SCORCHED: A Firefighter Stepbrother Romance Thriller (4 page)

“You’re
going to move in to my place,” I said as she sobbed, her arms wrapped around my
waist. “As soon as you can get out of here, I’ll pick you up and we’ll get you
settled. I’m
gonna
be here
for you, baby. I swear.”

“Come on,
Gunner,” she sniffled. “I can’t just move in. You must have a girlfriend, or . . . ”

“No.
There’s no one,” I assured her. “You’re moving in. I’m not
gonna
hear another word about it, okay? I’ve got
plenty of
room,
I’ve got one of those
pull-out
couches and everything. Hell, I’m barely even
there. I stay at the station most days.”

Tanya wiped
her eyes on my shirt the way she’d done when she was little. I wasn’t about to
let her walk out of here without a place to go. I wasn’t going to abandon her
again. Nothing she said, no protest she could voice, would make me leave her
alone.

I felt
a familiar fire rise up inside of me, the same possessive flame I’d harbored
while the two of us were growing up. This was my chance to make up for the one
thing in my life that I’d always regretted. I wouldn’t leave my little sister
out in the cold ever again.

“Jesus,”
she said, looking up into my eyes, blinking a few more tears away. “You really
are a knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

“I
wouldn’t say that,” I chuckled, wiping an errant drop from her cheek. “I’m
actually kind of a dick.”

Tanya
laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard in such a long time that I could practically
feel my heart swelling. I couldn’t even believe how much of a fucking pussy I
was being.

“Did
the doctor ever tell you when you were getting out?”

She
nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Then
I’ll be here,” I told her, getting up from her bed. “Bright and early. So you
get some rest, because tomorrow, you’re coming to stay at the
Casa de Gunner.
Got it?”

“Sure,”
Tanya said, leaning back against her pillow. Even those few tears she’d shed
looked like they’d sapped the energy right out of her. “Thanks, Gunner. For
everything.”

I could
feel that flame extinguish inside of me and turn into something dark.
Maybe even hateful.
I wasn’t sure
who
I was angry at, but that fury swelled up inside me sure as shit, desperate for
a way out.

Usually,
I’d stick my dick in some girl and call it a day. But I couldn’t do that to
Tanya. She was my stepsister. My sweet, beautiful,
hot
stepsister . . . 

 
“Don’t thank me,” I told her and saw her
wince just a little. “Just doing my job.” Then I left her room to report back
to the fire station, bristling all the way.

What
the fuck was wrong with her, being so fucking nice to me?
Thanking
me? It didn’t make any sense, and it made me feel weird
inside. Uneasy.

Tanya
wasn’t the one with a debt, here. I was the one who had something to repay.
Maybe once I did, I could get her out of my head—out of those dark,
depraved thoughts where a good girl like my stepsister didn’t belong.

Fuck, Gunner. You’re one sick son of a
bitch.
Maybe even worse than your father.

That
flame stirred inside. Maybe the one she needed protection from was
me
.

Chapter 4

Tanya

What
the fuck was I thinking?

My
stepbrother, who’d taken off on our family years ago and left me with an
alcoholic mess of a father—
his
father—had strutted back into my life like a self-important tomcat, and
I’d welcomed him with open arms.

Not
only that, but I’d agreed to go live with him until I could figure out where
the hell else I was
gonna
go. It put to shame every fantasy I’d had about what I’d do to him when, or if,
he came back. Most of those fantasies ended in violence, but somehow, seeing
him drained away every single insult I’d practiced in my head.

I’d
spent years envisioning this day. Now that it had come, it didn’t look anything
like I’d expected it to—and trust me, I’d run through a lot of
variations.

It felt
like a betrayal to the badass bitch I was supposed to be.

Oh, Gunner! Thanks so much for showing back
up! Let me cry on your shoulder and gush over what a hero you are to feed your
enormous ego!

Fuckin
’
morphine. You think drunk dialing is bad, try begging the attending nurse to
call half the fire stations in the city in the middle of the night while you’re
high as a kite.

It had
worn off considerably since then, and now I was in pain and pissed the hell
off. I had a prescription for some Percocet I’d get filled on the way home. I
considered taking a cab and standing Gunner up, but the fact remained that I
had no place to go… And no money to pay the cab fare...

I was
at the mercy of some douchebag who’d left me high and dry when I’d needed him
the most.
Again.

“That
him?” the orderly asked me. He was standing behind my wheelchair, an accessory
I really didn’t need but the staff had insisted I use. I squinted as the sun
glinted off the windshield of an old Mustang—the kind of car my
stepbrother had always wanted.

“Yup,”
I tersely replied. “That’s the guy.”

Gunner
pulled up to the curb in his shiny red classic. He must’ve spent years
restoring it, and for some reason, that made me mad. Like, what right did he
have to personal fulfillment when he’d run out on me—on our whole
family—and thrown me to the big, bad wolf? Fury buzzed inside me as
Gunner stepped out to open the door on the passenger side, then reached for my
good hand.

“C’mon,
baby. Let’s get you in.”

“Stop
calling me that,” I muttered, pushing to my feet all on my own. “All I’ve got
is some burns on my hand. I’m not crippled.”

But
Gunner wrapped his arm around me anyway, supporting my weight as he eased me
into the black leather seat.

The
feel of his bicep against my back brought me back to the way he’d pulled me out
of that fire—how he’d just slung me over his shoulders like a sack of
potatoes and got to work on saving us both. He hadn’t even hesitated. Not for
one damn second. Where the hell was this guy back when Jim had been beating the
shit out of me? And where had he been since?

Gunner
closed my door and I buckled in as he came around to slip into the driver’s
seat. He looked over at me, at my bandaged hand. “You tell work you’re not
coming in?”

“No,” I
spat, folding my arms. “I don’t have a phone. Everything I had went up in
fucking flames, remember?”

“You
can use mine,” he offered. Before I could give him my answer, he’d dug it out
of his pocket and shoved it in my face. An iPhone.
Of course
it was. “You can always Google the number.”

“I know
how smart phones work,” I said, snatching the phone from his hand. I was
rewarded with a throb of searing pain from my first-degree burns.
This is going to take some getting used to.

“Careful,
baby,” Gunner said. “Burns like that can be nasty.
Especially
on your palm.
Too much moving around and you’re
gonna
make it swell up again.”

“Good
thing they prescribed me pain pills.” I swiped my thumb over his touchscreen.
“I need to drop off the order before we go home. You have a pharmacy nearby?”

“I do.”

“Great.
Let’s stop there.” I hesitated halfway through dialing the number. “You know,
work isn’t such a big deal. I can . . . I
dunno
, go in and scrub counters,
or something.
With my good hand.
It won’t be a
problem.”

My
stepbrother snorted. “Did you hit your head? Your apartment burned down, baby.
The whole fucking building.
You need a day off or two. You
need to heal.”

“I need
money,” I snapped. “Some of us don’t have it so good, Gunner. Some of us are
just barely scraping by. We can’t all afford Mustangs and iPhones.”

“C’mon,
Tanya,” Gunner said. “I’ve got a few years on you. You’ll be where I am one day.
Hell, maybe you’ll do even better.”

I shook
my head. “Whatever.”

“Doesn’t
matter, anyway,” he continued, “because you’re not paying one red cent for
those meds. I’ve got you covered.”

I
groaned. “You can’t be serious. I don’t need any charity.”

For a
second, my stepbrother went quiet. Behind his lips, he ran his tongue over his
teeth. When he stopped at a red light, he said, “It’s not charity if I owe
you.”

I shook
my head again and tapped my best friend’s number onto Gunner’s screen.

Chelsea—it’s Tanya.
Apartment fire yesterday.
Not coming to the club. Let Gino
know.

It
wasn’t until I was sitting out in the parking lot of the CVS while Gunner ran
my prescription inside that I heard back from her.

OMG!!! Saw the news!
U ok
sweets?
L

I
texted her back.

Hand is fucked up. Be careful what u
say
.
On my
stepbro’s
phone.

Her
answer was one I’d expected.

Uhhh
who??

But I
didn’t have time to explain, or even the inclination to. Not over text, anyway.
I sent her back a dismissive text reminding her to let Gino know I wouldn’t be
in, then promised to call her later once I’d gotten a phone of my own.

Then I
deleted all our texts, because the last thing I needed was Gunner asking me
more questions about my job—like what kind of club his baby sister was “waitressing”
at.

It’s none of his damn business, anyway. We
all do what we
gotta
do to
survive. Some of us run. Some of us stay behind and clean up the mess. And then
we find some way—any way—to make things work.

Running
apparently paid off a hell of a lot more than staying did, though, because when
we finally made it to Gunner’s house, I could see that life had been a lot
kinder to him than it had been to me. First off, he actually
had
a
house.
It was little, sure, but it was nice—a cutesy bungalow
that didn’t look at all like I’d have expected. The teal door matched the
shutters and the
soft,
canary yellow of the façade reminded
me of that time our family had gone to the Keys.
Maybe that’s
what the house was supposed to remind Gunner of, too—happier times.

He
pulled into the drive and cut the engine. “Home sweet home.”

“Firefighting
pays well, huh?” I asked bitterly.

Gunner
shrugged. “Well enough. It’s just me, so . . . ”

He got
out of the car, but before he could come around to my side, I opened the door
and got out on my own. It was a little
fuck
you
to whatever ideas he had about being my big hero. Of course, it didn’t
help that I’d told him he was just yesterday.

Gonna
have to watch my mouth while I’m on those
pain pills.

“I got
the door,” Gunner said, bounding ahead of me with his keys in hand. I sighed
through my nose, looking up at the swaying trees dotted around his property.

No
place I’d ever lived had trees. Not since Jim’s house.

“C’mon
in,” he urged me. “I made up the spare room for you already.”

I
climbed up onto the stoop. “Thought you said you had a
pull-out
couch?”

“I do.
But my baby sister needs a room of her own, yeah?”

I
rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Gunner. Stop fucking trying so hard.”

A fight
was brewing.
One that’d been overdue for a long damn time.
But then I noticed something in his front yard. Something I couldn’t take my
eyes off of once I’d seen it.

“Holy
shit.” I pushed past him. “You got a dog?”

I
practically jumped the chain-link gate to get to it. Fuck, that was a handsome
creature if I ever saw one. Big, brown eyes.
A perfectly
soft, silky coat of cocoa-colored fur.
Those black patches glimmered in
the sun as he bounded toward
me, all ears and paws
.

“Shit,
Tanya!” Gunner hissed, pulling me away from the dog with my back against his
front. “Keep back. He’s my guard dog.”

For
just a second, the warmth and the hard planes of my stepbrother’s body sent
chills racing up my spine. He had to be ripped. Every muscle was evident. Every
bulge. Including, I noticed, the one between his legs. The one pressed right up
against my ass.

“Knock
it off,” I said, wrenching away. Gunner stepped around me to intercept the dog
but it just ducked under his arms and came straight for me.

I
didn’t worry for a second. Maybe we’d never had one growing up, but I knew a
thing or two about dog behavior. And this one was absolute shit at protecting
anybody. Or maybe he just knew I was cool.

“
Jax
!” Gunner grumped when his dog leapt into my arms.
“Leave her alone!”

I took
some snide satisfaction in knowing that
Jax
didn’t
give two shits about what his owner had to say. That dog was all over me,
kissing my face, twirling in circles, and wagging his tail so hard it hurt.

It was
all fun and games until he accidentally whipped his tail into my injured hand.
Then my stepbrother grabbed his collar and hauled him back toward his doghouse
while I stepped outside the gate.

“Sorry,”
Gunner muttered when he returned. “
Jax
gets too
excited sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Especially around women.”

“Sounds
like the perfect dog for you,” I answered.

Finally,
I turned and stepped inside his house. The inside was just as nice as the
outside, quaint and homey, not at all like the Gunner I knew. There weren’t
many pictures, though. Not of people. Just some art that looked like he’d
picked it up at a garage sale, or maybe the Goodwill.

Hardwood
floors, though. Those were spiffy. “These the originals?” I asked him.

“Yup,”
he said, closing the door behind us. “This little bungalow was built back in
the twenties. It needed a fair bit of
reno
,
but it was a steal.”

So, my
stepbrother fought fires, saved lives, and fixed houses. Of course he did. His
competence infuriated me.

Who the
hell was he to go off and have a full life while I stayed home with his piece
of shit dad—the one who’d become
my
responsibility when
his
son just
walked out on him all those years ago?

“Must
have been nice,” I said, peeking my head into the kitchen. I wasn’t surprised
to find it just as quaint as the rest of the house—though it made me no
less furious. From what I could tell he barely even used the thing for how
clean everything looked. “You got to enjoy living for yourself all these
years.”