New Recruit (3 page)

She glanced at the sleek metal clock on her desk, gauging how many program funding proposals she could get through in three hours. Dammit, if she had to cancel her appointment for this evening, she was going to be pissed.

What would her coworkers say if they learned she was an adrenaline junkie? Always looking for her next fix. Somehow thrill-seeking had replaced love in her life, and she was happy to keep it that way. After her ex, Dominic’s dick moves, she’d sworn off love.

Fixated on climbing his corporate ladder, Dominic put her in third or fourth place in his life. Sometimes she didn’t rate at all. And by the time she’d realized how far down the totem pole she was, she was head over stilettos for the man. She still cringed to think of the way she’d tagged along like a puppy, seeking praise and attention. Showing up at his office with home-cooked meals when he said he was working late or planning weekend getaways he always canceled on.

Yeah, the way he’d treated her burned. But her own stupidity and naivety was worse. It was fine if she hated him, but walking out of a relationship with no self-respect… Well, that couldn’t—and wouldn’t—happen again.

She came first. Always.

Which was why she had to get through this paperwork fast and get to the highest bridge in the area. A harness and a rope awaited her.

She stuck in her ear buds and rushed through her work as fast as possible. But the third time she found herself staring into space and daydreaming about a sexy fireman working her over top to bottom, she had to shake herself.

Shut it off, Hanna. You’ll get your thrill tonight if you ever get out of this cubicle.

Focused once more, she barreled through two more projects. The next one in the pile was longer and more involved. With a groan, she got up and stretched. Then she peeked out of her cubicle like a rabbit about to make a break from its den. The coffeemaker was down the corridor and often Rick cornered her there.

She had no time today for his lengthy chats about his alma mater. She never understood men who continuously talked about their college years as if they hadn’t lived a day since. Rick was that man who set up to tailgate for the next football game at eight o’clock in the morning and didn’t leave the stadium until he’d gone down to personally congratulate the coaches on a win.

Or give advice when they lost.

She ran for it. Thank God the think carpet muffled the sound of her heels—Rick would be on high alert. As she reached the coffeemaker, she gave a female coworker standing at the copier a brief smile. “Hi.”

“Oh hi, Hanna. I love those heels you’re wearing. Where did you get them?” The younger woman spoke too loudly. Hanna felt like shushing her. If Rick heard, he’d be here in a flash.

“Thanks. A discount department store.” She dumped coffee into a foam cup and turned to leave. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat. I’m on deadline.”

“Are you going to Durango’s tonight?”

“Uh, no. I have plans already.” She skirted the woman and rushed back to her cubicle before anyone else delayed her.

But the minute she settled at her desk with her caffeine injection, her thoughts jumped to her high heels. The same ones Jagger had admired when he threw her legs over her shoulders and ate her pussy.

Tendrils of heat spread through her lower belly, and she narrowly swallowed her groan. When a god of a man gives you a night like that, you didn’t forget it easily. But she did feel a little pathetic, dreaming about him for weeks after the event. He probably took girls home all the time and she was nobody to him. He wasn’t distracted from his job fighting fires by thoughts of her.

Focus on self.
She’d spent two years after her breakup fighting to get her life out of the clutches of her ex. He’d tossed her away easily—but she hadn’t let go so well. She’d spent the first month looking at every photo in her phone of them together. During month two she’d frequented the places he did, and—

Damn. She was doing the same thing with Jagger. Going to Tricky Dick’s more often hoping to run into him. Wasn’t that the same type of obsession she’d had for her ex?

She had to put a stop to her own madness. Apparently she had a propensity for being a clingy, crazy stalker girlfriend, and no way would she tread this path again.

She threw herself into work. Glancing at the clock frantically between proposals. Funds for weatherproofing homes for the elderly. Extra childcare funds for single parents. She typed up someone’s proposal to allocate funds for pet welfare and finished off her coffee.

When the final paper sat on her desk, she tossed a look at the clock and her heart gave a wild flip.

Crap. She wasn’t going to make deadline. She needed to leave the building right now if she was making her appointment.

Looking at the paper, her mind came to one conclusion.

She opened her desk draw and scooped the sheet inside. Then closed the drawer.

Nobody would notice one missing proposal. She’d do it first thing in the morning and slip it onto Rick’s desk without him knowing.

Grabbing her bag and light jacket, she strode out. Ignoring calls of goodbye, she hurried into the bathroom, kicked off her heels and rummaged through her bag for her change of clothes.

Spandex pants, a fitted long-sleeved top perfect for withstanding the winds on the bridge. And the harness would fit snugly over her shirt.

She slipped on a pair of trainers she’d brought and carefully stowed her work outfit into her bag. When she walked out of the stall, two coworkers were touching up their makeup and talking about drinks at Durango’s.

They gave her a once-over. “You’re not going to the bar and grill.”

“No, I’m late for a training session.” Without further comment, Hanna left the bathroom and the building. Twenty minutes later she was standing on a bridge strapped to a bungee rope. Surrounded by California cliff faces and bright sky, Hanna found her peace.

Her instructor was standing in front of her, going through a list of safety precautions.

But she was too busy craning her neck to try to see the fire crew on the other side of the bridge where there must be a small accident. People milled around, and it was impossible for her not to search for Jagger’s outline, but the distance was too great.

Her nipples pinched, tugging an invisible string attached to her pussy.

“Are you ready, Hanna?” her instructor was asking.

She really needed to stop thinking about men who would always let her down. She was a strong, self-sufficient woman. And she was going to jump off a bridge to prove it to herself.

As she stepped up to the side and looked at the flow of ocean tributary below, she waited for that rush of adrenaline she craved.

And waited.

There it was, a light humming feeling in her whole body. The minute she spread her arms out wide and free-fell, she realized the sensation of leaping off the highest bridge in the state wasn’t even close to the feeling of being in bed with Jagger.

»»•««

When Jagger entered the kitchen of the firehouse, he smelled it—sewer gas. “What the fuck’s that smell?” He waved a hand in front of his face but it did nothing to erase the stench.

Gabriel pointed to the sink. “Drain’s fucked up.”

“Can’t somebody fix it?”

“Tried. Delaney’s brother’s a plumber and he looked at it for free, but he can’t find the source of the smell.”

“Sewer gas.” Jagger walked clear across the room to try to escape the odor. “Why the hell don’t we pay someone to look at it instead of half-assed work for free?”

Gabriel stared at him. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Oh yeah. New recruit.”

Jagger clenched his jaw. He was sick and tired of being called that and rookie. In some cases, he had more field experience than some of his teammates. But he wasn’t going to argue.

“The city won’t budget in repairs for this firehouse. Actually a lot of firehouses in the city are close to being condemned.”

“Whoa—condemned?” He looked around at the walls. Some of the plaster was crumbling, but overall, the place appeared to be solid.

“Yeah, East Street isn’t as bad off, but we do have asbestos.”

His eyes widened as he stared at his new friend. “As in the cancer-causing substance?”

“The very kind. I guess they don’t care that we’re exposed to asbestos in the firehouse when we come in contact with a lot worse when we’re putting out fires.”

Jagger rubbed a knuckle under his nose, trying to mask the scent coming from the drain. It was true that the chemicals in the air while things were on fire were toxic and dangerous. Sewage was bad enough but asbestos? And what else was going on behind the bones of the firehouse that were worse?

“Chief wants to hold a fundraiser auction to raise money for East Street,” Gabriel said, getting his lunch out of the fridge and moving to the table. How the man planned to eat with the place smelling like an outhouse was beyond Jagger. He didn’t even want the bottled water he’d come in for.

“A fundraiser’s a great idea. What would be auctioned?”

The corner of Gabriel’s lips twitched upward. “You.”

He stared harder at his buddy. “Come again?”

“Women love to bid on things that appeal to them.”

“And we’re offering what…dates?”

“Can if you’re single. One guy’s donating half a day of housework.”

Oh, that would go over well with many women. Watching a fireman mop their floors?

“What are you donating?” he asked Gabriel.

The man shoved a forkful of chicken and vegetables into his mouth. Around the bite, he said, “Lady’s choice of movies, popcorn, and a drink on me.”

“What if a man bids and wins?”

A strange look passed over Gabriel’s features. “Then I guess I’m buying a bigger popcorn bucket. You know a woman wouldn’t eat much in front of a stranger.”

“Hmm.” Jagger’s mind turned the idea around in his mind. This fundraiser idea really could help the firehouse, and it was clear they needed money—ASAP. The gross smell of the kitchen was quickly becoming a bigger threat than the asbestos. “I’ll think about it.”

“Chief plans to advertise the fundraiser by the end of the week so he’ll need to know your donation.”

“I already have an idea.”

“Gonna share it?”

“Nah—I gotta get out of here. I don’t know how you can eat with that odor.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Grew up in the country. Been around worse. Catch ya later.”

Jagger threw a wave and headed toward the chief’s office. When he knocked, the door creaked open a bit, obviously no longer closing properly on its hinges. Jagger looked up at the frame and saw it was sagging on the right corner. Going downhill. As if the whole structure had sunk several inches.

Damn. Why hadn’t he noticed these things before taking this job? Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered. East Street was known as the elite firehouse in the city. Their men were called to places all over to fight fires. And their group was skilled in investigating everything from arson to explosives.

“Chris Jagger in the flesh. C’mon in,” the chief drawled.

He entered and the door swung shut behind him on its own. He looked at his boss across the desk where he sat. “I hear there’s an auction happening soon.”

“That’s right. I figured the guys had razzed you so much in the past two weeks that I’d let you off the hook with the fundraiser if you wanted.”

“No, I’d like to donate something.”

Chief smiled and picked up a pen. “What’s the donation?”

“Yard work. A day of yard work.”

Chief bobbed his head and wrote it down. They spoke for a few more minutes, and then Jagger gathered his belongings and left for the day.

As soon as he hit the evening air, he thought of her—Hanna. He never broke his stride but scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. This was happening far too often for his sanity. The only time he was focused was on the job. The minute his mind had free time, it went directly to the sexy vixen he’d loved all night long.

Running his tongue over his lower lip, he swore he could still taste her. Her memory was tormenting the hell out of him. He was dying for another night with her, but there was one problem, and it was a big one.

He didn’t know where she lived or even know her last name. He had no clue where she worked either, but he knew how breathy she was when she came, and how her skin flushed pink.

His cock swelled behind his fly, and he picked up the pace. Rounding the corner and heading for his apartment, he found himself searching the streets for her as always. But the northern California city was too big to see the same person twice.

For weeks he’d been haunting Tricky Dick’s too, in hopes of finding her. Though if he were honest, if he ever found her on the bar having another man doing shots off her luscious curves, he’d probably end up in jail for assault.

Just the mere idea of it raised a rumble in his throat, but he clamped down on the feeling of ownership she brought out in him. She’d only been his for a few short hours. From what he could tell, she’d enjoyed every slow, mind-blowing minute. But in the morning she’d taken his firehouse T-shirt and left before he’d awakened. Leaving no note, no number to reach her at.

When he’d asked his neighbor if she’d seen a taxi pick up a woman in the wee hours of the morning, she’d given him a dirty look and gone back inside her apartment.

He detoured to Tricky Dick’s. This had become routine—go inside, do a quick sweep of the joint, and often walk back out without even buying a beer.

His mind skimmed over the events of his day. Two house fires and some power lines down across a main road. One person had actually driven over the hot line, which had damaged his tires. Then they’d been left to rescue the man, deal with his incapacitated car, and ward off more irritated commuters who were stuck on the road for over an hour while the electric company worked.

But none of that seemed to matter now. What happened back at East Street didn’t matter, because his brain and body had one focus.

Hanna.

He pushed through the door into Tricky Dick’s. People were laughing, bottles clinking. The guys’ usual table had a group of construction workers sitting at it. Using his height, Jagger peered over heads and managed to see the bar.