Live Wire
Authors: Cristin Harber
Tags: #Live Wire Titan Series Romantic Suspense Military Romance
LIVE WIRE
A Titan Novella
Cristin Harber
PROLOGUE
Thirty Years Ago
“Wake up!”
Jared Westin’s eyes flew open as he took in the unfamiliar room of his grandparents’ house. The smoke was faint enough that he wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t heard his dad’s strict voice order him awake.
The door flew open. “Get up. Jared. William. Wake up. Get downstairs. Get outside.”
Dad was nothing if not a man of few words. Each had purpose and value. So many slung together meant that Jared had to snap to and do as he was told. But he yawned—confused and tired—and rubbed his sleepy eyes. He didn’t want to get out of bed.
His mom rushed into the room. “Let’s go. Hurry.”
The heavy waft of burned plastic followed Mom as she stood in her robe. The scent wasn’t like candles at Christmas services. It was destructive and made his nose wrinkle. Jared knew by his mom’s tone that this was more than his by-the-book parents doing what they did best: drilling rules and playing it safe. “William. There’s a fire. Wake up.” He threw a pillow at his cousin with high-school-level precision. “Fire. William. Wake up.”
“Huh?” William stirred and sat upright, groggily mopping his face with the back of his hand. “Fire?”
Jared grabbed William’s wrist, dragging him from the other twin bed. “Come on, get up.” Jared couldn’t see fire or smoke, and nothing was warm. The only warning came from panicked parents and the stink, as if maybe Grandma had smoked too many of her cigarettes and set an ashtray on fire.
“But my mom and dad,” William muttered. “I have to find.”
“My dad will get them.” Dad could do anything and get everybody to safety. He was a fireman now that he wasn’t in the army anymore.
Jared heard a pop, and he and William jumped. Then a door slammed. Someone yelled. There were a lot of people in this big, old house. Chaos had started. Doors opened and closed, some of them upstairs, others downstairs. Some of the older girls had set up a slumber party and slept on couches and in sleeping bags by the Christmas tree while his aunts and uncles had claimed bedrooms. He and William had won a game and gotten the room with the twin beds. But now they had to get outside.
“Wait,” William cried, pulling against Jared’s ten-year-old grip. “What about—”
“Come on.” When there was a direction to follow. Simple. That was what to do in an emergency. Hadn’t Uncle Matt taught him that? Dad would skin his hide if he didn’t start moving boots fast. “We have to go.”
“No.” William’s face froze in a panicked daze.
“Dang it, Will. This is what we do in emergencies. I’m older. Trust me already.” No time to be scared. They could do that later—or William could. Jared wouldn’t be scared of anything. He puffed out his chest and grabbed on to Will harder, but the air made his throat hurt.
The grown-up voices yelled. The noises came faster and scarier. His heart pounded. Sweat tickled his temples and neck at the collar, and he didn’t know what to make of the commotion other than what he and William had been told to do: get out.
“Now!” And pulling William with everything he had, Jared dragged his concrete block of a cousin into the hall. Only then did William’s legs start moving. What felt like minutes had only been seconds, and they moved downstairs.
“What’s going on?” his cousin Kate asked as she hurried down the stairs with them.
Marlee bumped past them. “Fire!”
“There’s no fire,” Annie said from behind them. “Jared, your dad is an overreacting buffoon.”
He spun around and marched up to her. She’d been in trouble for sneaking out and coming back stoned every night they’d been at their grandparents’. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Forget her.” Marlee tugged him then grabbed William as they moved down the long staircase. “It’s smoky.”
Uncle Matt scooped Marlee up as he bounded in behind them. “Move it, kids.”
Aunt Margarie took Jared’s hand, and he looked over his shoulder to see Annie plodding behind. Their family swooshed out the door, hollering at Annie to follow close.
“I am!” she snapped.
As soon as they were outside, Aunt Margarie let go of him and lit into Annie. His cousin was right. Jared couldn’t see fire—not even smoke. But the air tasted like burned dinner, only worse. It had coated his tongue, and his eyes were stinging. He looked for flames.
Wait. His heart dropped. His dog—where was Bucko? “Bucko!”
Aunt Margarie put a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on—”
Nope. There was no hanging on. Jared ran around the crowd of family that had formed, searching for his dog. “Anyone have Bucko?”
No answer.
“Hey.” He stopped Kate. “Did you see Bucko?”
“Nope.”
He approached the cousins who’d been downstairs by the Christmas tree. “Did you guys get my dog?”
All heads shook.
Jared’s throat tightened, and his eyes widened as he turned back for the house. “Dad?” His parents wouldn’t forget Bucko. “Dad!”
There was no dog, and he didn’t see Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Jilly, Uncle Brian, Mom, or Dad. The neighbors milled in their yard, and he could see each face—and the lack of his dog—under the illumination of outdoor Christmas lights. “Where’s Bucko?”
No one listened or turned. Frustration bubbled, and his fists bunched uselessly. “Did anyone let my dog out of his cage?”
Grandma had made him sleep in there. She said something about how Bucko wanted to eat her cigarettes, which wasn’t true.
He looked at the imposing house. Black wood shutters on an impressive white building. All was dark—no Christmas lights shining on the outside of the house anymore. It was the only one on the block without lights, and now there was the bright, angry red light of a fire on the opposite side to where Bucko was trapped.
Not on my watch.
He was getting his dog. Jared bolted toward the front door.
“Jared!”
“Get back over here!”
“Jared!”
The desperate yells for him didn’t stop his bare feet from running toward Bucko. He pushed through the open door and heard the rumbling shouts of adults arguing up the front staircase.
“Get out of the house, Jillian!” Uncle Brian shouted.
“Christ. You too, Violet. Get out of this house.”
That was his dad. Why Uncle Brian and Dad fought with Mom and Aunt Jilly didn’t matter—a huge cracking noise sounded, and two screams let out.
“For God’s sake. Brian, get them out,” Dad yelled.
Jared crouched against the wall, watching Uncle Brian carrying Aunt Jilly over his shoulder on the way down the stairs and dragging his mom by the hand.
“Help my mom,” Aunt Jillian cried.
No one noticed Jared, and that gave him a smidge of relief because if Dad yelled at Mom like that—and that
never
happened—then he must be really mad about people staying in the house, and he’d whip Jared’s bottom if he saw him there.
What felt like fifteen minutes since he’d run back inside had probably only been seconds. The now heavy smoke filled the house.
Bucko.
Jared ran back to the back of the house. His dog was in the cage, whimpering and spinning in circles. Jared pulled on the latch, and it wouldn’t give. How did it unhook?
Jared could hear the consuming destruction of the fire, the noise of the house eating itself. He pulled on the metal latch, and it still wouldn’t open. “Shoot.”
Bucko barked, growled, jumped, and whined.
“I’m trying.” Jared grabbed the cage and dragged it toward the door, but it wouldn’t fit through the frame. “Dang it.”
He coughed. His eyes watered. What was the trick? Bucko howled and cried. Jared thought about doing the same thing, but his dad wouldn’t do something like that. Firemen didn’t cry when the smoke became worse; military men didn’t show defeat. Dad would never back down, never leave his man behind. “I’m trying, Bucko.”
“Jared!”
He spun around, so lost in saving Bucko he hadn’t heard anything other than his dog’s cries.
“Violet! I found him,” Jared’s dad called, but his mom was nowhere to be seen. With a swift switch of the handle, he released Bucko, and the dog scampered toward the front of the house, nails scraping the floor. “C’mere, son. That’s right. Never leave your man behind.”
Jared nodded. Bucko was his man. His best friend. His dad was proud. That was how Dad had raised him. That was what Dad said over and over, and Jared had done the right thing. He beamed even as he coughed.
Dad scooped him up and ran the same path that Bucko had gone. With every footstep, he shouted, “Violet!”
They burst through the open front door, and fresh air hit his face. Jared gasped in clean breaths. Dad dropped him, and Bucko clobbered him.
“Where’s Violet?” Dad shouted, pivoting, a man on a mission to find Mom.
“She hasn’t come out yet,” Uncle Brian said.
Aunt Jilly wrapped her arms around Jared. “Oh, baby. What did you do?”
“I had to get Bucko.” Jared blinked, taking in the panic on her face. He spun for the house, pushing out of Aunt Jilly’s arms. “Dad? Mom’s still inside?”
The fire trucks finally arrived. Uncle Mark directed them to Grandma and Grandpa’s room. Someone said, “That’s John Westin’s family’s house. Do the best you can.”
“I’m coming, Violet!” Dad charged back inside, and Jared flung himself to follow, Aunt Jilly catching him around the waist. The side of the house where his grandparents slept caved in as a burst of flames jumped—everyone hovering on the lawn gasped.
Aunt Jilly sobbed, pressing kisses to the top of his head. “How is this happening?”
He struggled out of her hold and turned to her, glaring because she would dare give up on his parents. “They’re coming out.”
A window popped. Then another. The firemen in Dad’s company watched as his grandparents’ house became an inferno.
“Baby—” She broke into tears and fell onto the grass.
Bucko stood by him, believing him, as the guilt began to eat Jared alive. His mom had gone in to look for him. His dad had gone in to find his mom.
Jared’s hand found the top of his dog’s head. Bucko licked him. He looked down at his best bud, tears slipping free. “They’re coming out.”
Aunt Jilly sobbed harder into the night, and Uncle Brian forced Jared and Bucko away, mixing them with his other cousins who didn’t have fathers who were heroes and didn’t understand that his parents would walk out of the building.
They were wrapped in blankets, and neighbors fussed to get them inside since they didn’t have on shoes. He hadn’t even noticed he was barefoot.
Perched in a window of someone’s house, Jared couldn’t see his grandparents’ house anymore. He couldn’t tell when his parents walked out. Aunt Margarie made him a drink to ease his mind. Warm milk with a twist, she called it. It made his lips tingle and his tongue feel funny, but as Jared lay on a couch with Bucko and a blanket, he knew that tomorrow his dad and mom would tell him how they dodged burning fire blasts and jumped over fiery walls. So exciting… he yawned, his head spinning. He’d be a hero one day. Just like Dad.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
The room hummed around Parker Black, and the folder in front of him was so hot a commodity it could burn a hole in his desk. Three new Titan recruits were up for consideration: Jax Riddle, Bishop O’Kane, and Locke Oliver.
