Wrapped in Flame
Loose Id Titles by Caitlyn Willows
WRAPPED IN FLAME
Caitlyn Willows
www.loose-id.com
Wrapped in Flame
Copyright © April 2015 by Caitlyn Willows
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Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
eISBN 9781623008727
Editor: Ann M. Curtis
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
Published in the United States of America
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San Francisco CA 94117-0549
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
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Dedication
To Matt Helmkamp and Ken Heng, who were kind enough to give me their time and educate me about firefighters and fire-department procedures so that I could create my own fictional department with some degree of knowledge. Any mistakes made are my own.
And to April Cantrell, who asked me to make her a character in one of my books, so I did.
Chapter One
Why was Erica Randall not surprised to find her bags packed and waiting for her on the front porch? So much for the “amicable” divorce Keith had agreed to. He’d blindsided her once again. The hell of it was, this was all her fault. That was what pissed her off the most.
She’d ignored her instincts every step of the way with Keith. Moved forward with his hard press to marry, even though her gut had clenched and panic had loomed. She’d allowed her despair over being a single in a world of couples, sibling rivalry, and parental nagging to push her to that Vegas altar. Marrying Keith was the
last
thing she should have done. In hindsight, it was the nail in the coffin of a life she’d convinced herself she was supposed to have. That was her first mistake. It’d been downhill from there. Their marriage had been a disaster from the start. Keith had taken everything. Well, nearly everything. She still had her self-respect, even though he’d tried to take that away today. She’d kept a separate bank account too. He couldn’t touch a dime of it. Of course, that might come into contention, now that the divorce had become not so friendly. Maybe that’s why he took this route—his last-ditch effort to squeeze her dry.
Erica pulled to a stop at the curb. Keith stood there with that smug smile on his face, one shoulder braced against the house, daring her to make the next move. He’d blocked the driveway with his car so that she couldn’t pull in. That was fine. It would allow for an easier departure. She wanted to slug the son of a bitch.
Choose your battles. Live to fight another day.
She had a lot more to lose than he realized. Placating him was imperative.
Erica left the motor running, opened the doors and trunk, then walked toward her luggage. She refused to make eye contact with him or exchange a single word. Quiet anger and steely determination fueled her strength. She stacked the two small suitcases on top of the two larger ones, begged them not to fall, and rolled them all to her car.
“It’s the least you owe me,” he called out behind her.
Of course he’d have to say something. Keith hated being ignored.
“I’d accuse you of fucking someone on the side, but we both know that’s ridiculous. You’re not that fuck-worthy.” He said that loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Do you honestly think I married you for your looks? I needed money. You had it. I moved on to someone else long ago.”
Don’t react. Keep moving. God help whoever he’s suckered now.
“I’ve got my pride, Erica. There’s no fucking way I was going into that station tomorrow morning with my tail tucked between my legs. You wanted the divorce. I just took the initiative and filed the papers.”
He’d had them served to her at school. Pulled her out of class even, knowing it would be awkward and embarrassing, hoping it would humiliate her. He’d succeeded there, but he’d also pissed her off. Having her suitcases packed and waiting when she came home was a little over-the-top, a show for the neighbors that would have them gossiping for weeks to come. That was why he continued to bait her. He wanted a blowout, something he could use to call the sheriff’s office, to make himself out as the injured party. He was an expert at manipulating people when it served his purpose. Erica had learned that the hard way.
She stowed the suitcases in her car, shut the trunk and back door, then slipped behind the steering wheel.
“I’m not stupid, Erica. We both know how this is going to play out for me.”
Anger roughened his voice. She heard his footsteps stomp her way. She shut the door and locked it.
“But if you think for a minute they’re going to choose you over me—”
Erica drove off before he could reach her. He got to her, damn it. Those last words struck deep and hard.
Damn him.
It was true, though. Firefighters stuck together. They had to. Their lives depended on each other. She’d be the odd man out, on the outside, the ex-wife looking in. Losing her friends would hurt more than the end of her marriage.
Once she turned the corner out of his view, Erica pulled to the curb to calm her shaking nerves. Marriage to Keith had left her raw and empty inside. But the friendships she’d made as a result of that marriage were rich, nurturing, and filled with laughter. Keeping those friendships, her firefighter family, would be difficult. Oh, they’d try at first, but in the end, she’d be the one they’d let go. Social gatherings would be too awkward. Not that Keith cared for those any more than his fellow firefighters cared for him being there. He wasn’t anybody’s favorite person. Most tolerated him because of her—which was more than Erica could say about
her
coworkers. The teachers she worked with avoided Keith like the plague. Though Keith might not be the best firefighter in the world—a vast understatement, in her opinion—he was still part of the crew. Firefighters stuck together. The bottom line for them was their job, their service and duty to the community.
Whatever it takes.
Including working with an asshole. She didn’t know why they didn’t fire his ass. Although, that might have made her getting rid of him even harder. Who was she kidding? Keith wasn’t going to make it easy at all.
He’d turned what he’d promised would be a consensual divorce into something ugly and nasty. She should have known he would, given she knew how he operated. Hadn’t he said just that—he needed money, and she had it? He knew she’d been pooling her resources after she discovered the debt he’d incurred. She’d need an attorney.
Erica glanced at the clock in the car. Finding one at four on a Friday afternoon wasn’t going to happen. She needed a place to stay, a place to live. Remaining in the house with Keith was out of the question. It didn’t matter if she’d lived there first. It was tainted now. Besides, she knew he’d never vacate the premises. And to think she’d been stupid enough to have him added to the rental lease. The minute she got her things out of the place, she was going to have her name removed. She had the divorce papers to back up that action. Keith was on his own. Any debt he incurred from this point on was on him.
There was a little house she’d had her eye on for a while. She passed it every day on her way to work and had already considered it might be the perfect place to live. If she went in now, she’d have a place in less than fifteen minutes. She’d need muscle to retrieve her property from the house. Well, the firefighters were still her friends for now. They’d help. Keith was on-shift for the next three days. She’d get the rest of her things when he left for work in the morning.
Erica aimed for the real-estate office she’d seen listed on the sign. Within the hour, she held the keys to the small two-bedroom in her hands. Utilities were carried by the owner and were already on. She walked through the little house, feeling victory surge through her veins. All she needed was an air mattress to sleep there tonight. Hell, she wouldn’t even need that. The carpet was thick and plush.
“Yes, because making a martyr of oneself always works so well.” She was one step away from a pity party when the situation really called for celebration. She was free of the albatross in her life. Not as peacefully as she’d wished, but free nonetheless. It was enough to make her smile.
“Time to rally some muscle.” Her stomach growled. “And eat.”
She knew the perfect place—DiAntonio’s, right next to the Circle Inn. Two birds, one stone. She’d sleep comfortably tonight on a full stomach, then tackle moving tomorrow morning. She turned to leave and made it as far as the front door when Keith’s parting volley hit her.
“Let’s face it, Erica. I didn’t marry you for your looks.”
She stopped in her tracks. No, he hadn’t. That had been pretty clear very early in their marriage. Keith was after her money, not her looks, and not even her. She didn’t have a fortune. What she did have, she’d worked for every dime, saved pennies, cut corners. Then she’d married him, trusted him, and lost everything in less than six months. Pride had kept her from sharing the outcome of her folly with anyone. Brave face and all that. But the rift between her and Keith was apparent. Anyone who came to their house would notice the separate bedrooms. Hadn’t Trish Delaney even drawn her aside and asked her, more than once, why she didn’t dump his ass? Erica couldn’t tell her how close Keith’s spending had put them toward bankruptcy, how she barely had enough to pay the bills he’d racked up. She couldn’t lie either and say she loved the guy. She didn’t. Looking back, she never had. She’d done this to herself, and it’d been up to her to fix it.
A clean exit needed precise planning and money to back her up. If she’d told Trish money was an issue, the crew would have bent over backward to see she had it. Erica couldn’t let that happen. This was her mess. Hers to solve. She’d scrimped and saved until the moment was right. Then fate had stepped in with a whopper of a surprise. If Keith ever found out…
Erica shook her head. She’d keep that little secret close to her chest, even from her nearest and dearest friends. Oh, they’d eventually find out, but by then Keith would be history. Actually, him filing for divorce was perfect. He couldn’t accuse her of pulling a fast one. Well, he could, but…
