Braden Brandish was on top of the world as guitarist for the famed rock band Edge of Redemption. But an attack at the scene of a fire erased all his memories.
Firefighter Quinn Callahan is haunted by the victim she resuscitated—she knows him from somewhere, but can't place him. She checks up on him at the hospital and realizes he's a member of her favorite band. When Braden mistakenly believes she's his wife, the doctor encourages her to play along in order to prevent jeopardizing his health.
Desire blooms between them, even once Braden learns he's not really married to Quinn. But when it's discovered that the fire was actually arson, and more deadly fires erupt, the two are thrust into danger...and it appears Quinn's fugitive ex-husband might be involved. Will Braden regain his memory in time to put a killer behind bars?
Page Count: 282
Word Count: 63070
“Maybe we should call the police, Max. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“No. She specifically said no police.”
The clipped tone in his voice indicated his distress. Max wasn’t one to lose his cool. “Okay, let’s do this.”
She turned the headlights back on and drove slowly down the lane. The lights shined on the front of the house. Her stomach dropped. The place looked like something right off of one of those ghost shows. The house was badly in need of a paint job, and the shutters were one solid wind from falling off. There was not one single light on in the house and no cars anywhere to be found. The alarms were blaring at full blast in Quinn’s head.
“Max, I don’t know…”
“If she’s in trouble, Quinn, I have to help. I understand if you want to go back. Just drop me off at the door.”
“I can’t do that!” She sighed and cut the engine in front of the house, but made no move to exit the car. She looked over her shoulder toward the road. There wasn’t any traffic down this old dirt road. Any help would be non-existent. “So, what do we do? Walk up to the front door and knock?”
Max opened the car door slowly and stepped out. The creaking of the door added to the speed of her beating heart. She never considered herself a chicken…until now.
“I guess the front door’s the best place to start.”
Quinn shined the light on her cell phone in the direction of the rickety wooden steps. She prayed her foot wouldn’t go through. Max looked over his shoulder and she nodded to him. He slowly raised his hand and knocked. She cringed with the loudness of it.
“Listen! Did you hear that?” Max asked.
Quinn stood still. “Yes! It sounds like it’s coming from the backyard.”
Max hurried off the porch and toward the back of the house. He moved so fast, she jogged to keep up. He stopped at an old storm cellar. He bent down and knocked on the cellar door. Muffled screaming resounded from below. “Help me with this door, Quinn!”
The heavy wooden door was difficult to open and it landed with a loud crash against the earth. Quinn glanced around. If someone had her mother they couldn’t be far away. The woods behind the house added to her nervousness. She could barely see two feet in front of her.
“Quinn, shine that light down there.”
She kneeled down, shining the light in the space below. There, at the bottom was her mother, sitting in an old wooden chair, hands bound, and duct tape across her mouth. The first thing Quinn noticed was the terrified look in her eyes.
“Dear God!” Max said before lowering himself down an old staircase. Quinn followed him without question, wishing she’d gone against Max’s demand of not calling the police. She prayed they made it out before whoever did this returned.
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