A Low Blue Flame Read online

  A Low Blue Flame

  A.J. Downey

  Contents

  BOOK THREE

  Prologue

  Three months later

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  A Special Note from A.J.

  Also by A.J. Downey

  About the Author

  BOOK THREE

  Copyright

  Text Copyright © 2018 by A.J. Downey

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real except where noted and authorized. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owner, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Edited by Barbara J. Bailey

  Book design by Maggie Kern

  Cover art by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs

  Dedication

  To Book World, where I drew the inspiration for this one. Not everything is what it seems, context is everything, and words do hurt. Remember that.

  Prologue

  Lilli…

  I wasn’t confident in most things, but as I bounced once, then twice, on the diving board, I knew I had this. I arched through the air and sliced perfectly with minimal splash into the sapphire pool that was as warm as bathwater. I smiled in the depths to myself and fanned my arms out in front of me, dragging myself towards the surface and breaking it, drawing breath to a smattering of applause.

  I laughed and turned to my new friends, some of the older kids belonging to dignitaries and the like. Emilio, my new number-one fan, was eleven and sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water.

  “Show me how!” he called and I laughed, working my way to the edge of the pool, hauling myself up onto the edge to sit beside him and wring the chlorinated water from the ends of my dark blonde hair.

  “It takes practice,” I told him, and he got up, trotting to the board enthusiastically.

  It was the grand opening of the Echelon Tower, the newest, most technologically-efficient building in the Indigo City skyline, and even though I had signed on the dotted line and purchased my apartment – excuse me, condo ‒ I didn’t belong here. My bank account said I did, and a small part of my heart agreed, but for the most part, I felt like an intruder. Unlike almost all of the rest of the people who were moving in, I hadn’t been born into money. I’d gotten lucky and had become the next big thing in the literary world, and Hollywood had come knocking what felt like only moments later.

  I had more money than I knew what to do with and more coming in every day. On top of that, I was blessed with no shortage of ideas on where to go from here when it came to my writing… so I had no idea why I felt so empty.

  Yes, you do. You’re lonely, and no matter how much money you have, no matter how much you reinvent yourself, you still don’t belong here.

  I sighed, the ever-present voice of self-doubt slowly deteriorating my good mood.

  Stop it. I told myself sternly. You’re here to start over. Reinvent yourself. So stop whining and do just that!

  “Lilli! Like this?”

  I looked up to the diving board and called back, “Feet together, don’t bend your knees! Okay, go back and remember what I showed you about the hurdle!”

  He went back to the beginning of the board, took his steps, bounced and… didn’t quite stick it, but he was much closer in execution than he had been the last time. He came up, dark head bobbing above the deep blue water, and I applauded.

  “Did I do it?” he asked, grinning, and I told him the truth but tried to remain encouraging.

  “Not quite, but you were much, much, closer. Keep practicing!”

  I got up and he asked, “Where are you going?”

  Truthfully, I needed a bit of adult time, and a hot soak. I was beginning to get chilled sitting on the edge out of the water like that.

  “I’m going to head on back over to the grownups,” I told him, smiling.

  “Yuck! You should just stay here with me!”

  I laughed. “Maybe later.”

  “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  “Should be, I like swimming. It’s part of why I moved here.”

  “Okay! I’ll see you!”

  “See you later, Emilio.”

  He paddled over to the edge of the pool and the ladder, got out and went to dive again. I pulled my feet from the warmth and left the enclosed pool area, going out to the group of layered and leveled steaming pools of water more geared towards the adult residents of the Echelon.

  I slipped into the warmest one with a sigh, around five or six other people already taking up room on the low benches, and crouched on one. I was short, much of my height in my legs, and so, if I were to sit on one of the benches properly, the waterline would reach just below my nose, covering my mouth. Not cute.

  A handsome man, almost beautiful, sat across from me, his long hair brushing his shoulders. He had a sexy little smile painted on his lips as he looked me over appreciatively, without being slimy or creepy.

  “Hi,” I murmured shyly, blushing.

  “Name is Mark,” he said politely. “What’s yours?”

  “Lillian,” I replied, softly.

  “Have to say, Lillian, you’re a beautiful and unexpected addition to Echelon.”

  “Aw, thank you!” I said, laughing lightly but not believing a word he said. Me? Beautiful? Ha!

  “What floor?” he asked, making small talk.

  “I’m on forty-four, you?”

  “Don’t live here,” he said. “I’m just a guest, sadly.”

  “Oh, well, what do you think of the building?” I asked.

  He drifted across the steaming pool to me and sat next to me, eyes traveling over me in a way that made me feel electric, appreciated. It was unexpected and charming, and I couldn’t have written it any better.

  “It’s amazing,” he said, making direct eye contact.

  I smiled and felt my heart flutter. He had an amazing pair of green-blue eyes and his dark hair, swept back from his face, made them all the more startling. His body was trim and fit without being overly musclebound and I liked that. He looked like a man who wore a suit for a living. Someone with a dangerous mind, and I liked that, too.

  I lost my balance a bit, crouched on the bench, and he reached out to steady me. I laughed nervously, wondering how, out of all the beautiful people in Echelon, I would be so lucky that he would be talking to, or even interested in, me.

  “Steady…” he said, voice low.

  “I’m too short,” I breathed, and he smiled.

  “You’re just perfect.”

  Again with that little flutter in my chest. He pulled me around gently, his hands nowhere out of bounds, the attraction seemingly just as intense on his end as mine. He settled me safely over his lap in the circle of his arms and smiled at me.

  “So,” he murmured. “Tell me everything there is to know about you…”

  Three months later…

  1

  Backdraft…

  “Dude, are you even listening to me?” Golden demanded, and I held up a hand. He shut up, and I diverted the rest of my attention fully to the couple at the table nearby.

  The dude held her hands in the middle of the table and was talking to her in low and earnest tones but her eyes were too wide, glassy with shock, and I knew the look. I'd felt it myself only a few weeks ago, as one of the guys at the firehouse had told me the same thing that I would bet my last paycheck that this guy was telling her.

  Cheater.

  “Look, I’m sorry, I… I never expected things to go this far, but being with you… I’m sorry, Lillian; it just showed me how much I love her. Reminded me why I fell in love with her in the first place.”

  The woman abruptly pulled her hands from his and put them in her lap, those wide, storm-chased blue eyes of hers finally letting loose, twin crystalline tears slipping over the careful makeup she’d
put on before their date, tracking mascara down her cheeks.

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she uttered, her voice hollow, and I knew that feeling, too. I put things together with lightning speed.

  This guy was breaking up with his side chick and the side chick had absolutely no idea there even was a main.

  Holy shit.

  That was a new kind of low, even for me.

  “Did I just hear that dude say what I think I did?” Golden demanded, and I held up a hand and waved him off. Aly’s face was set in surprise as I abruptly walked away from the table. Yale held his girl practically in his lap, protectively, and I was struck by how this piece of shit should be doing the same to the petite little thing across from him. Instead, he was smashing her heart with a ball-peen hammer, and in one of the most humiliating ways possible, to boot.

  The motion of my stalking away from our table caught those devastated blue eyes of hers and she made eye contact with me. I got the full brunt of the pain she was desperately trying to mask and god, wasn’t that a familiar ache?

  My heart went out to her, and I read clearly the pleading in her eyes for me not to intercede, but chose to misinterpret it. I couldn’t ignore what was going on right in front of me. I wouldn’t. Some pains were indeed private, but she needed to get the hell away from this guy, like yesterday.

  “I’ll be back later,” I muttered at Golden who’d kept pace with me, and with a shrug, he broke off and went back to his beer. He didn’t say a word; neither did Blaze, who I caught out of the corner of my eye, leaning back on his stool. They both knew better.

  I stopped next to the woman and eyed the sleazebag. She was pointedly not looking at me, but I had to give her big ups. She wasn’t looking at the table, either. She was looking the douche right in his eyes, and I could see the high spots of color on her cheeks, even beneath her muddy makeup. She was angry, and she had every fucking right to be.

  Who the fuck did somebody like that?

  The guy was trying like hell to remain friends or some shit – I wasn’t really paying attention. I was all about the woman. She was staring up at me now, a spark of defiance in her eyes as the man tried to wave me off saying, “We’re fine right now; can’t you see we’re talking?”

  “One, I’m not your waiter,” I said. “And two, are you all right, ma’am?”

  “No,” she said, calmly and strongly.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked.

  “I would very much like to go home,” she said, evenly and politely.

  “I think I can help you with that,” I said and held down a hand. She stared at it with only a moment’s hesitation, then took it, and I helped her to her feet. She dragged her little purse up after her and hung it off her shoulder and the dude’s hand flashed out, circling around her slender wrist.

  Instant rage flared deep in my chest, just like my damn namesake, even though it wasn’t precisely what I was named for. A backdraft is when a fire starts in a sealed room and it damn-near burns itself out, right? Because it’s used up all the oxygen as fuel. Then someone, like a firefighter, like me, goes and opens the door. Suddenly, the fire is introduced to all of this oxygen ‒ its main food source‒ and it flares back to life, explodes, is meaner than it ever was and larger than life.

  I felt that. All that pent-up anger and pissed-off at Torrid and what she’d done to me – to us, flared hot and dangerous and threatened to chew through this motherfucker alive.

  I did what I did best. I fought the fire, poured reason on it like water, and went very still and controlled.

  “Let her go,” I said, and I think he picked up on my tone because the cage of his fingers released and I drew her away from him, put her behind me, and squared off, facing the guy, looking down on him from all six-foot-four-inches of my height.

  He shrank back in his seat and it was a good call. I raked a hand back through my own light brown hair and said, “You fucked up, tossed her aside, now you’ve got to live with that,” I told him. I heard her suck in a breath behind me and turned. “Come on. I’ll get you home.”

  “Yes, please; thank you.”

  She turned, back straight and marched for the door in front of me.

  “Yo, Backdraft, seriously?” Golden called, and I barked back over my shoulder at him, “Later!”

  She reached the front door of the Ten-Thirteen before I did and dragged it open, stepping out fluidly and stopping at the curb. She put her hands on her knees and dragged in breath after breath, as if she was trying very hard not to throw up. I went up to her, stood beside her, and told her, “He’s not worth it.”

  “I know that!” she snapped, and I didn’t take it personal. I knew. It was a different sort of thing when you knew.

  “I’ll get you a cab,” I grated and went out to the street, raising a hand, and bellowed “Taxi!” The one I called to rolled right on by, ignoring me completely, and I cursed.

  “Lillian!”

  “Just leave me alone, Mark!” she barked and I cursed again, under my breath, and went back between the cars to the curb and stepped back up on it.

  “Please, just listen to me; don’t be like this!” he was saying.

  Oh, hell no… like she did something wrong?

  “Just. Leave. Me. Alone, Mark.” She was shaking but he was going to be persistent, and I finally stepped up, gently took her elbow and said, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride myself.”

  “Thank you,” she said over Mark’s indignant scoff and she let me tow her to the alley where my bike was waiting, third in line. I went to it, and held out my helmet to her. She took it and put it on without batting an eye.

  Okay, we are doing this.

  I flung a leg over the front of my Harley and stuck the key in it, giving it a twist and hitting the switch with my thumb to start her up. She chugged to life and Mark, who had followed us, opened his mouth to protest. I had something for his ass, twisting the throttle to make my baby roar.

  The woman, Lillian, jumped slightly and I pulled my bike up off her kickstand and heeled it back up into place. I dropped down onto the seat and held out a hand to help Lil up behind me. She got on without hesitation, but wobbled slightly on her heels. She found the footrests and settled in, putting her arms around me.

  Mark took a halfhearted step towards us, in his suit that was probably worth more than I made last month, and I didn’t let him get any further or in our way. I switched on the headlamp to combat the dark, put my baby in gear, and took us down the alley and to the street, pausing for a break in between the cages rolling by.

  Traffic was light this time of night, so I took us out and into the flow of traffic away from the douchebag pretty quickly. As soon as we hit the next stoplight, I turned enough to call out, “Where am I taking you?”

  “The Echelon building!”

  “What, that big black tower?”

  “Yes, the big black tower,” she said dispassionately and I gave a shrug. I couldn’t tell where her bitterness was coming from; what it was about the building. If I had to guess, maybe it was where they’d met or something. She’d been polite-but-stiff with me to this point, but I got the impression the ‘stiff’ had to do more with her utter humiliation at the hands of that ass than anything else.

  “You’re the boss!” I called back to her, and checked between buildings at the skyline to orient myself and figure out what side streets to take in the direction of the obsidian monstrosity that’d been built.

  I hated it for a few reasons. One: that they’d built it pretty much solely to cater to the rich and famous. Two: that the city had contracted with the developers that in any kind of emergency, the Indigo City Fire department, which included my ladder, was to go door-to-door checking on residents.