Inferno (Cottonwood Falls Book 7), page 1
Inferno
Copyright © 2016 Aliyah Burke
Cover illustration copyright © Covers by K Designs
Editor: Jessica Bimberg
ISBN:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher or author. The unauthorized replication or allocation of any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by up to five years in federal prison, a fine of $250,000 per reported instance, and seizure of computers.
This book 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 coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
Published by: Sensual Romance Publishing
Inferno
By
Aliyah Burke
Even in the winter, things can get hot.
Jazz Delahoussaye has been volunteered by her cousin to find a man for a photo shoot. The only reason she’s doing it is because it’s for a charity cause. Buried in her work, she hasn’t the faintest idea of where to look or what to do. So, she finds herself looking for someone her friend said would help, and that sets her on course for Cottonwood Falls, Georgia.
Bastian Müller is shocked to see not only his grandfather back in town but also the woman he’d been promised to help. The ex-smokejumper turned regular firefighter is intrigued by the sassy yet extremely private woman. He agrees to help, if, she stays in town until the shoot is over. Once that happens, will he be able to keep her forever or will she vanish as quickly as she arrived, leaving him alone with only memories?
Dedication
To the readers, I hope you enjoy this installment of the Cottonwood Falls series. To my hubby, words can’t express how grateful I am for all your support. I love you. And, as always, last but never least, to the men and women who sacrifice so much of themselves to protect this country. God Bless You!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Additional Books by Aliyah Burke
About the Author
Blurbs for other Cottonwood Falls stories
Chapter One
Chicago, IL
“Checkmate.”
Narrowing her eyes, Jazz Delahoussaye crossed her arms and huffed. “Are you sure?”
She ran a critical check of the board before her. Surely there had to be a way to get out of this. She didn’t see one and looked up. The twinkling blue gaze of the man across from her gave her the answer she longed to ignore. If she didn’t enjoy his cranky ass so much she wouldn’t be out here playing this game. A game she was lousy at, getting better, yes, but still lousy.
“Fine,” she groused. “You win.”
“Again.” His grin was so wide it waggled his snowy mustache.
The man reminded her of Donald Sutherland, only shorter. And heavier, not a lot, but a bit.
She nodded with a fake scowl. “Again.” Her concession, playfully frustrated, had him smiling all over. “Tell me again why I agree to play this game with you?”
“Because I’m a crotchety old man who only likes you, and if you didn’t play the game with me, I’d be sitting here all by myself.” He pointed a gnarled finger in her direction. “And, you love me.”
“Humph.” She stared over the table at him from below her black leather newsboy. “You’re full of nothing more than a lot of bluster.” He is right, though. I do love him, the old coot. He was the father figure she’d never believed she would have in her life. When she’d left home, she hadn’t been looking for a man to step into that role but their lives had intersected and she respected him more than she cared to admit.
“Nope.” He drank the coffee she’d brought him while using his other hand to reset the board. “Once more?”
Despite the intense cold bite to the air which in her mind was promising more snow within the day, she readjusted on her seat and assisted him in setting up the board. Plus, like he said and he was right; she did love him.
Helmutt Müller had a reputation of being a mean old bastard. She’d seen him be one to other people, but his offhand comments didn’t bother her, and one day, she’d been in the park and he’d been sitting alone at a table. So, she’d sat and asked if he wanted to play a game. They’d begun a budding friendship, one that had grown over the years until she truly did care for him. And, for that reason, she was willing to continue sitting outside in this Godforsaken, cold-ass, turn-titties-into-diamond-cutters weather.
This is what happens when I move somewhere because of a man. Like that’s happening, again. Okay, I really need to stop thinking about Jason. He’s gone and done with. Not a man—if he can be called that—who deserves my thoughts and energy. She burrowed deeper into her thick coat and curved her fingers around the drink before her.
“I should let you go first since you are lacking in intelligence.”
She drank some hot chocolate, unperturbed by his comment. The exchange nothing more than their way of showing affection, she had no doubt the man supported her one hundred percent.
“What does it say about you that you continue to ask me to play this damn game if I’m so lacking?” She cocked her eyebrow at him.
He scowled. “You should respect your elders.”
“And, you should have your mouth washed out with soap. Move your piece, old man, I’m cold.”
“You find a man, get fat with babies, and you will be warm. But, maybe you are no good, and no man wants you.” He moved a pawn.
She held his stare, pushing back more thoughts of Jason. “That’s probably it. Although, I could also say no man wants to put up with our relationship.” She moved her pawn.
“You bring a good man around, and I may consider being nice to him. You bring thugs and stupid, whiny men. You need a real one.”
“Right,” she said without taking her gaze off the board, she couldn’t do with allowing him anymore advantage than he already had on her. And that amount was considerable. “Now, I’m taking dating advice from you.”
He pinned his gaze on her. “You should.”
That drew her attention from the game. “No way, old man. You hit on a statue, two months ago, just up the street from here. I’m pretty confident I can do this myself.” She waggled her finger at him. “At least I go out with live breathing men and not ones made out of stone.”
“Pygmalion was a story. Besides, I was making statement. I have woman. Am stud in bed.”
She wasn’t touching that one and bit back her snort. “Reverting back to your broken English only works on occasion, and right now, it’s not.” Her cell rang, and she held up a finger before taking the call. “One moment. And I will say I’m shocked you know of Pygmalion.” She didn’t even check the caller ID, very few people called her. “Hello?”
“Seriously? Is that how you answer the phone?”
Jazz bit back her groan of distaste. “Carla,” she said in a false honeyed voice. “Did you call me all the way from your glass office for the sole purpose of correcting the way I answer my phone?” How the hell did this bitch get my number?
“I just find it hard to believe your cousin is such a proper woman, and you…well, you’re you.”
Of course, it would be Regina who gave her the number. Jazz reached for her drink, only to recall she’d already finished it. Damn it. For whatever reason, the hot chocolate I just finished isn’t in anyway going to be strong enough for what I’m about to deal with.
“Carla, Carla, Carla. I’m sure for someone of your ilk, that was supposed to be an insult, yet, I’m so glad you think I’m me. Whew, I’d been concerned for some time now that I was becoming an uptight bitch like you. Worried about nothing other than my appearance and how those Hollywood stars would like me if I ran into one. Shoving my fat ass into clothes three sizes too small and tottering on heels that God wouldn’t put the devil in. Now that that’s all cleared up, why are you calling me?”
Helmutt arched an eyebrow at her, but Jazz was far too annoyed to check herself.
“You’re such a bitch.”
Her opponent moved and she slid her knight to its next position on the board before returning her attention to the annoying call. “With a sunny disposition. Why are you calling me? Did something happen to Regina?”
“No, your cousin is fine. She asked me to call you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re her secretary. That’s your job; stop sounding as if she asked you to scrub a dirty urinal with your tongue.”
Across the table from her, Helmutt moved his knight and slapped the clock with more force than necessary. She glared at him before staring at the board and moved her bishop. The man hated when her att
ention wasn’t on the game.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Carla. Tell me what she wants so we can end this damn call.”
“She wants you to take over this project she has. She needs you to set up a photo shoot with a man. You have the month of September. She is emailing you all the details, and she said not to let you back out of it. You know some people—apparently some are handsome, so call one of them. Inside her email is the contact information of the photographer, Braden Nile, who will come and do the shoot. And, I reiterate, she said not to let her down.” Derision coated her tone. “If you think you can handle not disappointing her as you usually do.”
“And, where is my cousin at, right now?” No longer feeling the cold around her, she had a painful throbbing in the back of her head. Anger began unfurling in her stomach. Time to get home and drink some wine, who cares if it was early in the morning.
“Indisposed.” Carla’s tone grated. “Get it done.”
The call ended, and Jazz shoved her phone back in her pocket. Her head pounded, and she longed to toss tables or smash things. Her cousin’s comments of how she always went off half-cocked echoed in her mind. Prob why she had Carla call, claiming she was indisposed.
Why Regina put this on her, Jazz, couldn’t begin to fathom. What the fuck did she know about finding a model for a photo shoot? And, then, involving September. Did that matter? Probably. Her calendar didn’t have men on it, it had nothing other than the dates and her numerous notes.
Gods, her head hurt, and she squinted. Her phone buzzed, and she whipped it out to see the information Carla-whore sent to her. Ready to chuck it all, she swore at the last line. FOR CHARITY.
Damn her cousin for knowing how to get her to do this.
Helmutt took her queen with his next move and tsked. “You are very distracted, today. I need good opponent.”
She didn’t even attempt a smart comeback, her mind was overwhelmed by the call with Carla and what was now expected of her. Merely shrugged and tipped over her king. “I agree.”
His expression sobered and he gave her his full attention. “You tell me your problem, I fix.”
The sincerity in his tone instantly soothed the rougher edges of her rage. “I wish. If only it was that simple.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “What is problem? You see, I can fix.”
“My cousin, Regina. I told you about her—works for a big company and blah blah. Anyway, she’s on this committee, and, long story short, she made a promise in my name. One I don’t even know I can fulfill. I can’t let them down, though; it’s for charity. Which is why I know she stuck me with it. I can’t say no to a good cause.” No matter how much she wanted to turn it down.
“Why did she make the promise?”
Jazz gripped her travel mug, wishing for the briefest moment hers was a disposable cup so she could have some small satisfaction of crushing it. Or Carla’s head. I’d like to crush that as well. Like a melon. Or a zit. She’s more like a zit. Annoying and a pain to deal with. And it would give me immense pleasure to pop it.
“Beats the crap out of me. Regina is always after me to do more, be more.”
He righted the king she’d knocked over. “She thinks you underachieve.”
“Now, your English is fine?”
He pointed at her. “I help. I fix. We play chess, and you pay attention. Now, what you need?”
Jazz tossed up her hands. “And, we’re back to broken English. All right, why not?” She leaned forward. “You really want to know what I need? Fine, I’ll tell you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when you look at me like I’m flipping insane. I need a hot ass man who will be fine posing for a photo shoot. No money, it’s all for charity. I don’t know the photographer or anything about what he requires for a shoot.” She cupped her—still empty and now cold—mug. “So, still think you can fix it?”
He set up the board, again. “Easy.”
Jazz hesitated for a moment, a frown on her face. Then she leaned first to the left then right, gazing around him. Aside from the others at the tables, she didn’t see anyone new. “I’m sorry, there a man you’ve been hiding back there I don’t know about?”
“No. You use my grandson, Bastian.” They began to play.
Oh, this can’t be good. “Your grandson.” She sucked on her teeth and waited for Helmutt to make his next move. “He lives here in Chicago?”
He glanced at her briefly. “No, Georgia.”
At least it’s not Louisiana, although it’s closer there than here. “So, I should just fly down there and scour Georgia for your grandson?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be foolish. We go to hometown. I’ve not been there in years. Good to return.”
She frowned, liking the direction of this conversation even less. “You want me to not only go to your hometown to find your grandson, but to top off this awesome fix you have for me, you now tell me you’re coming with me?”
His grin was full of trouble. “Of course. It will be fun. We go next week. To Atlanta, first, rent car. I think you can drive. I see you, then. Must spend time with girlfriend first. She will miss her stud. Must to make her happy. Then we leave on Thursday. Get me good seat on plane. I have date; I see you later. You are in checkmate.” He walked off, leaving behind his empty cup and the board which sure as shittin’ showed her in checkmate.
She allowed her head to settle on the edge of the granite table. “He’s never been back since I’ve known him. So how does he know his grandson will be the one to use for this? And why am I even considering this.” She whimpered. “Sweet Jesus, what have I just gotten myself into?”
αβ
Bastian Müller cracked his neck before planting his feet. “Ready when you are.” He stood at the front of the line and grinned at the ones across from him, separated by a large mud puddle. “Time to bring the sheriff’s department down.”
“Good luck, Bas,” Vicki yelled from behind Tim, who was at the front of the row of law enforcement line. “Fire department hasn’t won in years, so we’re expecting more of the same.”
He smirked. “I’ve not been here in years,” he retorted smugly. It was true, he’d only been back for a couple of months, having given up being a smokejumper. Not an easy decision for sure but he’d missed his hometown and had come back.
“So, it’s been a while since you’ve a had a good facial by a bunch of red Georgia clay, then.”
He sucked his teeth. “Ain’t happening, babycakes. You’re going in after Tim. Sorry, man, you’re going to be collateral damage.”
“Stop yammering and start pulling!”
The cry came from the crowd, and he focused on waiting for the starter pistol shot.
He maintained but didn’t put everything into it until the toes of his boots were on the edge of the mud pit. The middle of winter and we’re doing this? I’ll be damned if I’m the one going in. “Put your backs into it!” he called to the firemen behind him before he did just that.
His years of being a smokejumper and all he’d hauled, cut, and carried were coming into play. Moments later, Tim went in, and they blew the whistle, but Bastian wasn’t done. And continued pulling, hand over hand, until Vicki went face first in the mud.
Mission accomplished. He smiled and shouted out congratulations to the men behind him who were whooping and hollering with their victory.
His captain, Wayne Vincent, clapped him on the shoulder. “Nicely done, Bas. We’ve been trying to claim that back for a while now.”
“Glad I could help. besides, I think they look great with that mud facial.”
Only when his boss walked away, laughing and joking with some others did he release the rope. Hands on hips, he stared at the woman who used to be known as the “Princess of Cottonwood Falls”. Her daddy was the wealthiest man in town. Now, she was married to Chase Ellery, a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. And, they had a daughter.
Time’s sure changed.
Bastian strolled to the edge of the mud puddle and waited for her to push up. On her knees, she flicked mud from her eyes then glared at him. He saw her husband strolling closer, their daughter, Nitsa content in his arms.
“Looks like we’re going to be cleaning a spot on a shelf for the trophy.”
