Almost six months ago, I sat down to start writing
Redemption by Fire. At the time I had no
idea what I was going to write and no ideas for a story. Then I was driving past the fire house near
where I live on my way to an appointment and I saw the overhead doors lift and
the men jumping on the engine getting ready for a call and I realized not only
hadn’t I written a fireman story, but the idea for Redemption by Fire sprang
into my head. As soon as I got home
from my appointment, I began writing.
Once I was finished, I’d really begun to like and truly understand both
characters, so a few months later I wrote Strengthened By Fire and Burnished By
Fire. Both of them will be coming out in
the next few months.
Blurb: Redemption by
Fire
Dirk Krause is an asshole of the first degree. His life is a
hell of his own making, and he makes everyone around him just as miserable.
When he’s injured on the job while fighting a fire, he’s nearly unbearable to
the hospital staff, and of course no one from his unit cares enough to visit.
Lee Stockton is the new guy at the station, so he gets
saddled with the job of bringing Dirk a sympathy bouquet from the guys at the
firehouse. To Dirk’s surprise, Lee sees through him like a pane of glass and
doesn’t take any of his crap. Lee’s determined to get Dirk to stop being a dick
just to push everyone away. When their fighting turns to fucking, will the
fireworks shine brightly on a possible relationship or leave them with nothing
but ashes?
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Teaser Excerpt:
After a day, he began to feel better. He could breathe more
easily even though he was still on oxygen. Once, when he’d woken, he’d found a
card from his father, and one from his captain at the station, but other than
that, he saw no signs of any visitors. He figured they were waiting until he
got better.
He was wrong. The only person he saw other than the nurses
and doctors was his father, and his visits were never pleasant.
“So after this, are you going to give up this fireman thing
and get a real job? You have a degree. I could get you a job on my team at the
brokerage,” his father told him in his usual “I know best” voice. “I’ll start
the paperwork for when you get out of here.”
“I don’t…,” Dirk began, but he started to cough, and it got
worse and worse. A nurse hurried in and gave him something to calm the spasms,
and he collapsed back into the bed, his injured arm aching and his chest
hurting like hell. “Can’t we just sit and talk?” Dirk asked, and his father
looked at him like he’d asked for the moon.
“I have to be back in the office in half an hour,” his
father told him, and Dirk nodded.
Then his father left the room, and Dirk hadn’t had a visitor
since. That had been two days ago, three days since he’d awakened, and almost a
week since the fire.
As the days went by, he fumed at everyone who walked into
his room. He heard the nurses talking about him once in the hallway, but he
really didn’t care. He spent most of his days watching television—he couldn’t
get out of bed except to go to the bathroom, and it hurt to fucking breathe.
This was definitely no picnic! After swearing away yet another nurse, he found
himself with Brunhilda, the sadistic nurse from hell, and that did nothing for
his mood or his sense of misery. The woman seemed to live to poke him with
needles, and a sponge bath from her could make prisoners spill their guts in
two minutes flat. “You should work for the CIA,” he told her as she scraped yet
more skin off him, but she just grunted and paid no attention to him at all.
After that torture ended, Dirk lay watching television,
feeling sorry for himself. His lungs still hurt, but only when he took a deep
breath. The doctor had told him that they were hopeful he’d return to normal
and that his lungs were aching because they were healing. “Just give it time,”
he’d said before leaving.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dirk saw movement in his
doorway and steeled himself for another visit from Brunhilda. Instead, he saw
what looked like a brick wall casting a shadow carrying flowers in a plastic
fire helmet. “You Dirk Krause?” the man asked and slowly stepped into the room,
like he was nervous, setting the planter on the tray.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Dirk answered. “Who the hell are you?”
The kid might have been huge, but he had a definite baby face, and he looked
young as shit.
“Lee Stockton. I’m the new man on third shift, and the guys
asked me to bring you the flowers,” the kid said pleasantly, and Dirk watched
him shuffle from foot to foot trying to figure out what to say next. “The other
guys have been really busy.”
“I’ll bet.” Dirk shifted on the bed, looking at the huge
kid. “You draw the short straw or something?” Dirk had no time or use for a pity
plant in a cheap bit of plastic that the guys probably had the kid pick up on
his way over. “’Cause you’re the first damned guy from the company to visit. So
you’ve done your job, and you can go now.” Dirk turned away and waited to hear
the kid walk out of the room.
“You really are the biggest asshole on the planet,” the kid
said, his voice deeper, and when Dirk turned to look at him, the kid’s eyes
blazed. “I didn’t believe them when they told me what a dickhead you could be.
But, boy, they weren’t kidding. Two minutes, and you were already acting like
an ass. That must be some kind of record. No wonder none of the other guys
wanted to come up here.” The kid moved to the side of the bed, and Dirk got a
good look at him. The kid’s shirt barely held in his muscles, and when he moved
his arm, it looked like the damned shirt was going to rip anytime.
“Well, fuck ’em all,” Dirk said. He wanted to yell, but when
he took the breath, his lungs reminded him of their condition by shooting pain
down his chest. If they didn’t want to see him, he didn’t want to see those
assholes, either. The kid didn’t say anything. He just stared at Dirk like he
was from another planet, and then his gaze heated, and Dirk squirmed a little,
actually checking to make sure he was covered up. “What’s wrong with you? You
some sort of fag?” His arm was throbbing, and his lungs ached with this
talking, and he wasn’t in the mood for any crap. He expected the kid’s look to
shift to something approaching pity, and he was having none of that.
It had been his experience that whenever anyone was asked
that question, they backed away fast, but the kid took a step closer to the bed
with an unreadable look on his face. “You seem to have me mistaken with some
sort of fucking doormat. I came down here ’cause no one else would visit your
sorry ass, and this is the thanks I get. What are you doing calling people
names and shit?” Lee took another step closer and stared straight into his
eyes, which made Dirk squirm, especially since the kid was freakin’ huge.
“Anyone ever tell you not to poke the bear?” Lee said with a growl. “Because
you’re damned close.” Lee continued stepping closer until he practically loomed
over him. “Why are you such an asshole, anyway? You know what I think?” Lee
leaned over the bed, uncomfortably close for Dirk. “I think you’re one fucking
huge closet case. I’ve met plenty of guys like you before. You’re fucking
miserable, and you make everyone around you pay for it. Well, I saw the way you
looked at me, like I was dinner and you wanted to eat me whole. And don’t think
for a second you’re ever going to get that chance, because I may fuck ass, but
I don’t fuck closet-case assholes like you.”
“What the fuck, man?” Dirk managed to say as he pushed Lee
away with his good hand.
“Hey, I see right through you. There’s no hiding. I know a
closet case a mile away, and I knew you were gay after being in the room for
two seconds. You took one look at me, and I saw the way your eyes bulged and
your mouth watered.”
“Little full of yourself, aren’t you?” Dirk pushed harder on
Lee’s chest, and damn if he didn’t run up against a mountain of pure American
muscle. “Now get the hell away from me. You don’t know shit about shit.” Dirk
was more than a little uncomfortable, and Lee’s words were hitting way too
close to home.
“I don’t, huh. You got yourself half a hard-on just thinking
about me, and those sheets are thin enough that you really can’t hide nothing.
So you can cut the bullshit and stop being such an asshole. Now, I brought you
your fucking flowers and did what I said I was going to do. You’ll probably be
in here for a while yet and at home for even longer, so I suggest you use that
time to think about why you’re here all alone and nobody wants to visit your
sorry ass.” Lee stepped back and looked toward the door. When he looked back,
there was something in Lee’s eyes that Dirk couldn’t read at all. “See you
around, closet case.”
“I am not!” Dirk countered, and he really paid for that one
as his lungs protested.
Lee turned back to him, and Dirk thought he was going to
leave, but he waited for Dirk’s coughing to subside, and then he moved close to
the bed again. Dirk thought Lee was going to berate him again, but instead he
leaned over the bed and planted a kiss on Dirk’s lips. This was no soft girly kiss,
but one hard and strong, with Lee taking possession of Dirk’s mouth as though
they’d been kissing forever. Fuck his lungs, the pain in his arms, and
everything else. Dirk felt himself go instantly and painfully hard right then
and there as his entire body reacted to Lee’s touch. Lee moved his tongue to
duel with his, and Dirk lost as Lee took what he wanted in almost every way.
Damn, he felt good, and Dirk’s body knew what it wanted and overrode his mind.
Suddenly and without warning, Lee pulled back and stepped away from the bed.
“Bullshit,” Lee said and strode out of the room without looking back at all.
2 comments:
These are some pretty dynamic and compelling characters! What kind of research did you end up doing for this series? What pulled you in so quickly to tell their story once the idea came to you? I love it when a story consumes me, so I am curious.
Sometimes I wuish I knew what it is that compells me to tell a story. It just happens and when I like an idea I'm ravenous until its reached fruition. For research, I spoke with members of local council as well as some of the firefighters who work a block form my home. That was fun.
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