The Fire: The Hurricane, #4

By R.J. Prescott

FROM GOODREADS DEBUT FINALIST AND USA TODAY BEST SELLING AUTHOR OF THE HURRICANE COMES THE FIRE.

Evelyn Danaher lives a quiet, uneventful life. That is until she meets Tommy. The only man who makes her lose control of her temper and her knickers at the same time.


Tattooed, Irish firefighter Tommy Riordon found the woman of his dreams, then crashed and burned when a misunderstanding left him on his knees, clutching his balls.


They are wrong for each other in every way. But the very best love stores are the ones that shouldn't work. After all, the fire that doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.


Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, offensive language and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

The Fire is book 4 in The Hurricane series, which is best read in the following order:

1. The Hurricane
2. The Aftermath
3. The Storm
4. The Fire
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.J. Prescott
• Release date: Nov 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999903879

Book preview

Prologue

TOMMY

---

Jesus, you look like shit, I said to Kieran.

You don’t look so hot yourself sweet cheeks, he replied.

When was the last time you slept? I asked.

Fuck knows. It feels like a year at least. Even when I do get a chance to get my head down, I can’t sleep for worrying. Between Irish, the baby and your sorry arse, I’m scared to shut my eyes, he admitted, running his hand down his face wearily.

How’s she doing? I said, knowing he was worried about the pregnancy affecting Marie’s heart.

A lot better than I am. She figures that as long as she keeps looking on the bright side and stays positive, everything will be okay.

She’s right you know. No sense borrowing worry. Almost everything has a way of working itself out in the end. I’m still here ain’t I? I replied.

I thought we were looking on the bright side? he joked, chuckling.

Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, I replied, grinning.

So, how’s the leg? he asked. I don’t think he even realised he was holding his breath as he waited for my answer. He had it in his head that if he’d picked Marie up from work instead of me, he’d be the one lying in a hospital bed. Every time I saw him, his face was a mask of guilt that wasn’t his to carry.

It’s better, I lied. I have one more surgery, then they’re transferring me to a rehabilitation centre so I can start my physiotherapy.

That’s good, he said, swallowing hard. Truth be told, I was in absolute fucking agony. My leg was in a bad way. Fuck only knew if I’d be able to walk again, let alone anything else. On top of that, my career in the Fire Service was likely in the toilet before it even really began, unless I could get back to full fitness. All in all, I was a fuckin’ mess, but Kieran didn’t need to hear any of that. The poor guy looked like he was barely keeping it together.

You know, we’ll all be there to help with the physio, right? Seriously, whatever it takes to get you back on your feet, he said. By the look on his face, I knew he was terrified I’d be stuck in that bed, or a wheelchair, forever. If that happened it would fuckin’ kill me, but none of that was on Kieran, and never would be.

Look Kier. The hospital’s told me the rehab centre I’m going to is one of the best in the country. They’ll sort me out, and it’s not like Ma is gonna leave my bedside anytime soon. You need to be focusing on Marie and the baby, and getting Con through this next fight. That’s your job now. Take care of them and let me take care of myself. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be getting back to your Mrs. You might’ve knocked her up, but until you get a ring on her finger, there’s still chance for some charming fucker like me to steal her away, I said.

Yeah, thanks for that, he replied, flipping me his middle finger. Makes me feel a lot better. And enough with trying to get rid of me. There’s no way we’re shipping you off to rehab and leaving you to fend for yourself. Title fights and babies are a walk in the park considering some of the shite we’ve been through. We’ll split our time between your treatment and training Con. Fuck it, there ain’t no reason why you can’t bark orders at him and train him yourself from a wheelchair. But whatever we do, we’ll figure it out together. Now give me a hug before we both start cryin’ and talkin’ about our feelings and shite.

Still not gay arsehole, I replied, making him smile. I appreciate all that crap you just said. I really do. But you really do need to fuck off back to your girl now. It ain’t that I don’t appreciate the company, but I need some sleep before Ma comes back whining about how thin I’m getting.

No worries my friend, he replied, standing up. That face needs all the beauty sleep it can get, so I’ll leave you to it.

Thanks Kier, I said, and with a quick fist bump, he was gone.

The second the door shut behind him, I closed my eyes. It was a relief to have a moment where I didn’t have to put on a brave face and pretend that I had my shit together. To just wallow in self-pity. Giving in, even for a few minutes, felt fucking weak. But I’d hit an all-time low. I was in a deep, dark hole and I had no fucking clue how to claw my way out. My body needed time to rest and heal before I could begin my recovery. But days of lying in a hospital bed, either drugged up to the eyeballs, or racked with pain, were beginning to take their toll. And the blackest of all were the nights. I listened to those whispered words of doubt and fear inside my head, until I felt so fucking suffocated, I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of that bed again.

Sometime later a nurse came by, and I pretended to be asleep. Whether she bought it or not, she turned down the lights in my room, and left without disturbing me. Keeping up a front for the guys and my family was fucking exhausting.

I was at rock bottom.

And I’d never felt so alone.

When the door opened and closed again, I figured the nurse had returned to check on me. That was until the chair beside my bed scraped quietly against the floor as someone sat down. Perfume, sweet and subtle, tugged at my memory and I racked my brain to think where I’d smelt it before, when a small, female hand, skin as smooth as silk, covered mine.

Perhaps it would have been easier just to open my eyes. But I didn’t. I lay there. Oddly comforted by her presence. Curbing the urge to thread my fingers through those of my familiar stranger. For half an hour she stayed beside me, and with every minute that passed, the knot of tension in my chest eased. For reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, she offered me respite. A moment of peace that calmed the never ending stream of fucked up thoughts running through my head.

I didn’t want to break whatever spell she had over me, but all too soon, she squeezed my hand and released it, as she rose to leave.

Bye, Tommy, she said. It was a whisper in the dark. A voice so gentle and pure, it hurt to hear. My eyes flew open as she walked away. She was little more than a silhouette, until the door opened before she reached it.

And then I knew.

Pivotal moments are not always big. Sometimes they’re nothing more than a split second of clarity that changes your life forever. My world wasn’t turned on its head the minute I met her. It happened when I realised she was the answer to a prayer I’d never spoken aloud.

You know girl, this is the last time I can sneak you in here. We’re all grateful for the volunteer work you do at the hospital, but if anyone finds out, it’s my job on the line, the Nurse said.

I’m sorry. I don’t want you getting into trouble over me, Evelyn replied.

Evelyn.

Even her name was beautiful.

Why do you come in when he’s sleeping anyway? Why not just see him during visiting hours? the Nurse asked.

We’re not…friends, Evelyn said. It did something funny to my chest hearing her say that. I don’t want to intrude on his time with his family. I just…don’t want him to be alone.

You’re a good girl Evelyn. This world needs more people like you.

The door closed gently on her words and I didn’t make a sound. There’d been no hole in my life. No longing for a relationship or envy when my friends found love. I had a strong family. A good life. Great friends. I had everything I’d ever wanted, except the one person I never knew I needed.

Chapter One

TOMMY

TWELVE MONTHS LATER

---

You have the fattest baby I’ve ever seen, I said.

The fuck you say? Con replied, looking like he was seconds away from knocking me out. To be fair, that’s pretty much how he always looked at me. Like it was my fault his wife and son both had a soft spot for me? I guessed jealousy was a bitch.

Don’t get your knickers in a knot. It’s not like I said he was ugly or anything. He’s just fucking huge that’s all. He sort of looks like a baby rhino, I said, holding the cute little fucker in the air, like the monkey does with the cub in Lion King.

Put. My son. Down, Con replied, slowly, breathing hard between each word.

Why? He loves it when I do this, I replied, pretending to throw him a little in the air without really letting go. Just to prove my point, Little D let out a happy squeal along with a small river of drool that narrowly missed me.

If there’s any justice in this world, he’ll puke from all the throwing him about you’re doing, and it will land in your big mouth, Kieran chipped in, chuckling at his own joke. Visualising the little rhino doing just that was enough to make me gag, and I thrust him quickly back at his grumpy dad.

Jeez. You arseholes became miserable bastards when you started spawning. What’s wrong? Not getting any at home anymore? I asked, taking the piss a little just to mess with them.

Hold Dan for me mate, Con said, passing the little rhino to Kieran, who had one arm full with his own little puke monster.

No problem, he replied, smirking at me. Knowing full well what that smirk meant, I legged it, seconds before Con chased after me. Twisting and turning around the gym, I evaded him long enough for him to throw in the towel. The fact that I was still capable of doing it, was nothing short of a fucking miracle. The last twelve months of surgery, rehabilitation and training had been hell. But despite my worst fears, I was fitter than I’d ever been.

What’s going on? Con’s wife Em asked. Strolling out of the office, she hugged Con around the waist as he threw his arm around her shoulders, tucking her protectively into his side. Those two were like magnets. No matter that she’d probably only been gone about fifteen minutes, whenever they were in the same room, they gravitated towards each other.

Con’s picking on me, I whined, knowing she’d stick up for me and that I’d piss off Con even more.

He called our baby fat! Con protested. The fucker smiled at me, knowing full well how to get Em back onside.

Tommy! she scolded, though I could tell she wasn’t really mad. Em was rarely cross with anyone, let alone me. Her favourite brother from another mother.

I merely pointed out that he was he was a big fucker, which ain’t really surprisin’ given that his dad is King fuckin’ Kong. Mind you, apart from being fucking huge, he kind of looks like Jack don’t you think? I replied. I had no idea why I’d never noticed before, but seeing both kids together in Kieran’s arms, you could easily mistake them for twins.

Kier, are you absolutely sure Jack’s yours? I mean, it ain’t possible that Con accidently tripped in the dark one night and fell cock first into Marie is it? ’Cause the resemblance is fucking uncanny, I commented. Everyone had been comparing the two babies, but an eerie silence settled over the gym as they all turned to look at me.

What? I asked, wondering what I’d done now. I was used to Con’s pissed off face, but Kier was looking at me like he was trying to figure out how to murder me using his own kid as a weapon.

Just give me one good hit, that’s all I’m asking, Con mumbled to Em.

You keep the little fucker still, and I’ll do the rest, Kier replied.

Don’t you think maybe giving him one too many hits to the head as a kid is why our Tom is the way he is? Liam added, chuckling.

Hey! I said, and wearing my best hurt expression, looked towards Em like she was our ma.

Leave him alone, she replied, and I grinned triumphantly now that she’d taken my side. As Em walked over to rescue little D from Kieran, Con gave me that look that told me I’d narrowly escaped a good beat down. I responded with maturity and stuck two fingers up at him behind Em’s back.

And despite your attempts at genetic profiling Tommy, I’m very sure of Jack’s parentage. That boy is all Kieran. Anyway, you think all babies look the same, Em said. She had a point. The wrinkly little buggers did all look pretty similar.

Couldn’t you at least have given him his own name? I asked, thinking this poor, giant fucking baby was always going to be known as Little D, even if he grew to be six foot five like his old man.

I love his name. There’s no one better in the world to be named after. Is there gorgeous? she said to Little D, cooing as she lifted him up to blow raspberries on his neck.

I cringed slightly as the drool that had missed me, went straight down her top. I considered making a joke about drool and Em’s tits, but honestly, I was pretty tired of being chased around, and there was no way Con would let that one go. His face softened as he watched his wife and son playing happily together. From that one look alone you could tell that they were his whole world. Of course, it didn’t mellow him up none. If anything, he boxed harder and meaner than he ever fought before. Like having Little D meant he had even more to fight for.

Daniel Thomas O’Connell was named firstly for Danny Driscoll, owner of Driscoll’s gym and the meanest fucker I’ve ever met. He was the only guy I knew who could make Cormac O’Connell look like a ray of absolute sunshine. The kid’s second name though was in honour of me. I’d been called Tommy for as long as I could remember, but Thomas was the name on my birth certificate. Ma explained it was so it would sound posh when the priest read it out in church on my wedding day. Of course, she didn’t expect to wait quite so long for that day to come. Con said they only gave Little D my name because I nearly died when Em was pregnant, and when I survived Em wouldn’t let Con change it. Personally, I thought it was because Little D liked me more than his dad, and I told Con that.

Frequently.

Sorry I’m late guys, Earnshaw said, as he jogged over to us. Leather briefcase in hand and dressed in a sharp, fitted suit, the kid looked like he’d be more comfortable on Wall Street than in a spit and sawdust gym in Canning Town, London.

How’d the meeting go? Con asked.

Earnshaw looked at him with a smug smile, that usually meant either big endorsements or a major title fight.

In the bag, he answered. One million endorsement deal for one year. You need to do a couple of commercials, product placement in your next fight and you need to commit to wearing their brand for the duration of the deal. On top of the fee they’ll keep you and your family fully kitted out with their latest product line.

Fuck, Con muttered, which is pretty much what we were all thinking. I might give the guy shit on a regular basis, and I’d never tell him to his face, but Cormac O’Connell was the greatest heavy weight fighter of his generation. He was fast becoming a legend in the boxing community, and with endorsement deals like this on the table from a major global sports brand, it seemed like the rest of the world knew as well.

Heath, you did an amazing job. Danny’s going to be over the moon when he finds out, Em said. I doubted that even a million quid would raise a smile from the old man, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble. Truth was that, smile or not, he’d be damn proud of Con and Earnshaw. Con had fought for every fucking penny of that money. He’d earned it. But Earnshaw had a gift as well. We might take the piss out of his snazzy suits and his American accent, but he was the most talented sports agent I’d ever known. When he’d joined Driscoll’s, he’d needed a calling. Something to go to the mattresses for. He needed a family, and Danny had given it to him.

So, when you say they’re kitting out the family with their new products and shit, you’re talking about us, right? I asked. The guys all chuckled, but I was serious.

Yes Tom, I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of free shit in it for you, Earnshaw assured me, with a grin.

We’ll let you try on the stuff they send over for the kids, Con said, giving me his arsehole smirk. You’re not far off the same size.

O’Connell, leave him alone. Of course he’ll share any of the freebies with all the family, Em said. I gave her a big grin, having got my way, and then waited for Little D to grab her attention, before I threw two fingers up at Con again.

Where is Danny anyway? Liam asked, and Jack giggled with laughter. The little fucker always went nuts at the sound of Liam’s deep voice. At 6 foot 6 inches, the guy was taller than Con and built like a tank, but for all that, he was soft as shit with the kids. Liam held his big arms out, and chuckled as Jack launched himself into them.

He’s gone for lunch with Father Pat, which is why I asked you all to meet me here. His birthday is coming up and it’s a big one. I want to throw him a big party at the Community Centre where Con and I had our wedding reception. Collectively, we all groaned, with Kieran chipping in a hell no.

Do you not remember how bad the last party you talked us into was, Sunshine? Con asked her.

I do remember love, but this one will be better, I promise, she replied.

Not unless you get Danny a personality transplant for his birthday, Kieran mumbled.

Hey. Em protested, Danny loved his last party.

Well he’s good at keeping his joy on the inside then, because he looked pissed off and scary as shit at the last one, I added, just in case anyone was actually contemplating this ridiculous idea.

Em didn’t say a word, but she slowly scanned the group, looking each of us dead in the eyes. Kier squirmed first, then Liam, and the boys slowly fell one by one. Each of em’ knowing they were going to cave and do as she asked. I stood my ground the longest, knowing I’d rather piss off Em than Danny.

Don’t look at me like that, I warned. I’m not doing it. He’ll hate a party and you know it. She kept staring at me, turning the impatient glare into puppy dog eyes. I held out a few moments longer before I started to twitch. Saying no to Sunshine was damn near impossible, especially when she only ever wanted things for other people, never for herself.

Goddamn it Con, tell your wife to cut it out with that Jedi mind shit, I said, looking towards him for help.

Sorry mate. You’re on your own. My girl doesn’t ask for much, so if this is what she wants, this is what’s happening. If you think you can say no to her, you’re welcome to try, he replied, looking amused that I was even attempting to fight her on this.

Fine! I conceded, a few uncomfortable moments later. But I hope you remember that I was the last voice of reason when Danny’s spitting nails over this thing.

Thanks Tommy, Em squealed, wrapping her free arm around me in a grateful hug and bringing me all too close to Con’s chubby, slobbering offspring.

God you smell good, I said, making the guys laugh. It was like firing a starter pistol in the gym though, as Con launched himself towards me, a second after I’d fled. It occurred to me that I was possibly too old and mature to make the big guy come after me in defence of Em’s honour, but then he’d never be as quick as he was in the ring without the years of practice I’d given him chasing me. Fuck if I hadn’t single-handedly made the fucker Champion of the World.

As I walked through the door of the station, my kit bag hanging over my shoulder, I reminded myself just what a lucky bastard I was. I’d been weeks away from completing my probationary period as a firefighter when I’d been in a serious accident that nearly killed me. Thanks to a recommendation from my senior officer, and the good graces of the powers that be, I was allowed to qualify if, and only if, I could pass a medical examination.

My firefighter training had been spent moving from station to station around London, learning as much as I could from everyone I worked with, before moving on. It was my good fortune that my final, and permanent post, was at the newly built, state-of-the-art Plaistow Fire Station. With a drill yard for road traffic collision training, a breathing apparatus chamber and a four storey training tower, this place was the dog’s bollocks of stations. Unlike some of the old, draughty fire houses that were desperately in need of an upgrade, it was warm and comfortable and most importantly for me, it was within spitting distance of Canning Town. I could have been stationed anywhere in London, and instead I was on my own patch.

So, how’d the medical go? Robbie Sledge, nicknamed Hammer for obvious reasons, opened the locker next to mine and pulled out a clean shirt.

Please! Passed with flying colours, I replied, as though the result was a foregone conclusion. In truth, I’d been shitting bricks. I’d been back on active service for three months, but only on condition that I submitted to monthly check-ups. The last one before I was permanently signed off as fit, was the most nerve wracking. I’d felt fitter than ever with no reason to worry, but my confidence was shaken. Coming back from the accident had been a long, painful road, physically and mentally. I might not admit it to my crew, or my brothers, but it’d changed me. Resurrection came at a cost, and in a way, I was still paying the price.

Well, I’m glad you passed. We might have a chance at getting a decent breakfast now you’re back for good, he replied, with a chuckle.

What, Sue not giving you any love while I was gone? I asked.

Fuck no. She’s all smiles and fried breakfast when you’re around, but it was burnt toast and soggy cereal when you were laid up, he replied.

While we took turns cooking our own lunch and dinner, breakfast was provided by the lovely Sue, a retired school cook who worked a few hours on weekdays at the station to supplement her pension.

It’s not hard to get her on side you know. Just show her a little love now and then, I suggested. It baffled me that my boys still hadn’t worked out that the secret to unlocking the happiness in a woman, in all women, was love. Love what they are, what they bring and what they do, and remind them constantly what they forget to love about themselves. It wasn’t fucking hard, yet most men acted like it was the secret to the universe.

You’d better haul arse if you want to make the morning briefing, Wookie said, his head poking out from behind the door as he hollered to us. Zack Emery, or Wookie as he was best known, was six-foot two, stocky and the hairiest guy I’d ever met. He could literally shave one side of his face and by the time he finished the other side, stubble would’ve grown back. Dark hair covered his back and chest, and the fucker was proud of it. Said it looked manly. He’d started station life being called Chewbacca, but that mouthful had quickly been shortened to Wookie.

Slamming the doors to our lockers shut, we followed him into the main office. Already sat waiting for us, was our Green Watch Crew Manager Fester, named for Uncle Fester after he started shaving his head, and our Watch Manager Samantha Whitney, affectionately known as Houston. She busted my balls enough that she gave Danny a run for his money, but she was a damn good manager and one of the best firefighters I’d ever met.

Well, if it isn’t Road Kill himself, back from the dead, Fester said.

Seriously? Road Kill? That’s the best you could come up with? I replied. In all the stations I’d worked at, I’d hardly met a firefighter who didn’t have a nickname. Some were based on their actual names, others on things they’d done, but in a profession where we literally laid our lives in each other’s hands, it was a form of camaraderie that bonded us together. Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t been landed with Paddy or Mick, despite being Irish, but if Road Kill was the name that stuck after my motorcycle accident, I’d be fucking pissed. The rest of the Watch ambled in, nine of us in total, each of them greeting me with a nod or fist bump.

Okay, settle down you lot. Tommy, it’s good to see you back, Houston said, and immediately everyone went quiet and took a seat. When she laid down the law, you listened. Answer back, or give her lip in any way, and you’d find yourself mopping out the toilets or doing some shit that was just as bad. I’d cleaned enough toilets as a probie to learn when to keep my trap shut.

On the rider’s board for today, I’ll be Officer in Charge on the Ladder, Wookie’s driver, number three is Tommy on B.A., number four is Hammer as B.A. Team Leader and Echo will be the Entry Control Officer. Fester is Officer in Charge of the Pump, Dover is Driver, Number three on B.A. is Ronnie and Number four is Mase as B.A. Team Leader. Houston read out the board, giving us our positions on the trucks. The water rescue tender ladder was the larger of the two appliances at the station, and the pump the smaller. It wasn’t a surprise to hear that I was with Houston for the day. The B.A. assigned to me meant breathing apparatus. With the amount of training I did at Driscoll’s, my lung capacity was probably the best on station. It was the reason I was usually given the third seat on the truck, meaning I’d be first into any fire.

Between them, Houston and Fester ran through the diary and our routines for the day. They’d just finished, when the all too familiar sound of the bells going down rang through the station.

ONE FIVE PAPA ONE. ONE FIVE PAPA FOUR. FIRE. PERSONS REPORTED, spoke the robotic, automated voice through the tannoy system. There was that brief fraction of a second. That suspended pause in time where each of us processed the threat level based on those two words, before we exploded into action and raced for the trucks.

And I felt it.

For the first time in months, I felt it.

That burst of adrenaline. That explosion of energy. That yearning for danger that reminded me that this is what I was born to do.

Chapter Two

EVELYN

---

Lord, help me to remember that nothing is going to happen to me today that You and I can’t handle together.

I do not know what the future holds, or where my place in it will be.

But even when I cannot feel you, I know you are there.

Thank you for your strength and guidance.

Amen

I made the sign of the cross and moved from my knees to sit on the pew behind me. At this hour of the morning, and with no early mass today, St Paul’s was quiet and blissfully peaceful. The winter sun shone through the stained glass windows in a burst of colour, illuminating the beautiful dance of dust motes above the ancient oak benches. The tattered old hymn books and embroidered kneeling cushions were saturated with history and the musty scent that would always make the church feel like a haven for me. It was the only place that truly gave me peace, however briefly.

Evelyn, I thought that was you. What a lovely surprise. I thought you worked on a Thursday, Father Pat said, coming to stand beside me.

Hello Father. I do, but the library doesn’t open until this afternoon, so I thought I’d pop in on my way to the care home, I replied, looking down at my hands. Father Pat was such a wonderful, patient and caring man, and I couldn’t help feeling slightly ashamed that he had caught me here. Knowing how regularly Mam attended church, I assumed she must have confessed her condition to Father Pat. How then could he not judge me for being there, instead of by her side? The truth was I couldn’t have taken one more minute in that house with her. It was a day that I needed God’s strength more than ever.

Child, you do too much. When was the last time you took a day to let your hair down? Put on your dancing shoes and do the floss, or whatever it is you young people do to what passes for music these days? he asked.

I couldn’t help but giggle as he attempted to dance the floss while talking to me. He explained once that Tommy Riordon had set him up with a laptop that had, as he described it, put him touch with the pulse of his congregation. The things he discovered on the internet frequently had me giggling through his Sunday sermons. I would say it was the best thing that ever happened to him, if only Tommy hadn’t been the one to orchestrate it.

I asked God for forgiveness, as a flair of rage rose up inside me that only Thomas Riordon could ignite. He was the only person I’d ever met who could make me lose control of my temper and my knickers at the same time.

Don’t worry about me Father, I have plenty of time with my books to relax. Besides, I enjoy being at the care home. It feels good to share my love of reading with others, I assured him.

He sighed deeply and took a seat next to me.

"Evelyn, it’s my belief that God gave man the ability to record the written word for the same reason that he gave birds wings, so we would know what it feels like to fly. To