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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I’m full of adrenaline and in ‘go mode’ by the time I arrive at the fire scene at the restaurant. The blaze is stunning in its intensity.

I jump into my turnout gear. The trucks pull in around me as I direct them. The roar of the fire mixes with the hum of the idling pump trucks and the LCFD ladder truck as the team gets our gear ready.

Thankfully, it’s late. The business was closed. Everyone was long gone by the time the fire started.

Heat batters our team like fists as we drag hoses toward the remains of the building. The roof has collapsed, the windows are blown out and the only thing to do is keep it from affecting surrounding buildings as we extinguish it.

Down the street, news crews and the usual curious peepers are lined up behind the safety perimeter. Their faces are illuminated by the glow from the flames, punctuated by flashing lights off our equipment. For a second, I search the crowd, afraid I’ll see Avery there.

It’s ridiculous to think I don’t want her on fire scenes. She’s a damned firefighter, for fuck’s sake.

Just like nothing else in this crazy story makes sense, I recognize that my concern for her safety is irrational. Totally based on the twitchy need to protect her.

From everything. Like a lion prowling around its pride looking for seen and unseen threats.

Or a barbarian with a brain that’s undersized for his testosterone output.

This has got to stop.

She’s going to have a life of her own. I won’t be a caveman about it.

But more importantly right now, I can’t let her distract me from looking out for the men I’m in charge of taking care of.

Jesus. I’m a fucking mess. What those big ocean blue eyes have done to me should be criminal.

Shaking it off, I turn to face the fire again and lose myself in the mesmerizing, animated light of the flames.

The building’s a total loss.

Firefighters from our department and the town next door that came for backup are swirling around me like ants. A quick look confirms that the ladder truck has been extended toward the structure. Frank and Tim are scrambling to their posts on top .

Over the radio Frank gives the go-ahead. “Charge the line!”

The operator on the truck turns on the water. For the moment, everything’s going well.

Until it isn’t.

My brain first registers a flash of white light. A blinding supernova.

Then, the sound only an explosion can make. I know this because it’s not my first rodeo.

A second later, my body is tossed like I’m a crumpled ball of paper.