Hearts on Fire 8: Saving C.C. (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  She started to push the car. Well, attempted to, as cars honked and complained she was causing a traffic jam.

  “Hey, you need some help? What happened?”

  She looked up and caught sight of a really big, attractive guy in a navy blue T-shirt and dark pants. He had grease on him, and on the breast of his shirt was a small logo that said Treasure Mechanics.

  “Oh God yes. It died. I thought I would make it into the parking lot.”

  He stared at her, and his eyes looked lower and then over her body. She felt a little something and then looked down, noticing her breasts were pouring from the light pink camisole she was wearing. It was hot out. She had no AC and wore the skimpiest amount of clothing she had so she wouldn’t sweat her butt off.

  “Let us help you.” He then turned and whistled.

  She looked up from the driver’s side, barely seeing over the old Cadillac Seville’s roof, and spotted another big guy coming from the garage, wiping his hands on a dark rag.

  Holy God, did he look muscular and mean, really mean, with his dark hair and even darker eyes taking in the scene in front of him. He appeared annoyed, and she felt intimidated to say the least.

  He nodded toward the first big guy with the blondish brown hair.

  “Her car died. Help me push it into the garage.”

  The big guy looked her over quickly and then took his time coming to the car.

  The closer he got, the taller he got. Holy shit was he big. Like six feet plus some. She swallowed hard and immediately took in the sight of him, muscles and all.

  “Miss, if you step aside, I’ll help my brother, and we’ll get the car into the garage.”

  She moved out of the way.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  “No,” the other one said kind of quickly.

  She moved to the side, and both big men pushed her car with what appeared like very little effort and got it into the garage. The big guy bent over into the car to place it in park and to turn off the hazards. He had a mighty fine ass in the camo pants he wore. She quickly looked away.

  “You vacationing here?” the guy with the blondish brown hair asked her.

  “Just passing through. I think.”

  He looked at all her stuff in the back seat.

  “Where from?” the other one asked as he pulled the lever and she heard the hood click. He then passed very close by her, taking in the sight of her body again.

  “New York.”

  He nodded. “Thought so.” He then lifted the hood.

  She wasn’t sure if his reply was meant to be sarcastic, or if he had a problem with New Yorkers, but she kind of took offense to it. But considering that she didn’t know these men from Adam, she should be nice and hope they didn’t hammer her over the head with a big-ass bill.

  As the hood lifted and the smoke filled the garage, the two men waved their hands in front of their faces. She coughed and stepped out of the garage bay.

  “Jesus, that car looks shot,” some other mechanic said as he and two other men walked closer.

  “We’ll know soon enough. Kyle, why don’t you get all her information? We’ll see what the problems are.”

  “Okay, Frank,” the guy said, and she looked at the one named Frank before she moved to follow Kyle.

  “It’s probably the transmission or the engine. I’ve had it worked on a bunch of times, but the last mechanic said it should last a while longer.” She said hoping to get across that she wouldn’t let them pull the wool over her eyes and get ripped off. But then again, the car was probably shot. She wouldn’t be shocked if it died right here and never started again. God, now what am I going to do?

  The other mechanics looked at her. “How long ago was the work done, honey?” one asked her as he looked her over.

  She felt the twinge of awareness like a shot to her gut, telling her that the car had its last day. She’d been milking it, praying it would survive until she could afford something newer or at least more reliable. “About six months ago,” she replied, but it was more like a year. The damn car guzzled oil. So much so that she had three cases in the trunk. It was a hunk of junk.

  He smiled.

  “The boss will give you his honest opinion.” He then walked away. She wasn’t sure what that guy meant but had a feeling it was going to be bad news.

  “Follow me, miss, and we’ll get you set up inside the office where the AC is,” Kyle said, and she followed him.

  She couldn’t help but let her eyes roam down over his ass as he walked. The man had a killer body, and so did his brother.

  * * * *

  Kyle kept looking at the young woman’s eyes as he spoke with her. He was actually trying his hardest not to come across too abruptly even though he’d been told he wasn’t very approachable. But she had these gorgeous dark blue eyes and a killer body with big breasts, narrow waist, sexy hips and ass. Plus, when her camisole lifted a little, he thought he saw a tattoo on her hip. Very sexy indeed.

  “What’s your full name and address?” he asked as he stood by the computer.

  She rambled off her name.

  “C.C.? What does it stand for?” he asked, and she held his gaze.

  “C.C.,” she replied and looked away. So she didn’t want to tell him.

  “Address?”

  “My old one? Why?”

  “Just for the system, and a phone number where we can contact you as we look over the vehicle.”

  “I’ll give you my cell number. No need for the address.”

  He got a funny sensation.

  “Okay, then. If you want to have a seat, I’ll go check to see what the mechanics say about the car.”

  She nodded and then walked over to the set of four seats in the small waiting room, took a seat, and crossed her legs. She had great legs, too. Long, tan, and she was petite. A real beauty.

  Kyle closed the door behind him and walked around the car. Frank and a few guys were looking it over.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s a hunk of junk,” Frank said.

  “Shoot. Nothing you can do to help her?” Kyle asked him.

  “I don’t think so. I can try to get this transmission patched up, but it isn’t going to last very long. Could be feet or miles on the road before it goes entirely.”

  “What should I tell her?”

  “To give me a couple of hours to see what I can do. She may want to go grab some lunch or something.” Frank went back to looking under the hood.

  Kyle walked back inside. He saw her sitting there, fumbling with her fingers and looking so sweet and young. Shit.

  He cleared his throat as he moved closer and then leaned against the counter.

  “Well, my brother said he’s not feeling too positive about fixing the car.”

  “What? Oh God, it’s not fixable?”

  “He said to give him a couple of hours to try and patch it up a bit, but he wasn’t sure how long the fix would work or if it even would.”

  “Wonderful.” She stood up and looked toward the window.

  “There’s a cool place down the block called the Station. Great food, if you want to grab a bite? I’ll text your cell phone when my brother has some better idea about the car.”

  “Okay. What choice do I have?” She started to head toward the door and then glanced over her shoulder. He quickly looked back into her eyes, peeling them away from checking out her sexy ass in the tight shorts. She was exceptional.

  “Be honest, does it look like the car is shot? Because if I’m staying here in town I’ll need to make some decisions.” She looked sad and frustrated. He felt badly for her and couldn’t lie. That wasn’t his personality at all.

  “Well, to be honest, by the response from my brother, you may want to start making some plans. It doesn’t look good.” She swallowed hard and almost looked as though she might cry. He felt terrible and took a step toward her. “Hey, but if there’s a chance it can be fixed, my brother Frank can fix it.”

  She gave
a soft smile, nodded, and headed out the door.

  As he watched her walk down the street, he couldn’t help the thoughts that passed through his mind. If she were going to stay, she would need a friend, someone to help her find a place to stay. He shook his head. What the fuck am I thinking? I don’t even know the woman.

  His inquisitive mind began to wonder about who she might be and where she’d come from in New York. He’d been a cop in the city for years until he was shot by a suspect evading capture from an armed robbery. Screwed his whole career and future on the force. He could have died like his partner, Doland, had.

  He shook his head and headed back inside. He had a fucked-up shoulder that would never heal, and he took each day at a time, feeling guilty for surviving when Doland had a wife and two little kids. I’ve got nothing to offer a beautiful young woman but scars, regrets, and a piss-poor attitude to boot. Why the hell am I even thinking about this? Goddamn, one look at some sexy little woman, new to town, and I’m thinking of shit I shouldn’t be thinking of. Hell knows my brothers still haven’t come around to wanting to share a woman again.

  After the little Felicia escapade and how screwed up she’d been, their whole ménage experience had turned into an orgy, nothing more. That was exactly what Felicia, Mercury’s girl, had wanted.

  It was no sweat off his back. None of them had a hard time finding women to help scratch that itch, but it was that bond, that connection they all felt when they were with a woman together that was truly magical. If they could find the right woman to share.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t even get Frank to hang out in public and go to the Station. Jenks was always on some adventure or running off with friends for some exciting escapade of rock climbing, deep-sea fishing, or bungee jumping. Mercury kept busy as a paramedic and was the most social of them all, and him, well, he tried to be friendly and outgoing with friends and family but felt displaced. Almost as though he wasn’t whole anymore and something was missing.

  He swallowed hard and went back to work. Maybe if things were different, he and his brothers could get back to where they’d been years ago before they went after their dreams and sought out adventure. That was the time Kyle had felt closest to them, and also most protected, as if nothing could ever break them apart. He wanted that, but did his brothers? Unless he got the guts to ask them, he would never know. Maybe it wasn’t worth it right now anyway.

  Chapter 1

  C.C. Walker learned about the different crews and groups of first responders pretty quickly. But considering she’d been working in the Station for only the past month, new faces appeared here and there throughout her various shifts. It was an exceptional town she’d stumbled upon because her hunk of junk quit on her once and for all. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought about that day and how she’d met Frank and Kyle St. James. They were nice but also pretty intense, and initially when she met Kyle, he seemed so friendly and helpful. But when she returned to the shop, he’d acted different. She didn’t know why and didn’t bother to waste time trying to figure it out.

  While at The Station waiting on word about her car, she’d heard about a job opening and snagged it just in case she had to stay in Treasure Town. Who would have thought she would love the town and the people she’d met so far? She’d been lucky enough to show up at the right time, when Burt and Jerome, the owners, were desperate for a good waitress. Like her grandmother always said, when one door closes, another door opens. That was the case for C.C.

  She’d just set a tray of drinks down for some guys from Engine 20. Chief Raul Sanchez was a character and a half. Married, in his forties, with four kids, he was here on a Friday night celebrating with his crew after a pretty bad multi-car fire that closed down Luana Highway for a few hours. Because of the Station’s location, she had been knee-deep in drink orders and even had to assist making some of the drinks herself.

  But she wasn’t complaining. It meant more money saved and hopefully a better place to live than the dive she was in now. Not that she had to live in such a small place on the outskirts of town. She had just been ensuring this was the place she wanted to stay in for a while to clear her head. She missed New York. Hell, she missed a lot of things and people too, but her original plan of driving to California after hearing “Hotel California” on the radio when she left New York had quickly lost its appeal. She started thinking that living in Treasure Town, New Jersey, only a state away from her own home, was a good thing in case she was needed by her family. Plane fare was a hell of a lot more than a train or bus fare.

  But things were too strange back home. She felt uneasy, on display, like some poor damaged soul whose life would consist of being “that girl, the one from that family.” How tragic.

  “C.C., do you get any days or nights off or what? I see you here all the time?” Brandon Polaski asked, his words slurred from how much beer he’d drunk tonight.

  He was a big guy, filled with muscles and facial hair. Whenever he drank a lot, he flirted.

  “Who needs days off when everyone is so nice around here?” She set down the last drink and picking up the tray. This time Kurt put the money down to pay. They didn’t want to run a tab. They wanted to take turns paying. She was fine with that. They tipped her every time.

  She held the tray and looked around to make sure none of the other tables needed anything. It was crowded still, and she was so busy she hadn’t had a chance to eat dinner. She’d only grabbed a chicken finger and guzzled down a bottle of cold water.

  “But you’re young, beautiful, you should be going out on dates and having a good time,” Sanchez told her.

  Brandon then smiled and caressed her arm. “I’ll take you out on a date.”

  She smiled at him nicely as she covered his hand and then gently moved it off her arm.

  “I’m sorry, Brandon, but I have a lot going on in my life right now, and I just don’t have the time. But thanks for the offer. I’d better get back to work. Just wave when you need me again.”

  “She says no to every guy that asks her out, Brandon. Why would she say yes to you?” she heard one of the guys tease him.

  “Because I’m sexy.” He then nearly fell off the chair.

  They all started laughing, and C.C. moved along to the next table. That was the one major negative about working at a place like the Station and living in a town like Treasure Town. It was filled with first responders, soldiers, the true heroes of society, and that was part of the reason she had to leave New York. She couldn’t deal with all the sadness and the negativity. If she’d stayed any longer, she would have been raising her sister’s babies and feeling guilt for wanting to have a life again after everything that happened and all she’d lost. It just wasn’t fair.

  Things hadn’t made sense and still didn’t make sense. Had she been so self-absorbed in her work with the Red Cross that she really hadn’t picked up on Parker’s depression? They had been dating only for a couple of months. She shook her head and tried not to think about it as she took another set of drink orders from some off-duty police officers and then headed to the bar.

  Unlike her sister, Clare, C.C. didn’t want to live with the tragedies that struck her family year after year. She didn’t want to live in that negative state any longer, and going away had to be done, even if it wasn’t permanent.

  She took a deep breath and forced the negative thoughts from her head. She’d tried to get her sister to take back her life and live again. But losing Lionel in that fire had changed her sister’s world forever. Losing their brother, Banks, too, had made it a double tragedy that destroyed multiple families. Then Parker died.

  She quickly swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. She’d left the Hudson Valley and headed south. She had to move on. She couldn’t live with everyone saying her boyfriend had committed suicide and set his house on fire and was a disgrace to the Marine Corps, all while they praised Lionel and Banks and minimized her emotions and her loss. The fire was still labeled suspicious, but nothing
more had come out of the investigation.

  “Hey, C.C., are you all right?” Burt asked her.

  She quickly cleared her head and smiled. “Sure thing. I need a few drinks.” She rambled off the mixed drinks and then looked around the bar. It sure was extra crowded tonight. Maybe she would be able to look at some small places to rent after all. She did like it around here. Maybe she could settle in a bit more? That thought made her heart ache and rattled her nerves. She didn’t want to get too comfortable. She didn’t want to make friends, get close, or establish roots. She was fearful, especially when she thought about the letters she’d gotten after her brother, brother-in-law, and then her boyfriend died. Most of the letters showed support. They were encouraging with prayers, understanding, and empathy, but there were a few others that had come from strangers. Ones that said odd things that the police and investigators thought were from mean, trouble-making people. It seemed that, when tragedy struck and people found out your name, where you lived, and ways to contact you, you were exposed to both good and bad responses.

  But it had been the one strange letter she got a few weeks before she decided to leave town. She shivered just thinking about the words. She felt the anger, the tone, the depth of seriousness and threat. Any man you get close to will die. They aren’t your destiny. I’m watching you.

  C.C. placed the drinks onto the tray and tried to clear her head. Her brother’s friend, Detective Chris Factor, had told her that there was nothing to worry about. The investigators had tried to look into the letter and its origin but came up empty-handed. Seriously, how could they find out who wrote the letters when there was no return address? They chalked it up as some sicko trying to make matters worse and that it was probably nothing. Chris held on to the letters and placed them into the file as potential evidence if the investigation continued, but he didn’t think she had to worry. She wasn’t so sure. Or maybe she was just trying to hang on to the idea that she hadn’t been so blind that she couldn’t tell that her boyfriend, Parker, was depressed. If she had, she could have helped him seek counseling.