Page 1 of Rescued Dreams (Last Chance Fire and Rescue #8)

ONE

W hoever said the truth was like a flame got it wrong.

Lies were the real fire. One moment there was a tiny flicker. Then it grew and spread, destroying everything until there was nothing left but ash.

From that destruction, Amelia Patterson had rebuilt her life. Come hurricane or high water, she was determined to do whatever it took to keep it.

No one was going to take from her ever again.

“Single file. Keep it steady.” Amelia stood on the landing between two floors, ushering residents of this fourplex down to the ground floor.

An older man stumbled. His shoe slipped off a step, and he started to fall.

She braced her weight in a squat and caught him, bringing him up to standing height. “You good?”

“Thank you.” His face flushed, a little embarrassed.

“It’s my job.” She led him to the next set of stairs, where he grabbed the rail. “Everyone keep it steady.”

A young mother and her little son came down, moving fast. The woman had a stuffed-full tote bag over one shoulder, despite the fact they’d instructed everyone to leave their belongings.

Even the kid had a tiny suitcase behind him, decorated with a children’s cartoon about puppies. Amelia said nothing.

At the top of the stairs, one of her firefighters emerged from the apartment to the right. Four doors, two on each side that faced each other. Della Nixon said, “Lieutenant, apartment 2-A is clear.”

The other female on the team, Zoe Lewis, came on the open radio channel. “1-B is clear. Working on the others now.”

Amelia’s radio hung between the open sides of her turnout coat, clipped to a strap that went from one shoulder to the opposite hip.

“Copy that.” She pointed across the upper floor, and Della nodded before heading there to clear the apartment and make sure no one had stayed behind. “Collins, status.”

Izan, the only guy now on Truck 14 after years of Amelia having mostly guys or all guys, was clearing the area where the fire had originated. A hot pan of frying oil had caught alight, burning the resident trying to cook their chicken.

The ambulance at the curb had the injured victim inside already, the EMTs of Ambulance 21, Trace and Kianna, treating their patient.

They wouldn’t be here long unless something else happened.

“Collins!” she called out, shoving the front door of the apartment. It bounced back toward her, and a man emerged, moving at speed. Had he jammed the door shut? She caught sight of dark facial hair and a thick hood in the split second before he shoved her and she went down onto her backside.

Amelia cried out. “Hey!”

She could only watch him race away, the wind knocked out of her. What had that guy been doing inside the apartment that was on fire? And where was Izan?

Amelia clambered to her feet and headed for the door again.

She stepped into the hallway of apartment 1-C.

Black smoke had filled the air, rolling along the ceiling in the hall.

She turned and ran back to the truck, tore off her helmet, and crouched to get her air tank and face mask on. Radio situated.

She replaced her helmet as she pushed off the ground, launching from the crouch, and went back to the apartment.

“Izan! Dixon, Lewis, on me. The fire is spreading! Get me foam extinguishers.” A grease fire wasn’t going to be put out by water, and this one had kicked things up a notch.

She shoved through another door to the kitchen. “Collins!”

Izan had come in here less than ten minutes ago, armed with a fire extinguisher, to subdue the small fire. Now the thing was close to being out of control. Where had he…

She spotted a boot and the hem of a turnout coat leg. “Izan!”

To her left, the fire raged on the stove, now spreading across the floor, melting the linoleum where the grease had splashed. Flames licked up to the ceiling, scorching whatever popcorn texture had been sprayed up there by the construction workers. Now it was dripping onto the floor.

She ran an assessing eye across the room as Dixon and Lewis ran in. “Get the fire smothered. I’ll get Izan out. The gas should be off, but I’ll check it.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Della aimed the fire extinguisher hose at the base of the flames.

Amelia went to Izan, unconscious and lying on the floor beside the breakfast bar counter. His fire extinguisher had rolled under the dining table.

She ducked her head, lifted his upper body, and stood with him over her shoulder.

Amelia gritted her teeth and headed for the door.

She walked through the entryway and out to the grass in front of the apartment building, where she deposited Izan on the soft, muddy earth.

She ripped off her helmet and air tank. “Medic!” She shouted as loud as she could.

Trace stopped what he was doing and ran to her.

Amelia sat back on the grass, breathing hard. “We need another bus.”

Trace stuck a stethoscope in his ears so he could listen to Izan’s breathing. “Give yourself a second.”

This was supposed to have been a routine callout, but fire was never routine. Things could go wrong a million different ways. One moment, a fire extinguisher was all it took, and evacuating residents was only routine. The next, she’d have to call for the hose.

Behind her, the fire boomed, blowing out the windows of apartment 1-C. Everyone in the vicinity ducked, covering their heads. Someone screamed. An older woman tripped trying to walk faster, and a young man moved to help her up.

Amelia switched her radio to the dispatch channel. “This is Truck 14.” She gave the address. “We need backup.”

She listened to the dispatcher’s response in her earpiece while she replaced her mask and helmet. “Copy that.” She ran back to the apartment. The natural gas line had to have caught the flame somehow and gone up. It should’ve been off. What on earth had happened here?

She shut off the analysis she could save for her report, wondering how the hyperawareness that meant she saw the worst coming was even supposed to be helpful. It wasn’t like she could’ve stopped it in time.

Useless.

How many times had she been called that? As many as it took for that word to sink into her bones. For it to become a part of her.

The Christians at the firehouse kept telling everyone to pray, but God had never shown up to save her before. Why would He start now?

Amelia shouldered the door to the apartment open.

The manager ran over between the buildings. “Hey! What’s going on?”

She yelled from behind her face mask. “Keep everyone back.”

Amelia ducked inside the apartment. She spotted one of her firefighters in the hallway on the floor. She grabbed Zoe Lewis under the arms and dragged her out the door, across the concrete to the grass.

Rescue squad pulled up, but they weren’t close enough. She left Zoe on the grass near Izan, who was now stirring as he woke up. Trace moved over to assess the downed female firefighter.

Amelia ran back to the apartment.

Inside, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She clicked on the light on the side of her helmet and pressed into the dark. Searching for her friend.

“Nixon, call out!” She found the base of the fire, but the main blaze of the oil pan had been extinguished.

Flames in the living room came from the gas fireplace and an open line.

The buildup had caused the explosion, but now the running gas was coming out, keeping the fire going.

The front of the unit had blown off, and the blaze swept up the wall and across the ceiling now.

Moving fast, toward the hall. Seeking out fuel. Destroying everything in its wake.

“Nixon!”

She went back to the kitchen, trying to figure out where?—

A heavy hand dragged her shoulder back. “We’ve got this.”

Bryce Crawford. Twin to Logan. Ladies’ man turned one-woman good guy. Penny was a blessed lady. Bryce was a good lieutenant.

Amelia considered him the brother she’d have preferred to the one she actually had. But his family, the Crawfords, were all overachievers, and she had to fight for every inch just to measure up, so belonging to the Crawford clan would never have worked.

Besides, there was only one guy at the firehouse she would even consider dating. The rest of them…she knew too much personal stuff about them. And their locker room smelled like a high-school gym.

“Get clear.” Eddie Rice tromped in after Bryce, followed by Zack Stephens, whose wife was pregnant. He spent every spare moment at the firehouse reading baby books.

“We’ll find Della,” Zack said.

Then Ridge was there in front of her. “You good?”

Every word they said would be heard by everyone on the comms channel. All the firefighters on scene, and the EMTs as well, if they switched over to hear what was happening.

He stared down at her, close enough their face masks were nearly touching. She saw his eyes scan her face. Checking if she was all right. His dark gaze held hers, those brooding eyes that always seemed to see far too much.

Until he got too close and she had to tell him to back off. Give her some space.

Amelia squeezed his elbow. “Find her,” she said into the comms channel. “I’m going outside to check on the others.”

She tromped out, partially irritated that rescue squad had to swoop in and save their bacon—even if she’d been the one to call for backup. She and her Truck 14 crew wouldn’t hear the end of that one for a while.

As she approached, Amelia saw Izan had sat up. Zoe pushed away Trace’s hand and did the same.

Amelia deposited her helmet, mask, and air tank on the grass, then sat and leaned against her gear. Fists tight on her knees.

Cops had arrived, easing people back from the scene.

“Another bus?” she asked Trace, sweat rolling down the sides of her face.

“Almost here.”

“How is the patient?” She tipped her head to his ambulance, asking about the resident caught in the initial blaze.

“She needs to get going.” Trace’s expression held a shadow.

“So go. We’re good.”

Zoe said, “Go.”

Izan nodded. “Get the patient to the hospital.”

Trace grabbed up his gear. “The other ambulance will be here in a minute. No one gets up until they’re cleared. Got it?”

Amelia lifted her hand and gave him a salute.

Trace ran for his ambulance.

Zoe said, “Did you see Della?”

Amelia shook her head. “Looked like the gas fireplace exploded.”

“No way.” Izan frowned. “I turned the gas off from outside before I went in.”

Amelia shrugged. “It blew.”

“That makes no sense.”

Zoe turned to watch the apartment. She had a smudge line of ash on the shoulder of her turnout coat and sweat on her hairline at the back.

The dark-haired state women’s hockey champ two years running had two brothers who were Marines, and she’d married a US Army soldier—much to her brothers’ dismay.

Her husband had been deployed for eight months and wasn’t due back for at least another year.

Her mother pitched in to watch their two kids, aged four and seven, while Zoe worked long shifts.

Izan hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while. Amelia got the feeling he had a thing for Olivia Tazwell, but since Amelia had her own unrequited thing going on, she wasn’t going to get into it.

Eddie was first out the door, Zack on the other side of him with Della between them. They held her upright, walking at a rapid pace.

Amelia stood, shielded her eyes with her hands, and waited for them to get close enough. “Where was she?”

“Behind the dining table. She’s awake, just dazed.” They set her down on the grass, laying her back. The EMTs who had just arrived ran over.

Amelia wanted to sink back onto the grass.

“Takes two of you to bring out one of us?” Izan grinned. “Amelia dragged me out on her own, then went back for Zoe. She got us both out.” Izan brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. “But that’s Truck versus Rescue for you, I guess.”

Amelia bit the inside of her lip so she didn’t smile. She lifted her brows.

Zoe twisted around. “You really did that? Never mind, of course you did.”

“We go back for each other,” Amelia said. “No matter what.”

Zoe nodded. “No matter what.”

Izan reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

Amelia watched the EMT assess Della like it was just another day on the job. But when someone could die at any minute, when a routine callout could go wrong in a thousand different ways and an innocent could get a call that their world would never be the same…

Amelia couldn’t let go of her focus for even one second.

She’d been right to tell Ridge that she couldn’t get into a relationship. Not when being a lieutenant meant everything to her and, with one tiny flick of the hand from Whoever was in control up there…

She could lose it all.

No, it just wasn’t worth the risk. Not when any day now, her carefully constructed life would come crashing down.

She didn’t have the strength to rebuild it all again.