“Got it,” Ax says. “Watch your six.”

The radio falls silent, and I continue, knowing that without a doubt, my boys have my back if something were to go down.

I make my way to the offices, walking around the old machinery that's carelessly been left here. The floor is slick with oil, only making matters worse for us. I check the adjoining bathroom, kicking open the stall doors and calling out, asking if anyone is here.

The smoke is getting thicker, and I fear that had someone been trapped in here for this long, they’d already be passed out, or worse. I yell out anyway. They might not be able to see me through this smoke, but hopefully, they might be able to hear.

The first office is clear, and as I make my way to the second, I find the door locked. I don’t hesitate to bring my foot up and knock the fucker down. I hear grunts through my radio but leave it. If the boys needed help, they'd ask.

The office is small and cramped, with desks and chairs thrown haphazardly around the room. It’s almost as if this was used as the designated junk room. There’s trash covering the floor and a fucking leak coming from the roof, which has left the room covered in mold.

I start searching while shaking my head at the way the room has been left. It’s disgusting, fucking filth. No wonder the place has gone up in flames so easily. Hell, if this was my warehouse, I’d probably burn it to the ground too.

I grab a desk and haul it out of my way, making sure to check everywhere. The flames haven’t made it this far yet, but it won’t be long. The smoke, on the other hand, had seeped through the cracks of the door in seconds, filling the room immediately.

I’m just about to clear the room when a mess of hair catches my eye. I stare at it a little closer and make my way over to it while assuming that it’s some kind of animal. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were overgrown rats in this dump.

As I get closer, I quickly realize that the hair isn’t animal at all. It’s a kid, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old.

I rush towards him and gape at the sight.

The poor kid has duct tape across his mouth, his wrists and ankles bound, and he’s passed the fuck out. Without us, he doesn’t stand a chance. I race into him, instantly ripping my glove off and checking for a pulse. It’s weak, but he’s still alive, and that’s all that fucking counts.

I grab a knife from my utility belt and swipe it through the tape at his wrists so that I can get a better hold on him. I radio it in to the boys, and not a second later, I have the kid over my back and rushing out of the burning warehouse.

Chief is ready to go the second I break out of the building. I lay him down, and Chief instantly starts reviving him, keeping him alive until the paramedics arrive.

I desperately want to stand back and wait to see him take a breath, but considering this is looking more and more like arson and he was left there to die, I have to finish my sweep of the building. I won't risk missing another kid.

I dart back toward the burning warehouse just as the boys from truck two and three are unwinding their hoses, more than ready for us to clear the building.

I race back to the office and finish my sweep before meeting Jet in the next room. We clear the room, and as we turn to head back to the exit, Ax is there and ready to go. He gives me the nod, and I instantly grab my radio. “Right boys, it’s clear. Put this fire to bed.”

We’ve hardly stepped out of the building before the water is raining down over the warehouse. Ax and Jet race to our truck and grab our hose to help the other guys while I stop and help Chief, instantly taking over CPR before he exerts himself too much.

“Paramedics are one minute out,” he tells me.

I nod and keep moving, clenching my jaw, and silently begging for this kid to take a breath. I don’t want to be the guy that has to tell his parents that he didn’t make it.

1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4.

I keep count, not missing a single beat. I hear the paramedics in the distance. They’re closing in, but I refuse to lose him. I hear the distinct sound of his rib cracking, but I keep pushing. A broken rib will heal, but there’s no coming back if his heart was to give out.

1, 2, 3, 4.

Chief stands and waves down the ambulance, and as it comes to a screeching stop right behind us, the kid takes a deep, well-needed breath.

Tags: Sheridan Anne The Men of Fire Romance
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