Marked by the Broken Orc (Heat & Ink #7)

1. Mia

Mia

I stomp inside my apartment and close the door firmly behind me.

Ugh. That meeting with Fire Chief Jackson certainly didn’t go as planned.

Actually, that’s putting it mildly. It was a complete disaster. “We’ve decided to go with another candidate,” he’d said, not even meeting my eyes. “Someone with different qualifications.”

Different qualifications? What the heck does that even mean?

I kick off my shoes and place them on the nearby shelf, then stride barefoot into my small apartment, the safe space where everything has its place. My shoes go in the designated shelf by the door. My jacket is hung on the hook above and my purse on an accompanying peg.

I pull out my hair tie and shake my long brown hair loose, running my fingers through it to work out the tension. I glance at myself in the bathroom mirror, noting how tired and stressed I look. My skin has lost its glow.

Time for damage control.

I step out into my bedroom, take off my work clothes and pull on my favorite, cream-colored matching loungewear set. Now I feel a tiny bit better, but not much.

It’s days like this, when adulting is harder than usual, that I wish I had a cat to hug and kiss, but this apartment complex won’t accept pets.

Also, my previous deployments through the National Guard left no time for a pet.

But nowadays I find myself really wishing for a cat, or maybe even a boyfriend to come home to.

The quiet of my own apartment used to be one of my greatest enjoyments in life, but lately it’s too quiet.

I’ve never had an actual boyfriend I could count on. There was never anyone I’d want to build some sort of lasting relationship with. But lately, maybe because I recently turned twenty-seven, I might be ready for something real.

I reenter the bathroom and pull out my biggest gun of calming self-care—a moisturizing face mask.

Today’s stress calls for something more intense than the normal routine.

I tie my hair back again and do a double cleanse of my skin, then apply thin sheets of my favorite Korean face mask, the familiar motions helping to calm my racing thoughts.

As I position the sections of milky film across my face, I mentally review everything that led to this terrible moment where I thought I was getting the new open position as a firefighter at Station 19… but didn’t.

EMT certification with three years of field experience. Check.

National Guard service including two deployments. Check.

Self-defense instructor. Check.

Best marksman in the county, with the trophies to prove it. Check.

Born and raised in Spokane, knowing every street and back alley. Check.

So why the hell didn’t I get the job? I’d really thought I was going to get that position.

Finally, the mask is on as good as it’s going to get.

Yes, I’ll look a bit ridiculous for the next four hours while this mask does its work, but it’ll be worth it in the end, leaving me with glassy skin by the evening.

Seventeen different tubes of lip gloss stand in a row on the counter, but my favorite is the clear plumping one.

I put some on, enjoying the small sting which lets me know it’s working.

I look in the mirror again and ask out loud this time: “Why didn’t you get that job, Mia? Why?”

I purse my lips, deciding honesty with myself is the best bet. To be truthful, most people in this town are afraid of me. I know my reputation.

“Mia Martin doesn’t mess around.”

“Don’t cross her unless you want to regret it.”

“She’s tougher than half the guys on the force.”

A secret smile spreads across my face. I love that last one.

But I’m not a monster. I care about helping people, I just go about my helping a little more ferociously than the next person. And I don’t back down and never accept less than I deserve. This firefighter position was supposed to be mine. Mine. I’ve been preparing for it for the last two years.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I grab it while applying more lip gloss out of habit.

Heard about the job. So sorry, babe. Let me know if you need anything. - Jess

Word travels fast amongst the first responders in our town. Especially when it involves the girl everyone expected to get hired. Well, obviously not everyone.

I need to know more about who beat me out for this job. This isn’t over.

I settle onto my couch with my laptop, searching for information about the new hire.

Who did they choose instead of me? It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for.

“Dammit,” I exclaim. They’ve hired someone named Kavin Irontree, age twenty-nine, as the first orc firefighter in our town’s history.

An orc? Who is this guy?

I stare at the screen, reading the brief article about his hiring. No photograph, no mention of his qualifications, his experience, nothing that would explain why he deserved the position over me. Just that he’s “integrating orc expertise into emergency services.”

I close the laptop and stare off into the middle distance. Did I just lose my job to some entirely unqualified, mediocre guy? No effing way. A growl rumbles in my throat.

I need backup. I need my people.

First, I call my sister, Corinne, to see if she can come over and commiserate with me, but it goes straight to voicemail. Right, she left today, gone for the next few weeks, working in Seattle on some project for her employer.

Plan B.

I scroll through my contacts and start making calls. Jessica first, my fellow EMT who understands the pressure of this job. Then Carmen from the gym, who’s seen me fight and knows what I’m capable of. Finally, Riley, my National Guard sister who’s had my back through two deployments.

We’ve all hung out together before, through good times and bad. “Emergency friend gathering,” I tell each of them. “Bring alcohol. I’ll explain more when you get here.”

I don’t usually have drinking parties at my home, and I don’t get drunk and complain about my problems. I like to handle things on my own, always have. But this feels like a crisis requiring reinforcements.

In my cabinets I find one unopened bottle of red wine from last New Year’s that I never opened. Not enough for a proper pity party so I order more through a delivery app.

They’re all set to arrive in a few hours, after they get off work. This gives me enough time to finish my face mask and do an emotional rewatch of my favorite movie of all time, Pride and Prejudice .

Four hours later, my doorbell rings. I’m still in the same loungewear but now my skin looks terrific, my hair is long and loose and I’m even sporting a bit of makeup. “Thank god they’re here,” I mutter, checking the peephole before opening the door.

Jessica stands on my doorstep with Carmen and Riley behind her, all three carrying bags that definitely contain alcohol and food.

“This really sucks,” my friend offers the moment I let her. “How could you not have been hired? You were perfect for that job.”

“Jess told us what happened, and she’s right, it sucks ass,” Carmen comments.

“Who do I need to beat up for you?” Riley questions.

I laugh as I close the door behind them, feeling better already.

My friends settle onto my couch and chairs while I provide details about the job rejection and the orc with zero qualifications that was hired instead of me. Their reactions are everything I hoped for—outrage, disbelief, and immediate declarations that the whole system is rigged.

“You’re the most qualified person in this entire town,” Carmen says, opening a bottle of white wine. “This is complete bullshit.”

“What do you know about this Kavin guy?” Riley asks, ever the strategist.

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

“Then we need to find out all we can about him,” Jessica says, pouring wine into the mismatched glasses I’ve provided. “But first, we drink.”

I’m not much of a drinker normally but tonight calls for exceptions. The wine goes down easier than expected, and before long we’ve moved on to shots of tequila. My apartment, usually pristine and quiet, fills with laughter and increasingly loud conversation.

“You should march into that station tomorrow and demand answers,” Carmen declares, her voice getting louder as the alcohol takes effect.

“Maybe I just need to move to a bigger city where there’s more open positions,”

I mutter. “I don’t need to work here. I could move to Seattle or Portland to find the job I want instead.”

“No,” they wail. “You need to stay with us here, in Spokane.”

“You were born and raised here,” Carmen points out. “Your sister lives here.”

“Yeah, it would suck having to move away. Ooh, how about instead, I just key his truck to make my point,” I counter, and immediately feel bad for suggesting property damage. “No, I shouldn’t. But I want to.”

“You’re better than that,” Riley agrees. “You’re better than all of them.”

The music gets turned up as we get more drunk and defiant. My friends share their own horror stories of the times in their lives when they were passed over for something they’d really felt they’d deserved too and for someone less qualified.

“Sometimes life is just totally unfair,” Jessica declares.

We all nod in agreement.

My hair is everywhere now, falling into my face as I gesture wildly while explaining my qualifications for the hundredth time.

I reapply my lip gloss without thinking, a nervous habit that gets worse when I drink.

“You know what?” I say, standing up suddenly and nearly toppling over.

“I don’t care if the neighbors complain.

This is a Friday night and it’s my apartment, and if I want to have one loud night after getting screwed over, then that’s my right. ”

My friends cheer, and Carmen turns the music up even louder.

I’m having real fun for the first time in years. I’d been so focused on getting this job I don’t even remember what it’s like to let loose, act silly and remember there’s more to life than training and proving myself.

My friends think I’m hilarious when I’m drunk, apparently, because they can’t stop laughing at my increasingly outrageous commentary about the situation.

But underneath the laughter and the alcohol, I’m genuinely hurt.

This job meant everything to me. It was supposed to be my future and I suppose proof that the people of this town appreciated me, liked me, wanted me. And now I feel…rejected.

Time becomes fuzzy after that.

We dance badly to the loud music. We eat the snacks Jessica brought. We complain about men and jobs and life in general. My apartment transforms from its usual military precision into a comfortable chaos of friendship, dancing and drinking games.

It’s approaching one in the morning when the pounding starts.

Not knocking. Pounding. Authoritative, demanding, and loud enough to be heard over our music.

“Shit,” Jessica shouts. “Is that building management?”

“Let them come,” I declare, feeling bold and reckless. “I’m not in the mood to be told what to do tonight.”

My friends exchange glances but step back as I march toward the door, my hair flowing behind me like a battle flag. I’m drunk but still formidable, still ready for a fight. I yank open the door, prepared to unleash hell on whoever dares complain about my rare moment of letting loose.

Instead, I find myself staring at the bare, green chest of the largest male I’ve ever seen.

Oh wow. He’s massive, easily six and a half feet tall and built like a Greek god.

He wears black pants and boots, but no shirt and tribal tattoos sleeve both arms. Black horns jut from his forehead.

White tusks are visible past his pouty lower lip.

Dark, sexy eyes meet mine, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. A real-life, and very intimidating, orc stands on my doorstep. I’ve never met an orc in real life before, only seen them on TV or social media.

“Turn down the music,” he growls with an impossibly deep voice. “I’m Kavin Irontree, your new neighbor. Some of us work early shifts.”

My jaw drops open. Kavin Irontree? The orc who got my job…is my freaking neighbor ? When the heck did this happen? And he’s on my doorstep, demanding I quiet down, after taking everything I’ve worked for?

Despite my fury, despite the alcohol, despite everything that’s happened today, my traitorous body responds to his sheer authority and the raw power radiating from his frame.

Just the sound of his deep voice caused butterflies to take flight in my belly and heat to settle between my thighs.

Uh oh. This is so much worse than I thought it would be.