UNCONTROLLED BURN Read online

  UNCONTROLLED BURN

  A RISEN Team Novel

  A woman forced to live a life she didn’t choose. A vampire bound by honor to protect humans. A deadly game of revenge that threatens both their lives …

  Thirty years ago, a horrendous attack thrust Chemistry professor, ALEXANDRA FLANAGAN into the secret world of vampires. Saved by the blood of an ancient vampire, she unhappily walks among immortals. Now, deadly fires in her quaint town have brought her to the attention of REESE COLTON and his elite RISEN team. Undercover as a firefighter, Reese has been called in to flush out and eliminate the rogue vampire burying a string of murders in the ashes of deadly fires.

  With the body count climbing and the number of fires escalating, the evidence pointing to Alex is piling high. Discovering the identity of the vicious vampire hell-bent on revenge may be the easy part of Reese’s job. But bringing a murderer to justice could mean the difference between honoring his duty—and losing his heart.

  Uncontrolled Burn

  Copyright © 2015 by Nina Pierce

  Published by Nina Pierce of New Hampshire. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. With the exception of short quotes for review, 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.

  Email

  [email protected]

  Cover Artist

  Dar Albert

  www.WickedSmartDesigns.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.

  Published and Formatted by Seaside Publications

  ISBN: 978-1476022123

  3rd Edition: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  ~ Dedication ~

  To my husband—my friend, my lover, my soul mate

  for nearly forty years—how lucky am I that I get to spend

  my days with a real-life romance hero? Thanks, for being you.

  Chapter One

  It wasn’t much of a noise. Just an inconsequential thump in the night that shouldn’t have been enough to rouse Professor Paul Morgan from his dreamless sleep, let alone cause the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle with fear. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he fought against the sleeping medication pumping through his blood and fumbled in the darkness for his eyeglasses, praying he’d simply imagined the sound. But when another muffled bang was followed by a whoosh of air, he had a hard time convincing himself the commotion coming from the first floor was caused by his mischievous tabby, Zeus.

  Paul swung his feet to the floor and slipped them into well-worn leather slippers. He shuffled in the dark, still unable—even after thirty years of living alone—to disturb a wife long since departed. Life without his soul mate had been lonely at best, agonizing at worst. Nothing, not even his life’s research, filled the void she’d left in his heart. He grabbed his robe from the hope chest at the foot of the bed and rushed from the bedroom.

  The eerie orange glow emanating from his den at the bottom of the stairs wrapped iron bands of dread around his chest, stealing his breath. Everything near and dear to him was in that room; his wife’s portrait, the marble Sphinx from their honeymoon in Egypt, the antique bookcase she’d given him when he’d been awarded the chemistry department chair at the university—the bronzed baby shoes.

  His feet barely touched the treads as he rushed down the stairs, caution and prudence gone with the desperate need to salvage his memories. He came up short at the threshold.

  Swallowing hard, the professor worked to dislodge the cold lump of fear wedged in his throat. Though the glow that had pulled him from bed came from a fire crackling safely in the stone fireplace across the room, its orange and gold flames caste the person behind his desk in an otherworldly radiance. Sinister shadows twisted and swelled along the paneled walls, making it seem as if more than one person had invaded his home.

  A quick glance at the file cabinet in the corner reassured him his files were safe, but did nothing to assuage his apprehension. The research papers he’d left neatly stacked in organized piles on the desk were strewn haphazardly across its polished surface.

  He spoke to the back of the intruder’s head. “Wha … wha … what are you doing?”

  There was no response save for the clicking of computer keys.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m calling the police—” Paul said.

  A maniacal laugh rent the stillness, sending shards of arctic terror and adrenaline surging through his veins.

  “No, Professor Morgan. We both know you won’t do that.” With a flourish, a hand came down hard on the keyboard. The monitor flicked rapidly through several screens before going black.

  “What have you done?” Paul rushed to the desk, a chilling wave of nausea rolling over the tightness in his chest and bringing water to his eyes. All the data and notes he’d accumulated over four decades were on that computer. Everything.

  “I didn’t want it to happen this way.” The words carried sadness, but the face that turned to stare at him was pure evil. A face Paul barely recognized. “You really shouldn’t have been quite so diligent in your vampire research, you know, Professor. You’re no match for our superiority. I sent obvious warnings for months, hoping you’d abandon this foolhardy course, but you ignored the signs.” A clicking tongue scolded him as if he were an obstinate child. Fingers steepled in front of lips thin with hatred. “A shame really. I have no doubt your brilliant mind will be missed by many at the university. But you and your work have become too much of a liability to the vampire population to be allowed to live.”

  Though he had no doubt how this night would end, Paul refused to cower beneath the absolute hatred he saw gleaming in the intruder’s eyes. “My work won’t end if you kill me.”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “You can’t get away with murder.”

  “Oh, I think we both know I have—and I will again.”

  Paul understood with absolute certainty that the person rising out of the chair was referring to the rash of unsolved fires in South Kenton over the past summer. People had died in each of those blazes and the local fire department had no clue if they were connected. Like an elusive puzzle, pieces began coming together, creating an unfathomable picture.

  “You?” His mind could barely comprehend that this person would be willing to take the lives of others, just to stop his research. Obviously they’d morphed into a vindictive murderer—a murderer with no conscience and a moral compass that pointed straight to hell. “You’re not … You can’t …”

  “Oh, but we both know it’s a foregone conclusion.” The murderer gathered the papers on the desk and tapped them on its gleaming cherry surface, elegant fingers carefully aligning the edges.

  It had become brutally obvious the moment he’d entered the room, Paul would not survive this night. He threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin, accepting his fate with dignity. “I’ve already sent a copy of all of that to my lawyer.” He waved at the papers on the desk. “He knows. He knows and understands everything. None of this will stop when I’m dead.” Paul was pleased he could push the lie steadily past the panic clogging his throat. He’d been planning for months to do just that, send copies of his research to someone who would protect them, but time and distractions had kept him from the task.

  “Please, don’t insult my intelligence. You forget how well I know all your idiosyncrasies and we both know you’re well…” the vampire shrugged and tossed the neat stack of papers into the fire, “…
a tad disorganized.”

  “Nooo …” Paul lunged at the fireplace, but the hungry flames devoured everything he’d lived for over the last three decades. He wasn’t able to salvage even a small scrap of paper. “You don’t know what you’ve done. People are depending on that research. Depending on me to save them!”

  “No one that matters. There isn’t a true vampire walking this earth who believes in what you’re doing.” The smile was reptilian, as if Satan himself had taken possession of this wayward soul. “And we both understand what is to come is inevitable. Preordained, if you will—”

  “You won’t get away with this.” Paul was repeating himself, but terror had stripped him of any coherent thought.

  “But I already have.” Several small objects flew from long fingers. Blue flames erupted on Paul’s desk. A ball of fire jumped to the leather chair next to the hearth. Another flew to the Aubusson rug he and his wife had bought on their honeymoon fifty years ago.

  “Stop!”

  “What you began, I will finish tonight.”

  Paul grabbed the decorative throw on the back of the couch, intent on pounding the growing flames into submission.

  Another burst of evil laughter split the air as the crystal vase on the mantel exploded in the growing heat of the fire. “That’s right, old man. Try to stop it.”

  Paul brought the blanket down hard on the fire spreading like a sickness across the floor. But the hungry blaze would not be denied. It rapidly consumed the jacquard drapes and licked at the ceiling. The black smoke choking the air filled his nose and burned his lungs. He needed to get out. Abandoning the blanket, he turned to run.

  He saw the murderous demon raise the small ottoman only seconds before it crashed down on his world.

  * * *

  “Oh, screw you, Burkett.” Reese Colton threw his cards down as the man across the table collected the two paper IOU’s along with a pile of money. Testosterone and laughter filled the fire station kitchen. “You all suck!” Reese drained the bottle of water at his elbow.

  His best friend leaned back in the wooden chair and flicked the scrap of paper with his finger. “Oh, you’ll pay up on this one, buddy.” Josh Burkett flashed his familiar shit-eating grin. Only braces and modern dentistry had altered its appearance in the two centuries Reese had known him. “Not only do I have it in writing,” the chair banged down hard on the linoleum floor as Josh leaned over the marred table, shooting Reese a smug look of satisfaction, “I’ve got witnesses.” His outstretched arm indicated the four other firefighters sitting around the table.

  Reese had never welshed on a bet, especially if it was more along the lines of a dare or involved a woman—this one was both. Wagering an official date with the owner of the firefighter’s local watering hole against Josh’s month of station cleaning duties seemed like a sure thing, especially when the man’s cards had been nothing but crap all night. Now that he’d lost the bet, Reese was having his doubts. He’d been flirting his way around the woman for months—had even managed a friendly kiss or two—but he’d sidestepped anything deeper. A complicated relationship just wouldn’t work around all the shit going on his life at the moment.

  And a relationship with Alexandra Flanagan would be nothing but trouble.

  But with Josh pathetically lusting after some co-ed at the moment, his friend had goaded Reese into the bet. “You haven’t had anything better than two pair all night, Burkett.” Reese gathered the cards off the table and put them back in the box. “With a full boat, it was a pretty safe bet I’d be pocketing that paper and you’d have your head stuck in the station toilets for the next month.” His hand shot out, attempting to snatch the IOU from Josh.

  “Oh, hell no! You’re not backing out of this one.” Josh’s superior reflexes were as quick as Reese’s, keeping it from his grasp. Josh tucked the paper safely in the shirt pocket of his uniform. “This is our golden ticket to a front row seat of pure entertainment.”

  Timmons leaned in conspiratorially. “I’d be happy to cover that bet for you, Colton. I’m just afraid one night with me and that sexy Irish barmaid would find you just couldn’t measure up.”

  “A woman would choose a life of celibacy over a night with you, Timmons.” McLeod laughed as he cleared away the empty nacho plates, wing dishes and the drinking glasses, depositing them all in the industrial sink.

  Friendship, boredom, and the late hour made the whole situation humorous—at least to the other men in the room.

  “I’m thinking this date needs to happen in the next—”

  The shrill ring of the alarm speared through the firehouse, cutting Josh off mid-sentence. Conditioning and quick reflexes pressed the men into action. Chairs scraped across the floor and boots pounded through the adjoining day room.

  “Attention South Kenton fire.” The dispatcher’s disembodied voice filled the newly charged atmosphere. “Repeat. Attention South Kenton fire. Structure fire, East Brooker Road. Witnesses report potential occupants …”

  Six men slid down the brass pole, donning their bravery with their bunker gear.

  * * *

  Glenn Karr set the fancy glass on the bar in front of the blonde, wondering when life had gotten so complicated.

  Thirty years ago he’d bought O’Malley’s Tavern and catered to the everyday Joe of South Kenton. Hard working men who drank their liquor straight up or from a tap, ate their food deep fried and full of calories and watched their sports on grainy televisions. It wasn’t until recently the younger crowd had been clamoring for mixed drinks with silly names and a menu that now included gluten-free pizza dough and organic salads. And despite the fact they all carried their lives in those foolish iPhones, his new clientele had insisted he hook up Wi-Fi and HDTV.

  Life over the centuries had certainly become more complicated.

  “That man of yours picking you up?” he asked the woman.

  “Josh? No, unfortunately he’s working at the fire station tonight. Why’d you ask?”

  He nodded at the third pomegranate martini Hope Grayson had ordered. An hour hadn’t passed since she’d slipped in the door and dropped herself on his stool. A regular on the arm of one of the local firefighters, Hope wasn’t normally alone at the tavern. With recent events, Glenn wasn’t pleased she’d shown up without an escort. From the look of her disheveled hair and the sweat pants hanging low on her hips, he suspected she wasn’t too happy about the situation either.

  “Yeah, well I’m not driving home if that’s what you’re worried about.” She dragged her long nail around the rim of the glass. “I was bored and walked over from my apartment.” She craned her neck to look around the bar. “I was kind of hoping to talk to your partner in crime and maybe bum a ride home with—”

  “Evening, Glenn.” Ronan Nason sauntered into the tavern. His Armani suit jacket, pressed khakis and Italian boots were several steps above the local clientele. “Is it too late for a man to get a drink in this fine establishment?”

  Six months of living on the west coast and the man’s heavy brogue hadn’t softened any more than his pretentious attitude. “We close in an hour. Just like every Thursday night.”

  “Well then I’ll have a glass of your finest Merlot.” Ronan leaned against the bar, leaving only a stool between him and the blonde, who was doing her damnedest to pretend he didn’t exist. “Evening, Hope.” Ronan touched the brim of a hat he wasn’t wearing.

  Glenn wasn’t sure the details of their rift, but suspected it had something to do with inside information Hope had gotten from her boyfriend about the newcomer. Whatever. He’d been standing behind the bar long enough to know that anything he said would sound like he was taking one side or the other, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “I’m surprised to see you here tonight, Hope.” Ronan sipped casually from the wine Glenn set in front of him. “I would’ve thought that station of yours would have you out chasing hot leads for the late news.”

  “Nothing worth reporting.” Hope flashed him a sardonic smile
and batted her lashes. “My boss is still hoping the university chemistry department will announce their newest endowment isn’t really being wasted on pig research.”

  Glenn bent and shuffled glasses, biting back a smile. The huge sum of money that had been gifted to the university had actually been funneled into the chemistry department from Ronan’s employer. It was more important to the residents of South Kenton than humans realized. The fluff news piece Hope had done a few days ago had been carefully scripted by Professor Paul Morgan, head of the chemistry department, to look like another useless analysis of swine disease.

  Since Ronan had known the true impetus behind the grant money, it had galled him to do the interview. But his bosses had insisted. Undercover as a grad student working in the chemistry department, Ronan had been the one traipsing through the pig muck at Glenn’s farm with a cameraman, while Glenn’s business partner, Associate Professor Alexandra Flanagan had been interviewed in the comfort of her office at the university.

  “That pig research may just save your life,” Ronan shot back.

  “As a vegetarian, I suspect that research will simply waste needed university funds and will be as useless as the pigs themselves.” Hope set down her glass with a bang, and covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes pulling a white-saucer moment. “Aww jees, Glenn, I’m sorry about that. I know your pigs are important to you. I didn’t mean—”

  “No offense taken.”

  “But your farm and the pigs and I—”

  Glenn pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped up the drink that had spilled over the edge of Hope’s glass. “Don’t you worry. Takes a lot to insult me.”

  “No doubt Glenn’s very adept at dealing with rude drunks.” Ronan swirled the wine in his glass, inhaling its aroma before sipping from the glass and savoring the dark liquid.

  Hope spoke through gritted teeth. “Ronan, I really have no desire to go a round or two with you tonight. I just came in for a quiet drink and some face time with Alex.”