Breathless
The Finn Factor, Book 11
R.G. Alexander
Breathless
Copyright 2019 by R.G. Alexander
Editing by D.S. Editing
Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
Depression is for the birds. But one determined Robin reached out her wing to help me up when I had fallen and let me know I wasn't alone. She also worked her tail feathers off to help me drag these characters kicking and screaming into the story they deserved, and for that I'll never be able to thank her enough. (One too many bird references? Maybe. But I'm sticking with it)
For the Finn Club, the most patient and loyal group of readers and Finn lovers any author could hope to know. I love you guys.
And for Cookie: Love is the reason. Today. Tomorrow. And always.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
One Night at Finn’s
Shameless
Thanks for Reading!
Other Books from R.G. Alexander
About R.G. Alexander
“Love must be as much a light as it is a flame.”
― Henry David Thoreau
Chapter One
Wyatt
What now, firecracker?
Squinting through the smoke and floating ash, he scanned the large office space currently burning down around him in search of an opening. The second floor of the building was shared by telemarketers and accountants, and their colorfully framed inspirational quotes littering the room seemed to mock him. Teamwork Makes the Dream Work was his favorite, but it had fallen off the wall and was currently in flames next to the poster of a cat hanging from a tree.
He patted his brother’s leg, knowing that if he weren’t unconscious and slung over Wyatt’s shoulder like a roll of heavy carpet, he would have appreciated the irony. “See that? Hang in there, buddy.”
Not the right message for the moment. Not with heat blistering and peeling the paint from the walls and the fresh flames blocking the direction he’d come in only minutes before.
“That’s damned inconvenient.” Even with no mask to muffle it, he could barely hear his own voice over the angry roar of the fire and sounds of its destruction on the floors above and below. Someone was likely yelling at him on the radio, but luckily, he couldn’t hear that either. The smoke wasn’t that bad in here yet, though the acrid fumes were already filling his nose and tasting like metal on his tongue.
Maybe he needed to keep his mouth shut.
The stairs are on the other side of that fire. Turn left in the hallway. First door on the right. One floor down, right turn out of the stairwell, thirty steps to the front door and we’ll be clear.
Wyatt had been in similar situations and knew the chaos around him could, and would, fuck with his head. It was the disorientation more than anything. The heat and smoke, the debris and general sense of urgency, all turned a man around, eating up precious seconds he couldn’t afford to lose. So he did his best to visualize the path he needed to take in his mind until he believed he could walk it with his eyes closed.
It was a helpful trick he’d picked up from his girlfriend, Fiona, but it never took into account the unexpected obstacles fires loved to create without warning. His need for an alternate exit while carrying extra weight on his shoulders sprang to mind.
Girlfriend, Wyatt? Really?
She didn’t approve of the word. Complicated was how he usually referred to their relationship. Exciting, messy, all-consuming—those worked, too.
He’d added confusing and frustrating as hell to the list when Fiona had left his bed three weeks ago without waking him up to say goodbye or letting him take her to the airport.
He understood why she’d left the time before. He’d handled things so badly even he was grateful for the temporary reprieve. But this? She’d only been back for maybe six months before she’d told him she was heading out again. What kind of class was she auditing in California that she couldn’t take here?
More importantly, was she planning on coming back?
Would he still be here if she did?
You won’t if you don’t get moving, dear. Wall of fire in front of you.
Oxygen deprivation was already affecting his ability to focus and putting Fiona’s voice in his head. He needed to get his shit together and get them out of this. As soon as he did, he could head to the pub to celebrate their survival while drowning his sorrows. He’d call it multitasking.
I still won’t be there.
Fine then, not the pub. There were plenty of other bars that weren’t owned or frequented by his family. He couldn’t think of any that he wanted to go to alone, but they’d do in a pinch.
“First, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
Noah was the only one who mattered right now. The injured man over his shoulder had a kid to get home to, and Wyatt refused to be the one who let that little guy down. Who let his brother down.
Never again.
“Give me something.” He coughed and studied the room again. “What do you think of that, man? Might work, right?” He turned his body slightly so his brother could see what he was talking about.
Noah didn’t respond, and he hadn’t expected him to, but running things by him was too deeply ingrained a habit for him to stop now, and it helped him think. He stared at the large filing cabinet that had already been partially dislodged from the far wall. It was in a good position, and already leaning. If he angled it right… Yeah. That would do it.
He navigated around tilted desks, tangled melting cords and unrecognizable piles of wet, still sizzling trash until he was close enough to place his boot on the huge metal cabinet and shove, directing it into the fire. He closed his eyes tightly and swung his brother away as it crashed into the crackling flames, spitting sparks and more burning ash into the swirling air around him. When he glanced back, he saw that his temporary firebreak had done exactly what he needed it to do.
“Yeah, that’s right! Highly trained professionals over here.”
That was all the time for celebrating he gave himself before bending his knees and lurching up to shift Noah’s body higher onto his shoulders. He surged toward the cabinet
still surrounded by flames, forcing his overloaded legs to propel him onto the big steel box. The judges might deduct points for his form, but he’d made it, damn it. Two quick steps over the fiery floor and then he was dropping down into the hallway, the momentum knocking him face first into the opposite wall.
Hang in there.
“Almost out, Noah,” he grunted. At least his nose hadn’t broken and his headlamp was still functional. “But we’re going to talk about you remodeling that dad bod as soon as this is over. You used to be lighter.”
Fireman, heal thyself, Wyatt chided. He should have cut down on the leftovers and worked out more with that rookie, Bobby. The big kid was always training for something. Wyatt, on the other hand, was on the wrong side of thirty-one, his endurance was shit and he was feeling the strain of carrying a geared-up Noah on his back.
Even though they’d been fighting the blaze for hours, his weakness now was unacceptable. The captain could no doubt do this carry with one hand tied behind his back, and that man’s belly came into the room five seconds before he did.
This fire was bullshit, he thought to himself as he stepped over a collapsed ceiling tile. It shouldn’t have taken so long to put out, but every time they thought they had a handle on it, another explosion surprised them.
Had to be arson. It wasn’t his job to think or care about that, but even he could see that everything about this burn was wrong. There was no restaurant or kitchen facility here, no chemicals stored on site. Nothing that would create this dark smoke and unnatural acceleration.
Their new fire marshal would figure it out. She was young and a little aggressive, but then a woman her age had to be when dealing with old grizzled assholes who hated change.
Assholes like him. He imagined she was already on scene at this point, giving his captain hell for what Wyatt was doing right now. This walkthrough was not, strictly speaking, standard operating procedure.
He was almost sorry he was missing it.
When he finally reached the door to the stairwell, he bumped the push-bar with his hip and pushed out onto the landing.
“Maybe we should introduce the marshal to cousin Calamity. Kate said she wants a girlfriend she can’t steamroll.” He coughed when a dose of thick, pungent smoke filled his lungs.
I dare you to stop talking for five minutes, firecracker. You can say it all downstairs.
His auditory hallucination had a point. Once they were outside, he’d need his voice to fill in both the captain and the marshal on why Noah and Kadir had gone off script. He might be the only who’d heard them call out “Movement, second floor!” before they dove right into the inferno like goddamn probies with a death wish.
Being the idiot brother was usually his job, damn it.
But then, people had always thought he and Noah were twins. Interchangeable in most things, but especially on the job. For years they’d been known for being reckless or heroic, depending on who you were asking. And there wasn’t a story told at the firehouse—involving a prank or an insane rescue attempt—that didn’t include the names Wyatt or Noah Finn. Usually both.
Three years ago, Noah became a single father overnight, and everything had changed. Just like that, he’d started talking about safety and making smarter choices. He’d changed his work schedule to make it more reasonable. He’d changed his whole life to make it more baby friendly, taking Wyatt by surprise and leaving him to catch up or fall behind.
And now what? The kid had just celebrated his third birthday so his father thought he had permission to race into a burning building as if he were still fireproof without anything to lose?
Fuck. That.
He got that the restraints on Noah’s social life had been starting to chafe. It was what he’d been worried about as soon as his brother had told him his plans. But it was no excuse for being irresponsible.
Wyatt had been getting that lecture ready when Kadir strode out carrying a shaking older woman in his arms. “Well, thank God for that,” he’d said under his breath, watching for his brother’s silhouette in the doorway.
Seconds had ticked by like hours while Wyatt stood there, holding his breath. Where the fuck was his brother?
Then another side window shattered and Kadir had shouted Noah’s name. When Wyatt saw a handful of the guys restraining him from going in again, he’d slipped on his mask and made a run for it instead.
Because hell no, that’s why. Not in this lifetime or any other was he leaving Noah alone in that.
He felt his brother stir and paused on the stairs, tightening his grip in silent warning. Noah might wake up disoriented and struggle, and there wasn’t much room for Wyatt to maneuver here if his hold slipped. He knew Noah would understand, even in his current state.
“Fuck!” His next step sent a stab of pain through his ankle and had him swearing in his head, lips pressed tight together to avoid the smoke surrounding him. “Fuckfuckfuck!”
There was a hole where one of the steps should be, and he’d found it, his booted foot going right through to the base of his calf. It hurt, but he didn’t think anything was broken.
How the hell had he missed that on the way up?
You were thinking about me instead of where your feet were going. As usual.
A groan vibrated against his shoulder as he shifted, careful not to dislodge the mask he’d slipped over Noah’s face to replace his shattered—
Don’t think about it.
“I’ve got you, okay?” He coughed and tried to blink the sting out of his eyes. “Zach isn’t losing his favorite uncle tonight.” Or you.
Noah tapped him on the back once in what he hoped was silent reassurance. As if to say he’d laugh at that if he wasn’t in such bad shape.
Jesus. He’d been actively thinking about anything but the shape Noah was in since he found him. One crisis at a damn time. “Hang on. Foot’s stuck.”
The smoke in the narrow stairwell was getting thicker, swirling in front of the beam of his headlamp. It clawed at his eyes and filled his nostrils, smothering him in darkness. He tried to keep his breaths shallow and his torso still as he worked his boot carefully out of the smaller opening, but with the added weight and cramped location, what should have been easy felt nearly impossible.
There was no time for this. Noah had no time for this. With an impatient grunt he yanked his foot out forcefully, and the discomfort and effort it took to break free of the jagged concrete caused him to suck in a sharp, deep breath.
Just like that, his lungs started to burn.
Hurry, Wyatt. You need to hurry now.
He’d stuck his foot in it. That’s what his brothers would say at his funeral. That’s what he did, which is why he refused to go out like this. He’d be dead and they’d still never let him live it down.
His laugh turned into one long cough that didn’t stop until he’d leaned his free shoulder into the partially wedged door at the bottom and pushed, limping into the main lobby. The smoke billowed out and up behind him, but at least he could see colors and shapes now. Red trucks, flashing lights and yellow jackets. Somewhere out there was an ambulance ready for Noah.
They were so far away. The ringing in his ears was getting louder. With ten steps left, he stumbled at a sudden wave of dizziness that made his guts churn.
Don’t stop. Almost there.
He heard a low rumbling, felt a vibration and his instincts took over. He couldn’t breathe, he was limping badly and everything hurt, but he ran with all he had left. Noah’s weight was slamming into his back and his legs felt like lead, but he couldn’t stop yet.
Run, damn it!
Familiar figures were gesturing and screaming things he couldn’t hear, but he saw the concern etched into their sweat and soot covered faces.
The sound of something collapsing behind him hit his ears as he nearly plowed into the waiting Kadir. He didn’t let himself register the man’s horrified expression when he looked at the body on his shoulder. They were fine. Noah was alive and they were fi
ne.
We did it, Fi. We got him out.
Wyatt saw the captain coming towards him at the same time the weight on his shoulder disappeared, followed by unknown hands jostling him to strip off his helmet and gear.
Panic gnawed at his already shredded throat.
“Noah,” he choked, hacking as he struggled to make his body obey his commands, to turn around and look for his brother. “No.”
Wyatt dropped to his knees when he saw the broad-shouldered Bobby carrying his brother toward the waiting ambulance. “Need—”
“You did what you needed to do, Wyatt.” The captain knelt beside him as another round of coughing made him double over. “Medic!” he shouted over Wyatt, and then an oxygen mask was slipping over his head. “You got him. You hear me? You did that, you crazy son of a bitch. Calm down, son. We’ll take care of him now.”
Kadir bent over, hands on his knees. “He told me to get her out of there. That he was right behind me. What happened?”
Wyatt shook his head at Kadir’s question, grabbing it when the action caused a sharp, piercing pain that had his vision narrowing.
What happened?
He didn’t know. He’d found Noah lying there, his mask cracked and dangling useless, and his face… Half his face, his neck and part of his left arm were just charred.
Until he’d gasped in pain, Wyatt had been sure his brother was dead.
But he was fine. He had to be fine.
Now that Noah was on his way to the hospital, the horror of his brother’s injuries refused to be ignored. It should be him instead. Noah was a father. Zach needed his father more than Wyatt needed Fiona.
She was gone. Noah was gone.
He wouldn’t survive losing both of them.
God, the mask wasn’t helping. Why couldn’t he breathe?
“Stop pulling at it and slow those breaths down, damn it. We need to get him to the hospital now.”
“Fire,” he rasped, his voice muffled his ribs aching with the force of his cough. He wanted to tell them about the smell. About the smoke. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t safe for anyone else to go in there.
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