Rock Hard Neighbor

by Hart, Rye

  “So – you forgive me?”

  “How can I not,” she laughs. “You've saved my life twice now.”

  “I'd do anything for you.”

  “Even break my heart, apparently,” she teases.

  “I didn't want to hurt you – I felt like I didn't have a choice.”

  “Shut up,” she says, slapping me in the chest. “I don't even care anymore. It was a long time ago and it's water under the bridge. We can start over. I want to start over.”

  Relief washes over me as I kiss her again, holding her tighter to me, never wanting to let her go.

  “But you still have some explaining to do about this Marianne chick,” she says.

  “I'll tell you everything. Promise.”

  “You better,” she says. “But, let's go home first. I'm freezing.”

  Home. It's exactly where I want to go right now.

  EPILOGUE

  SIX MONTHS LATER...

  “I said I'd never move back to California,” I groan.

  “No, you said you'd never move back to Southern California,” Sydney reminds me. “And we're not moving to Southern California. Palo Alto is much different than Los Angeles.”

  “Still a bunch of super wealthy people who've got way more money than sense.”

  She side-eyes me. “You're one to talk.”

  “Hey, I may be rich, but I don't flaunt it.”

  We're looking at homes in the Palo Alto area – much to my chagrin. Sydney's started medical school at Stanford, and the long-distance thing isn't working out. It's been her life-long dream to be a doctor, so who am I to take that away from her? Besides, once she graduates, we can go anywhere, and we will. Together.

  “The hipsters are going to love your furniture,” she teases. “Lumberjack is totally in right now.”

  I roll my eyes. Great. Hipsters and yuppies. Just what I need in my life. Still, I can't help but smile, seeing her so happy. Soon, we'll be living together. For good, this time. Over the last few months, Sydney recovered completely, and is back to her old life now. With a few, small changes, of course.

  Peter was locked up for a bit, but money can buy the best lawyers on the planet and he's already out, unfortunately. Sydney took out a restraining order, and after breaking his arm like I did, I don't think he's going to be messing with her again anytime soon. He's a distant memory now.

  “Look at this one,” Syd points at a listing.

  I glance at it. It's nice, but it's missing a yard for my buddy.

  “Gunner will hate it,” I say.

  “Yeah, probably,” she says.

  Her cat, Hermes, hops up on the couch and begs for attention from her. He's still not sure about me and tends to keep his distance, but that's fine. I'm more of a dog person anyway. Hermes and I can co-exist, but I think that's about as good as it's going to get.

  “Wonder how Gunner and Hermes will get along?” she asks.

  “Oh, he loves cats,” I say. “He loves everything and everyone, honestly.”

  “You've had a cat?” she looks skeptical.

  “We've run into strays before, yeah,” I say. “He's always been really good with them.”

  That seems to appease Sydney as she pets her feline friend.

  “So, we need a place with a yard,” Sydney adds it to her list. “It's a good thing you're rich.”

  Tell me about it. The Bay Area is not cheap, not in the least. But, it's her dream school, and there's no way I'm letting her give up on her dreams. Not that easily. Having to live in Palo Alto for a bit is a small price to pay to make sure we both can live out our dreams – hers of being a world-class doctor, and mine of making furniture and being with her-- the woman I love with every last fiber of my being.

  The sale of my dad's company went off without a hitch, thankfully. I am now free and clear of any and all responsibility. I'm free to retire and live off the money from the sale. Once Sydney's done with school, we'll start a family, and we'll be able to do so without any issue. There is literally nothing holding us back.

  Sydney's phone rings, and she rolls her eyes. “It's my dad.”

  Not even her dad. After I saved her life – twice – her folks seemed to have warmed to me a bit. I dare say, they might even approve of me being a part of Sydney's life more now, these days than they did in the past. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the amount of money in my checking account. No, not at all. Not that it matters. They gave us their blessing, and we're on good terms. Sydney still harbors some resentment toward her dad for trying to pay me to break up with her back in the day – not that I took the money. Not even I'm that big of an asshole.

  When she gets upset though, I have to continually remind her that it was a long time ago, water under the bridge and all that. A fresh start is a fresh start – for everybody. Even her parents.

  She silences the phone and curls up with me on the couch, her body fitting perfectly against mine. I pull her close to me, enjoying this little slice of heaven.

  “He can wait,” she says. “I only have you for a few days.”

  “Only until we find a house.”

  Soon. Soon, we'd be together and there will be nothing that can tear us apart again. Not old boyfriends, not old girlfriends, not even parents. Once we're settled and together again, we're going to create memories. Many of them.

  The End

  HEART ON FIRE

  CHAPTER ONE

  OLIVER

  I was just settling in for my shift when the call came in. A warehouse fire. Pretty routine stuff. Honestly, I assumed it was just a bunch of kids interested in starting their career in arson and destroying private property. But my thinking changed immediately when a follow-up call came in – there was someone inside the burning structure.

  My heart thundered in my chest. I always got a rush of adrenaline and a racing pulse whenever a call came in. But, that rush of adrenaline and pounding of my heart always intensified when someone's life was in danger. My body was awash in sensations more powerful than any drug man could ever concoct as I flew into motion.

  That's why I did what I did. To save lives. And I did everything in my power to do just that. I wasn't always successful though. The names and faces of the people I'd lost over the years were etched into my brain forever. Including her face. But, I believed in what I did and would never stop trying to save everybody I could.

  With a flurry of action in the house all around me, I pushed all thoughts of Lauren out of my head as I climbed into the truck. Sirens blaring and lights flashing, we raced out of the firehouse and blazed our way through the streets of Chicago.

  The smoke was thick in the air, surrounding us before we even parked the truck. Jumping out of the truck, I noticed that the air was choked with the smell of gasoline. Looking at the structure, I saw that the flames engulfing it were larger than a dumpster fire. The smell of the accelerant and the aggressiveness of the fire told me this wasn't simply a case of stupid kids playing with matches and trash cans.

  The smells around me disappeared once I put on my mask. All I could smell now was plastic as the protective mask covered my face and I felt the cool rush of oxygen. Rushing from the truck toward the structure, I heard a cracking and popping all around us. It sounded like gunshots but it was just the sound of light bulbs exploding. That sound was accompanied by the sound of wood cracking and the glass in windows shattering as the heat inside the building intensified.

  The smoke pouring out of the warehouse made it almost impossible to see as we entered the building. The whoosh of the flames and cracking, groaning noises around us grew louder and more ominous. I looked up at the ceiling and grimaced when I saw the tendrils of flame crawling along. I couldn't see much else, but I prayed the roof didn't collapse in on us. Not until we'd finished the job.

  The first step we needed to take – and take quickly – was finding the person inside. Witnesses reported they heard screaming, but I strained my ears and couldn't hear anything. There was a good chance the person who'd been h
eard screaming was no longer conscious. Which meant we had seconds instead of minutes to find them and get them outside and into fresh air.

  Or, the witness could have been mistaken and there was nobody in the building. It was possible we were risking our lives on a wild goose chase. It's been known to happen. More times than I could count, actually. But, better to err on the side of caution. I can't even imagine how I'd react if we pulled out, only to find out later there was somebody in there and they'd died because we didn't take the time to look.

  The heat inside the structure was nearly unbearable, reminding me of the last warehouse fire I'd been on. The one that left me with burns all over my body because I just wouldn't quit trying to find survivors, even as my air was fast running out. If it wasn't for Jimmy, I'd very likely be dead too. Alongside her. The woman I'd gone in there to save.

  I shook my head and pushed away the memories. Not this time, I told myself. No, this time, I would find the person in here and save them. I wasn't about to let another one die on me. No, this person, whoever they were, would be saved.

  Moving through hallways choked with thick, black, cloying smoke in the darkness, and not knowing anything about the building, I felt like I was trapped in a maze. A maze I wasn't sure I'd find the end of.

  I pushed the negative thoughts out of my head. They weren't going to help. And I needed focus. I could do this. I had to do this. My heart pounded harder and my senses slowed down. It was like moving in slow motion.

  The sound of a loud snap up ahead made me pause. A moment later, a large section of the ceiling, completely engulfed in flame, came crashing down from above. One of the guys behind me stepped forward and hosed it down, white smoke replacing the black smoke, fogging up the place even more than before.

  “We don't have much time before this whole thing caves in,” he called out.

  I nodded and gripped the ax I was carrying even tighter as I stopped to listen. I was intensely aware of the seconds ticking by. Every grain of sand slipping through the hourglass added to the pressure. I knew if we didn't find the person soon, get them out and get them to safety, this whole building was coming down.

  Our Captain would, of course, order us out before the flames consumed the structure, but the person inside would be left inside. And I couldn't have that. I couldn't stand for it. Wouldn't. I was going to find them.

  I looked left and right, trying to see through the darkness, but all I could see were the thick clouds of smoke choking the hallway, the clouds glowing a malevolent shade of orange and red as the fire climbed the walls around us.

  “We need to get out of here,” my partner, Jimmy, called to me. “This thing is coming down. We need to get out now.”

  I shook my head. “Another minute, man.”

  “We may not have another minute!”

  I strained my ears and stretched out all my senses and then I heard it. Heard her, rather. I heard coughing coming from nearby and I said a silent word of thanks, a powerful sense of relief flooding my body. That she was coughing meant she was breathing. Meaning, she was conscious and more importantly, alive. I lowered myself to the ground and felt my way around, edging forward while keeping an eye on the ceiling above us, following the sound of the coughing.

  I finally found the wall with my hand and, using it as a guide, felt my way along it. The crack and pop of wood echoed around the hallway, sounding right above us. I cast a nervous eye upward, my gut tightening. The ceiling was going to come crashing down on us at any moment.

  The coughing stopped abruptly and all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing in the mask. I focused on that because at least it meant I was alive. And as long as I was alive, I could keep doing my job. Trying to pick up my pace, conscious of the danger we were in, I kept edging forward, moving toward the sound of the woman's cough I'd heard only moments before. I moved forward and then stopped when the toe of my boot bumped into something on the ground.

  I couldn't see it through the smoke and I couldn't tell what it was just by nudging it with my boot. I knelt down and reached out. I couldn't make out what it was through my gloves, but it was soft. And when I touched it, it moved. I gripped it a little tighter, a smile spreading across my face and relief flooding my body with the force of a tidal wave. It was a hand. Her hand.

  I pulled myself closer and reached out, wrapping my arms around a body. Pulling her to me, I lifted the woman from the ground. She was limp, laying lifeless in my hands. She was small and light.

  Still, even carrying a person as light as she was through the thick haze of smoke when you can't see an inch in front of you isn't easy. As soon as I had her in my arms, I turned and walked back the way I had come, my partner hot on my heels. I couldn't see the rest of my fellow firefighters through the curtain of blackness before me, nor could I hear them over the crackling flames and pieces of the building falling around us.

  Except for my partner, I'd lost everybody when I went for her. I just had to trust they were there.

  I also had to trust my instincts. Trust that I knew where I was going and that I could find the exit through the billowing smoke. And find it quickly – before the building came crashing down in a flaming ruin. At that moment, a familiar buzzing sounded in my ears and upped the ante even more – the oxygen in my tanks was starting to run low.

  I had to hurry.

  “We need to go, Ollie,” Jimmy called out. “We need to go now, man.”

  “I know, I know,” I called back.

  I sped up as much as I could and that's when I heard the thunderous crash of the roof as it caved in behind me. The ceiling was coming down around us, and if I wasn't careful and didn't get us out of harm's way soon, it was going crush us. Or trap us.

  Either one would mean certain death for her and likely death for us as well. I hurried toward the exit – or what I hoped and prayed was the exit.

  I stumbled over something in the darkness. Looking down, I realized I'd nearly tripped over the hose being used to extinguish the fire further inside the building. Which meant I was close. I tightened my grip on her and barreled forward, confident that Jimmy was right behind me. I followed the hose until we burst through the screen of smoke and we found ourselves outside. I tore off my mask and breathed deep, relishing the feel of the cool night air in my lungs as the lights of the crowd of emergency vehicles bathed us in flashes of red and blue.

  Jimmy peeled off to find the Captain as I looked down at the girl in my arms and rushed toward the lights with her in my arms, calling out for the EMT's who were gathered about, waiting for something to do.

  “She's alive but she won't be for long if she doesn't get help,” I called. “She needs oxygen.”

  They took her from my arms and gently placed her on the ground. An older man stepped forward and began administering CPR as a woman put a bag over her mouth and started giving her oxygen. I took a step back, feeling myself begin to swoon. I was in a daze as I looked down at her face, lovely even covered in soot.

  The woman coughed and opened her eyes, briefly. They looked unfocused and dazed at first. Not uncommon nor unexpected given what she'd just been through. I looked down into the two white and blue orbs in the middle of that gray and black stained face. She looked up at me, and I realized I knew those eyes.

  I knew that face.

  I noticed one other thing as well – both her hands and feet were bound. She'd been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and left there to roast. Which meant this wasn't an accident. This wasn't a case of someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  This was attempted murder and Madison Haywood was lucky as hell to be alive.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MADISON

  The last thing I remembered was being hit over the head. I felt a sharp, ringing pain and a moment after that, my whole world went black. After that, everything in my head was scrambled. But, I distinctly remembered taking a shot to the back of the head. I recalled the feeling of heat on my skin and the smell of smoke – that was
what woke me up. And when I opened my eyes and saw the flames erupting all around me, I started screaming.

  I screamed until my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I sobbed, knowing that it was futile, that nobody was going to hear me. Nobody was going to save me. I couldn't get up and run. Couldn't even move. My hands and feet were bound and I'd been left in the middle of a burning building – in the middle of a raging inferno – in the middle of the night.

  I screamed again – mostly out of frustration and anger, rather than out of a belief that it would help. Who would hear me? I didn't think anyone would, but I kept screaming until my voice gave out.

  Tears rolled down my face as I realized this was how I was going to die. It felt like the smoke and fire were searing my lungs and I was having a hard time breathing. The sinking realization that this was it had settled over me and I'd just about given up when the firefighter found me. As soon as I was in his arms, it was like my body said, “It's time to let go,” and I blacked out again. This time, from lack of oxygen, rather than a blow to the head.

  The next thing I knew, my eyes were open and I was staring up at him. The last thought that crossed my mind before I found myself strapped down and wheeled into an ambulance was, “He looks familiar.”

  It was all a blur though. I was so in and out of it that I couldn't recall much of what happened. And it wasn't until the next morning, when I awoke to the sounds of beeps and buzzing from the hospital, that the weight of everything that happened fully hit me. Hit me like a runaway train and left me breathless and scared.

  I'd almost died. Scratch that, no, not died. I'd almost been murdered.

  The weight of those words – I'd almost been murdered – pressed down on me like a ten thousand pound millstone. Knowing somebody wanted to kill me, to see me dead – the sense of dread it inspired in me was as deep as it was dark.

  I cleared my still sore throat and looked around at my surroundings. I knew I was in a hospital because everything was so white and pristine. Sterile, really. The sounds echoing softly in the room around me were almost comforting, in a way. Mostly because at least I knew that since I was hearing them, I was alive and I was safe. A cop was sitting in the chair next to me, staring up at the television, a blank expression on his face.