

  “Or just doesn’t want to fit in.”

  “Could be.” Clay thought for a moment. “I don’t really think that’s it, though. My guess is he’s got a story and he’s not ready to open up to the group.”

  “You’re probably right. He’s a nice guy, just . . . reserved.”

  “He never hesitates on a call to jump in and do what needs to be done,” Clay said thoughtfully. “The rest, we can work on.”

  Julian made a sound of agreement and they fell silent for a few moments as Clay navigated through the traffic near downtown. The flow wasn’t too heavy today, but he was watchful as he threaded through the other vehicles, laying on the horn when necessary to alert traffic ahead to pull over and let them pass.

  “Dios, people are idiots,” Julian muttered as one guy in a Porsche hung in front of them, in the way, then moved over at the last second.

  “Or they’ve got their music playing so loud, they can’t hear us coming.”

  That was one of the most common dangers firefighters faced on calls every day that the public didn’t much think about—drivers being so distracted by their radios or cell phones, arguments, or conversations with other passengers, that they caused accidents.

  As they neared the site of the call, Clay’s brain kicked into rescue mode. How bad was the wreck? What would they find when they got there?

  At an intersection, the light turned green and he started through it.

  What would—

  “Clay!”

  Julian’s shout was all the warning he got. Turning his head to the left to look out his driver’s window, he saw the front end of a truck barreling toward him. A shock of horror jolted through him as he realized there was no way to avoid the collision.

  The grill rushed toward him and then—

  Impact.

  Blackness.

  1

  One year later

  The sunny day, with just a hint of coolness in the air, was a fine one for a walk.

  There were long months in recovery when Clay Montana didn’t know whether he’d ever stand on his own two feet again, let alone take a stroll through the streets. Using his cane to help keep his balance, shuffling carefully along the sidewalk, he felt like an old man. He’d turned thirty years old in the Intensive Care Unit at Sterling, lying in a coma and unaware of the sad visitors and birthday balloons.

  He’d come a long way since then, but thinking about how far he still had to go was daunting. In the beginning, he had wished he’d been killed outright—and he’d said so when he regained the ability to speak, in front of his mother, who started to cry. Charlene Montana was the strongest woman he’d ever known. She simply didn’t cry.

  Clay had never said something so stupid again. Not in front of his mom anyway.

  When he was relearning how to walk, talk, feed, and dress himself, even go to the fucking bathroom . . . Yeah, he’d been tempted to give up, more than once. But too many people had worked hard to make sure he could step back into his life whenever he was ready, so he couldn’t simply throw it all away.

  His mother was a godsend. When she wasn’t by his side praying for his survival, she was managing his finances, taking his checks, and paying his bills in his absence to make sure he didn’t lose his house and car. His friends had pitched in as well, mowing his yard and doing endless chores to keep Clay’s property in shape so he had one less worry when he was finally released from the hospital.

  For a very long time, nobody had been certain he’d be leaving there alive.

  The complications and setbacks had been many, some dangerous. But leave he had, and he’d lived with his mother at her house for months, until he’d finally argued that he was well enough to return to his own home—and had won.

  Loneliness was his enemy now. He hated it, and had far too much time on his hands to think about how the world had gone on without him. Sure, he had his friends from the station, but they were busy with their own lives. Everyone on his team was paired off except for Jamie and himself, and they didn’t have time to hold his hand anymore.

  I want what they have. Someone to come home to. Somebody to love.

  When had that happened? Did it even matter? Placing one foot i
n front of the other, he gave a grim chuckle at just how unlikely a love connection seemed for him these days. Every single one of his girlfriends had vanished like smoke when the going got tough.

  The lesson was painful. He got out of those so-called relationships exactly what he’d put into them—not a damned thing.

  Just then, his cell phone rang. Stumbling to a halt, he fished for the device and checked the caller ID. Mom. He let out a weary sigh. Wouldn’t do him any good to ignore her. She’d keep calling until he answered. “Hey, Big Mama, how’s it shakin’?”

  No stuttering or hesitation in his speech today. That was real progress.

  “If you don’t stop calling me that,” she huffed.

  “You’ll what? Knock me senseless? Been there.”

  “Clayton Lee!”

  He winced. “Too soon, huh?”

  “That’ll never be funny.” She sighed. “How are you feeling today, baby?”

  The endearment warmed something inside him. Some guys might be embarrassed to be called that, but it reminded him that there was at least one person on the planet who loved him unconditionally and always would. His throat tightened.

  “Pretty good. Didn’t want to waste this nice day, so I’m out walking.”

  “Not overdoing it?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “When’s your next checkup?”

  Doctors, doctors, and more fucking doctors. He struggled not to let his irritation come through in his voice. “Day after tomorrow. I’m working on getting the clearance to get back to the station.”

  Silence. Coming from Charlene, it conveyed more than any amount of yelling ever could.

  Then, “Oh, honey.”

  “I can do my job, Mom.” His fingers clenched the phone, and he coached himself not to snap at his mother.

  “Eventually. I just don’t want you to push yourself too soon, and then be disappointed with the results.”

  “You mean when they tell me that my career is over.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. But if you try to go back before you’re one hundred percent, it’ll set back your recovery,” she said, worried.