Bad Boy Firefighter Shifters Read online

  BAD BOY FIREFIGHTER SHIFTERS

  BELLA LOVE-WINS

  Contents

  Bad Boy Firefighter Shifters

  Copyright

  Join My Exclusive Reader List

  Author’s Note

  Bad Boy Fire Bear

  Alpha Fire Bear

  Bad Boy Rebel Bear

  Other Books in the Marked Chronicles

  Join My Exclusive Reader List

  Bad Boy Firefighter Shifters

  Marked Bear Shifter Romance Series

  Bad Boy Fire Bear

  Alpha Fire Bear

  Bad Boy Rebel Bear

  Three Standalone Shifter Stories

  Bella Love-Wins

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BAD BOY FIREFIGHTER SHIFTERS

  INCLUDING

  BAD BOY FIRE BEAR

  ALPHA FIRE BEAR

  BAD BOY REBEL BEAR

  Copyright © 2016 Bella Love-Wins

  Written by Bella Love-Wins.

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Sincerely,

  Bella Love-Wins

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  Author’s Note

  Bad Boy Firefighter Shifters Box Set and all of Bella Love-Wins’ shifter stories are set in a world which includes both natural born shifters and shifters who are turned by a mystical immortal mystery woman named Theriona. The entire saga is called The Marked Chronicles.

  For the most part, humans are not aware of their existence.

  Be ready for sexy shifters of all varieties, witches, immortal beings and a lot of romantic hook-ups!

  Each book in this box set tells its own story and can be read on its own.

  I

  Bad Boy Fire Bear

  1

  Jax

  T he deep thrum of country western music filled the air of the Steak and Ale Saloon like a thin haze. Jax Carson listened to it with half an ear, his gaze fixed on the unconscious sway of the new blonde waitress’s shapely hips. Her jean skirt stretched snug over her tight ass, cupping it lovingly. The blue denim ended at mid-thigh, exposing creamy skin that seemed to go on for miles before her calves tucked into her scuffed cowboy boots.

  Abruptly, the rough white paper of a napkin shoved into his face cut off his view.

  “Here.”

  Jax scowled as he balled the napkin and threw it on the round oak table. Toby grinned. He was a six-foot-tall shifter better suited to a wily fox than a bear, in Jax’s opinion. The grin ate up the lower half of Toby’s face. A dimple flashed on the left side of his mouth.

  “What the hell was that for?” Jax growled.

  “Your drool. There’s a puddle on the table below your chin.”

  Jax growled. To Toby’s right, Nash—a six-foot-eight giant of a bear shifter—leaned his chair back on two precarious legs as he chuckled. Jax glared at him. The buttons on his plaid shirt strained as he hiked his broad shoulders back, and each one of those buttons down the front looked like they could pop off anytime. If he wasn’t careful, he’d put out somebody’s eye. Hopefully Toby’s.

  With an answering grin on his bearded face, Nash said, “I wouldn’t bother with that one. Toby already tried to make the moves on her.”

  Toby threw his hands in the air. His artfully-styled brown hair drooped onto his forehead. He brushed it away impatiently. “Like hell I did.” He pointed to his ring finger. “Happily married, remember?”

  Ignoring Toby’s outburst, Nash continued. “True, but she thought you were making the moves on her, and that look she gave you was priceless, man. Heck if looks could freeze, Toby’s dick would be a popsicle.”

  Crossing his arms over his blue t-shirt, Toby grumbled, “So it’s a crime now to ask the new waitress where she’s from?”

  Brock, the fourth and last of men at the table, looked on with a smirk. Something about it made Jax certain he knew something more. As always, Brock’s dark, exotic features remained a shield against his thoughts, impenetrable. Jax leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re hiding something. Spill it.”

  The six-foot-four-inches-tall bear shifter gave a one-shouldered shrug. Toby, who had opened his mouth again, no doubt to lodge some other complaint, shut it and leaned forward.

  “You holding out on us, boss?”

  “I know nothing,” Brock said. The low rumble of his voice was nearly devoured by the music. “She hasn’t even told Sky her story.”

  Sky was the seasoned waitress at the bar and the woman Brock had been panting over for months. She was friendly enough, but Brock had his eyes on her, so she was off limits to everyone around the table.

  Nash leaned farther back in his chair, leaning his blond head back and tipping up the last dredges of beer in his glass. The moment he slapped the glass on the table, Jax refilled it, emptying the pitcher. The froth spewed over the top and down the sides of the glass.

  Nash slammed all four chair legs onto the ground with a grimace. “Come on, man!”

  Jax smirked. “Looks like we need another. I’ll get it.” He scooped up the empty pitcher before any of his friends could protest.

  Nash threw a wadded up napkin in Jax’s direction. He missed.

  Toby called, “You’re buying.”

  Jax shot him a smile. “Are you kidding? I’m the farm hand and volunteer firefighter. You three are the full time firefighters. Paid firefighters, I might add. This one’s going on your tab, Toby.”

  With a swagger in his step, Jax crossed the bar toward the counter, making a beeline to where the new waitress was chatting with the bartender. Halfway there, a curvy, redheaded waitress named Lucy got his attention by trailing her fingers over his arm as he passed.

  “Need a refill there, tiger?” she all but purred.

  Jax fought a grimace. It was a figure of speech, but he hated the nickname she’d given him ever since their one night stand. He was a bear, for god’s sake! Not that she knew that. There weren’t so many shifters around that they could afford to expose their existence to humans.

  With a forced smile that made his cheeks ache, Jax said, “Thanks, Luce, but I got this.”

  She gave him a pout as he expertly extracted himself from her clutches. Lucy had been trying to sink her claws into him ever since their one night together. She was attractive enough, but just not as enticing a distraction as the new waitress.

  Now there was a woman. From this distance, he guessed her height at about five-seven or five-eight, five or six inches shorter than him. The black apron she wore wrapped around her slim waist, hugging her figure just above the flare of her hips. Her blond hair escaped the ponytail pulled to the back of her head, strands falling over her hazel eyes and down the side of her face to frame the perfect oval shape of her face. And that mouth…

  He had wicked, wicked fantasies about that mouth.

  Thrusting his shoulders back, he leaned one arm against the bar next to her. “Hi there, Joleen.” He pronounced her name slowly, accentuating both syllables as he read it off her nametag. It gave him an excuse to continue admiring the swell of her breasts underneath the black Steak and Ale Saloon t-shirt she wore.

  Her mouth narrowed to a disapproving frown. “What can I do for you?” Her voice was clipped, cold.

  She’d caught him ogling her. No matter. If he got his way, he’d be doing a lot more ogling tonight, without the encumbrance of that t-shirt.

  He gave her his most dazzling smile, the one that attracted women to him like moths to a flame. “We could use another pitcher of beer.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer. She smelled of jasmine and orange blossom, an intoxicating mix of sultry and sweet. “Plus, I can always use the company of a beautiful woman, if you’d care to join me and my friends.”

  Her expression turned stony, like she was chiseled from ice. “I’m afraid that’s not on the menu.” She snatched the empty pitcher from his hand and slid it across the counter. “Greg, can you help him out with a refill? I have to go clear table five.”

  Without another word to Jax, she turned strutted away. The heels of her cowboy boots clicked against the wooded floors. He waited, the smile fixed on his face, for the moment she would look behind her, proving she was only playing hard to get. She walked halfway across the bar without her muscles so much as twitching in his direction. His smile slipped.

  Could she seriously not be interested? He straightened as the bartender placed the refilled pitcher on the dark wood counter in front of him. Jax’s gaze never left Joleen as she reached a table laden with used glasses and began to clear it. She didn’t look back at him.

  His mouth twisted with chagrin. Maybe this one would prove more of a challenge. He damn sure wasn’t going to give up that easily. Fishing out a couple of bi
lls from his pocket, he slapped them onto the counter to pay for the pitcher. Never mind that his friends, all full-time firefighters, made more than he did as a farm hand. As long as he used his volunteer hours to show the station Chief that he was the man for the job, the next full time position that opened up would be his. Rumor had it that Bill Phillips, a firefighter approaching his mid-fifties, was being interviewed for Chief position a few counties over.

  Jax risked a glance at the new waitress, still bent over Table Five as she wiped it down. He could look at her like that for hours. He snatched the pitcher of beer and retreated to his friends.

  Toby tossed his head with a grin. “So when’s the wedding?”

  Jax scowled. “Shut up. You struck out, too.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get in her pants, bud.” He waved his left hand around so wildly that he almost smacked Nash in the face. “Why don’t you ever remember I’m married.”

  Nash shrugged. “You never bring her around anymore.”

  Toby grimaced. “She’s not into drinking beers with dudes.”

  Depositing the pitcher on the table, Jax slid into place beside Toby. “She froze you out, didn’t she? I can tell. You’re not getting any.”

  Even Brock, usually solemn, laughed at that. His grin made his dark eyes narrow. Jax had met his mother once. She was a tiny Hawaiian woman about half Brock’s height. Whenever he smiled or laughed, which was rare, Brock resembled his mother more than ever. Not that Jax would ever say such a thing out loud. He doubted Brock would take well to anyone mentioning his mother, even with the best of intentions.

  As the group’s laughter died down, Jax leaned forward. “So how’s the firefighting been?” He’d heard rumors that there were more than usual. It made him itch to be on duty at the station. Instead he was doing odd jobs at Arthur Wittfield’s ranch. He was still grateful for the job. It allowed him to have close contact with his own kind, but it wasn’t the same as putting out fires, saving lives, making a difference that meant something more to him because of his own past.

  If someone had only come a little bit sooner when he was eighteen…

  “Busy,” Brock admitted. His deep voice jostled Jax from his thoughts. “There’s been a string of suspicious fires, most along the I-80.”

  Jax frowned. “Weird. I know it’s been a dry summer, but it’s odd for them to be localized like that. You’re not thinking arson, are you?”

  Toby, for once perfectly serious, raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “The fire investigator and Chief are still conferring on the last two. For now, the jury’s out.”

  “Any—” The word stuck in Jax’s throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Any fatalities?”

  “Not yet, knock on wood.” Nash rapped on the table to punctuate his words. “So far, about half dozen people have been sent to the hospital to treat smoke inhalation.”

  Smoke inhalation was the real killer, not the flames. Jax knew that firsthand. Jax clutched his glass so hard it groaned. He shoved it away, pushing himself to his feet at the same time. “I’ll be back…”

  The crowd parted for Jax as he moved through the bar to the hallway near the kitchen. He felt more than one pair of eyes rake across his shoulders, but he ignored them. He braced his hand flat on the door to the men’s room and flung it open. The door smacked off the wall and ricocheted closed when he stepped through. He leaned his hands on the cold porcelain sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

  She was in there, his mother, in the way his eyes looked like bullish storm clouds when he was cross. His dad was there too, in the set of his nose and the cleft of his chin. His hair was an odd brown-red color between them both. It always shone more red in bright light, reminding him of his sister, Jody. The sink creaked under his white-knuckled grip. Why did their ghosts have to follow him everywhere? His eyes glossed over with tears, blurring the reflection.

  The door to the bathroom opened. Normally Jax would have sensed someone coming, but right now he had the family he lost on his mind. He turned his back, staring up at the ceiling while he blinked away his tears. When he had himself under control, he looked to see who it was.

  A woman pressed her back against the door, turning the lock with a click that shot all the way to his gut. He had seen her once or twice in the bar. Cute face, wide hips, full breasts, and she always wore the skimpiest shirts to show off her navel ring. Her dark curls were pulled half up, out of her face, though one stubborn lock clung to the side of her mouth as she sent him a sensual smile.

  “Hi there, big boy. You looked pretty lonely out there, so I thought I’d come in here and keep you company.”

  Her words were slightly slurred. That, coupled with the way she leaned heavily against the door, told him she was hammered. Not that he couldn’t have charmed her into the bathroom while she was sober, but he usually liked to make a cursory effort first. And tonight, he wasn’t looking.

  He crossed to her in three ground-eating steps and reached for the door beside her. She arched up, rubbing herself along his front. He unlocked the door, shifted her weight forward onto him as he took a step back. He leaned his mouth close to her ear as he murmured, “Sorry, doll. Not tonight.”

  He yanked open the door, spun her around, and deposited her into the hallway. He shut the door behind her, leaning his weight into it as he waited for the message to sink in. The click of her heels against the wood floor signaled her departure. He counted to five, collecting himself, but he couldn’t stay in here forever. With his luck, some other sex kitten would swagger in. He wasn’t in the mood for a quickie tonight. Hearing about the rash of fires had his mind on getting out there and helping to fight them alongside his friends. Hoping that chance to be full time would come soon, he exited the washroom.

  He nearly collided with Joleen, and wondered if she had planned to be the next one charging in the men’s washroom to find him. If he knew that was coming, he would have waited just a little longer.

  2

  Joleen

  J oleen Emery watched from a distance as a curvy woman straightened her barely-there blouse and staggered away from the men’s bathroom. Joleen had seen her before. The woman had a habit of showing up on Friday or Saturday nights. She would take her pick of the men who were interested and leave with them for one-on-one fun out in the parking lot. Nothing was wrong with that. She was a free woman, unlike Joleen.

  Biting the inside of her cheek as she stepped out of the way, Joleen pressed against the wall of the dim hallway. God, she desperately wanted to be gone from Cole and that house by now. She couldn’t up and leave without a plan, though. Cole would kill her.

  That’s why you’re here. Remember that.

  Earn your pay, get your tips, find a place and get the hell away from Cole.

  In exactly that order.

  She continued on her way to the manager’s office in the back. As she crossed the men’s room door, it swung open and she nearly collided with the patron who exited. Undoubted the one who Little Miss Sexy Belly Ring had just had a fling with. Off-balance, Joleen braced her hand against his black, button-down shirt. It was smooth, almost velvety to the touch, over a hard, muscled chest. She dropped her hand the second she caught her balance and craned her neck to look up into his face.

  “Sorry—”

  The word dropped from her lips as she recognized him. Mr. Tall, Sexy, and Arrogant from the bar counter. Apparently, he got around. His grayish eyes darkened, pupils widening as he stared down at her. His chiseled jaw line was dusted with dark stubble that matched his short-cut brown hair. The lights in the hallway played tricks on her, making his hair seem almost red in places.

  When he caught her looking him over, his appreciative expression turned smug. She stepped back, putting as much distance between them as she could. The flood of cool air down her front hit her like a slap in the face. She welcomed it. She didn’t need the hyperawareness of the width of his shoulders behind that shirt, or the way his naked forearms, dusted with dark hair, bulged beneath where he’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows. She had enough trouble in her life without being attracted to a playboy like him. Joleen had made a lot of mistakes, but she was determined that this almost irresistible man wouldn’t be one of them.