Prologue #2
The sympathy in Joe’s gaze was far scarier than a thirty-foot fall through hell had been. “You’ll need time,” he said. “Lots of it and preferably away from here and the media.”
Ah, yes, the media. Turned out little Billy had broken his arm.
Joe and the other inspector on the case suspected that Billy had broken it while lighting his own house on fire, but the kid claimed Jake had been rough with him, breaking the limb while grabbing and shaking Billy on the roof.
The mom had been all too happy to jump on that bandwagon, and had filed a suit against the city, the fire department, and Jake himself—a situation made worse when Jake had groggily answered his cell an hour after his surgery, telling some reporter that Billy must be on crack as well as being a pyromaniac if he thought Jake would even hurt a kid.
The press had had a field day with that comment, and Billy’s mother had decided to add a civil suit against Jake for defaming her boy in the press, all of which had warranted Jake more publicity than he’d ever wanted.
Joe was surveying the room and all the flowers Jake had received. “Fan club?”
“Better than the emails, texts, and calls.” His words slurred a little, thanks to the drugs. “There’s a whole bunch of people who actually believe I hurt that kid, and want to kick my ass.”
“And there’s a whole bunch of women who just want to kiss it.” He flicked a note attached to a basket of roses: Roses are red, violets are blue, call me when you’re better, and our last rendezvous we’ll redo. “Call her,” he suggested. “Let her be a slave to your every whim and need for a while.”
It was a running joke at the station that Jake could date a different woman every night for a year and not have to repeat unless he chose to.
But none of them would be interested in him at the moment, not a one.
Sad to admit, but for all the years that he’d been there for others, most of them complete strangers, he had few true connections.
So here he was now, needing a little help to disappear, maybe a little TLC to go with that help, and he couldn’t think of anyone to call.
Not a single soul.
Three weeks later, Jake stared up at the weights he was trying to pull down to his chest at the orders of his physical therapist, feeling one hundred and two instead of thirty-two.
Both mentally and physically exhausted, he’d begun to despair of his shoulder, and how he hadn’t bounced back as he’d thought.
They’d warned him after the surgery that a reconstructed shoulder wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but he hadn’t believed it.
He couldn’t believe a number of things, including how hard it was dodging the curious reporters at his house on the Del Mar bluffs, or how antsy he felt not working, not doing anything but getting tired of daytime TV.
“Take a cruise,” Joe suggested from his perch on the next bench over. He came to Jake’s physical therapy as often as he could, offering support and dirty jokes as needed.
But a cruise wasn’t feasible. Firefighters weren’t exactly rolling in dough, and Jake sank every last penny he had into a down payment on his house last year, and was now the proud owner of a mortgage up to his eyeballs.
“Family reunion?” Joe suggested.
“Nah.” Jake’s mother was currently enjoying conning her sixth or seventh husband out of his retirement, and wouldn’t welcome him.
Jake’s father—husband number two—had died two years ago.
Richard Rawlins had left Jake his guest ranch, the Blue Flame, a place out in the middle of Nowhere, Arizona, where people worked like dogs, camped out on rocky ground, and paid for the pleasure.
As a city guy who didn’t feel the draw of the great Wild West, Jake had pretty much left it to run itself.
It was thirty acres surrounded by three thousand more of open land in the Dragoon Mountains National Forest, reputedly one of the most beautiful areas in Arizona, which might have been exciting for the value factor, if it had value.
But the truth was, the place barely broke even most months, and there’d been several when it hadn’t even done that. “Maybe I could go to the Blue Flame.”
Joe laughed, then got serious when Jake didn’t crack a smile. “But you hate that place.”
Mostly just his father, a man who hadn’t bothered with Jake in life, had in death tried to tie him to a place that meant nothing except a reminder of a relationship he’d never had.
“It’s that or go back to work.”
Joe blew out a breath. “You know what the doctor said.”
He’d said it wasn’t looking good for Jake to get his shoulder back to fit condition, at least not fit enough for the heavy demands firefighting would put on it.
Jake didn’t want to think about that. His phone rang so he didn’t have to, and since he had his hands on the weights, Joe answered it for him.
His friend listened for a moment, then lifted a brow.
“No, I don’t think Firefighter Rawlins is interested in Only Fans—How much?
” His gaze flew to meet Jake’s while he let out a whistle, but slowly shook his head.
“Sorry. That’s…shocking, but no.” He disconnected, then shot Jake a speculative look.
“You could have a whole new career if you wanted.” He smirked. “A lot less gear to wear.”
Jake didn’t respond because it was taking all his energy to lift weights. Actually, he wasn’t lifting so much as budging.
Budging while his muscles trembled like a newborn baby and sweat broke out on his brow. And then suddenly a microphone was shoved in his face by a man wearing a press badge.
“Jake Rawlins, what will you do if your victim wins his case? Will you be forced to quit?”
Shocked, Jake blinked up at him. Forced to quit the job that was everything to him? For saving a kid’s life?
“Have you admitted guilt?” the reporter asked.
Fury filled him so fast his head spun, but Joe’s hand settled on his chest, holding him down.
“Ignore him,” Joe warned quietly, then stood and hauled the reporter up to his toes. “We’re busy here.”
The reporter, feet swinging above the ground, paled. “Y-yes, I see that.”
“Then why are you still here?”
When the reporter had hightailed it out the door, Jake lay back, one thing suddenly crystal clear. He did need out. He’d go to the only place he could think of, and the last place anyone would look for him. The last place he wanted to be.
The Blue Flame.