Mcqueen's Heat. Harper Allen
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seemingly vanish into nothingness and knew with terrible certainty he wasn’t going to make it.
“Get back!”
The hoarse shout in her ear was obliterated by the roar of the fire as it poured triumphantly downward. A powerful arm slammed across her upper body, and she felt herself being jerked almost off her feet even as her horrified gaze saw Joey’s anguished face disappear behind the wall of flame that came down between them.
She fumbled with the air-pack at her chest but her hand was struck away, her wrist grabbed in a steel grip.
“No time for that. Run!”
“He’s my partner!”
Furiously she turned to confront him, but already he’d pulled her into motion, his hold on her wrist unbreakable. She darted a look over her shoulder and saw the air waver, as if some unimaginably strong force was tearing at the atmosphere.
That was exactly what was happening, Tamara thought in sharp terror. Wrenching her gaze forward, she put on a burst of speed, saw the man at her side gather himself and leap the last few yards to the main corridor, felt her shoulder joint scream in protest as she was yanked along with him.
And then they were flying through the air, the drag created by her heavy turnout coat more than counter-balanced by the strength of the arms now wrapped tightly around her. There was a deafening whoosh behind them, and her helmet was knocked from her head as her face was pressed into a sweatshirt-clad chest. A moment later the ground crashed up to meet them.
The beast had needed oxygen. At the instant it had broken through and found it, it had opened its jaws and sucked in the whole hallway-full of air, replacing it with a heat searing enough to burn anything it came in contact with.
Guess I’ll just have to eat the smoke. Joey had been caught in that maelstrom, Tamara thought sickly—as she would have been, if not for the reaction of the man holding her. She felt the blast of boiling air pass over them and ebb back again like a spent wave. Only then did she raise her head.
His face was so close to hers that his lashes, dark and thick, brushed against her cheekbones as he blinked. Raggedly he exhaled.
“You all right?” His words came out in a gasp, and she nodded, unable for the moment to speak. His jaw tightened.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Unsteadily he stood, hauling her up with him as her boots scrambled for purchase on the carpeting. “The rest of the roof’s going to fall in on us any minute now.”
He was right, she thought, glancing up at the spreading inferno above them and at the wall of flame devouring the hall. But he was wrong, too. She shook her head.
“My partner’s in there. I have to get him out.”
“Your partner’s probably dead.” His tone was as brutal as his statement. “I didn’t want you to throw your life away on me, and I won’t stand by and watch you do it for him. He was a firefighter. He knew the risks involved.”
“And if it was me instead of him trapped there, Joey would take the risk,” she rasped unsteadily. “I’m a firefighter, too. We don’t let each other down, dammit!”
As she raced back toward the flames she heard his footsteps pounding behind her. She felt him grab at her once more and she spun around, fury and fear spilling through her, but as she turned she saw something out of the corner of her eye.
She whirled back to face the fire in disbelief. Then she broke free, and this time he didn’t attempt to stop her but instead ran with her to the figure emerging from the flames just as it took one last staggering step and crashed face forward onto the floor.
“Joey!”
Falling to her knees, Tamara turned him over. In the instant before she shut her mind to what she was looking at, she felt stark horror sweep through her. The bitch had gotten him, she thought frantically. His face was badly burned, and as she clapped her air-mask over his mouth she saw his eyes open dazedly to meet hers. He pushed the mask away and she saw with shock that he was trying to speak.
“Don’t talk, Joey. Don’t try to talk, for heaven’s sake,” she gabbled, fighting to get the mask back on him. “The hose crew’s on their way.”
His hand in its still-smoking glove swatted the mask away with a strength she hadn’t anticipated, and his eyes glared up at her. His seared lips stretched open.
“For God’s sake, Joey, don’t—”
“What the hell is it, buddy?” The big man shot her a look. “He’s trying to tell us something. What is it, pal?”
Joey’s eyes bulged with strain. He drew in a shallow, rattling breath and raised his head a few inches from the floor, clutching urgently at Tamara’s coat. “Child,” he wheezed. “Mother…dead. The child ran. Too much smoke to see her…flashlight broke.” He fell back, his desperate gaze holding hers a moment longer before his eyes lost focus.
What she’d told him hadn’t been a comforting lie, Tamara thought, tearing the air-pack from around her neck and affixing the mask over his face. From the main corridor she could hear shouts and the splintering sound of axes sinking into wood. But if there was a child trapped behind that wall of fire she couldn’t stand around waiting for help to arrive. As she got to her feet, she glanced over her shoulder.
“You stay here with him. I’m going—”
She blinked. The stranger wasn’t there anymore. Her head jerked up and her disbelieving gaze flew to the encroaching fire just in time to see a broad-shouldered, sweatshirt-clad figure run into the devouring flames.
“King, thank God! Where’s—”
Crew chief Chandra Boyleston turned to bark out an urgent command. “Man down here! There’s a man down here, dammit!” She switched her attention back to Tamara. “Silva wasn’t wearing his air-pack?”
“There’s a civilian in there, plus at least one 10-45 already.” Her own voice edged as she used the code that veiled the harshness of the word body, Tamara ignored her superior’s question. “Joey said he also saw a child, but the kid ran away from him. He was coming to get my flashlight when he…when it…”
She flicked a glance at the wall of fire dividing the hall. Bending down, she picked up her helmet from where it had fallen and crammed it onto her head.
“The civilian went in for the child. I’ve got to go after him.”
Without waiting for Boyleston’s reply she took off down the hallway, covering the lower half of her face with her glove as she got nearer to the roiling mass of crimson and orange. Beside her a wall burst into flame, but instead of increasing her fear, she felt an eerie calm settle over her.
“You want me. You want me, the man and the child,” she ground out. “You might get one of us. You might even get me and the man. But if there’s a child in there, either he or I will make sure you don’t take a life that hasn’t even had a chance to begin yet.”
Just ahead of her was solid fire. She took a last desperate breath, put on a final burst of speed and nearly stumbled in shock.
He came toward her from out of the flames. The sweatshirt had caught on fire and his face was a grease-smeared mask, but his stride didn’t falter. In his arms he carried a bundle tightly wrapped in sheeting, and from the steam that rose from it she guessed that the sheet, along with its precious cargo, had been doused with water only seconds before.
Red-rimmed gray eyes met hers as she ran to him, holding out her arms for the child. A corner of his mouth lifted, and right then and there the full force of his basic and overpowering maleness struck her like a blow.
Something sliced through her, as bright and as piercing as pain. Unable to tear her gaze from his Tamara simply stood, drinking in the sight of him.
Her first impression had been right, she thought shakily. He was a man who’d been to hell and back sometime in his past.