‘Then don’t,’ I order.
The hand splayed against the small of my back contracts. My lips part and his tongue slips inside—
And then the freaking station alarm goes off.
I have never heard Jake utter such foul words as when he rips his mouth from mine. Complaints and grumbles come from the living room, along with Nelson’s plaintive, ‘I had twenty bucks riding on this game.’
Jeff pops his head around the doorway. ‘Jacobs—Shit, sorry.’
‘Coming,’ Jake says.
‘Go,’ I urge, pushing against his shoulders. ‘Just …’ I swallow and try not to sound too stupid. ‘Be safe.’
The corners of his eyes soften and he promises, ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll call later.’
He presses one more kiss to my lips and he’s gone, vanishing down the hall behind the other men.
My legs tremble when I hop down from the counter. I remain in the kitchen as the sound of shouts and bay doors opening rise and fall. There are the sirens. Even through the thick walls I hear them wailing their way down the street, turning towards the light and fading out as they head towards the south section of town.
I grab my purse and leave, making sure to pull the door shut behind me so it locks. I start to drive home. My groceries sit forlornly in the back of my car and the radio plays another catchy song. Only one thought keeps running through my head:
He said he’d call me later.
Chapter 5
I recheck my gear, forcing my mind to return to thoughts of work instead of a certain woman who kissed the hell out of me in our station kitchen. I’m not sure what pushed Maya to react, but I do know one thing: she didn’t deny that she wants me. Doesn’t seem like the normal reaction of a woman who’s supposedly only waiting for me to screw up …
The siren wails as we speed through the streets. The engine’s taken us into the blue-collar district of the town, out on the waterfront where the old warehouses and canneries still stand. Some remain in use, while others are abandoned. We don’t care much about that. We’re more focused on the fact that if the fire catches, there’s a lot it can spread to.
It doesn’t look like much when we pull up. Smoke billows from the building, but there’s no visible flame. Workers stand in a crowd a few warehouses down in various stages of shock. Hoses are dragged out, hydra
nts opened, and our captain’s gathering what info he can.
‘I recognise this place,’ Jeff says. ‘My cousin used to work here. Storage place.’
‘What’d they store?’ Travis asks.
‘Files mostly.’
Captain Blake returns, silencing the conversation. ‘Reports of three employees still inside¸’ he updates us. ‘There’s an office about thirty feet inside and to the left. Bathrooms across the hall from it.’
Travis gets the nozzle in position with Nelson backing him up, while Ty, Jeff, and I prepare to enter the building. Being on the rescue team is why I love my job. This is the part of firefighting that every kid dreams of: saving someone. The knowledge that we’ve got three people trapped inside adds an urgency and puts me further on edge. See, out of all she said earlier, that’s the one thing Maya got wrong. I’m not one of those idiots who runs into fires.
Fire lives. It breathes. It fucks you up when you get lazy or arrogant. I’m damn good at my job, partially because I like living and I have a healthy fear of burning. Anyone who says otherwise is full of shit.
Captain gives the order and we go in.
The inside is dark, already heavy with smoke despite the cavernous space. Our flashlights’ beams reflect off the clouds filling the building. The familiar growl of far-off flames cuts through the noise in my mask. We work our way toward the office as our radios squawk updates.
‘Fire department!’ Ty bellows as we enter the hallway. The smoke’s thicker here, concentrated in the narrow space. No answer.
‘Fire department!’ I yell. ‘Where are you?’
Three doors await us, two to the outer wall, one to the inside. Jeff takes the first bathroom, while Ty and I try to enter the office. The door is jammed. Ty moves aside and I kick, gratified by the sound of wood splintering. A few more kicks and the door gives, swinging inside.
The hall may be smoky, but the office is worse and black as hell. Our lights swing as we move. My breathing—a strange, claustrophobic sound—echoes in the mask. The front portion of the office appears empty, except for a few tipped chairs and file cabinets.
The radio continues its warnings. The fire’s spreading and the hydrant we tapped isn’t producing. They’re looking for another. Ty searches to our left, so I go right. The office opens up into a windowed space overlooking the floor. One of the large windows in the back is broken, probably in an effort to climb out when the door became stuck, but the glass is too jagged to navigate. Desks are up against the walls. The first is flimsy particle board and flips easily, clearing my path.