Winterfall

The Wasteland Trilogy, Book 3

Denise A. Agnew

Published 2015

ISBN: 978-1-62210-219-8

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2015, Denise A. Agnew. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

A firefighter and a former soldier have survived an apocalypse, but there is still danger lurking in the winter light…

Firefighter Juliet Van Pelt’s strength comes from previous adversity, but there’s an arsonist in town who wants to crank up the heat. When threatening letters target her, she turns to the one man she has never forgotten.

Former Army Ranger and sniper Mark O’Day can’t forget the woman he met months ago when their city was in chaos and they shared a dangerous moment. When opportunity brings her into his life again and danger threatens, he knows there is no alternative but to keep her close and never let her go.

Dedication

To my husband, who is my hero forever and always.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Marie D. Jones who gave me the idea (even though she didn’t know it at first) for a story featuring the Long Valley Super Volcano.

Buckleport, Maine

October

“Damn, Van Pelt, the way you’re polishing that tumbler is giving me ideas,” Firefighter Decker Okono leered.

Juliet Van Pelt broke from her trance long enough to throw a glare his way. They stood at the sink in the kitchen area of Fire Station Three finishing kitchen duty. Soon she’d take the mandatory forty-eight-hour time off, even if they needed every hand they could get. Besides, her accounting job waited at home, demanding she take care of her “day job” business. As a volunteer, she didn’t get paid, she fought fires for free. Okono, on the other hand, was a full-fledged firefighter with a few years under his belt and the paycheck to go with it.

She continued to dry the glass, turning her attention back to the busy street beyond the station house. “Keep on dreaming, Okono.”

She’d
been dreaming all right. Pretending that January’s Long Valley Super Volcano eruption in California hadn’t jacked up their world. Hadn’t wreaked havoc across the United States. Buckleport’s population had increased tenfold since the disaster, as waves of refugees from the western states poured into the eastern seaboard and points north. Traffic jammed the streets, and they’d worked a record number of car wrecks in the last week. Fires, too. The job never ended. In the months since the volcano had destroyed the world as they’d known it, things had improved. Riots had ceased, but crime had skyrocketed, and poverty and a general economic downturn had made life a far grimmer situation.

She opened the cabinet to her upper right and deposited the glass.

“Baby, there’s no need for
you
to dream,” Okono said. “I have everything you need right here inside this uniform.”

Seriously?
She almost choked on the idea of sharing anything intimate with the ex-Navy SEAL, especially sex. Even meaningful conversation with this goober seemed completely beyond the realm of possibility.

“I thought Navy SEALS were supposed to be all honorable and shit,” she said, injecting toughness into her voice.

She felt rather than saw him bristle, and for a second wondered if she’d crossed the line. She didn’t know him, not really. If he decided to go postal, she was in deep kimchee. Okono grunted and rinsed another glass. He handed it to her and she dried it thoroughly before adding it to the cabinet.

“I’m as honorable as you’re gonna get, little lady.” His accent changed to fake southern. He was from New Jersey. “There aren’t many good men out there, Van Pelt. A woman needs a protector in this big, bad world. You could do worse than me.”

She laughed, but the sound held nothing but derision. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. This is a different world. More dangerous since Long Valley. And it isn’t getting better anytime soon.”

Got that right.
But not
this
guy. No, she didn’t want or need his protection. Especially not a man who thought his status as a former SEAL entitled him to front row seats to everything, including sex. He seemed to never have heard of sexual harassment, and she could report him. Thing is, she didn’t want the conflict. She could handle his brand of idiocy with one hand tied behind her back.

No, there were other men…far more agreeable than Okono. Her mind flashed back to April when a nasty fire had taken down a warehouse. A serial arsonist had been operating in Buckleport for months now. Scores of buildings had burned and the arson investigators hadn’t closed in on a suspect yet. During that fire she’d met a man who continued to intrude on her thoughts day and night. Hell, he’d done more than that. The nameless man had been part of a security team making sure firefighters weren’t harassed by some bad-ass-wannabes. Her mind drifted to the conversation.

The fire had cooled down, the destruction pretty complete, the old warehouse a smoldering ruin. They’d be here for hours more knocking down any flare ups. One of the rednecks who’d harassed the crew stepped toward her when she’d stopped near the ladder truck to strip off her self-contained breathing apparatus.

“Hey, pretty lady,” the man said, his big body and ham-sized biceps showing pure power. “What the hell are you doing out here? Women shouldn’t be taking a man’s job.”

“What?” she asked, not even sure she’d heard him right. She wasn’t up for games—she was hot, tired, and grimy as hell.

He crossed those beefy arms. “Women ain’t designed to be firefighters.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s job, bub. I’m a volunteer. I don’t get paid.” His mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything else stupid, she continued. “If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

The man’s glare grew hot with anger. “Listen, bitch—”

“Move along, sir,” a deeper voice said from slightly behind her.

She turned her attention to the man the voice belonged to, and he approached with his semi-automatic clasped in front of him. Her rescuer stood taller than six feet and had dangerous written all over him.

The dipwad who’d given her a hard time stepped back and held both hands up. “Hey, hey. No need to get all violent with me, cop.”

“I’m not a cop. Move back and let the firefighter do her job.”

Her rescuer wore a black baseball cap, tactical or flak vest over a black t-shirt, a pair of khaki cargo pants, and a seriously thunderous frown. She’d seen two men and one woman pile out of an unmarked black SUV not long ago and realized they were one of the private security teams who now supplemented police and military in protecting the city. Security dude owned a powerful, ripped physique that said he might have been in the military at one point. Sunglasses and a baseball cap didn’t camouflage his craggy good looks. His dark hair, almost black, was cut military short as well. All of that wouldn’t have normally drawn her attention, but his voice had a certain quality…an intense, whiskey-deep sound.

“Move along,” the private security man said to the redneck wannabe.

When the guy backed away and left, security dude took his glasses off. His dark chocolate eyes held an intensity that slammed into her with a force she hadn’t expected. She saw undeniable curiosity and attraction in the way he looked at her, but his attention didn’t feel slimy.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Of course.” Defensiveness dripped from her tone. “I can handle myself.”

His gaze swept up and down her body, the look in his eyes telling her he liked what he saw very much. Unlike the slimeball who’d just left, the security dude’s attention sent a wild thrill through her belly.

“I’m sure you can,” security dude said. “But I’m here to help if you need me.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t need you.”

Her captain called her name right then, and when she saw security dude next he was at least fifty yards away.

After that day she hadn’t seen him again, but God she’d dreamed about mystery security man. Hot, sexy dreams that made no sense.

“What are you smiling at, Van Pelt?” Okono’s question jerked her out of daydreams.

“None of your damned business.”

He grunted again. God, the man was oily. His presence irritated and intimidated her in equal measures. His Japanese features looked serene most of the time, except when he cornered her where no one else could hear his innuendos. She’d put up with his harassment, sexual and otherwise, for months. He’d taken it to the limit.

“Back off, Okono.” She kept her voice low as she placed the dry glass in the cabinet. “Or I’ll tell Chief Krisky and he’ll kick your ass out of here before you know what hit you.”

He rinsed the next glass under the spigot, then handed it to her. “Whoa. She’s getting some balls.”

Tempted to throw the glass at him, she said, “Somebody in this room has to grow some.”

A laugh from the behind them made her turn around, towel in hand. Jeeter Dudley, an African American firefighter strode into the room, his friendly smile stretched wide.

“Way to kick his ass, Van Pelt,” Jeeter said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Okono crossed his arms. “You’re not that hot on having a female on your crew, either. Don’t try and pretend you are.”

Jeeter tossed a look of disbelief at Okono. “Seriously man? She does the job. That’s all I care about.”

Okono lowered his voice. “Don’t you think it’s kind of suspicious that she got accepted here just after Crank and Jackson got hurt? I mean, look at us three. We look like a damned advertisement for affirmative action.”

Jeeter groaned. “What’s your beef? Are you saying we all didn’t earn our positions here? So what if she’s a volunteer? We need all the volunteers we can get.”

Okono grinned. “Well, I know I earned my job here, and I think you did…” He drifted off as his gaze landed on Juliet, but he didn’t finish.

He couldn’t be a lot clearer about what he meant. She almost bristled, but decided in a split second she wouldn’t give the ass ammunition.

Jeeter rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Bullshit. She did everything the men did to become a volunteer.”

Okono planted his hands on his hips. “They could have hired full-time firefighters to replace Crank and Jackson. None of this volunteer crap.”

Tired of the endless round of ridiculous, Juliet arranged the drying towel on the hook near the dish rack. “Whatever, Okono.”

Before Okono could retaliate, the klaxon went off and announced another freaking fire over on the south side of town, this time at an old abandoned Victorian house. She rushed out of the kitchen with the others.

Chief Reggie Krisky, a man in his fifties not much taller than Juliet, intercepted her. “Van Pelt, not you. You’ve already been here too long. Go home.”

“One more,” she said. “I’m not a full-fledged firefighter. You can’t really say no to me helping out.”

“Yeah, I can.”

She knew she was pushing it, but she didn’t care. “You need the help. The station is down two men.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t have time to argue with you. One more and then you
go home
.”

When the firetrucks raced out of the station a short time later, she grinned all the way. Okono, Jeeter and the other firefighters on the rig talked smack as they rode toward the fire, but she knew they took their jobs seriously. Just as she did. Other than Okono, the men didn’t give her a hard time—they’d seen her in action and knew she could do the job. All of it felt good and right. Until she reached the fire.

It always happened this way. Her throat went tight, tension rising as the building came into view. Smoke, dark and evil, flowed from the windows like water. Even the chimney got into the act, with smoke rising from the stack. She couldn’t even see the flames, and not a bit of red or yellow glowed from the windows. A crowd had formed, as it did at all the events, but she paid little attention. That’s not what worried her. She drew in one breath and then the other as her heartbeat started to bang away in her chest, and she almost felt out of breath before she’d started. If she hadn’t already participated in firefighting for over a year, she would have stayed out of the way. Turned tail and run. Instead courage demanded a place at her table. She’d done this before, and by God she’d do it again. She’d
never
return to the cowardice she’d displayed years ago in that college dorm. Never again.