Firefighter Pegasus (Fire & Rescue Shifters 2)

“Fire,” Connie yelled, as loud as she could. “Fire!”

“What?”

“Where?”

“Hey, there is a fire!”

Longfingers glanced back over his shoulder. His face froze as he noticed the flames. Even though the fire wasn't that big yet, he suddenly looked utterly terrified.

“Oh no,” he moaned. “Hammer!”

“What?” The giant's head appeared above the crowd. His expression changed to horror too as he saw the fire. “Oh, shit.”

The other men had lost interest in Connie's dad by now, more concerned with rescuing their money before it was caught by the rapidly-spreading flames. The giant hesitated, one meaty hand still wrapped around her dad's throat. “What about—?”

“We'll finish the job outside!” Longfingers was already bolting for the door. “Come on, we gotta get out of here! Before they come!”

“No!” Connie threw herself in their path. She grabbed for her dad's dangling legs, trying to wrestle his limp body away from the giant. “No!”

“Out of the way, girl,” the giant snarled.

Connie didn't even see his fist coming. The last thing she heard as darkness closed over her was the fire's greedy, triumphant roar.

CHAPTER TWO

Chase Tiernach barreled gleefully at sixty miles per hour the wrong way down a twenty mph street. He lived for this—the thrill of speed, the urgency of the mission, the horrified looks on other drivers’ faces as they found themselves unexpectedly confronted by a wall of bright red steel hurtling toward them.

His inner pegasus shared his elation. Driving wasn't as good as flying, but it still made his stallion prance and snort with fierce joy. Like all pegasi, his stallion was intensely competitive. There was nothing that gave it as much satisfaction as matching speed and strength against a rival, and winning.

To Chase's delight, an oncoming Lexus convertible tried to play chicken with twenty tons of oncoming truck. Whooping, Chase slammed the accelerator to the floor. The truck roared like an animal. Chase laughed out loud as the sports car was forced to veer off the street, ruining its shiny chrome hubcaps.

“Bastard!” the Lexus driver yelled.

Chase gave him a cheery wave out the side window as he hurtled past. “Just doing my job!”

“Alpha unit checking in,” Commander Ash said calmly into the radio. The Fire Commander balanced easily in the passenger seat, barely swaying despite the fire truck’s wild, bouncing motion. “Any update on the situation?”

“Observers say there's a lot of smoke,” Griff's voice crackled out of the speaker. Concern thickened the dispatcher's Scottish accent. “The buildings around are close-packed, and not in good repair. High danger of the fire spreading.”

“Alpha unit ETA three minutes,” Ash said. “Currently proceeding east down Montgomery Street.”

“Correction!” Chase spun the wheel. “Currently proceeding north up Stewart Street!”

“Please note correction,” Commander Ash said into the radio. He gave Chase a level look. “Chase, why are we proceeding north up Stewart Street?”

“I can get us there in a minute this way,” Chase yelled over the sing-song wail of the fire truck’s siren. “Trust me!”

“Just when I thought I couldn't get any more nervous,” muttered Hugh. The paramedic was strapped in behind Ash, and had a death-grip on his safety restraints. “Chase, are you sure you can get to Green Street this way?”

“Positive.” Chase threaded the fire truck neatly through a slalom course of parked cars. “Up here, then nip down that little alley, and we'll pop out in just the right place.”

“What little alley?” Hugh's face went nearly as white as his hair. “Chase, that's a pedestrian cut-through!”

“It's fine. There's no one in it.” Chase knew that for a fact—his pegasus gave him an innate sense of where people were. It was what let him drive so fast in perfect confidence.

Ash eyed the rapidly approaching alleyway. His eyebrows drew together slightly, just the tiniest crack in his otherwise unflappable expression. “We will not fit.”

“Yes we will!” Chase gunned the accelerator.