Page 4 of Sparks Fly

“Recruits! Line it up!” Hunter’s commanding bark slices through the humid morning air.

The eight of them quickly scramble into formation, Kaia wincing as the buckles on her gear dig into her skin. The lieutenant stalks down the line again, that scorching appraisal seeming to sear right through each of them.

“We start conditioning with sprints in full turnout gear plus breathing apparatus packs,” she announces curtly. “Anything less than your full effort will be immediately obvious to me and repaid with extra repetitions after. Am I making myself unmistakably clear?”

A ragged chorus of “Yes, Lieutenant!” answers her. Kaia focuses on the tiny bead of sweat trailing slowly down the firmly lean column of Hunter’s throat, forcing her mind to remain laser-sharp rather than wandering elsewhere.

“Then what are you mouth-breathers still standing around for? Let’s move!”

With that, they’re off. Kaia’s calves and lungs are already burning within a few dozen yards, the unforgiving Nevada sun beating down from above. She can hear the rasping breaths of the men around her, taste the sour tang of their struggle and exertion. A small, vicious thrill races through her veins.

This is her element—pushing her physical limits while chasing that euphoric edge of pain and pure power. Ignoring the protesting aches in her limbs, Kaia digs deeper and starts pumping her arms with renewed vigor. One by one, she tears past the floundering recruits until she’s dead even with the lead man.

Risking a sidelong glance, Kaia’s lips curl in a silent snarl as she catches his shocked, narrowed eyes. He’s likely not used to having a woman shove past and outpace him so easily. Good. Kaia lives for cracking that fragile male ego wide open.

At the end of the first lap, Hunter’s sharp whistle pierces the air. As the recruits trip over themselves grinding to a gasping halt, Kaia keeps her longer stride going right past the starting line. She can practically feel the weight of Hunter’s laser-focused stare singeing the back of her sweaty shirt.

Only once she’s put an extra fifteen yards between herself and the men does Kaia finally spin and rejoin the lineup. Chest heaving, she throws her arms over her head and stretches lazily, very aware of the venomous looks being thrown her way.

“Just getting a little head start, Lieutenant,” she rasps with a cheeky wink.

Rather than the scathing reprimand Kaia expects, Hunter’s full lips twitch in what might actually be amusement. A teasing glint dances in those arctic irises for the barest hint of a second.

“How generous of you to do extra credit from the jump, Montgomery,” she drawls. Her gaze rakes over Kaia from head to toe in a scorching appraisal. “Though surviving my training program relies on staying upright until I’m satisfied you’ve shown me everything you’ve got. Is that a challenge you think you can meet?”

Kaia’s pulse hammers in her ears as realization sparks—this intense drill, with its impossible demands—it’s a freaking mind game Hunter is playing. Trying to weed out who will be the first to crack under the strain, whether through physical failing or mental weakness. A delicious shiver races up Kaia’s spine at the thought of squaring off against such a merciless adversary.

There’s only one possible response.

“Always, Lieutenant,” Kaia husks, holding Hunter’s expectant stare as a bead of sweat trails slowly between her breasts. “I never disappoint.”

This time, Hunter’s slight smirk is unmistakable before she blows a shrill burst on her whistle to signal another lap.

From there, the morning fitness circuit becomes a blistering gauntlet of one-upmanship. Whenever one of the other recruits starts to fade or let their form slip, Kaia seizes the moment to surge ahead with obnoxious showboating—adding extra overhead presses to her fireman carries, doing diving push-up burpees between laps. Her muscles sing with every confident repetition, squashing any doubts she can’t pack on the protein like the rest of them.

More than once, one of the winded men hurls a nasty insult or profane slur at her preening efforts. But Kaia only drinks in their frothing rage with a smug grin, spurred on by the electric tingle of Hunter’s approving gaze tracking her every arrogant move.

It’s towards the end of an especially grueling set—weighted lunges combined with high knees—that Kaia’s distracted performance finally earns her a rebuke.

“Montgomery! What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hunter’s sharp yell cuts through Kaia’s panting exertion like a slap. “Are you actually attempting those tire jumps with your laces untied? Do you have a death wish?”

Kaia halts mid stride, chest heaving as she follows Hunter’s incredulous scowl down to her flopping bootlaces. Shit, she hadn’t even realized.

“There’s no excuse to get sloppy,” Hunter growls, suddenly right in Kaia’s face with those blazing blues boring into her. Kaia’s mouth goes unbearably dry as the heat of Hunter’s words gusts across her slick skin. “If you were to trip face-first at a live scene, your untied hazard could cost a life—be it yours, a civilian’s, or one of your own crewmate’s who has to compensate for your reckless mistake.”

The naked disappointment and accusation in Hunter’s tone hits Kaia like a bucket of icy water, extinguishing the giddy high of her gratuitous antics. The lieutenant steps back, eyes flaying Kaia where she stands, before she addresses the group.

“You may call me a stickler for presentation and protocol, but this job demands absolute focus and discipline at all times, not just when it’s convenient for your swollen egos,” Hunter’s scathing rebuke slices through the tense silence. “If you aren’t prepared to make that commitment, you have no business calling yourselves firefighters. We’ll pick this up again after lunch with some team-building exercises to remind you of what this uniform represents.”

With that, she turns on her heel and stalks off, seemingly oblivious to the way Kaia remains rooted in place.

Who is this woman? And why do I want her so much?

3

HALLIE

“Let’s go, go, go! Time is lives, people!”

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