Page 18 of Her Fire Master (Master Me #5)

B laze

We’re the third company to arrive at an eight-alarm fire in Manhattan—some ritzy high-rise apartment with flames coming out the windows at the very top.

Lia parks Big Red at base behind the other two fire trucks and our crew pours out, each member doing his— and her —job.

I bark orders for my crew to enter the building with their self contained breathing apparatus and start running in the hoses with nozzles and adaptors up the stairs.

The pathway to the stairwell has already been marked in yellow fire tape and my crew takes the eighteen flights of stairs like champs.

Once we reach staging, we’re briefed on the situation.

The fire has reached the twentieth floor and not all apartments have been checked for occupants.

Our company continues up the stairs to help get the fire under control, bringing our tools for forcible entry to get in the apartments.

Black smoke thickens the hallway, heat seeping through our turnouts.

Sprinklers are on, but they don’t seem to have enough pressure.

Hopefully one of the companies on the ground is working that problem out.

We work our way through the apartments, breaking in and checking for occupants.

A dog’s frantic bark pulls Lia toward the next apartment. She points toward it and I nod, helping her get the door open. The fire has consumed half the place, making it difficult to see. The dog runs toward us, but then stops, barking.

Lia squats down and pats her leg to call the dog, but it continues to bark, then run in a circle and bark again. Normally a dog would run out as fast at it can. Animals aren’t stupid. If the dog won’t leave, that means it’s staying for something. Or someone.

I head toward it and it runs toward the fire.

Shit. Who’s back there?

I push forward, Lia right behind me. The rest of our company follows in with the hose. I check under the bed—a common place for children to hide when there’s a fire. Nothing.

That’s when we see him. A kid no more than ten years old is slumped in a closet, his exit blocked by a caved in ceiling.

I start trying to haul the debris away to get to him, but Lia gets right down on the floor and army crawls underneath it, getting to the unconscious boy. She hooks an arm around his chest and drags him back the way she got in.

There’s no way I could’ve fit through that gap—no way any of the other company members could have.

In this moment, I’m damn proud of Lia. Of my crew for having a woman on the team who can do things the rest of us can’t.

My impulse is to help her up—to take the boy from her because I’m stronger, but I resist. Lia’s working hard to prove herself, and I’d be the biggest ass if I took this moment from her.

Instead, I let her scramble up and carry the kid out, the loyal dog right on her heels, protecting his charge.

Lia

The news cameras catch me emerging with the boy and dog. Later, when the fire is out, they get my name and ask me questions about how long I’ve been on the squad and what it’s like to be the only woman.

Knowing this is PR for the whole department, I keep it one hundred percent upbeat and positive. We just put out a fire in Manhattan—these people might be the kind who want to donate to our fundraisers.

To my utter humiliation, the whole crew watches the evening news at the station over a spaghetti dinner. There I am—covered in soot and looking almost as small as the boy I have slung over my shoulder.

Then they cut to me with my helmet and SCBA off. “So what’s it like to be the only woman on your crew?”

I sound like a politician running for mayor. “It’s an absolute honor. I’ve wanted to be a firefighter my whole life and working with these guys is a dream come true.”

Rocket leaps from his seat, affecting a fairytale princess pose and using a high-pitched voice. “I just love working with the dreamy guys at Ladder 61!” he mimics.

“Shut up.” I throw my balled up napkin at him.

Blaze’s face comes on the T.V. and I turn back to listen.

“What’s it like having a woman on the crew, Captain?”

My stomach tightens. I’m embarrassed to be watching this in front of everyone. Embarrassed to be talked about on T.V.

The Blaze on camera appears annoyed by the question.

“You know, I wasn’t sure how it would work out at first. I mean, I knew she could do the job, but I didn’t know how it would change our team dynamics.

But I have to say, she brings something to the crew we didn’t have before.

That kid she saved was caught in a tight place.

She was the only one small enough to crawl through and get him.

If she wasn’t on our team, it might’ve been too late by the time we cleared the path. ”

I drop my eyes to my spaghetti and blink back tears. I saved a kid today. It’s the first time it’s hit me. I’m living my dream—saving lives. I have to fight back the disconcerting sensation that I’m going to start bawling like a baby.

“Eight years I’ve been fighting fires and I’ve never been on television. Guess I need a set of tits,” James mutters.

The urge to cry evaporates. I lift my eyes to James, but he won’t look at me.

Rocket shovels a bite of spaghetti into his face and talks with his mouth full. “Duh. She’s a helluva lot prettier than you, asshole. You think they want to put your ugly mug on T.V.?”

“Well, they put on the captain’s,” Scott points out. “And he’s the meanest and ugliest of all of us.”

Blaze grunts and stands, dropping his dish in the sink before walking out.

He’s a man of few words around here, which normally makes me giddy when I think about how expressive he is when we’re alone, but since Sunday, only makes me uneasy. I still don’t know anything about his daughter or his history.

I stand up and clear the dishes. I’m on dish duty again, but Scott helps me.

“So how’s it feel?” he asks, taking a wet dish from me and drying it.

“What?”

“Saving a life.”

I draw in a breath, not even sure how to label all the emotions swirling around me. “Humbling,” is the one I finally pick.

“Yeah, humbling—I agree.” He takes another dish. “A million times better than when you fail to save someone.”

I stop washing dishes for a moment, the weight of his words pressing in on me.

“God, I’m not prepared for that inevitability,” I confess.

“Yeah, you never are. No matter how many times it’s happened. Blaze takes it the worst of any of us. He’s got a rescuer complex, you know?”

My scalp starts to tingle with some awareness I don’t want to have.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” I manage to say.

“Once we were putting out this fire. The neighbors were yelling that there were kids in there. We went in through the upstairs window.” He just shakes his head, like he can’t go on.

I don’t want to ask, but I still do. “It was too late?”

“Yeah. Six kids. All lying there on the floor. Blaze didn’t speak for two weeks.”

“Does he—” I swallow. I both want and don’t want this information. “He has kids of his own?”

Scott makes a dismissive sound. “Not really. The kid isn’t his.

That was another rescue mission of sorts.

He started dating this pregnant woman. He supported her through the whole thing—coached her through the birth, stayed up all night with the crying baby, changed diapers, took care of the little girl on his days off.

He played full-on daddy to that little girl.

And then when things get easier and the kid is a preschooler, the bitch dumps him and goes back to the baby-daddy. ”

I want to hurl my dinner. The story is upsetting on more than one level. To think of strong, solid Blaze getting used hurts. But I can’t stop my brain from stuttering on the words another rescue mission.

Is that what I am to him?

The thought nauseates me. Everything that had been sexy and fun becomes a dark, twisted mess. Am I a project for Blaze? A girl crying for help?

How could I ever let myself be so debased? Me—the tough girl.

Blaze

I hang up the phone and tap my pen on the station desk. It’s done. I’ve arranged for Lia to take a leave of absence for a certification course in fire forensics.

When I called the battalion chief a couple days ago, I was certain it was a good idea, but now, after Lily’s birthday party, I’m having misgivings. Am I getting too involved again? Diving into someone else’s life and making it my own?

What if she thinks I’m too controlling, too involved, just too much like Samantha accused me of being?

And it pisses me off I’m even thinking about Samantha. She was a mistake.

Lia’s different.

At least I think she is.

But will she see my attempt to support her as interference?

I sigh. There’s only one way to find out. It’s almost the end of our shift and I need to post the upcoming work shifts.

I pick up the schedule for the next two weeks and pin it up in the hallway just outside the office door. “Schedule’s posted,” I yell to no one in particular.

Rocket, Scott and Lia wander out.

I take refuge behind my desk, bracing myself, waiting for the inevitable question. Fuck, I should’ve talked to Lia about this plan privately first. How will I mention my plan that she move in with me while she’s training?

What was I thinking?

Sure enough, her ponytail whips as she whirls to look at me, hands on her hips. “Why am I off the schedule?”

I clear my throat and stand up from the desk. In my mind, this was going to be an awesome moment where I make up for being a dick and yelling at her in front of everyone by now praising her in front of the crew. But judging by the way her eyes flash, she’s not exactly receptive.

She’s already jumped to some erroneous conclusion.

Still, I go for jaunty. “Sparks, you’ve been selected for a special training.” I really wish the other fucks weren’t standing around listening.

She arches a suspicious brow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”