Read Fire at Twilight: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 1 for Free Online

say they’re sick, they’re sick, and you have no right to come and check on them.” He would bang the phone down and point. “Pick as fast as you can, and we’ll get McD’s tonight.” To Grace and Samantha, to whom McDonald’s was the height of elegance and refinement, this was payment enough.
    Their father had stayed in the field until he died of skin cancer while Grace was in college. Their mother had died of a rare lung disease two years later. They were all sure it came from inhaling years of crop dust, but who could they appeal to? No one. Grace had tried so hard, to fix them both, to get them out, to get them healed, and nothing had worked.
    Escaping to the cool, foggy beach town of Darling Bay was the best thing she could have done. In the ten years she’d been here, Samantha had been with her, on and off, a year here and a year there. Grace cherished the time with her sister, trying not to grasp her too tightly, like she knew she sometimes did. She had to let her sister breathe. Knowing that and letting her sister have her own life, though, were two different things.
    A motorcycle took the corner at Taylor and First Street a little too fast. Speed demons always liked coming down First for its tight curve along the marina, but Grace hated it when they raced past her practice. The noise was one thing—the roar and gas fumes that came out of their tailpipes—but her real concern was safety. Someday she’d have to run out there to scoop one up off the roadway. She’d be the first person on scene, and yes, while she was CPR trained, she sure as heck never wanted to have to use it. Lifesaving was for people like Tox.
    Big, strong, grumpy Tox. The man wouldn’t leave her thoughts.
    The motorcycle paused, slowed, and then stopped in front. Great. Would he leave it parked there? In her best customer parking spot?
    The man got off the bike in one smooth motion, making it look like it weighed nothing beneath him.
    Then, as if she’d conjured him merely by thinking his name, the man took off his helmet.
    Tox.
    He looked criminally sexy. In his black leather jacket, he looked more like he was about to knock over a liquor store with a sawed-off shotgun rather than stride confidently up the three steps to her porch.
    One thing she knew—he was a robber, because she couldn’t quite get back the breath she kept losing when he was around.
    “Hey,” he said. The helmet hung lightly from a finger against his thigh. His wide, jean-clad thigh.
    “You actually like riding that thing?”
    “It’s nice to see you, too.”
    Grace realized she hadn’t responded to his opening salvo very appropriately, but she didn’t care that much. “You know the risks of riding a motorcycle?”
    “Not off the top of my head, no.” He took off his black leather jacket and laid it down on her porch swing. As if he owned the place.
    “You’re thirty-five times more likely to die in a crash than a person in a car, did you know that? And forty-eight percent of motorcycle crashes are a direct result of speeding.”
    “I did know that, actually. I don’t speed unless I’m alone on the highway.” He dragged his hand through his dark blond hair. Shaggy, and with just the right amount of curl to it, it looked amazing when he stopped. Grace knew that if she’d ever put a helmet on, she’d end up with worse hair than she did when she wore a baseball cap. But this guy looked tousled. She bet he always looked that good. Boy , that was annoying.
    So she continued, “A little less than half of all motorcycle deaths involve only the motorcyclist.”
    Tox almost smiled—she could tell he did. “How do you know all this?”
    Years of worrying about Samantha and her stupid motorcycle which she finally sold for drug money before she got clean the last time.
    “I know stuff.”
    “How are you feeling?”
    Oh. Tox was checking up on her. “You probably want your inhaler back. Hang on, it’s inside.”
    He raised a hand. “I’m fine. I