Halligan To My Axe(The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2)

By: Lani Lynn Vale
Chapter 1

The only fire he can’t put out is the one inside my heart.

-Adeline’s future self


“What is that smell?” I sniffed.

Getting up, I followed the smell with my nose until I wound up in my bathroom.

“What the hell is that?” I gasped as I saw smoke seeping through the floor of my bathroom.

“Oh, my God!” I wheezed.

Running to my room, I made a mad dash for my cell phone and started dialing 911 immediately.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The thick Cajun sounding woman’s voice asked.

“Um, yes. This is Adeline Sheffield. I live in the apartment complex of Hunter Hollows, apartment 1B. I can smell smoke, and something weird coming through the floor of my bathroom. I’m not really sure if anything is on fire, per say, but there is so much coming through my floor that it’s leaving a hazy film in the air.”

“Alright, we’ll have the fire department and an officer alerted right now. Can you give me your physical address?” The woman asked.

I rattled off the address and hung up despite the woman’s concern for me to stay connected.

I didn’t have time for that.

If I had to evacuate, I needed to start collecting my pets. Pronto.

Running through my apartment, I started looking in Monty’s usual haunts, but couldn’t find him.

“Monty, you big bastard. Where are you?” I hissed when I didn’t find him under the couch, above the mantle, or in the kitchen sink.

I knew he couldn’t be in with the rest of my newly acquired friends, because I’d kept the door closed, and he was just too darn big to get in without me opening the door for him first.

After five minutes of no results, I started getting nervous.

Had he gotten out? Oh, shit. Please be inside here somewhere, Monty. I pleaded while going inside my spare bedroom and doing a quick inventory.

“BFD! Mrs. Sheffield?” A man’s deep baritone voice echoed from the living room.

“Damn. Piss. Monty, you asshole.” I growled before running back to the front door.

Disengaging the locks, I yanked the door open with barely concealed frustration and about fell on my ass when a fist the size of a phone book came inches away from slamming into my head.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Phone book hand asked.

I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. You didn’t touch me. Is the apartment downstairs on fire?”

The firefighter, who was taller than my door jam, shook his head as if he was confused. “I’m sorry. We don’t know yet. You were the lady that called it in?”

At my nod, he continued. “Can I see the source of the smoke? We’re trying to get management to let us in, but since there’s no visible smoke from the outside, we’re not allowed to enter without permission.”

I turned and said, “Sure. Just close the door. I don’t want Monty getting out.”

That was if the slippery bastard wasn’t already out. He was prone to do that from time to time. Not that anyone in my complex knew that. He always came back. He’d get hungry, and he was a really lazy boy.

“It’s coming through the floor in my bathroom. There’s a really weird smell to it.” I said as I lead the large, intimidating man into my sanctuary.

“Nice bed.” The man rumbled.

The man’s voice was to die for, and somehow familiar.

I shivered as the low, deep tone of his voice slithered down my spine.

Smiling, I looked over my shoulder at him and my breath caught in my throat. The man was even more attractive inside where I could see his face. And I knew him. I’d seen him around town more than once. It’s a small town, and really hard not to start recognizing people when you see them on your way to work every day.

The man ran. Daily. With his shirt off.

I sat on my porch every morning and watched as he ran from one side of the road I lived on, to the other.

Then I move to the front and watch him make a full circuit through the complex’s parking lot before I have to leave for work.

Then I might possibly pass him on the way to work, depending on how far he ran that morning.

He was tan, and had the most piercing pale blue eyes I’d ever seen.

That wasn’t even mentioning the rock hard abs, and the sexy grooves that ran down his stomach to form a V at the base of his abdomen.

Unfortunately, the helmet on his head kept me from seeing his hair color, and the jacket and pants kept me from seeing the rest of him, which was truly saddening, but I knew he was gorgeous.

What I came up with one morning, however, was that he was either taken or gay. ‘Cause nobody that polished and good looking could be anything but. Life didn’t work like that.