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  IGNITED

  FANNING THE FLAMES BOOK #2

  SE ROSE

  SIERRA HILL

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Nick

  2. Becca

  3. Nick

  4. Becca

  5. Nick

  6. Becca

  7. Nick

  8. Becca

  9. Nick

  10. Becca

  11. Nick

  12. Becca

  13. Nick

  14. Becca

  15. Nick

  16. Becca

  17. Nick

  18. Becca

  19. Nick

  20. Becca

  21. Nick

  22. Becca

  23. Nick

  24. Becca

  25. Nick

  26. Becca

  Epilogue

  More Fanning the Flames

  About the Authors

  Copyright 2021 SE Rose and Sierra Hill

  * * *

  Cover Design by: Y’all That Graphic

  Editing and Proofing by: The Word Faery

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  PROLOGUE

  Nick

  I’ve heard people say that when you are in the middle of a traumatic moment, time slows down.

  I’m not sure whether that’s because your senses work faster or your brain processes slower, but it makes reliving those moments even more painful as each and every millisecond is played out in your mind over and over for all of eternity like a broken record being played on a slow speed.

  I wasn’t even supposed to be there; none of us were.

  It was the seventh day of my eighteenth month of my current deployment. After a solid decade, I had become career military. I hadn’t planned on it when I joined the marines on a whim two months after finishing the fire academy.

  But I was lost and young, and I wasn’t sure if being a firefighter would quell my need for more.

  My platoon had been stationed in Afghanistan for too long. We had become too comfortable in our volatile setting. I had seen too many traumatic events. But my team had never been at the heart of one, until that day.

  Ricky, Kyle, Juan, and me. We were the four amigos. I was the oldest. Ricky and Kyle were two years younger than me and joined after they graduated high school. Juan was just a few months younger than me and had gone to community college and wanted to go to medical school, so he joined in hopes of getting Uncle Sam to foot the bill.

  Only ten years later, there he was, still running missions with us.

  Another team was supposed to go check a local village for IEDs. Their tactical vehicle had engine troubles, so we got sent in to do the job. It was routine, just another day; only, it wouldn’t be in the end.

  I remember it was unusually warm that day. So much so I was wiping sweat from my brow under my helmet. I don’t know why I remember that. Juan had teased me about needing antiperspirant for my forehead. I laughed and told him he needed it for his whole damn body. It was such a normal conversation between two old friends, two brothers in arms. When you serve with guys who have your back in perilous situations, they become brothers for life. A bond that can never be severed.

  The village was small but large enough to have a school. I could see the children sitting at wooden tables through the open door as we pulled up and parked. We had protocol, and one of the things we tried not to do was interrupt school time. Was it a law that we had? No. But the kids needed to learn and a bunch of military folks walking into a school didn’t exactly equate to an effective learning environment.

  “What time are they done with class?” Juan asked, motioning to the school.

  Kyle pulled out a pack of smokes, a bad habit that we had long stopped trying to rectify. “One more hour, I think.” He glanced at his watch and back over at the school. “We can hit it last. Plenty to check out here.”

  We had already swept the road for IEDs, but now we had the fun of checking around buildings in the village. It wasn’t glamorous work but was nerve-racking as hell. We were with a second team, one we worked with often.

  The other team finished first, and just as we finished, a few older kids left the school building. “I’ll go check,” Juan said. He spoke the local language better than all of us combined.

  I walked around our vehicle to get a refill of my water. I didn’t know then that my water refill would save me from injury. Save my life.

  The blast happened so fast. One minute I was pouring water, and the next minute I was knocked onto the ground with rocky debris raining down around me.

  “Fuck!” I yelled as I came to my senses, all my years in combat and training taking over as I went into marine autopilot. I opened the door to the vehicle and radioed for backup. Only then did I look up through the shattered window and see just how bad it was.

  The school was a pile of stones. Kyle and Ricky were lying on the ground covered with debris and rocks, and Juan . . . was nowhere to be seen.

  The second team had parked farther away. They ran over, calling out for a medic in search of Kyle and Ricky under the rubble as I rushed toward them to help. I could see Kyle was injured, probably a broken leg where debris had hit it. Ricky looked to have some pretty bad puncture wounds in his neck and cuts in his arm where shrapnel had torn through his uniform.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I said to them, placing a hand on top of each of their protective vests before I took off toward the school. Nothing in my training prepared me for what I saw.

  I’d seen my fair share of dead bodies. But these were all children. I started trying to move rocks out of the way. The school had been made of stones, and they easily weighed eighty pounds each.

  The first child I reached was already dead; their skull had been crushed. I glanced away, steeling myself against the flood of emotion that was welling inside me. I could hear the villagers rushing toward us. Heard the cries of mothers and fathers as they frantically tried to move the stones, hoping and praying their children were alive underneath it all.

  The next child I reached had a piece of chair lodged in his abdomen. He was wailing in pain and shock.

  “It’s okay,” I said over and over, but it only made him more agitated when he saw me in my uniform. He squirmed and then cried in agony. I put a hand over his, trying to calm him, but then he started seizing. I called for a medic. No one came, and the little boy stopped breathing. I did CPR. I don’t know for how long, but a member of the second team pulled me off him, shaking my shoulders as I tried to bat him away with my hands.

  “He’s gone, Gumby,” Chris had said. It was the use of my nickname that I had gotten for how flexible I was despite my size that shook me out of my shock.

  “Where’s Juan?” I asked, gently laying the child down on the ground, my hands still shaking.

  Chris just shook his head.

  “We need to get to him,” I said, pointing at the stones. I didn’t wait for Chris to reply, I just started moving stones, unearthing one dead child after another. I laid their bodies on the ground in a row as frantic, wailing family members began surrounding each one. When I saw an adult’s arm, I doubled my efforts, and stone by stone, I uncovered Juan. He was barely breathing, but he had a pulse.

  “Medic!” I screamed. I looked back down at Juan. His eyes opened a little. “It’s okay, buddy. I got you. We’re gonna get you fixed up in no time.”

  Blood was trickling from his mouth. “Gumby,” he said with a cough.

  “Yeah, man. It’s me,” I replied as I tried to figure out where he had been injured. There was a lot of blood. His helmet was still on, but his abdomen was a ripped-up mess.

  He gripped at his dog tags still around his neck. “Take my stuff to Bianca.”

  “No man,” I said, placing my hand over his. “You’re gonna take that shit home yourself. And then you’re gonna be a doctor and buy us a beach house. Remember? Don’t fucking forget that.”

  Juan tried to laugh but coughed up blood instead. I knew then that it wasn’t a good sign and the outcome was going to be devastating. Nothing good would come from this. But I hadn’t been able to believe it in that moment.

  “I love you, brother,” Juan whispered.

  “Don’t you give up on me, Doc,” I whispered, trying to gain my composure and keep my fear tucked away.

  Juan looked into my eyes, and I gripped his hand more tightly.

  A whole lifetime's worth of conversations passed between us in those few final moments as I watched the life leave my best friend’s mangled body. We would never be two old men, drinking beer in a bar, reminiscing over our time in the service. We would never go to a ballgame together. We would never get to tease each other like brothers do ever again.

  A part of me died with Juan that day.

  And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get it back.

  1

  NICK

  The familiar smell of lavender-scented sheets greets my nostrils as I wake.

  Home.

  I open my eyes to find sunlight streaking through the blue denim curtains in what was once my childhood bedroom, pra
ctically untouched since I left ten years ago.

  I roll over and glance at the towels Mom has laid out on the dresser along with toiletries like I’m at a Bed and Breakfast instead of my parents’ house.

  I grin at that. No matter how old we are, we are still Mom’s babies.

  I get up and make my way into the bathroom to shower. Long gone are the days when I had to fight my two younger brothers for the privilege of showering first so I’d get the hot water. Now I have it all to myself. It’s an odd feeling. Not having to share with anyone else or having to rush through a shower.

  I’ve been home for all of three weeks now after returning stateside, and Mom and Dad are throwing me a welcome home party today. I hadn’t wanted one, but Mom insisted that some close friends and family come by for a barbeque. It’s summertime, and Dad just opened the pool. It’s not unusual for them to have friends and family stop by to christen the new pool season, so I let it go to avoid an argument I wouldn’t win. I can force myself to make small talk with neighbors and sit off to the side and watch the action. It’s about all I can bring myself to do just now.

  My heart and head aren’t really here with me—I left them overseas. It’s been hell, and I know I have a long road ahead of me.

  It also didn’t help that the moment I returned to town, my brother, Tyler, a firefighter with the Rivers Crossing fire department, picked me up at the airport and then took me along on a detour when an explosion occurred at the high school. We immediately went into fire fighter mode to help locate his fire chief girlfriend, Callie, who was inside the building at the time of the blast.

  So my nerves are frayed and I could use something lowkey today.

  I throw on swim trunks and a t-shirt because, if I don’t appear to look like I’m attending a pool party, Mom and Dad will give each other nervous glances and probably send me to see a shrink. And I don’t need any of that right now. They’ve been hovering and over-protective since the moment I returned home.

  Which is why I’m glad that today I get to announce I’ve found myself an apartment and will be moving into my own place in a week. The truth is, I started looking even before I arrived stateside. I knew I needed my own space and the sooner, the better.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom says, leaning up to kiss my cheek as I lumber into the kitchen. She’s busy at the kitchen counter making enough food to feed an army. I notice a tray of Deviled eggs and reach out to pop one in my mouth.

  “What time are the festivities beginning?” I ask as I swallow the egg down, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard and filling it with coffee.

  “In about an hour,” she replies. I glance at the microwave clock. It’s nearly eleven in the morning. I had slept in for the first time in . . . well, I can’t remember how long.

  I take a sip of coffee and peer out the kitchen window. Dad’s already firing up the charcoal barbeque, getting it hot and ready for the burgers and brats he’ll be grilling later. I suddenly feel the need to do something. To do something productive with my hands and not feel like an invalid and lost soul.

  “I’m going to change the oil in my truck and get it tuned up. I should have done that yesterday,” I announce as I put my mug in the sink.

  “Right now? You can do that tomorrow,” Mom says, glancing over at me with a surprised look on her face. “We have guests arriving soon who will want to see you.”

  I don’t want to tell her the truth, that I’m trying to avoid people as much as possible. I don’t want to see the look of disappointment and sadness on her face.

  “I could do it tomorrow, but I need to stay busy and it needs to get done. I found an apartment, by the way,” I say as I watch her reaction.

  Her eyebrows rise in that “mom” look. “Already?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” I place a kiss on her temple and walk toward the backdoor, heading out to the garage. Turning the handle, I open it while standing in the doorway, looking over my shoulder at her. “I can move in next week,” I say. “Gotta get settled on my own again, Mom. I have a job now, so it makes sense to get my own place.” I pause at the door and turn to her. “Thank you for letting me stay here, though. It’s been a big help.”

  She smiles, the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her face since she first saw me when I arrived home.

  “Of course, sweetie. You are always welcome home.” She looks me up and down, and I know what’s coming. “You should change if you’re gonna work on the truck.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply and run back to my room before settling in with my truck.

  I get to work, changing the oil and then tuning up the engine. I hear a few cars pull up along the street, but I’m under the car hood and can’t see who has arrived.

  After the third or fourth vehicle parks along the street, I decide to rinse off and make my appearance. I wipe down the hood of the car and then head back to the bathroom for a quick shower.

  By the time I push the family room slider door open, the party is in full swing. I’m greeted by a few neighbors. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that my brothers, Liam and Tyler, along with Tyler’s girlfriend Callie, are already in the pool playing a game of volleyball.

  I’m about to head over there, when Mrs. Fisher from across the street walks up to me and starts peppering me with questions. I must look like a deer in the headlights because Dad rescues me with a beer and tells Mrs. Fisher that I’ve been busy working on my truck and should go sit down and rest.

  He gives me a wink before returning to flipping burgers and hotdogs. I take the beer and sit down on a lounge chair near the pool. The volleyball game is intense, and I laugh as Liam sets a ball high at the net and Callie jumps up to spike it.

  “That's so unfair. Callie’s practically a superhero. The rest of us can't launch ourselves out of the pool like that,” Callie’s friend, Becca, shouts from the other side of the net, slapping at the water insolently. I chuckle at her tantrum.

  I met her at my brother’s birthday party last week. I remember seeing her and thinking she was really pretty, but as my gaze lands on her now, with the sunlight cascading over her hair and tanned shoulders, I realize she’s more than pretty. She’s fucking beautiful.

  Her blonde hair is piled up on top of her head. Her sun-kissed skin glows in the light. I don’t see anything but her for the longest moment.

  The game continues for several volleys, and then Becca jumps up to spike the ball back over the net at Liam and it all happens in slow motion.

  Her bikini top somehow unfastens and comes loose, sending more than the ball flying into the air. If I weren’t in rescue mode, I’d take the opportunity to enjoy the view of her perfectly lush tits popping out, all wet and slick. Instead, without missing a beat, I dive in the pool and jump in front of her to use my body as a shield from every man’s prying eyes. As if she’s mine to protect.

  Becca seems disoriented and confused by my action and lifts her head, bumping it under my chin as she glances down and then back up at me with wide eyes.

  “Ouch,” she squeaks. “What in the . . .” She trails off, and I motion toward her chest while doing my best to avert my eyes.

  “Oh my God!” she yelps and quickly immerses herself in the water. Her face just happens to be right by my crotch. I suck in a long inhale and try not to think of her perky tits and her face right by my cock.

  “What the fuck, Nick? Why’d you interrupt the game, bro?” Tyler shouts as he swims over to us, clearly perturbed that I’ve crashed their game in progress.

  “Trying to kill our guests?” Liam mutters.

  Becca pops back up with her bikini in place. “Uh, thanks,” she murmurs as she glances up at me, embarrassment evident over her flushed cheeks. Our eyes lock, and neither of us looks away.