Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1)

by Rachael Herron

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  About the Author

  Other Amazon Books by Rachael

  Blaze

  The Firefighters of Darling Bay 1

  by

  Rachael Herron

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Blaze / Rachael Herron. -- 2nd ed.

  HGA Publishing

  Copyright © 2014, Rachael Herron writing as Lila Ashe

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 9978-1-940785-03-5

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  Praise for

  Rachael Herron’s

  Work

  “A poignant, profound ode to the enduring and redemptive power of love.” – Library Journal

  "A celebration of the power of love to heal even the most broken of hearts." - NYT Bestselling Author Susan Wiggs

  “A heart-warming story of family, friendship and love in a town you’ll never want to leave.” – Barbara Freethy, USA Today Bestseller

  To my main squeeze, for always putting the whoop in my siren.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Everything was fine until the air conditioner caught on fire.

  “It’s not a big deal.” Grace blew at the tendril of smoke that rose from the plastic cover. Did smoke always mean fire? Maybe it meant something was overheating? Acupuncture was supposed to be relaxing for her patients. Evacuating them wouldn’t be very calming. “Don’t get up.”

  Steve Swanson, who had been reclining with his acupuncture needles in, popped his chair forward. His eyes bulged behind his thick glasses. “Kind of looks like a big deal to me.”

  Mrs. Little—who was anything but—also sat forward, adjusting her bosom as she went. “It smells like my toaster when the bread gets stuck. You sure it’s not on fire in there?”

  Eliza Cross, ninety years old if a day, didn’t even open her eyes. “Just let me know if we need to run out screaming. Till then, I’m napping.” The hush was implied in the retired librarian’s tone.

  Grace waved her hands at the smoke and pasted on a hopeful smile. “I think it’s dissipating.” No, this wouldn’t do, not at all. A fire in her group treatment room wouldn’t be the best thing for business. Darling Bay was as progressive as small towns got, but residents were still figuring out what community acupuncture was. Word of patients being treated for smoke inhalation would be downright embarrassing.

  The innards of the air-conditioner gave a startling crack followed by pops, as if something were being cooked inside. A larger cloud of noxious-smelling black smoke curled into the room.

  “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Little. “Should I take my needles out?”

  “No, no, let me…” said Grace. “Just one sec. I think I can…” She tugged on the front of the unit, pulling hard until the cover came off in her hands. When she peered into it, she saw a bright red flame leap. “Oh, sweet crapitty-crap!” What were you supposed to do for an electrical fire? Baking soda? This was an office, not a kitchen.

  “Get a jug of water!” said Steve.

  “Not water.” Grace remembered that, at least. She clapped her hands. “I’ve changed my mind. I think the three of you should wait on the lawn. Eliza, let me help you. You can leave your points in—it won’t hurt them to move around a bit.” She kept her voice as even as she could, but inside, she was terrified. Mrs. Cross wouldn’t move quickly. It was on Grace to keep them safe. What if her whole office burned down because she waited too long to call the fire department? Her fingers shook as she dialed 911. Fire insurance was good from the day she purchased it, right?

  Lexie answered.

  “It’s me, Grace.”

  “You usually text me. Why are you calling me at work?”

  “Um, I might, I don’t want to freak anyone out.” She lowered her voice. “But maybe I have a fire?”

  “What’s on fire?”

  Grace heard the clicking of a keyboard on the other side of the phone. She gave Lexie the information as fast as she could. The fire was getting bigger, flames licking out the top of the unit now. The metal Venetian blinds were charring, and the cord started smoking.

  “We’re on the way,” said Lexie. “Can you get everyone out?”

  “I’m trying.” Grace ushered her three patients out, shooing them like chickens. Their acupuncture points bobbed, swaying lightly in their arms, legs and ears.

  Steve moved to the door, his pants still rolled up to the knee. “Aren’t you supposed to have a fire extinguisher?”

  Of course she did! How could she have forgotten? Demonstrating she knew how to use it was one of the check-offs she’d done for the city before getting her business license.

  Grace made sure Eliza was comfortable on the lawn (the old woman was remarkably unperturbed and appeared as if she might go back to sleep) and then rushed back inside. The air was acrid, smelling of melted plastic and something harsher, more chemical. Grace felt dizzy and wondered if it was possible to pass out from smoke inhalation when it wasn’t a real fire. It wasn’t, after all, like a wall was on fire. Yet. She was pretty sure it was still contained to the unit. Mostly. Except for those creeping flames. Crap.

  She got the fire extinguisher off the wall, finding it heavier than she remembered. Would she have to read the instructions? The list of words on the fire extinguisher was discouragingly long. In the distance, she could hear a fire engine’s siren. Although now that she had the extinguisher, she bet she could have it out by the time they got there. Grace knew one thing about herself—she was good at handling a crisis.

  Well then, why hadn’t she thought to unplug the danged air conditioner? Reaching forward, she
yanked out the plug and threw open the window next to it. Fresh air, at least.

  Or would that make the fire happier? Fire wanted oxygen, right? What if the fire sped up the wall into the attic? Her office was ing a small cottage, more than a hundred years old. She’d barely glanced at the attic when she bought it, just noting it was dusty and had housed mice at some point over the years.

  Speed. Hurry. Grace stood straight, willing herself to breathe slowly. She pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and pressed the handle, directing the nozzle at the air conditioner. The fire inspector, when testing her business, had instructed, “Sweep the spray side to side, hitting the base of the fire.”

  The difference was instant. The fire that had been creeping up the wall disappeared in a blanket of white spray. Grace took a deep breath of relief and immediately convulsed in a fit of choking.

  From behind her, she heard a man yell, “Got a victim here, roll medics code three!” She turned to see a huge man in some kind of a yellow jumpsuit coming at her. He had shaggy blond hair and a jaw like a cliff. His eyes snapped green fire at her.

  She tried to tell him she wasn’t hurt, that she had it all under control, but she just said, “Thhbt.”

  Then everything went dark.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The woman was coming to, and that was a good thing because Tox needed to make it clear to her how stupid she’d been.

  What he wasn’t ready for, though, was the moment she opened her eyes. Eyes the color of coffee with a splash of cream, lids heavy, as if she’d just woken up in her own bed after a restful night. She gave the impression she woke up happy with half a smile on her face. What must that feel like?

  “Glad you’re awake, Princess.”

  Behind him, Tox’s engineer Coin laughed. “Or what? You were going to kiss her awake?”

  Sudden color flooded the woman’s cheeks. Her entire body tensed, and Tox could almost see her remember what had happened.

  “Is the fire out? Is everyone okay?” She looked around, and relief lit her face as she saw her three patients studying her with interest. “Is the building okay?”

  “You’re gonna need a new air conditioner,” said Coin. “And part of a wall where we pulled it out.”

  Tox interrupted him. “That’s really not what you need.”

  “What?” she asked. “More? Did it get into the roof? The attic?”

  Tox shook his head. “There was no extension of the flames. You were lucky. But you will need to get a clue the next time. You should never have gone back in there, not after you got everyone out.”

  She frowned. “But I put out the fire, right?”

  Well, he had to give her that. “You didn’t know how it would go. Fire doubles in size every thirty seconds, and if it had caught inside the wall, in the time it took us to drive from the station, you wouldn’t have been safe using the extinguisher. That’s our job.”

  “Oh, it’s your job, huh?” She blinked sleepily at him. Summer sunlight lit her long maple-colored hair and for a moment he was tempted to lean down and pick her up to move her into the shade. Skin as porcelain as hers would burn in a second.

  “Darn shootin’, it is.”

  She coughed again. “So I did it wrong? The fire’s still raging inside?”

  He heard Coin snort behind him. But Tox was right about this. “Next time you have a fire—”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  He ignored her. “Next time you have a fire, you let us handle it. You seriously could have killed yourself. We see it all the time.”

  She looked concerned. “Really?”

  Not for years, actually. They had a good track record in Darling Bay. “Yep. How’s your breathing?”

  The woman waved her hand at him and pushed herself up to sitting. “Pfft. I’m fine. We Rowes don’t break that easily.”

  Tox frowned. “Rowe. Related to Samantha?”

  She nodded. “She’s my younger sister. I’m Grace. You know her?”

  Grace narrowed her eyes, and Tox could understand why. Back in the day, Samantha had been a wild one. “Hank, my firefighter in there, I think he used to date her.”

  She groaned. “In advance, I’m sorry for whatever he’s about to say. She had a rough few years.”

  “Whoa, slow it down. I remember her. She was cool.”

  “For the record, she still is.”

  Tox nodded, but the rapid defense after the apology for her sister’s behavior puzzled him. Maybe Grace was still a little groggy after her faint. He checked the pulse-ox. “Your O2 sat’s good. Just need a couple questions answered from you, then the medics will take you to the hospital to make sure you’re all right.”

  After coughing again, Grace pushed herself to her feet. “No hospital.”

  Coin gave him the high sign and went back into the business. Tox sighed. He was a sucker. He always fell for it, and winded up being the one to argue with the patients who wanted to AMA out of the transport.

  “Ma’am, we always recommend—”

  “Ma’am? Really? I’m thirty-three.”

  Tox ground the pen he held against his palm. “Ms. Rowe, we always recommend that our patients see a doctor. They can give you the medical advice that out here in the field we’re not equipped to give.”

  She was a ball of energy, practically bouncing on her toes. “What do you think is wrong with me?”

  “You inhaled superheated gas. Your lungs should be checked.”

  “My lungs are fine.”

  He tilted his head. If he had to argue with someone today, at least she was prettier than the normal octogenarians who called them. “You’re probably dying.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I bet you’re not supposed to say that to your patients.”

  “Normally they’re too deaf to hear me say it.”

  “Now you’re being mean just for fun.”

  Tox felt his mouth twitch but he wouldn’t allow the smile. “We should just take you to the hospital.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You’ll need to sign that you’re not going, against our medical advice.”

  “Gimme a pen.” She reached out her hand as if she were going to take the one he was writing with right out of his hand.

  He closed his fingers tighter around it. “Look, I’m all for not transporting you. I’d like nothing more than to get back to the firehouse where Coin just finished burning the popcorn. We have the Maple-Bruns fight ready to go on the DVR. But I’m not kidding. You’re lungs aren’t something you want to mess around with.”

  “How much does the ride in your little lights-and-siren box cost?”

  Tox raised a shoulder. “I don’t send the bills, but your insurance should cover it.”

  “What if I didn’t have insurance?”

  Tox couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. “Huh. You seem like someone who’d be covered.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean you have all your teeth, and you’re not obviously on meth. You appear to have good hygiene.” She had very good hygiene, in fact. She smelled annoyingly sweet under the smoke, like flowers and soap and something he wanted to move toward. He didn’t like the feeling.

  The small smile that had almost started on her face disappeared. “So you’re profiling your patients now?”

  “Hard not to sometimes.”

  “Really. In Darling Bay? Huge crackhead problem here?”

  “You should see the guys in the inland flats. Those guys have pit bulls for a reason.” Why was he teasing her like this? Something about it was fun. Exciting.

  “Seriously?”

  He leaned against the light post. Through the window into her office, Coin and Hank gave him the all-clear signal. “You probably have a pit bull, too.”

  She looked angry enough to spit hypodermic needles. “No, but I have a sister who’s had a problem with drugs, as well as a mother who lived in those inland flats. And I like pit bulls. You’re kind of pushing all my buttons r
ight now.”

  “Your mother’s a crackhead?” He couldn’t help it. Teasing her was too fun. Something about this girl was getting under his skin and he didn’t know if he wanted to make her laugh or make her slap him.

  “She’s dead.”

  “Oh.” Tox looked at his worn boots. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “She didn’t have insurance. Pretty hard, taking care of a person dying of cancer when no doctor will return your calls. Some people have to prioritize eating.” There was a glossy sheen to those big brown eyes, but it didn’t look like sadness to Tox. It looked more like fighting-mad. “Some people don’t have the luxury of working a job where they get to sit around in recliners and watch TV all night, every night.”

  “Hey, now.” The woman didn’t need to start pushing his buttons.

  “I’ve driven past the station. I can see that blue glow. Must be nice to have a job where the taxpayers pay for your insurance. We little people have to buy our own.”

  Oh, now she’d done it. One of his least favorite topics. “I’m a taxpayer, too, you know. Everyone always forgets that. I’m paying my own wages—my own insurance—out of my own pocket.”

  “That’s a ridiculous argument. And by the way, I asked you what would happen if I didn’t have insurance. I do have it, in fact. I just choose to trust Eastern medicine more than the hospital you want to take me to.”

  Tox got out the paperwork. “Here. Fill in this top part, if you really don’t want to get checked out. I still think you should. Sign here.” He yelled at Bonnie Maddern on the ambulance, just pulling up, that they could cancel. Bonnie thumped the outside of her door in understanding.

  Grace scribbled on the page, her handwriting furious and choppy. She looked up at him with those huge eyes. Her long lashes curled ridiculously. Did she do something to them to make them do that? She didn’t seem to be wearing any other makeup.

  She clicked the pen closed with a flourish. “I don’t think you’re representing your company very well, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is.”

  “Department.” Specificity mattered. “I’m not representing the Darling Bay Fire Department very well. And I’m Tox.”