Firestorm: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Ellie Masters

  “Yes. When I came to…there was fire…all around me. I didn’t know what to do…and…I ran.” Her voice rises in pitch. “I ran right over that cliff.” She rubs at her temple and that’s when I see the bruise.

  “You ran over the edge?”

  “Not on purpose.” She props her tiny fist on her hip.

  “Is that how you hit your head?”

  She’s scratched and bruised. Her ankle is tweaked, but she’s surprisingly unharmed from her fall.

  “No.” She points to her temple emphatically. “That’s from the rock that man used to knock me out.”

  “What man?”

  “The one who put the rags under the bushes and started the fire.”

  “What?” My brows pinch together.

  My radio squawks. “Ace?”

  “Excuse me.” I press the call button. “Got her, Smokey, but she’s injured. I’m going to walk her out.”

  “I can’t walk…” she says, but I brush aside her concerns.

  “I’m headed down the ravine. Is it still clear?”

  “Yeah, the blaze angles away from your position. You should be good. Malone is bringing his chopper in to a clearing.” Smokey rattles off coordinates. “Stay in contact.”

  “Will do.” I’m going to walk her out of here. She doesn’t know I’ll be doing that with her strapped to my back.

  “There’s a clearing about a click downhill. You think you can make it?”

  “That depends on this fire.” I know what he said, but I respect fire and I’m not convinced we have control of the blaze.

  “We’re cutting firebreaks downhill as we go. You should be good.” He repeats the coordinates, which I write down on my scratchboard. Familiar with the local area, I have a good idea where Smokey is sending me.

  I turn to the girl.

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  “I told you, I can’t walk.”

  “You’re not going to walk, honey. You’re going to ride me.” I flash her a grin, implying the double entendre and search her expression for any interest.

  She stares at me, then her eyes widen when it hits. Taking a step back, she cries out as she inadvertently places weight on her bad foot.

  I reach for her. “Easy! I’ve got you.”

  But she jerks out of my grip.

  I don’t have time for this shit and pinch the bridge of my nose. After signing out with Smokey, I grab the length of rope strapped to the webbing at my belt.

  “I mean, I’ll carry you on my back—like a backpack.”

  7

  Evelyn

  Either from the rock that asshole hit me in the head with, or from smacking my head on the way down the hill, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Or maybe the universe is apologizing for dealing me such a shit hand lately.

  Naw, I’m delirious.

  I must be, because my rescuer is drop dead gorgeous. Kitted out in firefighter gear, soot smears across his face, dirt clings to every square inch of him, a yellow helmet sits on top his head, and all I can do is stare, slack jawed, eyes wide, with a flutter in my belly, and licks of pleasure tickling me in my lady bits.

  I’m serious.

  Nobody looks this good.

  He’s every woman’s wet dream, or mine at least if that tingling between my legs is any indication.

  When I go to bed, hoping for a little nighttime fantasy, he’s what I imagine. A man with mussed up hair, the darker the better, raven-colored is best, and arresting forest green eyes that steal my breath. His eyes are so vividly green they practically glow.

  They’re mesmerizing.

  I lick my lips for what feels like the millionth time, because I’m terribly afraid I’m drooling. He’s sexy in so many ways, and I’m not even going to start with the whole rough and rugged, Hey-I’m-your-rescuer obvious kind of crap.

  Hell, he can rescue me all damn day.

  It’s not that he’s perfect. The man has flaws, but it’s in the grit of his perfection where he shines. Every time he looks at me, those magnetic eyes pin me down. He said something about riding him and my mind went to the filthiest place. I’m so far down the gutter, there’s no escape.

  Fortunately, he appears to be oblivious to my gaping mouth as he measures out his rope.

  Or is he?

  I swear my rugged stranger’s oh-so-expressive face transforms into an impish grin.

  And he has dimples.

  Just kill me now.

  I bet he knows I imagined riding him just like he said.

  I’m a total fool and acting like a star-struck teen, not caring we’re in the middle of a raging inferno. I’m ready to climb his towering form, wrap my legs around his hips, and ride him through dawn.

  Holy mother of God, it just got hot down here, and I’m a little out of breath.

  Actually, I’m a lot out of breath. I can’t breathe deeply enough and I’m a bit dizzy.

  “Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of my face.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked what your name was?”

  I totally missed his question.

  My cheeks heat with a sudden flush of shame.

  “Um…”

  “Um…you don’t know your name? Or um…you got knocked in the head and don’t understand me?” Amusement fills his voice and he flashes a cocky smirk. He’s having too much fun with me, and damn if I don’t love it.

  All I’m thinking about is knocking boots with this gorgeous firefighter, climbing his towering frame, and yes, I’m thinking about riding him.

  In my defense, his words blindside me, but nowhere near as much as the fact he looks like he means exactly what he said. Not the getting knocked on the head bit, but rather the thing about me riding him. I’m still a little confused how that’s going to happen.

  I can’t see him slinging me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and walking any distance in this rough terrain. Carrying me in his arms isn’t feasible, not for the distance he’ll need to walk. I don’t care how bulky those biceps of his look; no man can carry that much weight that far. Not that I weigh a lot.

  His soft laugh is arresting. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Sorry. I’m a bit—overwhelmed. My name is Evie, um Evelyn Thornton.” I close my eyes and let my hair cover my face. I’m embarrassed by how awkward I’m acting.

  He shoves out his hand. I take it hesitantly then give a little jerk at the spark of electricity jolting through my body.

  There’s too much of this man to process. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. He might be wearing bulky firefighting gear, but there’s no denying what lies beneath.

  My fingers itch to explore the skin beneath his gear. I want to walk my fingers all along the six-pack abs I know he’s hiding and dance along his pecs. Add in his chiseled jaw and those penetrating, mesmerizing, arresting eyes? Shit, I’m staring, again.

  Am I drooling?

  God, I hope not.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Like I said, my name is Asher, although my friends call me Ace.”

  “Ace?”

  “Yeah.” He gives a shake of his head, and there’s something about the roguish look in his eyes, like he’s teasing me, testing me, maybe trying to see if I’m interested? Well, I am, even if I’m too awestruck to do anything other than act like a fool. “Anyway, it’s an old nickname. You can call me Asher, if you want.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Asher.”

  “Likewise, it’s nice to meet you, Evelyn.” The way he says my name, as if he’s tasting each syllable, is sexy as fuck. He gives a sharp nod, as if coming to some decision. “That’s a pretty name, Ev-e-lyn.”

  My heart about stops. I’m not sure why I keep blushing. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like he sees right through me, but I dip my head and stammer. “Uh, thanks.”

  The whole time, he runs a length of rope through his hands, finding the midpoint. He points at my waist.

  “Now, as for the riding part.” His wink is arres
ting, as in heart-stopping, breath-taking, full cardiac arrest arresting. I bet he gives great mouth-to-mouth. “First, I need to tie you up.” His eyes crinkle with that comment, and I have a sinking suspicion I’m not the first woman he’s ever tied up.

  “Um, what did you say?”

  “Tie you up.” He gives a soft laugh. “Not the fun stuff, but I need to tie a harness around you.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s called a Swiss Seat, and it’ll let me secure you to my back. You know, for the getting out of the forest fire part of our journey.”

  Ah! My eyes widen when I realize what he intends. I’ve only recently learned about bouldering and climbing. I’m not into rock climbing, but I met several hikers on the trails that were. They had fancy harnesses, kind of like the one Asher wears. I like the way the canvas straps mold around his groin, suggesting more impressiveness for a girl lucky enough to get him out of his clothes.

  But how is he going to make a harness out of a length of rope?

  “Did I hear you right? You’re going to carry me on your back?”

  “I did. How else are we getting you out of here?”

  “You can’t carry me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can.” He sounds a little offended.

  No, he’s not offended. That cocky grin of his makes another appearance. He’s having fun with me.

  “I’m not doubting your strength, just… Carry me?”

  “It works really well. I tie a harness around you, then secure you to my back. You’ll be wrapped tight against me, so your bodyweight doesn’t shift. It lets me move freely, like carrying a backpack.”

  “Great, I’m a backpack.”

  “Or a cling-on.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind.” He glances up at the ridge and his lips twist. “We should probably get a move on. This isn’t the best place to be with a fire raging over our heads, and if the winds shift…”

  “I don’t want to think about the winds shifting. Did you know ravines like this can act as a chimney?” Why do I say that?

  He arches a brow and gives me a look like I’m stupid.

  “I may know a little bit about wildfires, hun.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s okay, I’m teasing, and you’re right about ravines.” He lifts up the rope. “So, about this Swiss Seat thing, just let me do all the work. I’m going to have to touch you around your waist and legs. I’m a professional, so no worries, right?”

  Knowing what little I do about harnesses, I understand what he means.

  He averts his gaze and his attention drops to my waist. I wobble a little. I’ve been standing on my one good foot for too long, and the muscles in that leg are beginning to protest. I try to take some of the weight off my good foot, but the slight pressure on my twisted ankle makes me grab for the nearest support. That happens to be Asher’s arm and there’s no longer any doubt about his ability to carry me.

  Holy hard muscles alert. This man is stacked.

  He takes the midpoint of the rope and places it at the center of my waist.

  “Here, hold this for me please.”

  Before I realize what’s happening, he crouches before me, which places his face eye level with my private parts, right where all those delicious fantasies want his face to be. I bite my lower lip and stare up at the sky. There’s nothing to see except the amorphous haze of smoke. No moon. No stars. No nothing.

  But there’s lots to hear. A dull roar. The popping of wood as the flames consume the dry tinder. The whistling of wind as it’s drawn into the blaze. I hear nothing else, except for my ragged breathing.

  Asher’s hands work the rope. He wraps it around my back, crosses the ends and brings the rope back to center. His nose is inches from my belly. I hold the center of the rope while he ties an intricate knot. Then I practically levitate when he passes his hands between my legs, moving efficiently, brusquely, and practically touches my most intimate parts.

  He avoids putting his hands on me, unnecessarily. Despite the intimate contact, he remains a consummate professional. Although, if he wanted to cop a feel, there would be nothing I could do to stop him.

  But he doesn’t touch me that way. He does only what’s necessary to rig the Swiss Seat, but that damn rope drags between my legs as he draws it up to my back and I have to bite my lower lip because this is easily the most sensual experience I’ve ever experienced.

  He makes quick work of the rope. I dare to look down and give a little gasp at the intricate harness he constructed around my legs and waist.

  “You ready to ride me?” He presses on his knees and stands to his full height. We’re close, like if I take a deep breath, the tips of my nipples will drag against his chest.

  “Um…” I can’t help but nibble at my lower lip. “Does that line work on all the girls, or just those who fall in a ravine in the middle of a forest fire?”

  He gives a low, throaty chuckle. “Naw, my pick-up lines are much better than that.” He twists around and takes a knee. “Now bend over…”

  I swear this man is going to be the death of me. He ties me in rope, then tells me to bend over? How is this not every woman’s fantasy?

  “Wrap your arms around my neck, but not too tight. Once I have you secured, you won’t have to hold on at all.”

  “I’ve never been tied up before.”

  He laughs. “Do you like it?”

  “Hmm,” I tease. “It’s a little scratchy.”

  “We’ll use a different kind of rope later. Right now, do as you’re told. Wrap your arms around my neck and lean against my back. I need to secure you to my harness so we can get out of here.”

  “And what about my legs? Do I wrap those around you too?”

  “You’ll see.” He gives another low laugh. “How about you stop distracting me and let me work?”

  He does something with the loose ends of rope, knotting them into the harness he wears. Without a word, he stands, and I give a little screech as my world tilts. I grab at his neck and he gives a choked sound. Then he peels my hands from around his throat.

  “Seriously, you don’t have to hang on. In fact, it’ll make it much easier to breathe if you’re not crushing my windpipe.”

  “Sorry.” Then I realize what he’s done with the rope.

  My legs wrap around his hips, but not because I’m doing anything. He’s somehow rigged the Swiss Seat so it holds all my weight. I’m literally strapped to his body. I try it out and release his neck. My expectation is that I’ll tumble off his back, but I’m surprised how secure and steady I feel.

  “I’m a backpack!”

  “Oh, you’re much more than a backpack. How about we get out of here?”

  I gesture down the ravine. “Home, James!”

  His body stiffens. “James?”

  “It’s a joke.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Mush!” I give a little kick of my feet, trying to spur him forward.

  He twists his neck and gives me a disparaging look.

  “Giddy up?”

  “Quiet, little backpack.” Hooking his arms around my legs, he shifts me to a better position and tightens the ropes. I give a little screech as the rope digs into my butt. “That’s better.”

  “Better? It’s a little…um, tight.”

  “All the better to tie you to me, the tighter the better.”

  My heart about gives out.

  “How about you tell me what happened,” he says, “while I figure out how to get you to the medivac helicopter.”

  “The what?” His words sink in. “I don’t need that.”

  “You were knocked out. Whether from a concussion, or smoke inhalation, or both, you need to be checked out by a doctor.”

  “I hate doctors.”

  “And I hate forest fires, but we do what we need to do.”

  With that, Asher is off.

  He sets a grueling pace, half jogging, half walking, down the ravine. The light of his headlamp s
hows the way, and after a few minutes all I hear is the chugging of his breath.

  The contraption he fit me in does a surprisingly great job of keeping me steady. Occasionally, he wraps his hands around my legs, but for the most part, he appears oblivious to the fact I’m on his back.

  Despite the rugged terrain, I’m not concerned about falling, or whether the shifting of my body will off-balance him. The man is a machine, muscles powering through the climb out of the hills. For me, it would be a challenging hike. For him, it’s effortless.

  Every now and then, his radio squawks and he answers. Smokey, who I assume is his crew boss, gives updates on the fire. It’s spilling downhill and growing. An orange glow lights up the night sky, but in the ravine, we’re left in darkness and shadow.

  When the ravine opens up, we travel faster. Asher lopes into a run, unaffected by the burden he carries.

  I keep silent, not wanting to break his intense concentration. I’m fully aware he’s running with a hundred and twenty pounds strapped to his back. The trees thin and we enter a clearing where a waiting helicopter sits on the ground.

  A man with a flight helmet lifts his hand over his head and calls out. “Hey, Ace! Took your damn sweet time.”

  “Fuck off, Grayson.” Asher comes to a stop and lowers himself to a knee. Without preamble, he works to free the knots. Looking over his shoulder, he speaks to me for the first time since we set off. “Steady yourself on my shoulder and put your good foot down. Grayson’s team will help you from here.”

  “You’re—not—coming?” I’ve done nothing but ride Asher, so why am I the one out of breath? As for Grayson’s team, I don’t know these people, and while I don’t know Asher either, we share a connection. I know I’m not making that up.

  “Sorry, little backpack, I need to get back to my crew.”

  “You’re rejoining them?” I glance up the hill where the blaze is easy to see. We traveled so far. He’s got at least a mile, or two, hike to get back up there. I feel guilty wanting to keep him with me. I understand he has a job to do, but I feel safer with him by my side.

  The pilot saunters over with his team. They’ve broken out a gurney and set it next to the helicopter. Two of them come to me and help to steady me while Asher finishes untying me.