Under Fire

by Jamie Denton

  The building codes had been changed several years ago for all new construction following a devastating fire in the Oakland area that had claimed numerous homes and several lives. If the homes she now surveyed had been built after the revision of the code, the damage might not have been as horrendous.

  “You were in charge of seven engine crews, two ladder crews and one rescue, is that correct?”

  “We had a total of fifty-seven department personnel on scene,” he answered quietly.

  And they’d gone home with only fifty-six. He hadn’t spoken the words, but the pain that clouded his gaze gave him away.

  Jana kept silent. Nothing she could say would alleviate the crew’s loss. She suspected Ben, like the rest of the department, carried around a hefty dose of guilt. She tried to understand, but the group harbored something she’d never be able to fully comprehend—the shame of survival. As the man in charge, she supposed Ben’s reaction was even more acute than those of his men.

  She laid her hand on his forearm. “Are you all right?”

  He glanced down at her, and something inside her chest tightened. She’d known revisiting the scene would be difficult for him, but nothing could have prepared her for the emotional toll evident on his handsome face, or her own heart-wrenching reaction.

  With one pain-filled glance from Ben, her entire perspective shifted gears. The only thing he could possibly be guilty of was caring about the men under his command.

  He moved away. “Let’s just get this over with,” he said in an abrupt tone.

  Frustration returned and played hardball with her professionalism. She no longer wanted to discuss the incident, but rather felt an ache clear to her soul to offer him comfort from the demons that must haunt him.

  “Where and how did the fire start?” she asked.

  “There.” He pointed toward the center of the hillside. Since approval by OSHA wasn’t a requirement for new construction or repair, only by the Fire Marshall or Arson, the rubble had already been cleared away. Only a gaping hole remained between the charred remains of the flanking homes. “Thanks to a faulty gas line, when the homeowner turned on her dryer, the explosion literally blew the roof off the back end of the house. By the time we arrived, the two surrounding structures were already fully consumed and the fire was spreading.”

  She consulted the incident report. “The homeowner didn’t survive, is that correct?”

  He shook his head. “She died during transport by the EMS team.”

  She hesitated, dreading the next question. The sounds from the construction crews restoring order filled the heavy silence that hung between her and Ben. “Would you show me which residence FF2 Fitzpatrick and FF1 Mitchell entered?”

  Ben didn’t speak, but turned and headed up the road. Four homes down he stopped. At the top of a long, sloped drive, stood the skeletal remains of a two-story home.

  “According to the incident report, three of the residents were still inside the house.” She pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to continue despite the heavy weight filling her heart at the thought of two small children and their mother trapped inside the burning house. “Do you know how that was possible when the entire neighborhood would’ve heard, and probably even felt, the explosion?”

  “Drew could give you the specifics since he interviewed the mother,” he said. “Apparently she slept through it and didn’t wake up until she heard her kids screaming. She was trapped at one end of the second floor and her kids were down the hall in their bedrooms.”

  “What did you do once you became aware of the situation?”

  He pulled his hands from his jacket and folded his arms across his chest. “I gave the order for the search and rescue, and sent in Fitz and Mitchell.”

  “Do you always apply the two-in/two-out rule during search-and-rescue operations?” A lame question, especially for a seasoned firefighter like Ben. Still, she had to ask, even if doing so made her feel like crap.

  He shot a quick, impatient glance her way. “It is standard operating procedure.”

  She cleared her throat and studied her notes. “Fitzpatrick handed the little boy through the window to the team waiting, then Mitchell exited with the younger girl. Do you know why Mitchell would leave with the girl instead of remaining with Fitzpatrick?”

  Ben raked his hand through his hair, then rubbed at the tension knotting the back of his neck. He knew the answer, but he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. Although Chance Mitchell lacked time on the job, he didn’t fault the younger firefighter for his judgment; he’d followed protocol.

  Although Fitz would occasionally act on instinct rather than procedure, he’d still been a good firefighter. Ben had been fully aware of those wild-card tendencies, but he also knew Fitz would give his own life before he’d leave another firefighter behind. The younger firefighters learned from the older ones. Until recently, Ben had never questioned the status quo, or believed it could end in disaster.

  “Fitz was supposed to be behind Mitchell,” he told Jana. “But he went back for the mother instead. Flames had been spotted shooting from the roof of the structure, compromising scene safety. The horns were going off to signal immediate evacuation, so Mitchell couldn’t go back for Fitz. We had to wait for RIT.”

  What Ben didn’t tell Jana—or write in the reports—was that Mitchell had attempted to return for Fitz. In fact, it had taken Noah Harding and two members from another squad to keep Mitchell from running back into the house.

  Just because Mitchell hadn’t been allowed to help Fitz didn’t mean he’d been derelict in his duties. Only the specially trained team could enter once the safety of the firefighters became an issue.

  “Is there a reason RIT wasn’t called in sooner?” she asked.

  The officious tone of her voice bugged him. She was only doing her job, asking the hard questions, but that didn’t quell the annoyance from seeping under his skin. “We had no knowledge that backdraft was about to happen,” he explained. “As soon as I was notified Fitz hadn’t come out, the team was summoned.”

  She held his gaze, her green eyes intent. “But the team never made it inside. Why?”

  On a conscious level he understood her beleaguering him with questions was all part of the distasteful process. He knew she didn’t enjoy forcing him to walk across emotional hot coals. It still didn’t make it any easier.

  “RIT started in,” he said, his words sharp and clipped. “They were called back because the structural integrity had been compromised.”

  She bent her head and scribbled something down. Reading upside down, he deciphered the notation 2x2 training. The words slammed into his guilt and pain, shoving them aside in favor of another round of impatience, all aimed at Jana and her determination to probe a gaping wound.

  “Fitzpatrick saved the mother. Then the roof collapsed, trapping him inside,” she said, stating the obvious. “The incident reports indicate that he radioed you that he was running out of air.”

  He braced his feet a slight distance apart and crossed his arms. “That’s right.”

  The sharpness of his voice had her lowering her clipboard to look up at him and frown. “So he knew he only had so much air in his tank and he probably heard the horn blasts indicating immediate evacuation. But he still went back for the mother. Why?”

  He let out a slow, ragged breath. “Fitz followed his instincts. That woman would’ve died, and he did what any one of us might have done. He made the save. Those kids have a mother today thanks to Fitz. That has to count for something.”

  Her frown deepened, and she shook her head. “No,” she said emphatically. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  The assignment of fault landed between them with a thud, only she hadn’t placed it at his door. Fitz had screwed up by ignoring protocol, but he’d paid the price with his life, leaving behind a wife and two young sons to mourn the loss. Wasn’t that payment enough without having his last act of duty and heroism labeled firefighter error?

  �
�Don’t be so quick to judge a situation you’ve never been in, Jana. Can you honestly tell me you might not have done the same thing in his situation?”

  “No, I wouldn’t have,” she argued stubbornly. “True, I’ve never been faced with that kind of life-or-death choice. I’m not trying to downplay how difficult it would be to retreat from a burning building knowing there are people still inside, especially if you think there’s the slimmest chance of saving them. But regulations are in place to prevent this kind of accident from occurring, and there’s no denying Fitzpatrick ignored them. Yes, it cost him his life, but he selfishly risked the lives of everyone on the scene that day, too.”

  A thousand arguments sprang to mind, but Ben mentioned none. He couldn’t after she’d stripped it all down to the basic, ugly truth. “I guess this means you’ll be concluding the incident was a result of firefighter error.”

  She glanced over at what was left of the house, then back at him. “I have to, Ben.” Her gaze filled with compassion. “Fitzpatrick disregarded his training. His impulsiveness risked lives. What if Mitchell had gone back inside that house? You would have buried two members of your squad instead of one. I’m very sorry for your loss, but you can’t ignore the facts.”

  He wanted to hate her for voicing what he’d known all along, but he couldn’t. Instead, he reminded himself that firefighter error in this instance wouldn’t carry much weight with the squad. In their eyes, Fitz was a hero. Although Jana hadn’t blamed him, that knowledge didn’t end Ben’s journey on the guilt-trip express. He’d been the one in charge that day. That’s all that mattered in the end.

  As he and Jana walked silently down the hill to their cars, morbid reflection took hold of him. This wasn’t the first time he’d been affected by a ruling of firefighter error. The underlying cause of his mother’s death had been determined as such. Unlike Fitz, the fault had not been assigned to Joanna Perry, but to the two firefighters sent in to save her once she’d become trapped inside a burning warehouse.

  But he had no idea what had happened to one of the men who’d been sent in to retrieve his mom. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for the other. He and his brothers had been personally subjected to the fallout because their own father had been labeled a screwup of the worst kind.

  SINCE RETURNING from the incident scene two days ago, Ben had remained true to his word and hadn’t pressured Jana to get together once. If it hadn’t been for the hungry look in his eyes when she’d arrived at the firehouse this morning, Jana might’ve wondered if he even wanted to see her again.

  She didn’t regret her decision that they keep their distance until she finished her job. Much. Although Ben had behaved like a perfect gentleman, she’d decided she’d rather face skydiving without a parachute before she’d ever admit she’d reached her limit. Thank heavens she would be wrapping up the investigation today. Two and a half days of no sexy phone calls, no kissing and no orgasms had taken such a toll on her, she hovered dangerously close to the clinical definition of loony tunes.

  She reexamined the rescue ropes Ben had laid out for her, then consulted the equipment checklist again. “This indicates a complete equipment inspection was performed over the weekend. Didn’t anyone notice these ropes have flaws in the fiber? They should have been pulled and used as utility rope.”

  “A minor oversight,” he said. “I’ll have it corrected immediately.”

  She wasn’t fooled by his bland expression, or by the threat of impatience in his voice he hadn’t been able to mask today. She did experience a tiny twinge of guilt for not letting him know right away that this would be her last day at the firehouse, but misery loved a crowd and the party in her panties had been mighty dull.

  She scanned her notes again. “There’s a minor backup in the drain where the blood-borne pathogens are cleaned. It’s not to the point where it’s a health hazard, but it should be brought up to code fairly soon.”

  “Anything else?”

  She glanced up at him and smiled when he frowned. “A couple of the men have stickers on their helmets. They are flammable and could cause a problem. It’s not a violation, but it can affect the integrity of the helmet.”

  She set the clipboard on the worktable, then slowly peeled off her black-and-white checked blazer. The blue of his eyes darkened considerably as she intentionally thrust her breasts forward. Heat flared in his eyes, warming her from the inside out as he swept his gaze down the length of her.

  She reached up to unfasten the top two buttons of her blouse. “Noah Harding’s helmet has been slightly modified.”

  He shoved his hand roughly through his hair.

  “Just make sure he corrects it immediately so it’s OSHA compliant.”

  He merely nodded, making her wonder if she’d chased his vocal chords into hibernation with her quasi-striptease. Snatching her clipboard from the table, she scanned her checklist. “I need you to run a test on the thermal-imaging camera for me.”

  He spun around and crossed the quiet bay to the gleaming red fire truck parked inside. She struggled to maintain slow, even breaths instead of gasping for air like a fish. The cords and muscle of his forearms rippled when he pulled the TIC from the storage unit, magnifying exactly what she’d been missing the last couple of days—the feel of those strong arms holding her.

  “Is this the same model Mitchell and Fitzpatrick had with them when they entered the premises?” she asked once she brought her vocal chords out of hibernation.

  He flipped a switch on the side of the camera and it instantly whirred to life. “No. This is the latest model.”

  The price of moving in next to him was a quick succession of rapid heartbeats. Breathing in his rich, masculine scent nearly had her sighing with pleasure.

  She caught herself before she made a fool of herself and revealed just how much abstinence was costing her—by the second. “Have you seen Drew today?” she asked abruptly.

  He frowned. “What do you want with Drew?”

  “I had a couple of questions about one of the witness statements he took at the scene,” she explained. “Nothing major.”

  That deep frown of his eased somewhat. “He’s taking a couple of extra days off to study for the Fire Detective’s exam this weekend.”

  The news surprised her almost as much as the note of pride in his voice. She couldn’t imagine Ben as anything other than a firefighter. The man was dedication to the badge personified. For that reason alone, she would’ve thought he’d have a strong opinion about his brother leaving the arson squad and defecting to the other side to join the police force formally.

  She leaned closer to confirm the last inspection date on the heat sensor. Good grief, he smelled incredible. “All that’s left is a quickie test,” she said, “and we’re done here.”

  A half smile tipped up one corner of his lips. “Sure all you want is a…quickie?”

  The sexy innuendo taunted her thinly stretched limits, but she wasn’t about to object now that the only thing standing between her and a night of hot, intense pleasure with Ben was an equipment test. “Ben.” She wanted her tone to be warning, but it ended up breathless and needy. “Can we just do it now, please.”

  His smile shifted to an all-out wicked grin. Too late, she realized the double meaning behind her poorly—or maybe appropriately—chosen words. Her blood heated, especially when she caught sight of the desire in his eyes. The man was impossible to resist.

  “The camera,” she amended. “Can we test the camera, please?”

  He made a minor adjustment then held the TIC so she could adequately assess the viewing screen once he pointed the lens at the door of the engine. She kept her attention on the small screen until the thermal image of his hand appeared in the viewer. With the tip of his middle finger, he wrote something on the door of the engine—I want you!

  The words faded as the heat he’d transmitted cooled, but the images of erotic possibilities remained permanently etched in her mind. “How did you do that?” How did he
make her so hot with only three thoroughly intoxicating words?

  His smile was slow, lazy and filled with the promise of sin. “Body heat.”

  The low husky rumble of his voice had warmth pooling instantly in her belly, sinking lower and lower until an insistent, throbbing ache made her squirm. He put the camera away, then leaned against the side of the engine as if he hadn’t just sent her body into sensory overload. Again.

  The sexy cant of his mouth combined with the pure interest in his eyes snipped the final thread on her self-discipline. “Tonight?”

  His eyebrows winged upward. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, encouraged by the hope in his voice. “My work here is almost done. I won’t be back tomorrow.”

  “My place,” he said, pushing off the engine. “Six-thirty. Sharp.” He told her the address.

  She wouldn’t dream of arguing with him. “I’ll bring dinner.”

  “And dessert?”

  She gave him a long hard stare, then slowly smiled. “You’re lookin’ at it, babe.”

  11

  BEN JUMPED DOWN from the engine, his attention already on the scene, assessing the situation. The front end of a silver, older-model sedan was crushed against a utility pole. Downed power lines, whether from the impact of the car or the horrendous thunderstorm, sparked and danced over the wet pavement. The extreme danger prevented the squad from freeing the unconscious woman trapped inside the vehicle.

  He issued instructions, ordering the men to stand by until the safety officer declared the scene secure. Cale and Brady, the first to arrive, waited impatiently in the pouring rain for word they could approach the driver to determine the extent of her injuries above and beyond the obvious head trauma.

  In Ben’s experience, the first rain of the season ranked as one of the worst for creating traffic collisions. Highways and streets slick from summer oil residue and careless or impatient drivers ignoring road conditions made for a dangerous, and often deadly, combination. With the series of storms predicted to hit the California coastline only beginning, they were in for a long few days.