Where There's Smoke (Holiday Hearts #1)

by Kristin Hardy

  “Is something wrong with it?” she asked.

  “Nope.” He squinted at the pressure gauge. “We just have to check the fluid levels and tires every day. These babies have to work right every time.” He rose and walked a few steps to the next tire. “Anyway, doing this is a lot more interesting than the next item on my duty list.”

  “Which is?”

  He gave her a mournful look. “Cleaning the bathroom.”

  “Come on, you guys don’t really have to do that.”

  “Maid’s year off,” Nick said over her shoulder. “Besides, it keeps him out of trouble.”

  “We should conserve our energy,” O’Hanlan countered. “How else can we save the lives and property of the good citizens of Bos—” The alarm bells began to ring. Instantly, the jokes ended. “Multi-car accident, intersection of Dudley and Columbia,” Sorensen called out over the loudspeaker.

  “Who goes, Sorensen?” Nick called over to the little house watch office at the front of the apparatus floor where the crew took turns logging calls in the station book and announcing alarms.

  “Oh, uh, sorry, cap,” Sorensen said, accidentally keeping the mike button depressed. He cleared his throat. “Um, Ladder 67 goes.”

  “All right, Red,” shouted Knapp, clapping his hands as he headed to the ladder truck for his coat.

  Nick pulled on his turnout pants and boots. “Sloane, you ride up front with us.”

  Thankful she didn’t have to wear the clumsy boots and turnout pants in the daytime, Sloane climbed up into the cab and Nick swung in beside her.

  “Everybody in place?” O’Hanlan asked, looking around from behind the wheel. “Okay, boys and girls, let’s roll.”

  Flipping the switch for the siren, Nick gave a few blasts to the air horn and O’Hanlan pulled the truck onto the road.

  Urgency. It permeated the air around them as O’Hanlan unerringly choose the most effective route to the incident. Too many of the drivers on the road, however, seemed cheerfully oblivious. On Columbia, a clot of traffic blocked their way. O’Hanlan laid on the horn. “You know, I keep telling the department, put a set of monster truck tires on this baby and I’ll just ride right over all these civilians. Get to the scene faster and teach ’em a lesson or two.” With surprising deftness, he threaded the truck around the worst of the snarl, forcing a few drivers up onto sidewalk. Finally, they were rolling forward again.

  “There it is.” Nick pointed. “Up ahead.”

  Sloane looked and felt sick. She’d never been the type to stare at accidents on the highway, preferring instead to keep her eyes on the road and be thankful it wasn’t her. In this case, driving past wasn’t an option. She was still immensely glad she wasn’t one of the unlucky victims involved.

  A one-ton pickup truck touted in TV ads for its size and toughness had gone head-on into a compact. The truck was indeed tough—it had turned the front end of the smaller car into a twisted crush of metal. O’Hanlan pulled to a stop.

  “Okay, guys,” Nick said, “let’s get to it.”

  Sloane followed him as he approached the cop who crouched by the compact. “What’s the situation?” Nick asked.

  The cop rose and took a few steps away. “Four inside, two in front, a couple of kids in back. Got an ambulance on the way but we’re gonna need your can opener to get them out.” He lowered his voice. “The driver’s pretty bad off.”

  Nick nodded and stepped away. “O’Hanlan, Sorensen, get the jaws and the torch. Knapp, Beaulieu, check out the passengers in the back. Get them stabilized. I’ll handle the driver. We’ve got ambulances on the way.” He pulled the bulky first aid kit out of a locker and went swiftly to the front of the car.

  This was a Nick Sloane hadn’t seen before, decisive and in command, and she was surprised at just how sexy that was. It wasn’t just the offhand skill with which he applied pressure bandages and spinal stabilizers, it was the quietly capable way he dealt with the people in the car. If she were one of the victims, trapped and hurt, she’d want to hear a calm, reassuring voice like that telling her everything was going to be all right. He said it as though there was no possibility of anything but.

  Metal screeched as the jaws peeled open the car as though it was made of tinfoil. Knapp and Beaulieu helped the pair in the back get out. Nick waited to remove the driver and front passenger until the ambulances had arrived with their stretchers. More quickly than she’d expected, the victims were spirited off to the hospital and the ladder-truck crew was heading back to the vehicle.

  “This is my favorite part,” O’Hanlan said. “Getting to go home when the interesting work’s done. That poor schlep,” he jabbed a thumb toward the cop, “has to wait for the tow truck and the cleanup crew. We’ll be sitting down to lunch while he’s still out here, I’m betting.”

  “Will they be all right?” Sloane asked as they drove back to the firehouse. The front seat was designed for two, not three, and she was burningly conscious of the hard length of Nick’s leg pressed against hers.

  “The kids in the backseat will be home tonight,” Nick told her. “The driver’s going to spend time in the hospital, along with the person riding shotgun.”

  “Don’t you ever wonder what happens to them?”

  “You kidding?” O’Hanlan asked. “This one calls the hospital and checks sometimes.”

  Nick shifted in his seat and looked out the window. “I just want to make sure we’re taking care of people.”

  “You are,” Sloane said softly. “You are.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nick stood in the courtyard of the fire station, watching Sorensen and the Engine 58 probie go through rope-tying drills. He’d left Sloane in the firehouse talking into her cell phone, computer open on her lap as she dialed into a meeting. She was out of sight. She should have been out of mind.

  And he should have been a lottery winner. He knew she was there. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  He couldn’t stop wanting her.

  His cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Yo.”

  “Nick, Jacob.”

  In a different era, Jacob would have been a trapper who lived in the wilderness and only came into a remote trading post every three or four months. Brusque and uncomfortable in conversation, he never seemed quite to know what to make of people, even his own family.

  Which had never stopped him from trying to be the big brother and telling Nick what he should do. And Nick had a pretty good idea that was what he was calling for right now.

  “Hey, Jacob, what’s going on?”

  “I hear you’re not coming to Thanksgiving,” he said without preamble.

  Other brothers who hadn’t talked for months might have made small talk for a little while, Nick reflected. Jacob just got right to business. “Yeah. I’m working the night shift.”

  “You’re an officer. Why can’t you trade days and get it off?”

  “What’s your point, Jacob?”

  “Look, you want to stay down in Boston it doesn’t matter to me. I know you don’t want to come back to the farm. It matters to Ma, though.”

  “She never mentioned it to me. It kind of sounds like I’m supposed to drop everything, haul in favors and get the day off because you think I should?” He knew it was surly; somehow Jacob always managed to bring it out of him.

  “Is it really too damned much to ask, Nick? You know how hard these eight months have been for her? Or maybe you don’t. It’s not like you’re ever around.”

  And here they were again, at the core issue that inevitably came up whenever they talked—Jacob’s reminder, spoken and unspoken, that he was the only one living on the farm, that Nick should somehow find a way to do more. “Thanksgiving is two weeks away. How am I supposed to get anyone to trade their holiday?”

  “You’re off the day after, though.”

  “Sure, at 8:00 a.m. the day after, and I’m due back twenty-four hours later. I’d barely get up to the farm before I’d have to come back.”

  “S
o what you’re saying is that you can’t be bothered.”

  “No, I’m saying that it’s not going to be a lot of quality time. I’d rather wait and come up when I’ve got a three-day break, spend more time. Mom knows that. We’ve talked about it.”

  “Do you think she cares if it’s a short visit? She just wants to see everyone here.”

  “Funny, she didn’t seem to mind when I talked with her. It sounds like the only one who has a problem with it is you.”

  Jacob snorted. “Like she’s going to say anything.”

  The guilt bit deep. “Cut with the big-brother stuff, Jacob,” Nick snapped. “I’m not going to make it, okay?” He glanced up to see that Sorensen had finished his drill and was walking over, out of breath. “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Funny how that works,” Jacob said. “You always do.”

  Rescue calls, medical aid calls, inspections, even a false alarm; the day spun out in ongoing variety. And each time Sloane saw Nick walk up and quietly, capably take control of a scene, something scurried around in her stomach. She saw him lifting equipment and found herself remembering the feel of his hard hands on her body. She stared at his unsmiling, intent face and thought of the way he’d looked as she’d stroked her fingers down his belly. She watched him at work and she wanted him more than ever.

  When they returned from their third medical aid call, O’Hanlan stopped the truck on the apron. “Hey, cap, I’m going to run up the ladder, give her a check.” Outside, he stood at the control panel and pushed a switch to release the white supports that stabilized the truck when the ladder was extended.

  Nick stood by, balanced and easy.

  When Sloane had arranged the ride along, she’d never thought that being around him would be a challenge. The danger, she’d assumed, lay in his hands, in those persuasive kisses. Who’d have guessed that he’d have slid so easily under her skin without ever a touch?

  He glanced over and caught her looking. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Sloane cleared her throat. “So is this a typical day?”

  Nick smiled faintly. “I’m not sure there is such a thing. You never know when you come in what’s going to happen. Keeps life interesting.”

  “Is that what you like about it?”

  “I like everything about it. The people, the variety, the fact that it’s not something that everyone can do.”

  “You don’t shy away from challenges.”

  His eyes locked on hers with the power of a punch. “Not when it’s something I really want.”

  For just that instant, she couldn’t breathe. Desire thudded through her. It seemed impossible to be this close and not have him.

  Sloane swallowed. “And what you want is firefighting?”

  “It’s one thing. I like going up against a fire, head to head.”

  “Head to head?” she repeated, relaxing enough for amusement. “You make it sound as if it’s alive.”

  “It seems it is when you’re in the middle of it. It’s fast, it’s tricky and it keeps coming at you. I like beating it. And I like having a chance to make a difference,” he added thoughtfully, watching O’Hanlan extend the ladder. “I like going to work knowing that maybe I’ll have a chance to save someone’s life today.”

  She remembered the awards in his office. “You already have, right?”

  “I got lucky a couple of times.” He shrugged. “Right place, right time.”

  He’d be uncomfortable with being called a hero, she thought, even though he was. “It didn’t sound as if it was just luck to me. It sounded as though you made it happen. What’s it like?”

  The corners of his mouth tugged and suddenly his smile was a mile wide. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world. I was psyched for weeks, especially the last time, with the two kids.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was a fire in a triple-decker about five blocks from here.”

  “Is that all you ever get around here, fires in triple-deckers?”

  “Seems like it, doesn’t it?” he agreed. “The same house, over and over and over, most of them in their second century, overcrowded, undermaintained. Wiring wears out, people start fires with space heaters, candles.”

  “Dangerous,” Sloane commented.

  He nodded. “It keeps us hopping. Anyway, this little girl was babysitting her brother on the top story. She was just a kid herself. Smart, though. She’d moved them both to the floor by a window. I got lucky.”

  “Sounds like she did, too.”

  “The fire came up the hall after me. The hose company hadn’t gotten up that high yet and the far side of the room was starting to go up. They had the stick up outside but I figured if I opened the window to get to it, the oxygen would pull the fire that way. I wasn’t sure I’d have enough time to get them out.”

  “What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “Went for it. Handed the boy to the guy on the ladder, grabbed the girl and got on the windowsill. I figured I’d wait until they cleared the top of the ladder, but the fire was coming too fast. So I held the kid tight and got on the underside of the ladder. Surprised the hell out of the truckie who had the boy.”

  “But you saved the girl and yourself.”

  “Not by much. The fire chased after us pretty fast. We had O’Hanlan running the ladder. He was on his toes and got us out of there.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be that high up on a ladder.”

  Nick gave her a sidelong glance. “Want to find out?”

  “You mean now?”

  “Why not?” Before she could respond, he whistled to Beaulieu, who was standing house watch. “Hey, Todd, radio in an out-of-service for ten minutes. O’Hanlan, leave the outriggers deployed. Sloane’s going to go up on the stick.”

  It was too good a show for the rest of the crew. In ones and twos they trailed out of the firehouse to watch. Perfect. Just what she needed—an audience. She’d never been particularly fond of heights, Sloane thought uneasily. “How high is the ladder, again?”

  “Eighty feet,” O’Hanlan said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, she slides up smooth as silk.”

  “Okay, put on your helmet and turnouts,” Nick directed.

  “The pants don’t fit.”

  “Put them on anyway. We need the belt clip. You can leave off the turnout coat if you want.”

  She felt a little like a clown in the oversized trousers and garish red suspenders. Knapp whistled. “Now you’re styling.”

  “Lookin’ like a firefighter,” Beaulieu added.

  “Fireman, fireman, save my child,” O’Hanlan cried in a reedy falsetto, hands clasped in front of his chest.

  In a few moves, Nick was on top of the ladder truck. “Okay, come on up,” he directed, holding out a hand to grab her.

  Atop the ladder truck, the ground was already far enough away for her, but no way was she going to back down. She’d get through it, Sloane told herself grimly. If they could do it, so could she.

  The telescoped white ladder lay flat on the truck. “O’Hanlan, bring it up,” Nick directed. Motors whirred as the layered bulk of the ladder tilted up to a seventy degree angle. The rungs for all of the telescoped sections were in line with one another, she saw. “Okay,” Nick told her, “it’s a piece of cake. I’m going to be right behind you the whole time, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re going to do great.” He spoke in the same calm, reassuring tone she’d heard at the accident scene and bit by bit she began to relax. “Now climb up about five rungs up and stop. The ladder’s going to unfold and take us the rest of the way up.”

  The metal vibrated against her palms as Nick stepped on, standing just below her. Holding onto a rung with one hand, he reached the other around in front of her to attach a carabiner from the waist of her turnouts to a rung of the ladder. “Safety line, just in case.” He put both hands on the rungs, his body just behind hers, his breath feathering over her neck.

  “Check your toes. Make sure you’re stepping o
n just the rung for this section,” Nick directed her and then raised his voice. “Okay, O’Hanlan, put ’er up slow.”

  The engines rumbled. “Going up,” O’Hanlan called. “Top floor, ladies’ hats, gloves and finer dresses.” Smoothly, the white ladder began to rise into the air section by section. The movement didn’t seem particularly fast, but the ground fell away all too rapidly.

  Sloane gulped.

  “Okay,” Nick said, “you can move your feet more onto the rungs now, our section’s untelescoped. Don’t be tense. You’re perfectly safe, trust me.”

  Trust me. Sloane concentrated on the calm words. Nick would never put her, or anyone, at risk. She focused on the comforting feel of his chest against her back. She’d be okay, he was there.

  “Take a good grip, now,” he said in that same easy tone. “We’re going to jerk a little when we hit the top.”

  The jolt had her looking down. Far below them, the truck was a small red square surrounded by tiny figures. Sloane closed her eyes and tried not to hyperventilate.

  “Hey, you can look at the ground any time,” Nick said. “Don’t stare down. Look around you, at the city.”

  Sloane raised her head and clenching her hands on the rungs, opened her eyes. “Oh!”

  She was, purely and simply, captivated.

  “Prettier from up here, isn’t it?”

  She’d never realized there were so many trees in the city. Gold, red, glorious orange, everywhere she looked it blazed with autumn color. Boston had draped itself in its fall finery and it was all laid out for her enjoyment. To her left, she caught a glimpse of Boston Common and the Public Garden. The spires of the financial district appeared level with her eyes. A small blue slice of the Atlantic glittered far to the right. Dirt, crime, traffic, all the evils of city life were far away. “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.

  “Like magic, isn’t it?” Nick murmured in her ear. Up this high, the engine was far away and Sloane could hear everything he said, even the rhythmic sound of his breath. His arms were around her, his body next to hers in what was almost a lovers’ embrace, she realized abruptly.