From The Flames (Innocent Series Book 3)

by Kendall Duke

  I made it through the tiny apartment in half a second flat. It was oddly quiet behind the door; we were the furthest point away from the origin of the fire, so I guess the crackling of the flames was just out of hearing. I kicked in the last closed door as it was only barred by a cheap chain lock, and arrived in the front bedroom, overlooking the street. I could see the crowd outside, the trucks, the ambulance, the rest of my team. This was the last person to get out, and if we didn’t go now we wouldn’t make it at all.

  I had to move fast.

  But instead, I froze.

  Just waking up and looking over at me was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Miles of chocolate waves of silky hair floated around her sweet face, her dark grey eyes huge and round as she stared at me. She clutched her covers to her throat and screamed so loud I could hear it through my mask, and it brought me back to the moment. “Miss, you have to come with me,” I shouted, trying to stay back enough for her to recover from the shock of waking up to a monster looking over her with flames at his back. “We need to go. Now.” I held out my hand to her, praying she would take it; I had the horrible sensation that if she didn’t, I wouldn’t leave her. I wouldn’t be able to leave that face, not for all the world—not even for my own life.

  But she reached out trembling fingers to me, her face bright and terrified and utterly, completely beautiful.

  I grabbed ahold of her and I think a part of me already knew I would never let her go.

  ~~~

  Darcy

  I woke to a world of horror—a world of smoke and fire and a man in a suit from outer space, yelling at me. The only thing that abated the panic rushing through my body was the knowledge that this was not Andre—there was no way in hell any of this would ever occur to him, either saving me from the blaze or cautiously waiting for me to grab his hand or anything, really, that passed as courtesy under these circumstances. The man in the suit was gentle but firm, and when I stumbled on the threshold, frightened by the sudden sound of the flames, he simply scooped me into his arms and ran, full-speed, from the room. I’ve never seen anyone move so quickly, let alone with my one hundred and forty pounds banging against his chest as he made his way down the rickety old stairs, the whole world smoking, the walls heaving, the building crumbling around us. As soon as he got to the first floor the staircase erupted into flames, and when we made it through the front door I heard the second story cave in. A whoosh of sparks and smoke slammed into his back as he charged out.

  There were a lot of people in the street now. Alice was sobbing as she came up to me, touching my face as if she wasn’t sure I was real. I smiled to let her know I was okay, and it felt like my skin was a little bit hot, but otherwise I was unscathed. More people rushed towards us, glad we were alright, but after the exhilaration of escape passed I heard the cries. The family downstairs lost everything they owned—three children and a single mother, homeless, just like that. And Alice—she had nowhere to go. The people who slept in the squat across the hall from us were probably already set up somewhere else, but for those of us that lived there, we had nothing left. The building screeched as more of it went up in flames behind me, sending orange flames high into the night sky in cascades of sparks and ash. The hose was on now, and thankfully the rest of the houses would be safe, but I couldn’t help but feel a wave of hopelessness.

  I didn’t want to endanger my family by going home. What choice would I have now?

  No, I thought, making up my mind on the spot. I wouldn’t do it.

  I’d found this place. I’d find another.

  And then… I realized all of my money had been inside. Every dollar, every dime.

  I had nothing. Less than nothing. I’d even left my phone.

  The tears fought hard to come streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t want them to—I wasn’t sure I could stop them once they did, and there were other people here with bigger problems. That poor woman and her children. Alice. I needed to get it together; at the very least, I had a family that loved me.

  Who I loved.

  I would not endanger them.

  And then, a brusque voice snapped me back to reality, and the flush heating my cheeks didn’t come from the fire. “You can put her down now, Mike,” a tall man said, his eyes mischievous behind thick glasses.

  He was right. I’d been curled up in the arms of the firefighter that rescued me like a damsel in a distress. Somehow—probably when he raced down the stairs—my arms had twined around his neck. We’d just been walking around like that for at least the last few minutes.

  He must be really strong. Really, really strong.

  And kind. He could’ve put me down at any time.

  Trying not to humiliate myself further, I let go of his neck and slid to the ground, my bare feet hitting the hot asphalt. “I’m sorry,” I said, not sure he could hear me under the heavy mask he wore.

  “Oh, I think he’s alright,” the older man said, and strode away.

  And then my rescuer took off his mask, looking down at me with the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. The flames danced behind him, throwing his handsome features in stark relief. He was younger than I thought he’d be—maybe only twenty three or twenty four. And when he grinned, I swear his smile was brighter than the fire behind him.

  “Hell of a way to meet, don’t you think?”

  ~~~

  Mike

  It took me just a second too long to realize I must sound like a complete asshole. Here was her home—assuming this was her home, and I believed it was because the room she’d stayed in was the only one in the whole damn building that had been tidy, with those little touches that would show someone lived there: a drawing tacked to the wall next to a couple photographs of people I guessed were her family, a phone charger instead of a travel charger, a couple of weather-beaten paperbacks on a little night-table next to the narrow bed… Everything, all of it up in flames. And here I was, literally seconds after everything she owned was destroyed and she could have died, just grinning like a goddamn idiot right in her face. “I’m sorry,” I said, and something about the wariness in her eyes made me take a small step back. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re alright.” Hokey, but true.

  She was alright, at least physically, from what I could see; her face had a veneer of soot on it, her lovely tresses darkened by the smoke, and she was shivering… But she was fine.

  Very fine.

  I took another small step back. She was wearing nothing but a thin cotton night dress, and although the cut was modest the body underneath it didn’t need a lot of help to get your attention. Luscious curves drew the eye above and a small waist emphasized the round hips below. She stood in dirty bare feet, unpainted toe and fingernails, no make-up, and looked like a goddamn goddess. I felt my grin freeze on my face as she scanned me up and down, her eyes wide with the startled gaze of a frightened animal--almost as if she were hunted. But I’d just saved her, right? So something had to be going her way. Right? “Hey,” I said, trying to make sure I let her keep her distance, “are you okay? Let’s get you over to the medics. They’ll want to give you a once-over and something to cover you up.” Because I’ll be damned if she needed to be standing out here in that almost-sheer nightgown. I felt weirdly possessive of her, as if I were responsible for keeping her safe, which I knew was a common after-effect when you saved someone; this was a bit different, though. I really wanted…

  I really wanted…

  I didn’t know what I wanted, making myself shake off the strange thought and focus on the present. “Come on,” I said, pointing to Ted and the other guys over by the ambulance. “Let’s get you checked out.”

  There ya go. Do the right thing. The responsible, reasonable thing. Not that those words were often the ones people paired with Mike Valentine, but that’s okay—that’s what she needed right now.

  And I found I desperately wanted to give her anything she might need.

  ~~~

  Darcy

  I followed the ha
ndsome fireman over to the EMTs and the ambulance, trying not to feel self-conscious of the fact that I was basically wearing next to nothing. Even though the atmosphere was cool tonight, it being October, the fire kept everything uncomfortably warm. Billows of steam were beginning to fill the air around us as the fire slowly succumbed to the heavy blast of the firehoses. The house was rubble; there was nothing left but smoking ruins, the vague outline of the first floor, and the sharp discards of the second story poking up everywhere after the cave-in. I stared at it, the acrid sting of smoke filling my mouth as I remembered that everything I owned was now ash.

  A broad, gentle hand gingerly rested on my shoulder, pulling me back to the moment. “Hey—help a guy feel better, okay, and let this nice lady make sure you’re alright?” I turned and looked up into the face of the firefighter, his gorgeous eyes running back and forth over my face as if he were concerned. Well, it was his job to be concerned, I reasoned, and I was probably scaring him by being such a clam. I gulped, trying to find some more words, and looked into those hypnotic eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said, and my voice was softer than I meant for it to be. “For saving me, I mean.”

  “No problem,” he said, smiling in a sheepish way. “That’s what they pay me for.”

  That was true; there was nothing personal about it, although it certainly felt personal to me. I gave him the best smile I could muster at the moment, which couldn’t have been very illuminating, and turned to the woman who wrapped me in a shiny blanket. It looked like something out of one of the science fiction television shows my friends back home watched when we were young, as if it were made of aluminum. Fortunately, it was very warm, and it turned out that beneath the sun-burn feeling the fire had given me, I was actually pretty cold. My bare feet didn’t help.

  The woman interviewed me, looking for signs of cognitive or physical trauma, and when I passed her tests the older man with the glasses asked if he could speak to me again. They were interviewing everyone who survived the fire, he explained, and then brought me over to a big truck with the bed folded down. I perched on the ledge and waited.

  I noticed the fireman who’d pulled me out of the flames watching us from afar; he’d been in the background while I spoke to the EMTs but kept a respectful distance, wanting me to get the medical care I needed. Now he had a strange expression on his face, as if he was the one getting interviewed. I tried to smile encouragingly at him, and he gave me a nod, then went over and talked to another group of firefighters.

  “My son,” the older man with the glasses said, and waved a dismissive hand towards my rescuer. His expression was indifferent, but his eyes were keen as they scanned my face. “Did a good job, eh?”

  “He saved my life,” I clarified, looking up at him. Even though I was sitting four feet in the air, balanced on the truck bed, he was another two feet taller than me. His son was even bigger, I realized, peeking over at him, probably at least six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders. I looked back at my interviewer and noticed the badge on his chest. “You’re the chief?”

  “Yep.” He studied my face again, his eyes the same bright green as his son’s, visible even through the thick glasses. “I’m the fire chief.” He held out his hand and shook mine politely. “Derek Valentine.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, although I wished the circumstances were quite different. He seemed to know that, and glanced briefly at his son, who was still watching us.

  “Probably not,” he said in his gruff way, then nodded down at me. “I just wanted to ask if you could tell me what happened tonight, in your own words. There’s always an investigation,” he explained, “and even if we think we know what happened we like to start immediately so circumstances never get ahead of us.”

  I told him I was asleep, and that I would have died if his son hadn’t kicked through two doors and then carried me at break-neck speed down a flight of burning stairs. He seemed unruffled by this assessment, making notes on a small legal pad, and asked for points of clarification here and there. When the interview was over, he looked down at my feet. “Do you have any shoes?”

  “I don’t have anything, any more,” I said softly, before I could keep the fear I felt simmering inside me from reaching my voice. Hearing the quavering sound made me determined to be stronger. “But I’ll be fine. My room-mate is right over there.”

  The chief studied Alice for a minute and then looked back down at me. “My son’s truck is unlocked. I had one of the guys drive it here from the station—he was coming off of a double when the call came in, and when his debriefing is done he can take you… Where-ever you need to go. Come on. It’s warmer in there than it is out here. I’ll tell him what I just told you.” He wasn’t the kind of man you argued with, so I slid off of the truck bed and walked across the cooling pavement towards the giant black truck he’d pointed out. On the way I looked for Alice, but in the few minutes since I’d seen her she’d disappeared. I hated to think of her going across the street and staying with people who wouldn’t help her get better, but I guessed she had nowhere else to go either. The chief held the door to the cab open and quietly closed it behind me when I climbed up and sat down, feeling guilty about getting soot on the clean seats.

  To my surprise, the truck did not look like it belonged to a twenty-three year old adrenaline addict, which is kind of the impression I’d gotten of my savior between his flippant manner, his father’s attitude, and the way he’d taken on my rescue. It was very tidy, and mostly empty; the man who used this car was busy, efficient, and smart. He had things to do, and he took care of what was his. I looked out the window at the dwindling crowd and sighed at the pile of blackened boards and twisted glass that contained the remains of my ruined belongings. I had to think about what to do next—starting with slipping out of this truck. The chief wasn’t watching now, and I felt strange about forcing his son to take me… Where?

  But just as I unlatched my door and cracked it open, a husky voice rumbled towards me from the driver’s side. “Going somewhere?” Curious green eyes sparkled at me from the dark.

  ~~~

  Mike

  I’d startled her, although I hadn’t meant to. I climbed into the driver’s seat and leaned back, trying to give her some room. The truck was big by anybody’s standards, but I was also a pretty big guy, and I could tell she didn’t like to feel crowded. “Well?” I gave her what I hoped was a winning smile and put the keys in the ignition. “Where to?”

  And then she really did freeze, just like a deer in headlights. Her beauty wasn’t diminished at all by the fact that she was wrapped in an insulation blanket, still barefoot, and had been about to creep off into the night; if anything, her mysterious nature made her more alluring. I don’t work for women to like me, as a rule—they just do. I’m a likeable guy. But her reluctance made me try a little harder, and I found myself treading lightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head as she looked down at her lap. “Not at all, I’m sorry, I’m just—” And then, to my horror, I saw a tear spatter on the silver of the blanket, right on her lap. “I’m so sorry—”

  “Shh,” I said, “it’s alright. You’re alright, I promise.” I waited until I couldn’t stand it—about three seconds—and then I held out my hand, hoping she would take it again. I hadn’t wanted to put her down before anyway; I’d wanted to carry her all night, everywhere she needed to go. I could’ve held her in my arms until dawn… If she wanted me to. “Do you—” And then I couldn’t talk any more, because the girl of my dreams hadn’t just taken my hand, she’d used it to pull herself towards me and snuggled under my arm, her cheek pressed against my chest.

  Where she belonged.

  I slowly wrapped my arms around her, enveloping her with my warmth; I knew I could’ve smelled better, coming off of work and wearing a suit that made you sweat like you’d spent a day strolling across the sweltering Nevada desert, but I didn’t care enough to stop. I leaned forward, and I cou
ld just smell her own scent under the layers of smoke and ash—the scent of vanilla and almonds, of crisp, clear autumn and sweet long nights spent in your lover’s arms. I leaned back, trying not to get carried away by my imagination, because damn—something about her apparently made me hallucinate.

  “You feel better?” I stopped myself just in time from running my fingers through that hair. I could still see her in my mind’s eye, that first moment I laid eyes on her with thick brown tresses spread out on the pillow as huge, dark eyes opened, the long, black eyelashes fluttering as she locked her gaze on me.

  “I’m so grateful to you,” she said, and I could tell she was going to move away from me before she did it. For reasons that made no sense, it felt a little like a sucker punch when she slid back across the seat. She wouldn’t turn to face me, still looking down at her silver covered lap, her long hair hiding her face. “I’m not sure if there’s anything else you can say when someone saves your life.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to find a way to cheer her up. “There’s nothing wrong you can say, that’s for sure.”

  For some reason, this made her smile just a little bit, and I caught it when she tilted her face in my direction—finally, just an inch. “Okay,” she said, her voice so low I could barely hear it. But then she squared her shoulders. “I should go.”

  “Cool,” I said, although it was not. Not at all. “Let me drive you.” I turned the keys again, the cab roaring to life, but her hand reached for the handle of the door.