Page 19 of Rescued Dreams (Last Chance Fire and Rescue #8)

NINETEEN

“G o.” Bryce clicked the button on the stopwatch.

Amelia grabbed her gear, piece by piece, and pulled it on. Rain drizzled from the sky, dampening everything. She was soaked from standing out here for so long in the afternoon precipitation.

Turnout coat.

Air tank.

Thankfully it wasn’t also freezing, or this would be miserable. But she had to be able to do her job in any weather, and if the department needed her to prove she could be who she knew she was…

Well, as far as she was concerned, they were going to give her that paper whether they liked it or not.

She raced to the bottom of the wooden stairs of the training house and grabbed the rail. It swayed with the force of her grasp, but she ignored how precarious this might be and raced up the stairs.

Total focus.

“Go, Patterson! Go!” Izan shouted from over by the display monitors under the white awning. He even had a cup of coffee.

She entered the training house, which was considerably warmer than outside and thick with smoke so heavy it obscured everything.

But she knew this place inside out and backward—unless Bryce and Izan had moved a wall again.

That had been a fun day. She was pretty sure she still had that dent in her forehead.

Get the rescue dummy and get out. Efficiency.

No thinking about Ridge and the fact she’d blown him off yesterday. It was far better to get this lieutenant paperwork because she had passed the test. Again. Then they’d be on even footing, and she wouldn’t feel so off-kilter around him.

“Fire department! Make some noise if you can hear me!” Amelia searched the first room, sweeping through so she didn’t miss a corner. Or come up on a wall too fast. Nice and steady.

No surprises.

No thinking about kissing Ridge. Or wondering what his sisters thought about her. He’d obviously told them something, because they’d seemed to know who she was. Focus. She’d fought this battle all day yesterday, going for a punishing trail run just to get her head clear.

Blasting music.

Pounding out miles until she was too exhausted to worry about any of it. A couple of times, she thought someone might have been following her, but it had turned out to be Maria. Because apparently she needed an ex-CIA agent as a bodyguard.

No complaints on that count.

If Ridge wanted to make sure she was safe, that was his business. She slept a whole lot better now than she had only a week ago, thanks to him.

Amelia entered the next room, and someone tall brushed past her. “Hello?”

This had to be part of the exercise. Bryce was throwing her off her game.

“Fire department!”

Izan wouldn’t be able to see anything on the cameras, and it was too hot for heat sensing. The whole room would be a blurry mess. He was on comms though.

“Guys,” Amelia said into her radio. “Is there someone else in here with me? This wasn’t supposed to be a rescue.”

Her air tank yanked backward, pulling her with it. As if it had snagged on something and she was hung up with no way to get free without unhooking herself. Amelia spun around. “Who’s there?”

No one answered on the radio.

“Collins!” Why wasn’t Izan responding to her?

Amelia needed to get out of this house.

She backtracked out of the room she was in and turned right, down the hall. Two doors. She found the end and shoved it open, breathing hard like she had been chased all the way out. Ran down the stairs. Over to where Bryce stood.

He clicked the stopwatch. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, Patterson.”

She tore off her helmet and mask. “What was that? There was someone in there.”

Bryce flinched. “Izan!” He headed for the awning.

Amelia followed him.

“Did anyone go inside?”

Izan’s dark features drew together. “Only person in there was you, Patterson.”

“Someone brushed past me.” She folded her arms, the bulky turnout coat making her bigger. “I wasn’t the only person in there.”

“I can show you the footage.”

“Show me where I got on comms talking to you and you never responded.”

Izan looked at the headphones next to him on the desk. “Uh…oops?”

She stared at him.

Bryce said, “Okay, okay. Maybe there was a rescue dummy we missed hanging somewhere. Or you snagged an obstruction. You need to run it again, Amelia.”

She pressed her lips together. He was her superior right now, not a firefighter who was the same rank as her. But unlike Ridge, this wasn’t about feelings. Bryce was a professional, and so was she—which was how it had always been and how it would stay.

If he wanted to, he could make things hard for her.

He could even block her ability to take the lieutenant’s test. Which meant that, right now, her success would depend on her ability to keep her mouth shut and not mouth off because she was annoyed.

“The test is in a few days, and you need to complete the course like you’ve been training for months, not like you only found out about it three days before.”

Amelia wanted to let out a grunt of frustration, which was why she didn’t.

She turned around and stomped back to her starting position, using all the frustration and anger she felt about this entire situation to fuel her movements with the strength and energy she needed.

But it wasn’t about proving to the department that they were right to have faith in her as a lieutenant.

That should’ve been what it was about.

But no.

It was about gaining the same rank as Ridge. Which was the same reason he’d become a lieutenant—to put them on equal footing.

So they could date.

Did she want a relationship with Ridge? If the past few days were anything to go by, the answer to that was yes.

Was she terrified of the idea? Also yes.

Though she figured that was normal.

“…even listening?”

She glanced at Bryce, who had rain running down his face. Wet hair, wet clothes. She nearly said no but caught herself. “Just tell me when to go and I’ll do this.”

Amelia eased into a slight crouch. Soft knees. Ready to move as fast as she could.

“Are you good?”

“Of course.” He just needed to hit the stopwatch and say the word.

Soon enough, the others were going to show up. She didn’t want to do this with an audience. Who wanted to fail in front of people when they could fail in private?

He turned his head to the side. “Izan, got the headphones on?”

“Yep!” he called out over the space. Then in her comms earbud, she heard, “Copy me, Lieut—uh, Patterson?”

“Yeah.” She wanted to sigh. “I read you loud and clear, Collins.”

Bryce called out, “Ready?”

She yelled back, “Ready!”

“Go!”

Amelia got her gear on and raced up the stairs. She wanted to kick the door open, but that would cost her crucial seconds. Who knew what surprises they had in store for her? Not walls in different places or rescue dummies to trip over, but there were some tricks they could implement.

She kept her head and scanned the space.

“Fire department! Call out if you can hear me!”

The thick smoke in the air had a blue-gray tint to it now, which could be part of the new problem they were likely cooking up for her. Literally. That color smoke usually meant burning oil, and they generally only saw it in old houses, car accident fires, or in a garage.

Another thing she didn’t need to be distracted by.

Search the house, every room, and get out the far side. If she came across anyone, she would “rescue” them along the way.

She moved quickly but as steady as she could and didn’t waste time in the room where she thought she’d spotted someone.

There was no one there.

Just as she’d?—

Grasping hands tore the radio from the front of her turnout coat. She swung out at whoever had grabbed it, but no one was there.

Her mask was torn off, dragging her forward with it. She bent, but he didn’t let up. She gasped and inhaled the thick gray air. Can’t breathe.

He shoved her back against the wall. At least, she assumed it was a guy. She couldn’t see him but got the sense that he was taller and more powerful than her, and she was quickly overwhelmed.

A split second later, strong hands grabbed her around the neck.

With all the gear she had on, it was her only vulnerable spot.

The break in the collar at her throat, bare skin.

The neck of her jacket and the bottom of her helmet, which had gone flying.

She was exposed, and he knew exactly how to target her.

When. Where.

He’d ensured no one knew she was in danger in the training house. So close to the rest of the fire crew, showing up for their shift.

She grabbed her attacker’s arms and called for help the only way she could—by yelling. “Izan!”

Her attacker squeezed her throat.

The radio was too far, torn off her. Probably broken. There was no way Izan could even hear her right now. No one was going to come and help her. She had to get out of this situation herself.

Amelia tried to get air. She couldn’t peel his arms off her throat. His grip was too tight.

She couldn’t see his face, not clearly. It looked like he had a mask on—something to protect his lungs from the choking air in here. The smoke had thickened until she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Or his face in front of hers.

His fingers tightened on her throat.

I’m going to die.

Amelia slammed her gloved hands against him and fought for her life.

When he didn’t let go, she tightened her grip on his arms, shifted her weight, and brought her knee up.

She wasn’t going to hit any planned target, but kneeing him anywhere at all was going to hurt.

She was pretty sure she managed to catch him in the stomach.

He backed up his hips, hopefully surprised and injured. Trying to get out of reach of the next swing of her knee. But he didn’t let go of her neck, so she didn’t let go of his arms. There was no way she would go down without a fight.

His grip on her neck started to loosen. She didn’t have much time before he rallied, maybe a second at most. Enough time to kick him again, twice in quick succession. She put all of her strength into the double swing of her knee. Hard as she could.

Finally his hands fell away. She shoved at him, ramming him back, and ran for where she thought the door was. Turnabout’s fair play, buddy. He slammed against the wall.

But she wasn’t sticking around, breathing in this toxic air, just to finish him off.

Amelia hit a wall, traced it to the end, and found a door. Her head swam. Each inhale was a desperate gasp for air. She nearly collapsed, the hallway beyond it long and clouded to obscurity. “Help.” The word was barely audible.

She had to get out of here before she succumbed, because they had no idea she was down.

Izan should’ve been on the radio.

Why wasn’t the overhead speaker system echoing with his voice?

They should’ve shut the whole exercise down by now.

What was he seeing on the cameras?

Or not—as the case might be.

Amelia collapsed onto her hands and knees, choking. She had to get up, or she wasn’t going to make it out of here. Whatever was tinting the smoke in the air right now seemed to be something entirely different from simulated smoke.

And it was going to kill her if she didn’t get out of here.