Forged in Fire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Forged in Fire

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  If you missed Walking Through Fire, the first book in The Fire Chronicles Series, please turn the page for a sneak peek…

  Walking Through Fire

  Chapter One

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  On the floor, lying on its side

  was a half empty decanter. Obviously it had fallen when he passed out. Dressed only in his breeches, his bare chest and arms with their outward scars were a testament to his hard life, but she worried more for his hidden scars. His tears stopped, and his moans turned into short panting breaths, legs and arms thrashing around. He was going to hurt himself if he kept this up.

  “Kit! Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  He continued to twist, a grunt of effort escaped, followed by a cry of pain.

  “Kit!” She reached out, careful of his whipping arms and touched his shoulder. In a flash Beth was grabbed and flung onto the bed. Before she could even react, he threw a leg over her hip, straddling her. Leaning forward, he grabbed her throat with both hands in a crushing hold. When he started to squeeze, panic set in. Beth bucked her hips off the feather-ticked mattress trying to throw him off, but she couldn’t get much leverage. She slipped both her arms between his to try and break his hold. It wasn’t working. Her lungs screamed for air as she pummeled him with her fists—striking blows to his shoulders and chest, but it was too hard to concentrate. Her limbs felt like wet noodles. Her hits became frantic pats. She had to wake him. With the last of her failing strength she managed to claw at his face.

  Forged in Fire

  by

  C J Bahr

  The Fire Chronicles, Book 2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Forged in Fire

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by C J Bahr

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1787-8

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1788-5

  The Fire Chronicles, Book 2

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Marla

  Thank you for your belief and always being there

  Acknowledgments

  A story may start with a single person sitting at a keyboard, but it ends with a community. It takes a village to birth a novel, and my town is awesome.

  First, a huge thank you to my first reader, critiquer, and co-conspirator, Marla White. As always, your insights and comments bring out the best. You challenge me to rise above my limits.

  For my daring beta-readers, Jenn, Nahmi, and Tambra—Thank you for braving the rough version and your brilliant advice.

  To my editor, Amanda Barnett at Wild Rose Press, for her amazing support and help in polishing and making Forged in Fire the best book it could be. I loved collaborating with you once again.

  And of course, to the rest of the gang at Wild Rose Press, it’s a pleasure and honor to be a member of the garden.

  Last, but not least, thanks to you, my readers, for picking up this book. I love sharing Beth and Kit’s story with you. Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  West Yorkshire, England, January 1795

  The night pressed in around Christopher Locke. He hunched further into the warmth of his heavy black greatcoat as he stood beside his horse deep in the shadowy woods—blanketed in silence. A hush filled with expectation. The uncanny quiet struck a discord until the far-off yipping of a fox caused his horse to expel a soft nicker in return, breaking his moody reverie.

  “Quiet, my friend.” Kit stroked the gelding’s neck.

  His horse turned his head and nudged Kit’s coat pocket with his nose, causing his slight frown to disappear. “Later, after the job,” he whispered, aware sound traveled far on this chilly night.

  A cold wind from the north swirled the leaves at his feet, as he glanced up at the broad canopy of the forest trying, to judge the hour of night. The thick clouds and trees hid the moon, but his internal clock told him it was time. Dampness clung to the wind foreshadowing rain on the horizon. He hoped the weather would hold until he was home, warm by a fire with a drink in hand. But at least the darkness would aid his endeavor.

  Kit gave his gelding a final pat before placing his booted left foot into the stirrup. He swung himself up into the saddle with the agility born of living a lifetime on the edge of a blade. His prior mercenary life had honed his skills and reflexes, which played a part in his new one. He nudged Dante, his trusted collaborator, into a walk following a trail weaving through the trees. It didn’t take long to reach the road carved through the forest. It was the perfect location, a blind bend to a straightaway with plenty of concealment where he had an appointment to keep. He halted Dante at the edge of the woods, cloaking them within the dark murkiness.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing Kit’s gaze upward again to the rush of menacing clouds revealed by the break in the forest. Were they a harbinger of the approaching storm
or a message sent to turn him aside? Life was always a gamble. Was tonight the evening he would pay for his crimes? The thought was never far from his mind, living with him like a constant specter following him since he ran from his former life. If tonight he met the hangman’s noose, well he’d had a good ride. At least his current occupation afforded him some thrills and riches, which is more than he could say for a soldier’s pay. And he’d certainly lived longer than expected or deserved.

  The sharp clip clops of hooves pounding on the dirt road from around the bend alerted Kit. He smiled and yanked the black cravat up, covering his nose and mouth and then straightened the high collar of his greatcoat. A quick hand pressed down on his tricorne hat to secure it tighter to his head and shadow his eyes from observers. His hair was secured in a tight queue.

  Dante shivered beneath him. His friend knew what they were about this evening. With only the slightest pressure from his legs, his mount eagerly stepped out of the woods and onto the rutted road. Halting Dante, Kit dropped the reins, and pulled out a pistol, one of a matched pair. The double barrel flintlock was plain, the bare ivory inlayed grip smooth and well-used under his gloved hand—an old friend and a gift which tormented deep into his soul. He needed nothing fancy, only an accurate weapon with no misfires. The pistols offered him that comfortable precision, no matter how much he’d give anything not to own them. The pistols tortured him every time he looked at them, yet there was no possibility he could give them up, they meant too much. Verifying it was primed and loaded, he stood tall in his stirrups, as Dante held rock steady beneath him, and took aim.

  The driver was trotting his four-in-hand dangerously fast in this bleak gloom by the echo of their hooves. Obviously the coachman was no horseman, but he was justified in wanting to hurry past. After all, the night was dark and full of danger. He was sure the coachman wanted rid of this isolated patch of road and into more civilized surroundings. The hairpin turn would correct the pace of the horses. Kit’s lips curled up under his dark mask, his blood pumping through his veins, arm held steady as he waited.

  He heard the horses break gait to a walk and shortly they appeared around the bend. Kit and Dante continued to hold firm as they waited for the carriage to complete its turn. Then with a loud roaring bang and a splash of sparks he fired, his shot glanced past the driver, taking the coachman’s earlobe with it. The man cried out, slapping a hand to his injured ear while dropping a set of reins. The leaderless carriage horses shied left, but were halted by the dense woods edging the road.

  Kit raised his second pistol, mentally marking the three shots left. Taking aim once more, he shouted his favorite words, the standard greeting of fellow highwaymen. “Stand and deliver!”

  Chapter Two

  Northern Scotland, Near Durness, July, Present Day

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this! It’s so exciting! So cloak and dagger-ish,” Beth fidgeted next to her best friend. She was always up for an adventure, but she was usually the one dragging her friend into trouble, not the other way around.

  “Hush.” Laurel glared at her. “We don’t know if Alex is out of town or not.” Laurel reached the door and rang the bell to Sinclair House, waiting to see if he answered.

  Beth had been thrilled when her best friend finally found time to escape her job in Chicago to visit. This past year, meeting and then marrying Grant Murray while studying Celtic design in Scotland had changed everything for Beth. She’d uprooted her life in the States as an interior decorator and moved into his home, Cleitmuir Manor, a whirlwind decision she’d never regretted, no matter how much she might miss her own family and best friend. But now, trying to steal a sapphire ring from Alex, her treasure hunting neighbor and most likely a killer—in the literal sense—got her blood pumping. It reminded her of all the fun times she’d spent with Laurel, minus the murderer of course. Beth, the normal instigator of adventures and troublemaking, felt only pride in Laurel, who trumped all her past efforts by discovering a tortured ghost in need of help. An actual flesh and blood ghost!

  “But I thought you said he’d be gone?” Beth hoped so. She really didn’t want Alex to catch them.

  “I said, Alex thought he might be gone. There is a difference.” She rang the bell again, still no answer. “I think it’s safe. Let’s look for the key. He said he’d leave one.”

  She and Laurel didn’t have to search long. It was in the first place they looked, under the doormat.

  “Well, here we go,” Laurel whispered as she unlocked the door.

  “How do we know the ring’s even here? I’ve seen Alex wearing it.”

  They slipped inside and shut the door behind them. Laurel dragged her toward the front parlor.

  “He wasn’t wearing it yesterday, and it was sitting on the mantel in the same place he put it after it snagged in my hair a week ago.”

  “Oh good, then this should be easy,” Beth replied as she followed closely behind. “Though it’s hard to believe he’d leave an heirloom sapphire just lying about. I mean, it is valuable.” She couldn’t stop babbling. “How cool is this? We’re treasure swiping from a treasure hunter. I can’t believe Simon never noticed Alex wearing it. And wait until we give the ring back to Simon. He’s gonna be speechless. And when he finds out it’s the missing key, double rainbows all the way! Oh, and can you imagine what Alex will do if he ever finds out he had the key all along—oof!” She slammed into her best friend, since Laurel crashed to a halt directly in front of her.

  “Shit.”

  “What? A little warning about the stoppage next time, friend.”

  “The ring, it’s not here.”

  “So much for simple.”

  “Damn.”

  “Maybe he’s wearing it?” Beth suggested.

  “Let’s hope not. We need to search the house.” Laurel looked around. “Crap, this place is huge. We’ve got to think about this logically.” She closed her eyes while thinking out loud. “If he’s not wearing it, where would he keep his jewelry?”

  “Either a safe or his bedroom,” Beth answered without hesitation.

  “Good, we’ll try his bedroom. I don’t even want to think about locating a hidden safe. Any idea where it might be? His bedroom, that is.”

  “Of course. I had a tour of Sinclair House eons ago. He never took you to his bedroom? Some seducer he is…Yeah, right, probably a good thing. Follow me.” She couldn’t believe she’d tried to match-make her best friend with a killer. The thought had invisible ants crawling all over her skin. After they got the ring and helped Simon, they needed to find a way to bring Alex to justice.

  Beth led Laurel up the grand stairs, then down the hall to its end. She paused at the open door on her right.

  “Here you go. Now what?”

  “Get searching. We split up.”

  “Aye, aye, mon Capitán!” Beth decided to head directly to the nightstand next to the bed, while Laurel went straight to the dressing table near the mahogany wardrobe.

  “Wow! Black Code by Armani. No wonder he smells so good. I wonder if he’s a boxer or briefs guy? Oh, or maybe commando!”

  “Beth, focus,” Laurel called across the room. “We don’t know how much time we have.”

  “Sorry.” Beth couldn’t help herself. She tended to babble and crack jokes when nervous. Laurel was right, they needed to speed things up. She turned from the nightstand and gasped. Alex MacKenzie stood lounging in the open doorway, leaning casually against the frame, with one arm behind his back.

  “And just what are you lasses doing here?”

  Beth caught the quick glance Laurel shot across the room, warning her to keep her mouth shut. No problem there. What the hell were they going to do now?

  “Um, Beth dropped by while I was researching,” Laurel lied. “We got to talking about the house and when she found out I hadn’t toured the place, she offered to show me around.”

  Beth smothered the sigh, which almost escaped at Laurel’s plausible explanation. Quickly, she nodded in agreement, ke
eping her mouth shut before she said something stupid. Like possibly accusing him of multiple murders and getting in his face. Probably not the best time to confront him on his own home turf, but damn, she really hated the unfairness of not being able to.

  Alex let out a low chuckle. “Is that the reason you’re pawing through my personal belongings? Don’t get me wrong. I’ve always wanted you in my bedroom and with a friend. I’m open for doubles.” He glanced at Beth.

  Ewww. That’s just gross. She met his gaze directly, hoping her thoughts were apparent on her face.

  “It’s boxers, by the way,” he replied, proving he had been there long enough to eavesdrop.

  They definitely were in trouble. How were they going to get out of this?

  Alex finally tore his gaze away from her and locked it onto Laurel. “However, you seem to be on a mission. What are you searching for?”

  “Nothing. Honest.” Laurel held up two fingers in the Boy Scouts’ pledge and then dropped her hand. “Chalk it up to curiosity. I wanted to find out more about you. So I was snooping. I’m sorry and truthfully, quite embarrassed. I apologize.”

  Again, Alex gave a throaty laugh. “You’re a horrible liar. Now, I’ll ask again, what are you looking for?”

  Laurel kept her mouth shut, and Beth followed suit. Best to be quiet and let the mind work on swiftly figuring a way out.

  Alex tsked. “I warn you, I’ll only ask so many times. I’m not stupid. I know you figured something out yesterday. Where’s the treasure, lass?”

  “The gold? Surely you don’t think I was going to find it in your bedroom. After all, I would have thought you’d have noticed a horde of Jacobite gold lying about, you being a treasure hunter and all.”

  He shook his head. “You and I both know it’s not gold.” Anger leaked into his voice.

  “I—”

  “No!” He interrupted Laurel. “One and only one more time. What are you searching for?”

  Ants started creeping across Beth’s skin again as Laurel shot a worried glance her way. This was so not good. Maybe if they coordinated their attack the two of them could jump and overpower him? How to communicate it…