Three Reasons to Love Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Epilogue

  Novels by Keira Montclair

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  To my children.

  Thank you both for being such inspirations for me,

  I’m so proud of you and I love you.

  To my son,

  Thanks for being my inspiration for Tristan in one very particular way.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A huge thank you to Captain Ron Poness, Jr. of the Gates Fire District for your assistance in my research of firefighting and everything it entails.

  To all firefighters everywhere, thank you for the job that you do!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Someone wanted her dead, and they’d gone to great lengths to complete their mission. Smoke collected in her lungs, the tendrils reaching into her alveoli, choking her ability to take in oxygen, her ability to breathe, her ability to live.

  Lauren Grant could feel the life force slipping out of her as she lay on the floor of her rented house, so close to the campus of Summerhill College, so close to help. Choking on thick smoke, she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would find her this late at night.

  The fire had started in the front room of the house at around midnight. She’d gone upstairs to wash up after staying up late to work on an assignment for her Medieval Scottish History class. A loud voice shouted something outside the front windows, so she rushed into the hall, only to hear a man shout something like, “You bitch. We’ll take care of you.”

  There was the sound of breaking glass, followed by a small explosion that shook the front of the building. The whole house filled with smoke in a matter of moments, the fire spreading with a shocking speed, basically barricading her inside. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom, crawled down the stairs, and turned the corner to try to make it out the back door, but her legs collapsed underneath her in the entrance to the kitchen.

  Now she lay on the floor, covering her mouth and nose with the towel, but she feared her efforts were futile. She was not the doctor her stepfather and brother were, but she knew the dangers of smoke inhalation.

  Sirens could now be heard over the crackling of the flames. Would they be able to find her in time? Male and female voices shouted at her from the front of the house, and she tried to scream, but to no avail.

  “Help me.” Her voice was so low and broken, no one would hear her. The voices carried to the back of the building, allowing her to make out part of their conversation.

  “Is anyone inside? Who lives here?”

  “Single woman. Doesn’t seem like anyone’s home.”

  Probably the firefighters talking, but she could only speculate. If she could just manage to yell or shout, but she had no energy left… She’d lost the ability to take a deep breath and, really, to be forceful about anything.

  Another voice reached her, a male. “But could she be trapped inside?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Help me, please.” Her voice came out a bit louder this time, but still not loud enough. She could feel the heat from the fire. The curtains had turned to fireballs. It was only a matter of time before…

  The sound of breaking glass caused her to cover her head, but she had no idea which window had blown in.

  “There’s a car in the driveway, so I’m going to assume someone’s inside. I’m going in.”

  The sound of an axe splintering wood came from the back door of the house. “Anyone here? Yell out so I know where you are.”

  Coughing and sputtering, she summoned the energy for one last yell. Her voice came out in a screech, but she hoped it was loud enough. “Here! I’m over here.” The searing heat from the flames was unbearable. She was about to be roasted alive.

  She dropped her face into her hands, praying God would take her quickly.

  ***

  Nathan Patterson made sure he had all the necessary gear on that he needed to go inside, including the required self-contained breathing apparatus. They’d arrived to find a working house fire, the entire building engulfed by flames. The front was much, much worse, which indicated the source of the fire could have been some sort of explosive thrown through a front window or the door as one witness’s report had suggested.

  After he and his partner axed down enough of the back door to climb into the house with all their gear on, Nathan yelled into the interior again. He dreaded going into the searing heat, but he had to see if anyone was inside. Intuition told him the woman might be trapped. He hoped they had a minute or two to knock the fire down and search the first floor before the second floor collapsed.

  There was no response. Aiming the hose at the base of the fire, they started to move into the kitchen. He hated this part. The adrenaline took over, as it always did, but the same training that empowered him to put the adrenaline to good use also allowed him to think while he stood in the middle of all that blistering heat.

  He knew exactly how a hot dog felt on a grill.

  Stepping over broken glass and splintered wood, he yelled again, and this time he thought he heard a woman’s voice.

  “Do you see anything, Nate?” his partner yelled.

  Yep, he did. The body of a woman lay just outside the kitchen. She’d pressed a towel in front of her face to help her breathe, but it had fallen away. Shit, he hoped he wasn’t too late.

  “Tell the EMTs to be ready for one. You’re going to have to handle the hose alone.” He stepped deeper into the house, and another firefighter came in behind him to help with the hose.

  He bent down to get his hands underneath her, then scooped her into his arms, thanking God he’d pushed himself to build up his biceps. Lifting a dead weight was a challenge with all his heavy equipment on.

  He followed the same path back out of the building, the thunder of collapsing walls trailing behind him. Just in time. Once outside, he carried her to the ambulance parked a short distance from the flames of the working fire.

  “Is she alert?” asked his brother Sam, also a firefighter and an EMT.

  “No, but I can see her breathing. Shallow, maybe eight to ten breaths per minute.” He carried her to the back of the ambulance, setting her on the waiting gurney. The guys were prepared, and they hooked her up to oxygen right away and got her attached to a monitor. They needed to check her vital signs, see if she was getting enough oxygen.

  One of the other firefighters said, “Isn’t that Lauren Grant? Ryan Ramsay’s stepsister?”

  Nate glanced at her. “I don’t know. Never met her.”

  Other firefighters from another company arrived, covering the area. Nate turned around to head back to the fire, but something stopped him. He hadn’t even looked at her face yet. He’d been told many times he needed to embrace the human aspect of being a firefighter, not just the battles they faced. Every year in his evaluation, he’d earned excellent marks except for the way he treated people—one supervisor had even said he treated them as if they were stuffed dolls.

  How could he explain that it was his survival tactic? That he couldn’t deal with the parts of the job that made it personal bec
ause of how it made him feel…and what it made him remember.

  But he wanted to make captain someday. To do that, he’d been warned that he needed to learn compassion, something he’d been told again and again.

  It was time to fix things. He would make himself look at this victim, if only to internalize what was at stake.

  His partner yelled out, “Take a break, we don’t need you right now. Captain just sent another group in. We’re knocking the fire down.”

  Nate removed his breathing apparatus to stare at the woman in front of him. She hadn’t moved yet, but Sam gave him a strange look as he checked her over. Nate moved to the side of the gurney, bending down to take a look at her. Without quite knowing why, he reached down and brushed his thumb across her cheek next to the mask, swiping at the soot there.

  His brother said, “You know her?” He looked understandably puzzled—this was something Nate had never done before.

  Nate shook his head. The woman’s long blonde hair was completely disheveled around her face, but something about her caught his attention…even haunted him. He couldn’t explain why. A few minutes later, he moved over to the truck and took off his helmet and jacket. He wasn’t going back into the house, and he was far enough away not to worry about an explosion. Something about the woman niggled at him, wouldn’t let go.

  His brother yelled, “Go over to the second truck and get some oxygen. Looks like you could use some.”

  Was he right? Was that why his thinking was so odd? He took a deep breath and headed back to the vehicle where the victim lay on the gurney, drawn there inexplicably. “Come here,” Sam said. “I’m hooking you up to a tank. You can’t even follow instructions.”

  His brother put a mask on him and he took a few deep breaths, doing his best to expand his lungs. He sat on the back of the truck, where he had a perfect view of the victim.

  Her eyes fluttered, so he leaned closer.

  “What is it?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing. I think she’s going to open her eyes. I wonder what color they are?”

  He didn’t need to look at his brother’s face to imagine his shocked expression. Nate Patterson didn’t like to look patients in the eye, something his brother knew better than anyone. But this one was different…she was different.

  He leaned closer, shoving the mask up on the top of his head.

  “Nate, put it back on.”

  Shit, she was beautiful. He was taking a slow perusal of her features when her eyes suddenly opened.

  Blue. Her eyes were blue. Before he could say or do anything, she threw a wild punch at his face, missing him.

  “Leave me alone,” she said, her voice scratchy.

  He could read the fear in her gaze, something he hated. “It’s all right. I’m a firefighter. I pulled you out. What’s your name?” He watched her blue eyes soften as the fear dissipated.

  “Lauren Grant.”

  “Lauren, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered as she reached for his hand. “I’ll never survive another man hurting me.”

  Then and there, Nate vowed to find out who had hurt her.

  ***

  When Lauren awakened, she was in a hospital room with a tube in her nose, she guessed to deliver oxygen. Her hand automatically went to her temple to massage the pounding pain that reminded her something had gone completely awry last night.

  It took a few minutes for her to clear her head, but memories dropped into place as she surveyed the room. She wasn’t alone—her stepbrother Ryan, a police officer, stood beside his sister Mallory, a registered nurse, both of them whispering. They were dressed in their work uniforms. Mallory noticed her open eyes first.

  “Lauren?” Mallory rushed to the side of the bed.

  “Are you both working?” The pounding in her head refused to abate no matter how much she rubbed it.

  “I was just finishing my shift when they brought you in after midnight. RJ is working the night shift. How do you feel?” Mallory was the only one who called Ryan RJ.

  “I have a pounding headache, but I don’t think I hit my head.”

  “No, there’s no sign of a bump, no swelling or bruising. It’s probably all the smoke you took in that’s giving you the headache.” Mallory brushed Lauren’s hair back from her face. “I’ll go find your nurse and get you something for it.”

  “Am I in the emergency room? Is that why you’re here?”

  Mallory replied, “Yes, we’re just watching your breathing for a bit. RJ will explain while I go find your nurse.”

  She broke into a coughing fit, and Ryan reached for the water pitcher on the stand by the table. He filled a cup and handed it to her. “Here, Lauren. I think you’ll need this close by. You took in a lot of smoke.” His eyes were serious and showed more emotion than usual. “We’re lucky the firefighters found you. Tell me what you remember.”

  Lauren took a sip of water, testing it, then two more sips before she set the cup down. “I couldn’t get out the front door, so tried to make it around to the back, but my legs gave out before I reached the door. I was sure I was about to die. Who saved me? I have a vague memory, but I can’t quite get the details.”

  “One of the firefighters. Nate Patterson, I believe.”

  “Do you know him?” Memories of his voice, his mannerisms stuck with her. She didn’t know why, but they had.

  “Yeah, he’s a great guy. Lives with his two brothers—the youngest one just graduated high school.”

  “Good, maybe you can help me find him when I get out of here. I’d like to thank him.”

  The nurse came in to give her some pills, followed by Mallory. The nurse said, “Glad to see you awake. Tell me about your pain. Is it just in your head?”

  “Yes. My head is pounding.”

  “You took in quite a bit of smoke, so I’d like to listen to your lungs and take your vital signs, if you don’t mind. The doctor said it might be a good idea for you to spend the night. She thought it would be best to keep you on oxygen.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep. I’m exhausted.” She took the pills and reached for the water. It was hard to swallow them down, but she managed it.

  Mallory peeked over the nurse’s shoulder while she placed a contraption on Lauren’s finger. Once the woman finished checking all of Lauren’s vitals, she said, “You’re improving, so that’s a wonderful sign. Let me know if those pills don’t help. I can ask your doctor for something stronger.”

  Once she left, Mallory whispered, “Well?” to Ryan.

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet, Mal.”

  “What?”

  Ryan cleared his throat and took a step closer. “Do you have any idea how the fire started?”

  Lauren sighed as more memories spiraled back to her. “Yes. I was upstairs in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I heard a male voice outside. I walked down the hallway to look out the front window. The man shouted something, the front window broke, and then it was like a small explosion shook the whole house.” That sound would never leave her, she was sure of it.

  Why now?

  Only one explanation came to mind. She’d been raped on campus as an undergraduate at Summerhill College, which had prompted her to start a support group for sexually abused women. She’d been supervised by her friend, Stacy, a social worker who’d obtained funding for a Center for Abused Women in a nearby city. After attending a session at the Center, Lauren had been inspired to offer similar services to the young women on her college campus. The support group, run under the wing of the Center, was the reason she still lived in Summerhill despite attending graduate school at Cornell. She didn’t have the heart to step away from the women who needed her help.

  Someone clearly didn’t like the fact that she was empowering victims to stand up for themselves, or maybe her attacker objected to the free self-defense classes Lauren and Stacy had set up with cooperation from campus security. Either way, Lauren knew what the assailant had meant: stop your su
pport group.

  Well, Lauren was proud of her accomplishments—and of all the woman she and Stacy had helped. She wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t.

  “Could you make out anything they said?” Ryan’s gaze was intent, the serious expression he often carried.

  “I…I think he said, ‘You bitch, we’ll take care of you.’”

  Mallory did her best to hide her gasp, but a bit of it sneaked out. “Oh, Lauren. How awful.” She moved over to squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ryan persisted. “Any idea who might have done this? Have you received any threats from anyone lately?” He pulled out the pad he kept in his pocket to take notes.

  Lauren thought for a moment, but then shook her head, only to grimace at the pain caused by the small movement. “I have no idea, Ryan. I mean, the Center is always busy. When I was visiting Stacy last week, I met with two women who’d been abused at the same frat here in Summerhill. The week before, two other women came to my group after having trouble with a different fraternity. But that’s not unusual. The beginning of the year is always the worst. Lots of binge drinking before pledge week.”

  “Students from Summerhill went to Stacy’s Center?”

  “Yes. That’s why I started my group. There’s nothing here for victims of sexual crimes. Stacy welcomes them, and I do what I can to publicize it in Summerhill—and fill in for the people who don’t want to make the journey.”

  “I can certainly picture a fraternity sending pledges or junior members to harass you,” Ryan said, jotting something down. “Do you remember the names of the frats?”

  Lauren gave him the information, but then said, “I can’t give you all of the women’s names, but I’ll give you two.” She spelled the names for him.

  “Why not all four?” Ryan asked.

  “Because two made me promise not to tell the police.”

  “Lauren, you know that could be hindering the investigation…”

  “I know, but could you check the other two first, please?” Her hand came up to rub her forehead.

  Ryan patted her other hand. “Never mind. I have enough to get started on. Get some rest, Lauren. I’ll check the two frats to start, especially since it’s the beginning of pledge season.”