Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) Read Online Free PDF

I say, raising my hands to make my point.
    “Why?”
    “Why what?” I ask.
    “Why would you offer that to me?”
    “Out of the goodness of my heart?” I squint noting how ridiculous that sounds coming out of my mouth. I’m no angel, and I’m sure he knows that.
    He folds his arms over his chest and waits.
    “Maybe I’m not used to being alone there. It’s a big place. It would make me feel better knowing someone I can trust is nearby.”
    “And I’m someone you trust?”
    I think about the firefighter’s oath, and the band of brothers. The trust between us is paramount—it can make the difference in surviving a crisis, or not. But there’s something about Joe which makes me feel extra safe. I don’t even know him that well. Not really. But it’s a feeling I have, and I trust that feeling.
    “You are.”
    He looks down, deep in thought and I know he’s considering my offer.
    “Don’t make up your mind now. Why don’t you come by after our shift ends in the morning and look at it? No hard feelings if you pass on it . . . I promise.”
    There’s a long pause and then he clears his throat. “Let me think about it. Okay? As you know, I’m in a bad position right now . . . so a temporary move would be really helpful.”
    I smile realizing that there’s a chance he may say yes. “Okay, just let me know if you want to see it in the morning.”

    Late that evening I’m holed up in my room watching a training video on my iPad about new procedures for handling brushfires. I missed the formal presentation this afternoon because we got a call when some asshat teen T-boned a minivan, before wrapping his car around a fire hydrant.
    I’m just about to shut the video off when there’s a rumble downstairs as the wide doors roll up and the trucks pull in. Glancing at my alarm clock next to my bed, I realize how long the guys were out on that call. I wonder how bad it was.
    I lie still and listen to the familiar pounding of footsteps up the stairs. A minute later the plumbing rattles with too many showers getting turned on at once. My stomach sinks. It must have been a rough situation with a lot of soot and smoke.
    As I wait for the plumbing to quiet, I let my gaze settle on my sparse surroundings. Besides my cot and side table, there’s a set of drawers, a plain desk and a matching maple wood chair. It’s a purely utilitarian space.
    Because I was living in an over-decorated house that my husband filled with too much stuff for my liking, I always found comfort in the simplicity of this room. Some guys put more personal stuff in their space, but not me.
    The one thing I used to have on display was a framed picture of me and Mikey on my nightstand. It was taken in Monterey on our first anniversary.
    I remember when that picture was shot vividly. That was the day we went to see the Monterey Aquarium. Afterwards, we took a long walk in the brisk sea breeze, and while stopping at a lookout point to take in the view, we asked a passing woman to take our picture.
    In the photo our cheeks are pink and my dark brown hair windswept with wisps wrapped around my neck and fingers as I hold it off my face for the shot. We’re grinning like fools and I’ve loved that photo as a reminder of one of our happiest times.
    There’s now an empty spot on my nightstand where the picture once stood. You’d think I would’ve taken it down right after I threw him out of the house, but for some reason I couldn’t do it.
    But that damn dream I had a few weeks ago was my snapping point, the moment that made me hurl the framed picture in the trash. In the dream Mikey and I were walking hand-in-hand through our neighborhood, but it was that weird dream-thing in that it wasn’t actually our neighborhood, yet I seemed to think it was. The sky was strangely hazy with the thick L.A. smog of my childhood days before all the emission laws went into effect.
    I remember feeling perfectly content as we strolled along until a tall man with dark