Rekindle The Flames Extended Free Read.

Rekindle the Flames by Toye Lawson-Brown

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Ryan nodded his head. “Exactly. Megan is sweet and old fashioned. She didn’t love the guy and didn’t want to lead him on; I did not influence her to break up with him. Damn, it sucks I’m hurting her like this; she doesn’t deserve it.” He tossed the empty beer bottle in the trash after draining the last of its contents. “She’d probably be better off with the lawyer. His job is safe. He would be home at night to share in conversation about their day.” He swallowed hard. “And make love to her at night. He’d be around to do the shit I can’t do when I’m at the firehouse.”

“Don’t do it, Ryan. You’re second-guessing yourself. It’s OK to want to make Megan happy but not at your expense. She has to come around and accept that you have a right to have the life you want, too. We aren’t just your average Joes looking to have our ego’s stroked; we’re specially trained men and women who provide a valuable service to this city.”

“I owe her, Jon. Every day for months, she stood by my side. This fresh-faced young woman kept her head held high as she listened to the allegations that could have thrown me in jail for a long time. She never questioned me or once thought I was guilty. If she did, she never let it slip out of her mouth.”

“That’s because she loves you. The faith and trust were there for her, she didn’t need to question you.”

“I love her. I have to get Megan back, and nothing is going to stand in my way. If I have to give up being a firefighter, then I will.”

“Speaking as your lieutenant, I’m supposed to talk you out of doing something you’ll regret, but I’m talking to you as a family member. Don’t make a rash decision based on what you’re going through right now. First, agree to see the damn marriage counselor as she suggested. It can’t hurt to get a professional’s opinion on your marriage. They might be able to steer Megan in your direction.”

“What if they can’t, Jon? I’ll lose her for sure.”

“Man, you only have a few months left before you become a journeyman. Ryan, if you drop out now there is no coming back. The Cleveland Fire Department doesn’t hire that often. If you give up your lucrative spot, you’re a fool. I’m sorry if I sound blunt, but I’m telling you the truth.”

Ryan took his shoes that were sitting on the side of the chair and put them on. “I need some air.”

“Good idea. Go for a walk and think about everything. My shift starts tonight, so I won’t be here when you get back, but if you need to talk, call me.”

Ryan ran his hand over his scruffy face. He should clean up his appearance before going out in public. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. His facial hair consisted of a goatee and mustache and not the scruffy beard men were sporting these days. His thin nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes that appeared devilish when he looked a certain way made up the rest of his profile. He was also physically fit and had the body to prove he could do the strenuous work required of a firefighter. When he sat outside the firehouse, he would get approached by women walking up and down the street. He got more play from women as a firefighter than he ever did as a teacher. Even the cadet symbol on his helmet didn’t turn women off. However, none of that mattered to him. He was honest about being happily married. At least at the time, he was happily married.

“OK, I will. I think I’ll take a shower and shave first.”

This the fourth installment of the series.  Check out the first three installments.

So I've Been Doodling....

I had some time of my hands since my latest novel is done.  I've been playing around with a story in my head that revolves around mystery, suspense and romance.  Personally, I love those types of stories.  So, what I'm doing here is posting my doodling and would like to ask my readers if they would be interested in reading more of this.   If so, drop me a comment and I'll consider making it a full novel. 

This is raw material and has not been edited or cleaned up.  This is basically my characters talking to me and me putting it to paper.  So don't judge me too harshly.

Caught In The Trap 

“Where is the bus?” Tapping her foot angrily and looking down the street didn’t make the bus appear any faster. “I can’t believe this dang bus is late again!” Carla stated loudly. The only other person in the bus shelter sat quietly ignoring her rant.

 The adult white male with a colorful sleeve of tattoos crawling up his muscular left arm kept his eyes glued to his cell phone. Carla looked at him and rolled her eyes. He was seated in the shelter when she entered. Being the polite person she is, she spoke, and he snubbed her. That didn’t surprise her considering the neighborhood where she worked. The majority of the population in the area snubbed their noses at her and people like her; the hired help. But, instead of cleaning toilets and scrubbing floors, she looked after the elderly parents of families that didn’t have time to take care of them.

 Carla Parker sat near the far end of the bench to continue the wait for a bus to arrive. The bus stop was off the main road and ran on a limited schedule. Not many people took public transportation in this neck of the woods. Therefore, the bus made no attempt to keep a timely schedule. There was a possibility it could have come early and she missed it. If that was the case, she would have to walk two miles to get to an area where other buses were still running. She didn’t want to do that considering it was getting late and there were hardly any streetlamps to provide light.

 She took her cell phone from her purse and scrolled through it. She had missed several phone calls and a couple of text messages from her sister; those could wait. What she eagerly waited for was an email from a possible new employer. 

The job as a home health aide was not what she wanted to do anymore. But with her back against the wall and the bills piling up she had to step back into that role take the job temporarily. Carla didn’t hate the job; it paid reasonably well, and there wasn’t much work involved with this couple. Since the elderly couple, she cared for was not bedridden, they basically, they took care of themselves, she was just there to oversee them. The downfall of the job was the travel to get to work. It was a long commute from Cleveland Heights to Seven Hills. She had to find a job a closer to home.

Carla exhaled an irritated breath and got up to look down the street again. Dusk was setting in, and she still had connecting buses to catch. Pacing she patted her hands on her thighs, she would try again to make conversation with the man, but what would be the point? His face remained buried in his phone. If he hadn’t coughed once, she thought he might be dead since he hadn’t moved a muscle in the last thirty minutes.

 Two white men entered the bus shelter. Carla scanned over the well-dressed medium-built, white man as he sat next to the tattooed man; it was the first time he had raised his head. The other white man who was wearing dark sunglasses and all black stood in the doorway with large arms folded across a massive chest. 

Carla felt the hairs on her neck stand up. It was eighty degrees outside and too humid and hot for the type of clothing those men were wearing. She scooted off the bench. Her sixth sense kicked in and shouted for her to get the hell out of the shelter and fast. The two men did not fit; they were definitely there to make trouble, and she didn’t want any part of it.

 "Excuse me,” she said as she tried to exit through the doorway that the man blocked. The bus shelter only had one entrance and his massive body size did not leave her any room to get around him.

In a thickly accented voice, he said to her. “Have a seat.”

Carla swallowed and realized the man was not American. At this stage she didn’t care what he was; she just wanted out of the bus shelter. She tried to sound tough. She had relatives who lived in the hood and a few male cousins who were involved in gangs at one time in their lives. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her neck. “I don’t know what’s going on in here and I don’t care what y’all are doing; so get out of my way.”

 “Shut up and sit down!” The man barked at her.

 “Hey!” The well-dressed man shouted. “Don’t yell at the young lady; we’ll deal with her later.”

 Carla frowned and started to cuss until she heard the slight accent in his voice too. She felt sweat cover her entire body as she shook from the fear enveloping her. Dang, this cannot be good for tattoo dude into if these goons tracked him in a bus shelter. Heck, it can’t be good for me either; I’m a freaking witness to whatever is about to happen! She looked at the tattooed man who still seemed too calm and relaxed. He looked at her, winked and then lowered his head again. What did that mean? Did he want her to do something? She couldn’t if she wanted to, her legs felt like wet noodles. She sat down and felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her smock. Whoever was calling would be the last person to contact her before her death. As she saw it, there was no way she was getting out of this situation alive.

She couldn’t draw her eyes away from the tattooed man. He was now locked in an eye stare with the man seated next to him and it was fierce. Carla imagined the man acting as a body guard returned the death stare through is dark sunglasses, daring him to make a move.

 Then it happened.

 All hell broke loose in the confined shelter. Carla jumped to her feet as the tattooed man leaped from his position, attacking the man. The fighting was violent as the men threw punch after punch. The blows to the body made her cringe.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she plastered herself in the corner of the shelter. The only way out was to go between the two men fighting; that wasn’t happening. The foreign man fell into her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed as her head hit the cement floor. Her cries went unheard as the man was pulled off her, and the fighting continued.

Carla scrambled to her feet. The white man was outside the shelter banging on the thick glass. “Give me your hand,” he shouted to her from outside the shelter.

Confused she looked down at the ground. Did expect her to crawl under the shelter to get out? The space was barely large enough for a small child to fit, much less a grown woman with hips. He shouted at her again, this time he had a gun pointed and aimed at the tattooed man who was beating the living daylights out the man with the thick accent. She was trapped. She didn’t know if she should trust the man with the gun. Just because he was offering to help her, didn’t mean his intentions were good.

Carla scooted to the back of the shelter crunched between the bench and the wall. She wasn’t going anywhere. Somebody had to see the fight as they drove down the isolated road and call police. Then suddenly, a panel of the glass shattered as gunfire erupted. She covered her head as she cowered in the corner, screaming for dear life.

Meet Papa James Jones from Rekindle The Flames!

Don't mess with a man that appears quiet.  Ryan is not the only man in Megan's life that is protective of her.  James Jones doesn't play when it comes to his daughter, Megan.  Get a taste of his wrath.



Megan had been home from the hospital for a week and was making progress on her own with her recovery. Her organs, as well as her memory, were healing properly. Pieces of her memory were falling into place, creating a familiar puzzle. 

Once she stepped foot in her childhood home and saw her mother, her memory expanded. She remembered when Connor got married. She remembered how to drive but couldn't practice with only one working arm. She remembered Pam. Everything was falling into place except Ryan. She did remember the kiss, though: a kiss that had stayed on her lips for more than four days.

She was sitting on the sun porch, enjoying the weather when her father joined her. “Nice day out today. Do you want to go for a walk in the park?” he asked her.

“Maybe later, Dad.” She used her toes to push the rocking chair gently.

“What's going on between you and Mom?”

“Everything's fine between us, Megan.”

“Ha, that's a lie. Where's the love, Dad? I don’t remember this coldness between you two. I’ve seen you take her in a corner and whisper. I also think I heard arguing the other night.”

“Sweetheart, couples argue. We’re fine, and you don’t need to worry about us. Anyhow, have you talked to Ryan lately?”

She nodded. “Only for a minute today, he had to respond to a call. Dad, why is he the missing link to everything? He claims we are in love, and I do feel a stir when he is near me. I don’t know what it is. Whenever he is around me, my knees go to mush, my heart races, and I sweat. I guess what I’m experiencing is more lust than love.”

“Megan, the man does love you. He’s put up with a lot of chicanery and tantrums from you and Iona. Maybe that’s why you can’t remember. You want to forget the stuff you put him through.”

“I can’t see me being a pain in the ass. Everyone says I’m such a nice person.”

“You are, but you’re spoiled rotten to the core. I can say that because I’ve had a hand in spoiling you. When you don’t get your way, you throw a fit and demand until people, including Ryan, would give in to you.”

“Maybe I should go home. There could be something in the house that might trigger the neurons in my brain to snap together.”

“You should go home. The less exposure you have to Iona, the better.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It will all come to you and when it does, have a barf bag by your side. I have to run to the office to catch up on some work. Do you want to come with me to get out of the house?” James asked.

“Okay, I may be confused but not stupid. You don’t want me alone with Mom. I deserve to know why.” Megan saw the vein throbbing in her father’s temple, something she had never seen before.

“We’ll talk about that later. Get your purse; we’ll get a bite to eat and see a movie after I’m done at the office.”

She winked at her father. “A date with my handsome dad, on a Friday night, what more could a girl ask for?”

“Then, how about going to a movie with an old friend instead?” Iona’s voice had drifted onto the porch before she did. She raised her elegant shoulders. “Well?”

Megan saw a shadowy figure move in the corner of her eye. Just as she was about to take a second look, James’ small groan of disgust caused her to look at him. His nostrils were flared, and his jawline was tight. He was angry that Emin was there. James Jones never verbally displayed his anger, but anyone with eyes could see it when he was mad. He knew Emin had to see it today.

James stood up abruptly. “Iona, we have to talk now!”

“James, don’t be rude to a guest in our house. Emin is here to visit Megan. Show some kindness.”

“It’s fine, Iona. Mr. Jones has every right to be upset. I am here uninvited again, and I'm interrupting a father-daughter moment. Please, Mr. Jones, accept my apology.” Emin extended his hand to James.

James folded his arms across his chest, unmoved and unimpressed. “Yes, this is the second time this week. Exactly when do you plan on returning to work, Emin? After all, you’re what - a second or third-year associate? I can’t imagine your firm is happy that you’re away so often.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Emin leaned against the banister. “I’m not with that firm any longer. I work for my family’s business. I head up the legal department for our import business based here in Cleveland.”

“Huh, that’s a lot of responsibility for someone with little legal experience. You should think about spending more of your time in the office getting acclimated with the laws of the business instead of sniffing around my daughter who happens to be married.”

“James, stop it!” Iona scolded. Megan struggled to stand up from the rocking chair. She gave up after losing her balance and slumped back in the chair. She watched her father tower over Emin, waiting for lava to erupt from his smoldering head. She had no idea why he was so upset. He and Emin had always been friendly in the past.

James escorted Emin and Iona over to the far corner of the large deck. Megan couldn’t hear what they were talking about or see James’ face. She would have to read Iona’s face to get an idea of what was going on between the three of them.

James’ lips barely moved as he spoke. “I’m here to tell you right now don’t fuck with Megan. You think you’ve gained some balls by coming back to Cleveland, Emin. I’m here to tell you I will cut those bastards off and display them on my bookcase like a trophy.” He stabbed a finger in Emin’s chest. “Whatever business you have with Iona, get it over with and leave Megan out of it.”

“Mr. Jones, you might want to back off me,” Emin said, pushing his hand aside. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. You’re right; I do have business with your beautiful wife. She made me a promise, and I’m here to collect.”

“Correction: my ex-wife,” James barked.

Emin chuckled. “It doesn’t matter to me if she’s an ex-wife or not; she owes me, and I’m not leaving without my purchase or the return of my $3,000,000. Mr. Jones, there will be trouble if I’m refused either of them. I’d prefer Megan’s hand in marriage over the money if that helps you with making a decision.”

James frowned. “Son, you don’t know what trouble is. I don’t care what connections your family has or that you assume it is enough to frighten me. So that gall you’re exhibiting is scary to someone who doesn’t know you, but it doesn’t faze me.” He brushed the imaginary dirt off the lapels of Emin’s suit jacket and smiled sinisterly. “Once my wrath is in motion, you and everyone close to you will feel every ounce of it. Are you sure you want to find out exactly what I’m capable of doing?” Emin swallowed and moved away from James’ grip. “That’s what I thought. Now be a good boy, say goodbye to Megan, and never show your face around here again.”

“James, what has gotten into you?” Iona questioned.

He snarled at Iona. “You weren’t given permission to talk. You're aware of what I have in store for you, and you'll get it as soon as Megan is on her feet. Now, both of you get the hell out of my face before I forget I’m a mild-mannered man and show my true colors.”

Megan couldn’t read the expression on any of their faces. Emin smiled as he knelt down beside her. When he touched her hand, a chill spread through her whole body, making her shiver. It was 89-degrees outside, and there was no wind or fan nearby to cause her to have goosebumps. This was the second cold reaction she’d gotten from his touch. When he visited her days ago, she got the same sensation..
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