Pride Under Fire

By Elizabeth Coldwell

Will their passion burn out of control?

Connor Wabsik's career as a firefighter is on the line after he punched out his commanding officer. Redemption is possible in the form of a move to a sleepy California mountain town, but it will mean leaving his old life behind. What he doesn't know is that his destiny waits for him in Riesgo. Fate has paired him with a human mate, Andy McGuire—a man with secrets of his own. Connor is fighting to protect the town from a dangerous firestarter. When Andy's life is threatened, will Connor be able to keep him safe, too?

Detective Andy McGuire is unlucky in love, but when he meets Connor, the handsome new recruit to the Riesgo Fire Service, things start looking up. How can he stop a serial arsonist from destroying everything he holds dear? And as passion threatens to burn out of control between him and Connor, what will happen when Andy learns that the man he loves might not be what he seems?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Feb 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781786513755

Elizabeth Coldwell

Elizabeth Coldwell is a multi-published author and editor whose stories have appeared in a number of best-selling anthologies. She has written novels in a variety of different genres, from paranormal to BDSM and contemporary romance. She is the former editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine and the proud winner of an International Leather Award. When she is not busy writing, she is an avid supporter of Rotherham United Football Club and can be regularly found on the terraces at weekends, cheering her boys to victory (hopefully!).

Book preview

Page

Pride Under Fire

ISBN # 978-1-78651-375-5

©Copyright Elizabeth Coldwell 2016

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2016

Edited by Shannon Combs

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2016 by Pride Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

Lionhearts

PRIDE UNDER FIRE

Elizabeth Coldwell

Book five in the Lionhearts series

Will their passion burn out of control?

Connor Wabsik’s career as a firefighter is on the line after punching out his commanding officer. Redemption is possible in the form of a move to a sleepy California mountain town, but it will mean leaving his old life behind. What he doesn’t know is that his destiny waits for him in Riesgo. Fate has paired him with a human mate, Andy McGuire—a man with secrets of his own. Connor is fighting to protect the town from a dangerous firestarter. When Andy’s life is threatened, will Connor be able to keep him safe, too?

Detective Andy McGuire is unlucky in love, but when he meets Connor, the handsome new recruit to the Riesgo Fire Service, things start looking up. How can he stop a serial arsonist from destroying everything he holds dear? And as passion threatens to burn out of control between him and Connor, what will happen when Andy learns that the man he loves might not be what he seems?

Dedication

For Pam

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Facebook: Facebook

The Walking Dead: AMC Network Entertainment LLC

TiVo: TiVo Inc.

Chevy Impala: General Motors

Life Savers: Wm. Wrigley Jr. Company

U-Haul: U-Haul International Inc.

Strangers on a Train:

Craigslist: Craigslist Inc.

Jeep: FCA US LLC

Animal Planet: Discovery Communications LLC

Yogi Bear: Hanna-Barbera/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

Diet Sprite: The Coca-Cola Company

Google: Google Inc.

Columbo: NBC Entertainment

Old Spice: Proctor & Gamble

Chapter One

Connor walked toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. The man who waited for him there licked his lips as Connor tossed the garment to the floor, revealing his broad, tan chest.

Late afternoon sun warmed the bedroom. Through the window, Connor caught a glimpse of a pretty, white-painted clapboard church with a high steeple. Trees surrounded it, their leaves thick and green. The tranquil countryside scene was so different from the view out of his own apartment, which looked onto one of Santa Monica’s busiest streets.

You live in a beautiful place, he commented.

The man shrugged. True, but I didn’t bring you here to admire the view. Well, not that one, anyway.

Connor grinned. Don’t get impatient. Still, his companion was well worth a few moments’ admiration, with that killer combination of dark, glossy hair and soft blue eyes. Things had moved so fast. It seemed no sooner had Connor walked into the bar than he and this guy—had they even gotten as far as exchanging names?—were deep in flirtatious conversation. He didn’t normally go out looking to hook up with someone for sex, but tonight it had just felt right.

The chemistry between them was intense. Every time they’d made eye contact, Connor’s groin had tightened a little more. By the time they’d walked out onto the street, Connor enjoying a pleasant buzz from the beers he’d been drinking, it had become obvious the evening was only going to end one way.

He’d accepted the invitation to go to the guy’s home without a second thought. Even though he was new to this town, he instinctively knew it was the kind of place where bad things didn’t happen. This handsome stranger wasn’t going to turn out to be an axe-wielding maniac who intended to add Connor’s head to the collection in his cellar.

They’d kissed for the first time on the doorstep—a hot, sloppy meeting of mouths that had conveyed just how badly they wanted each other.

Let’s get inside, his companion had said when they’d finally broken the kiss. While he had been attempting to push the door key into the lock, Connor had nibbled his earlobe, not caring that it made the man’s task harder. At last, they’d staggered inside.

The house was built on one level, like most of the properties they’d passed on the short walk from the bar. The guy had dragged Connor down the hallway and into his bedroom. They’d carried on kissing, but Connor had been distracted by his need to take a leak.

When he’d returned from the bathroom, it was to find his new friend under the sheets. The clothes lying on the floor by the side of the bed made it obvious the guy had stripped in his absence.

And now Connor was undoing his jeans. They slid down around his ankles. He stood still to remove both them and his sneakers, not wanting to get tangled in the worn denim, trip over and land on his ass. Naked, he went to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled the sheets away, getting his first glimpse of the guy’s hard, uncut cock. The lack of any tan lines suggested Connor was with someone who liked to sunbathe in the nude, most likely in the secluded back yard he’d noticed out of the window.

Well, I don’t need to ask if you’re ready for me, Connor quipped. He gripped his companion’s shaft by the base then started to run his fist up and down. The thick length felt good in his hand as he jerked it.

Oh yeah, that’s what I needed. The guy’s eyelids were closed, his expression blissful. He sprawled against the pillows, relaxing into Connor’s caresses.

Connor ran his thumb over the plump cockhead, coating it with the slippery liquid that issued from its tip.

You know what I’d like? he said, his keen hearing attuned to the sound of his friend’s harsh, excited breathing. To stick my dick all the way up in your ass. D’you want that, too?

God, yes.

You’ve got condoms? he enquired.

The guy didn’t even bother to open his eyes, just nodded and murmured, Mmm-hmm.

He was about to ask where to find them until he spotted the carton on the nightstand. It stood next to a bottle of lube and a box of tissues.

There’s nothing like being prepared, whether you’re having fun on your own or with someone else…

He let go of the cock in his grip, chuckling at the little groan of disappointment his action provoked.

Hey, if I’m not touching you, you can always touch yourself…

The guy took him up on the suggestion, tugging at his hard-on while Connor took one of the condoms out of its foil package. Once he’d put it on, he sat down once more and urged his companion to roll over onto his front.

Connor smoothed his hands over the upraised ass cheeks before him. Nothing grabbed his attention more than a nice, tight butt.

He picked up the bottle, then popped open the cap to be greeted by the scent of cherries. Cute. Having squeezed some onto his fingertips, he started to apply the lube to the guy’s puckered opening.

Soon, the little hole grew loose enough that he was able to push a finger inside, all the way up to the second knuckle. Connor’s cock twitched, betraying his eagerness to be buried deep in that slick passage.

Do it, the man begged. Fuck me.

Even if he’d wanted to hold back, he couldn’t resist that urgent request. Connor climbed on top of his lover, urging him to spread his legs wider. He lined up his cock with the guy’s hole, then pushed in. There was a brief moment of resistance, nothing more. He sank deep, relishing the sensation of being lodged in another man’s ass.

Their coupling was fast, furious. Connor didn’t have time for soft words or gentle thrusts. He just needed to get himself—and his friend—off. He pumped in and out, moving his hips in a steady back and forth rhythm and enjoying the delicious friction of each stroke. Beneath him, the man wriggled against the mattress, clearly getting close to his own orgasm.

Connor pushed harder, oblivious to everything but his own need to come. He breathed in the mingled aromas of cherry and pure male musk. He grabbed a fistful of his lover’s hair, pulling his head back sharply. The man cried out, more pleasure than pain in the sound. His asshole clenched tight around Connor’s cock and Connor knew he’d reached his peak.

It was enough to trigger his own climax. Every sinew straining, Connor shot his seed into the condom in sharp bursts. Then he slumped forward, drained.

A long moment passed before he was able to move again. With an effort, he managed to roll off the man’s body.

That was great, Connor said. But I still don’t know your name.

Oh, it’s… But it was impossible for Connor to make out what he was saying. The church bell was ringing, fast and urgent, drowning out the words.

Connor put his hands over his ears as the clanging sound grew louder.

The man’s face faded away but the bell kept sounding. Connor groaned as he forced his eyes open. A quick glance at his bedside clock told him it was just past one in the morning. He stared up at the firehouse ceiling, not wanting to move but knowing he had to. Much as he loved his job and the constant unpredictability of what might happen from one shift to the next, he’d long grown tired of a working pattern that regularly saw him spending twenty-four hours at a time on call.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes. The dream had been so real he swore he could still feel the touch of the stranger’s kiss on his lips. The sun-dappled bedroom, the little clapboard church… Every detail of the encounter lingered in his memory. His groin was tight, his cock swollen and full. He was grateful his baggy uniform pants would disguise his excited state from the rest of the crew.

God, I need to get laid…

The beds on either side of his had emptied as his fellow firefighters headed for the exit, pulling on items of clothing as they went.

C’mon, Wabsik, Captain McCluskey called, chivvying Connor along. Get that lazy ass of yours moving. We ain’t got all night.

Where are we going, Cap? Ronnie Mannion, one of the most recent recruits to the department and the youngest member of the team, asked.

Christ, Mannion, don’t you ever listen? the captain snapped back. Connor would have put the man’s testiness down to being woken unexpectedly if he hadn’t known Bill McCluskey always operated on a short fuse. That swanky new apartment complex on the corner of Main and Bay. We got a report of a fire there.

Having pulled on his boots, Connor dashed for the stairs. Station Two, where he was based, had recently undergone a major renovation. Unlike some of the older firehouses in the area, it no longer had a fire pole connecting the sleeping quarters and the garage area. Current thinking was that the time they saved didn’t make up for the injuries caused if someone slid down it too fast. According to the rumor Connor had heard, McCluskey’s old lady had been a stripper back in the day. McCluskey had joked he should have had the pole installed in his bedroom for when she felt like reliving old times.

The station was big enough for two fire engines—one on active service and one in reserve, each manned by a crew of four. Completing the on-duty team tonight was Pete Radetski, known to everyone as Red on account of his hair—such a vivid shade of carrot that Connor swore it must be visible from space. Red doubled as cook for the crew whenever he was on shift and the scent of the chili he’d made for dinner still lingered in the air, warm and spicy. Connor found himself hoping some remained in the pot for when they returned from this call. He knew his colleagues joked about the amount of food he could pack away, their comments tinged with envy that he never seemed to put on an ounce of weight, but he didn’t care.

Connor’s jacket hung from a peg in the garage and his helmet stood on the shelf directly above it. He put on the jacket then grabbed the helmet before slipping into the vacant driver’s seat. All right, McCluskey said. Let’s go.

Bay Street was no more than a couple of minutes’ drive from Station Two. Santa Monica had four active fire stations covering the whole of the city. As long as Connor had been working for the department there’d been talk that this number would be reduced to save money, but now the momentum to make budget cuts seemed to be gathering pace. He prayed it wouldn’t happen. Their resources were stretched enough already.

Connor guided the vehicle carefully out onto the street. This late, there would be no need to alert traffic on Main Street to get out of his way, no reason to turn on the blaring sirens and wake the neighborhood residents.

Adrenaline coursed through Connor’s veins, as it always did when he attended a call. He relished the feeling of not knowing what lay ahead for him, the sense that he could be putting his own life in danger to save those of others. Earlier in the week, his crew had gone to the scene of a five-car pile-up on Ocean Park Boulevard. Every available truck in the department had been dispatched to that particular emergency. Connor and Red had had to cut a woman free from the passenger side of an SUV that had been hit head-on by a delivery truck. Her face, streaked with blood and dust from the ruptured airbag, swam into his memory. He blinked it away. As far as he was aware, she was comfortable in the hospital and on the way to making a full recovery. The knowledge that the woman’s sister, who’d been driving the SUV, hadn’t been so lucky tempered any satisfaction Connor felt at helping to rescue her.

He turned the vehicle onto Main Street, with its collection of funky little cafés, fitness studios, whole food shops and low-rise apartment complexes. Connor had grown up in the anonymous urban sprawl of West Hollywood. His father had always referred to Santa Monica as ‘the home of the bohos and weirdoes’ but Connor enjoyed the relaxed lifestyle here. He could run on the beach or take a dip in the sea on his mornings off. When the sun went down, he liked to hang out at the firefighters’ favorite bar on Ocean Avenue, playing pool and sinking a cold beer or two. Right now, he couldn’t imagine himself wanting to live anywhere else.

Ahead of him, he saw a thin pall of smoke coming from a window on one of the building’s upper levels. A couple of men stood outside it on the sidewalk. He assumed them to be the ones who lived in the burning apartment. At least they’d been able to evacuate and escape the fire.

Connor brought his vehicle to a halt, close to an available hydrant. Almost before he had, Red had flung open the door and was heading around the back of the vehicle to start unspooling a hose.

Captain McCluskey followed. He marched straight over to the men, who wore only thin T-shirts and boxer shirts—not the most suitable attire for a chilly California night, but they’d been smart enough not to waste time trying to grab their coats.

Is there anyone else inside the apartment? the captain asked as Connor got out of the cab. When both men shook their heads, he said, Okay, then can either of you tell me what happened?

I fell asleep in front of the TV, the shorter of the two men replied. When I woke, the whole place was full of smoke. Luckily, Cesare got me out of there before it was too late…

With his closely cropped chestnut hair and bright blue eyes, the man looked strangely familiar to Connor. I’m sure I know you from somewhere. Racking his brains, Connor realized where he’d seen the guy before. He was Hayden Skarz, the movie star. His latest film, a time-travel adventure called Thrown to the Lions, was number one at the box office and getting great reviews. Connor had been thinking of going to see it on one of his days off.

It wasn’t Skarz who held his attention, however, but the man who stood beside him,