Redemption (A Golden Beach Novel Book 5)

by Kim Loraine

  The faint murmur of the conversation still carried to Michael’s ears while his boy was preoccupied staring at the giant playground. “No. He’s John’s boy. Brian and I are his guardians.”

  “John?” The woman’s voice held a note of scandal and Michael grimaced. It had been hard to accept the fact that Mitchell was going to need to know who his real father was eventually. After several long conversations, the family had decided together that they’d be honest with people about Mitchell’s relation to John from the beginning. The family had been shrouded in enough secrets over the years.

  Walking back to the registration desk, Michael interjected, “Yeah. We’re all glad to have him here. So, can we get this guy set up for Kindergarten, or what?”

  Looking flustered, the woman pulled out a packet of paperwork and handed it to them. “Just fill these out and we’ll get everything taken care of. Then you can take a tour of the school.”

  After checking out the Kindergarten classroom and letting Mitchell run around the playground for a while, the three of them headed out for a celebratory ice cream. As Mitchell dug into his bowl, Michael cast his mom a glance and cocked his head. Standing, he took a few steps away from the table, hoping she’d follow.

  “Everything okay?” Her voice was wary.

  “I’ve been thinking. We should tell him about John, soon. I don’t want him to realize one day that we all lied to him. Just think about how John would’ve felt if he’d ever found out he was adopted.”

  Guilt crossed his mom’s face. “When?”

  “I think I should do it. Maybe this weekend.”

  Nodding, she gripped his arm and gave him a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. You know, Dad and I have started talking about suing for custody. It makes sense that we tell him the truth before that happens. It’s going to be hard enough on him to have to adjust to a new home.”

  He returned to sit next to Mitchell, the boy holding out a spoon with a big smile on his face. Michael chuckled when he looked at the mostly eaten banana split they were supposed to be sharing. As he spooned up a piece of banana, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Lieutenant? It’s Chief Roman. Sorry for the short notice, but Sully’s at the station and sick as a fucking dog. Can you come in and relieve him?”

  Glancing at the table where his little family sat, he felt a pang of regret. He couldn’t leave Sully there to fight through the rest of the shift though. It wouldn’t be safe for him, or the crew. “Yeah, sure. I’m just around the corner. I’ll be there in ten.”

  Hanging up, he walked back to the table and offered his mom an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to go fill in for Sully at the station. You guys good here?”

  “Yeah, honey. You go ahead.”

  Hugging Mitchell tight, he kissed him on the top of the head. “You be good for your grandma, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow for pizza night.”

  The little boy smiled. “Yes! That’s my favorite.”

  Walking the short distance to the firehouse, his phone chirped, alerting him to a voicemail he already knew he had. Fuck, he couldn’t be in a shitty frame of mind while he was on duty. He had to listen to Lena’s message and get it over with, otherwise he’d be wondering what she’d said all night.

  Holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself for another round of heartbreak. Her words knocked the air clear from his lungs and he froze halfway through the station door.

  Chief Roman hollered, “Oliver, hurry up and relieve Sullivan. He’s puking all over the goddamn place.”

  Silencing his phone, he pulled his spare uniform from his locker and changed, seeking out Sully just as a call came in over the house alarm.

  As he pulled himself into the passenger seat of the engine, more info came through the radio. His heart sank as dispatch relayed the situation. An apartment fire. Confirmed victims trapped inside.

  “Ladder 5 and Engine 5 are on their way in, but we’re going to get there first. Miller, you’re with me on search and rescue, Klip, you hang back until the Ladder arrives.” Michael pushed through the tension in his voice. Every second they weren’t inside the building, searching for survivors, lowered the chances they’d be bringing people out alive instead of in body bags.

  Klip parked the engine behind the medic unit and they were out, strapping on their SCBA gear, protective hoods, and helmets. Michael led the way inside the building. Unfortunately, the structure was all hallways and stairs, a maze of doors. The flames had spread up the internal walls, increasing Michael’s suspicion that this wasn’t a simple case of someone leaving a burner on or forgetting to stub out a cigarette.

  “Lieutenant, we doing this?” Donovan asked.

  With a curt nod, Michael kicked open the stairwell door and started up. His heavy breaths echoed through the mask of his breathing apparatus as they rounded the landing to the final flight of stairs.

  “Getting old, Lieutenant.”

  “Fuck you, Miller. I can hear you huffing and puffing the same as me.” Laughing, he shook his head and pushed through the last few steps. The SCBA gear weighed a solid forty pounds. Add the bunker gear and boots, along with the Halligan and axe he had, he was carrying the weight of a good-sized ten-year-old.

  Thick smoke-filled the corridor of the fifth floor, shrouding everything in a gray haze. Most of the flames were isolated to the South side of the building, giving them an unobstructed path as they searched for survivors.

  “Fire department! Call out!” Donovan shouted every time they kicked open a door.

  Klip’s voice crackled over the radio. “Ladder is here. They’ve got two guys up on the roof venting and spraying. Each floor’s got flames visible. According to the IC we’ve got one guy unaccounted for on five.”

  “All right. We’re working on five now.” As Michael spoke, smoke filled their vision, disorienting them. Ominous creaking echoing through the hall. “Miller, let’s find the guy and get the fuck out of here.”

  As they approached the next apartment door, the thump of loud music carried from under the threshold. Donovan hammered his fist against the surface before forcing it open. Michael fought off the urge to gag as they entered the small space. Every surface was covered in grime. Multiple bongs sat haphazardly on the floor along with discarded syringes and old takeout containers. A soiled mattress was shoved in one corner and roaches crawled along the kitchen counters.

  “Fuck,” Donovan muttered before shouting, “Fire Department! Anyone in here?”

  “I’ll check this end, you get the other,” Michael directed.

  As he searched the bathroom and closets, Michael sent up a prayer that they’d find this guy before it was too late. Maybe nearly dying would help him turn his life around.

  “Whoa, easy there, buddy.” Donovan’s calm slow voice caught Michael’s attention as he walked back into the room.

  His stomach dropped when he caught sight of his friend, hands up, backing slowly away from the bedroom. A skinny, shirtless man with a scruffy beard and tattered jeans stood before Donovan, a pistol in his hand.

  “Get the fuck out of my apartment!” the man screamed. His wild eyes darted back and forth as he gestured erratically with the gun.

  “There’s a fire in the building. We’re here to get you out.” Michael worked to keep his voice steady as he took small steps toward Donovan.

  “Who sent you? I don’t got Nico’s shit. He said I don’t got to pay him until next week.”

  Hands in the air, Michael continued to close the distance between himself and his friend, hoping to keep the crazy asshole in front of them calm.

  “We’re not here for your money.” Looking up, Donovan gestured slightly at the ceiling. “See that? Smoke. Your building is on fire. If you don’t come with us, you’ll die.”

  The man’s eyes bu
lged and he cocked the gun, pointing at Donovan. “You’re not fucking killing me over this!”

  A loud pop sounded as Donovan made a move for the guy. Donovan let out a harsh grunt and fell to the ground, sending terror through Michael. With only a second to react, he knocked the gun out of the tweaker’s hand and pulled him into a chokehold. Within moments, the guy was unconscious.

  “Miller! Holy shit, are you okay?” Michael’s heart was hammering in his chest.

  “He fucking shot me! The asshole fucking shot me!”

  Donovan’s thigh was covered in blood, visible even through his dark bunker gear. A pool of red had already started gathering under him.

  “Think you can walk?”

  He tried to move his leg, but let out a harsh breath as soon as he put pressure on the limb. “Shit. Fuck. I think it’s pretty bad, man.”

  Pulling his radio out, Michael barked, “Mayday, mayday, mayday! Firefighter down. Fifth floor. I need some fucking help up here. Miller’s been shot in the fucking leg.”

  Shucking his bunker jacket, he unlatched his belt and made a tourniquet on Donovan’s thigh.

  “Ah, shit. I don’t want to fucking die at the hands of a junkie.”

  As Michael watched the bleeding slow, he let out a sigh of relief. They just needed to stay put until the rescue team got to them.

  “They’ll be here for us soon, Miller. You’ll be fine.”

  As the minutes ticked by, Michael watched the tweaker to make sure he wasn’t going to cause any more trouble. Smoke filled the room, thicker than before.

  “Lieutenant! Miller! Call out!” Klipper’s voice rang out from down the hall.

  “Here! Klip, we’re in here!”

  Klipper burst through the door with an SAR bag at the ready. “Damn, Miller. You’re fucking engaged already, you don’t have to keep being the hero.”

  Donovan chuckled as Klipper inspected the tourniquet job. “Scars are sexy, Klip. Must be why you’re still single.”

  “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.” Klipper helped Donovan to his feet and they moved toward the door.

  Glancing at the asshole on the floor, Michael had the fleeting thought that he should just leave him. The guy was throwing his life away anyway, he could have killed Miller.

  “Lieutenant?” Klipper called from the door.

  Heaving a sigh, Michael pulled the guy over his shoulder and they started out into the hall, toward the stairwell. Staring behind him at the exposed brick that made up the exterior wall in the apartment, alarm bells rang in his head. Smoke was floating between the bricks close to the ceiling. The fire was in the fucking attic.

  “Klip? They have guys on the roof?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “We need to haul ass. There’s a—”

  A loud crack broke through his words before the plaster above their heads opened, raining a mixture of embers, heavy beams, sheetrock, and flames down on them. He watched almost in a daze as debris hit his brothers, knocking them to the ground. Large support beams connected with his helmet and at the same time, a strange feeling of weightlessness gripped him as the floor under their feet gave way under the pressure.

  The last thing that flashed over his mind before he blacked out was the sound of Lena’s voice as she said, “I love you.”

  Chapter 27

  “I’m so glad we decided to do this,” Valerie said, leaning back in her chair and stretching. It amazed Lena how much food her petite friend could put away without gaining an ounce.

  Staring down at her plate, Lena sighed. She shouldn’t have ordered dessert, but damn it, she needed a good wallow and Double Chocolate Cheesecake paired best with wallowing.

  “It was a good idea,” Lena agreed. “Thanks for making me come out.”

  Her friend turned shrewd eyes on her. “Have you heard back?”

  Shaking her head, Lena scraped the last remnants of chocolate off her plate. “Nothing.”

  “Maybe he’s on shift?”

  Lena shrugged. “Or, he’s finally finished with me.”

  Valerie’s expression turned stony. “Look, it’s possible. But can you blame the guy? From everything I saw between you, he was all-in. You ran away.”

  “He wants kids, I don’t. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting him go and giving him that with Kate.”

  “And?”

  Sighing, she delved deeper and admitted the whole truth. “And I was scared he would leave me just like my dad did.”

  “That’s not who Michael is. You know that. For God’s sake, he’s planning to raise that little boy even though everyone knows what John did. Now, with Kate gone, Michael could just wash his hands of the whole thing and be an uncle, but Donovan told me Michael considers himself the kid’s dad, no matter what.”

  Her stomach clenched. “What do you mean, Kate’s gone?”

  Valerie’s face paled. “Didn’t you hear? She’s in jail. Apparently she’s got an alcohol problem. This was her third DUI. I guess the kid was in the car when it happened.”

  “When?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Michael must be a wreck,” Lena murmured, mostly to herself. Guilt wormed its way into her heart at the thought of him dealing with this alone.

  “Donovan hasn’t said. All I know is that Michael and his family really stepped up.” With a slight frown marring her features, Valerie pulled her phone from her purse. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just . . . I texted Donovan a few hours ago. We always keep in touch when he’s on shift. He’s never been silent this long.”

  “He’s probably on a call. Or one of the guys stole his phone. They’re always playing stupid pranks on each other.”

  Her friend smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, probably.”

  Standing, Lena grabbed the check before Valerie could pay. They walked down the boardwalk, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and the calm breeze coming off the water.

  “So, we’ve rehashed my disaster of a relationship. Tell me something good about you. What’s the word on your wedding?”

  Surprisingly, Valerie’s shoulders stiffened. “Not much to tell.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve been engaged over six months. Honestly, I’m hurt you haven’t asked me to be a bridesmaid yet.”

  “We’re, uh, taking it slow. No rush.”

  “Val?” Lena stopped and rested against the railing, training sharp eyes on her friend.

  “I’m just not sure. What if he leaves again?”

  “I can’t promise he won’t. But do you remember what you told me when you came back from Grace’s wedding?”

  Her friend’s cheeks turned pink at the memory. “That I couldn’t stop picturing him at the end of the aisle waiting for me.”

  “Exactly. That’s the feeling you need to hold on to. You’ve seen him at the end of that aisle since the beginning. That means something.”

  She stayed silent, standing next to Lena, staring out at the ocean. The waves crashed and pulled, drawing the tide out as the sun began its descent. Valerie’s phone chirped, breaking the peace between them.

  “Donovan?” Lena asked.

  She watched as her friend’s gaze grew wide and terror flashed across her face. “Oh, my God.”

  A cold pit formed in Lena’s stomach as tears pooled in Valerie’s eyes. “What happened?”

  “He didn’t answer me. He didn’t . . .” The phone fell from her hands as she collapsed onto the boardwalk.

  “Val? Shit, what the hell?”

  Crouching next to her friend, Lena picked up the cell phone and checked the message. It was from Angela.

  Firefighters are missing. Apartment fire. Building collapsed. Tell me D isn’t on dut
y today.

  Grabbing Valerie by the arm, she pulled her to the nearby sports bar and helped her find a seat at the counter.

  “I don’t want a drink. Oh, Jesus, I think I’m going to be sick,” Valerie moaned.

  Heart in her throat, Lena shouted for the bartender to turn on the local news. In seconds there it was, in living color. The reporter stood outside a smoldering five-story apartment building while the camera panned across the scene. Multiple responders crowded the streets. She counted three ambulances, two engines, the Battalion Chief.

  “Firefighters responded to this structure fire in Golden Beach, Virginia a little after noon today. As far as we know, there are at least three firefighters trapped in the building. We can’t release their names until next of kin has been notified, but what we do know is this occurred during a rescue attempt when one of the firefighters was injured while searching for survivors.”

  As the reporter continued, Lena watched the screen for any sign of Donovan. All she needed was a fleeting glance of his last name on the tail of his bunker jacket to help ease Valerie’s mind. When a commercial took the place of the destruction, she sat back on her stool.

  “I didn’t see him. Did you see him?” Valerie asked, panic sending her voice up an octave.

  Shaking her head, Lena pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Michael. I’m sure he can get us some information.”

  The phone didn’t ring even once. Straight to voicemail. “Damn. No answer. Let me try his mom. He’s probably over there.”

  As the line rang, nerves took hold in her gut. She hadn’t spoken to her mother-in-law throughout the divorce. After three rings, Marianne answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Mari? Hi, it’s Lena.”

  “What can I do for you, Lena?” She sounded confused, and Lena couldn’t blame her.

  “Is, uh, Michael there? He’s not answering his phone.”

  “Oh, he’s probably out on a call.”

  Her heart turned to an icy cold stone in her chest. “What?”