All In

by Amy DeMeritt

  All In

  By: Amy DeMeritt

  All In

  Copyright © 2020 Amy DeMeritt

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 9781659121766

  This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designed by Amy DeMeritt

  Contents

  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

  Other works by Amy DeMeritt

  Chapter One

  If Ashton Hyland needed anything right now, it would be a muzzle for her unlikely best friend, Gloria Sanchez. The two are opposites in every way, but somehow, their vast collection of differences is exactly why they are the perfect match – as friends, only friends. Seriously, they are nothing more, have never been more, and never will be more. Both of them are quite firm on that, and even though they don’t need the constant convincing, the rest of the damn world sure seems to. And every time such an instance of wrongful coupling occurs, whether from a friend or stranger, Gloria just can’t let the matter roll off of her back as just an insignificant misunderstanding, as it is. No, Gloria must recount the entire conversation as soon as they are alone, then list the many reasons why they could never be lovers. Sure, Gloria does all of this with a strong dose of comedy and sassy flare, but after six years of friendship, the “Gloria Sanchez Comedy Hour” show doesn’t have the same whimsical and funny zing it used to have. But Ashton doesn’t have the heart to tell her best friend, the woman she somehow loves above all others, that she is driving her crazy.

  With her signature “signing off” chortle that is strictly reserved for moments when Gloria is entertaining, she walks in ahead of Ashton with a sassy sashay of her hips, dropping her large designer handbag on the sidebar at the back of the sofa in Ashton’s apartment. Ashton tosses her keys and wallet into a wooden bowl on the sidebar, then playfully smacks Gloria’s thick round ass as she walks by.

  “I’m all out of coconut water. What do you want to drink?”

  Still floating on her comedic high, Gloria lunges forward with a giggle and pinches both of Ashton’s muscular cheeks through her dark blue jeans, making Ashton release a small laugh and roll her eyes.

  “Why are you always running out of my favorite beverage? I thought you don’t like coconut water?”

  “I don’t.”

  Gloria slips her hand in the back pocket of Ashton’s jeans as she sidles up next to her at the open fridge to look inside, and counters, “Then why are you drinking all of my coconut water?”

  “I don’t. You do. If you weren’t here every damn day, maybe I wouldn’t run out so frequently.”

  Gloria scoffs as she dramatically places a hand on her chest, saying, “That is not the solution to this problem and I resent you for suggesting it is! Obviously, you need to buy more.”

  “Or, you could just drink regular water like a normal person.”

  Gloria roughly grips Ashton’s ass as she presses her generous breasts against her small ones, and with their lips only inches apart, she coos, “I am better than normal. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  “You do realize this is exactly why people think we’re fucking, right? You are always all over me, woman.”

  Gloria grins as she presses in tighter against Ashton and slips her other hand in the second back pocket of her jeans. With a purring coo, she asks, “Are you suggesting that you don’t like that people think we could be fucking? Are you ashamed of me, baby?”

  “Nope, not even when you’re wearing those skin tight, bright cherry red chinos and the leopard print satin tank top with your boobs popping out of the top.”

  Gloria laughs and pulls a hand out of Ashton’s back pocket to spank her ass. “Hey, you know you love my fashion sense. It pairs beautifully with your tough-ass butch style.” Gloria combs her fingers through Ashton’s short hair, and adds, “And it helps that you’re a smoking-hot silver-fox.”

  Ashton’s cellphone starts beeping in her left front pocket. She pulls it out and groans deeply. “Smoking-hot is right. I have to go.”

  “But you’re supposed to be off today.”

  “It’s a three-alarm fire – all hands on deck, babe. I gotta go. You can hang out here.”

  She gives Ashton a firm kiss on her lips with concern deeply etched in the corners of her dark brown eyes. “Three-alarm – that means it’s really bad. Let me know the instant you are safe.”

  “I will.”

  Ashton gives her a quick kiss on the lips, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, then jogs to the front door. She takes two steps down at a time, running down the stairwell of her apartment building. When she hits ground level, she darts out of the heavy steel door and runs across the parking lot to her double-cab white pickup truck.

  As she pulls out of her parking space, she puts her lights and sirens on, then grabs the radio on her dashboard to page into the station dispatcher. “This is Lieutenant Hyland, I’m on my way into the station. What’s the situation on the three-alarm?”

  Marge’s aged husky voice cracks over the speaker, “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Three crews are on their way to the scene. Two more are nearly prepared to peel out.”

  “What do we know about the cause and do we know if there’s anyone in the warehouse?”

  “The warehouse went bust several months ago, but the nearby residents are reporting they’ve witnessed squatters coming and going periodically. It’s unknown at this point if anyone is inside. The fire is rapidly spreading and looks like it’s about to jump the fence into the residences on either side of it. Police are working to evacuate the neighboring streets.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in less than five-minutes.”

  Ashton weaves in and out of traffic as vehicles dart to the sides to get out of her way. She slows momentarily to ease through an intersection on a red light, then speeds away to pull into the fire station’s parking lot. She runs across the lot, and as soon as she enters the house, she changes into her firefighter uniform then rushes out to the join the efforts of prepping two trucks to leave the station. She calls out orders, makes checks for equipment, then climbs into a truck and orders the driver to pull out of the station.

  Within just seven minutes, they’re on location and more than a few firefighters whistle or make comments under their breath about the huge inferno in front of them. Lieutenant Hyland orders the driver to pull around to the back of the warehouse where they don’t have any trucks yet. After they’re parked, half of them secure their helmets and air tanks with respirators, while the others secure their helmets and work to get the hoses hooked up t
o the water tank that followed them to the site and the couple of nearby fire hydrants.

  As she’s grabbing her axe, her radio crackles, and a voice bellows through, saying, “Lieutenant Hyland, this is Captain Pierce from Station 13. If you have an opening from back there, we have confirmation of at least two people inside. We have been unable to approach. We’re struggling to keep the fire from jumping the fences.”

  “We have a possible small opening. But we need at least two more tanks back here to hold this fire back.”

  She turns to her crew, calls out several orders to get the hoses positioned where she needs the water, then orders six men and women to follow her to the building. With their heatshields lowered on their helmets, they cautiously approach the warehouse. The building is at least as big as three football fields and the fire is nearly consuming the entire brick, wood paneling, and steel structure. Only two loading bays are open and free of the raging red, white, and orange flames.

  “Keep your eyes peeled in all directions. Watch each other’s backs, fronts, sides, above, and below.” She looks back at her crew manning the hoses to see another truck from her station pulling up and unloading. “Alright, we have more water power coming our way. Stay within the water arches till we get our bearings and can assess the situation inside. Let’s go.”

  Staying close together, Ashton and six of her firefighters walk up four narrow concrete steps leading to a locked steel door next to the large open loading bay. Instead of breaking through the door, they step over to the concrete loading bay, then into the warehouse. As they step inside, one by one, they’re hit with a wave of heat so intense it causes each one to pause for several seconds before moving forward for the next person to step up.

  They only get six feet in when Ashton holds up a hand for them to stop. They only have about fifteen to thirty yards of space on all sides of them that have not been claimed by the fire. Beyond that is consumed by raging twirling and twisting flames, smoke, and flying embers as far as the eyes can see. She looks up to see the fire is moving through the rafters and getting closer to their location.

  “We have less than five minutes before we lose our window out of here.” She splits the crew in groups of two and has two groups split left and right to check for survivors. “Fields and Perez, you’re with me. We’re going straight ahead.”

  The two tallest and strongest men on the crew follow her forward, where the fire is directly above them. While keeping an eye on the creeping fire above them, they check the interiors of several pallet movers to see if anyone is hiding inside, as well as some steel cabinets and large plastic rolling bins.

  “Lieutenant, I have something over here!”

  Ashton and Fields rush to Perez’s side, which is dangerously close to the border of the inferno. There’s a fallen roof rafter with a shoe sticking out from under it.

  “I can feel a foot and leg. I can’t see the rest of the person. You see this recess on the top? I think there’s one on the other side, like the person is stuck in this pocket.”

  “Alright, we gotta get this beam moved.” Ashton looks above them and her adrenaline increases. “We’re running out of time. Alright, move it, you two get that end.”

  Fields and Perez move to one end of the steel beam and Ashton goes to the other. On the count of three, they try to lift it, but the steel is too heavy. Ashton calls out to the rest of the crew and they rush over to assist. It takes all of their strength to lift the beam just high enough that they can pull the unconscious person out from under it. The boy is badly burned on his arms, his clothes are torn and singed, and he’s bleeding from his head and the leg that was crushed by the beam.

  Sandra Maxwell kneels down next to him, saying, “Lord Jesus, he can’t be more than thirteen-years-old.” She presses two fingers to the side of his neck, then anxiously adds, “He has a pulse.”

  “Perez, Fields, break the door off of that steal cabinet.”

  While they promptly obey, Ashton takes her air tank off of her back and takes her jacket off, which causes her skin to immediately feel like she’s about to catch on fire. As Perez and Fields return with the six-foot-tall, narrow door, Ashton lays her jacket open over it, then all of them carefully lift the boy and lay him over her jacket. Ashton cuts the belt straps off of her air tank harness, and after she closes the jacket over the boy and has Perez and Fields pick up the door, she secures the belt around the narrow door and the waist of the boy to offer some stability to keep him on the makeshift gurney.

  “Perez, Fields, and Maxwell get that boy out of here.” As Ashton slings her air tank over her shoulders with the remaining two straps, she asks the rest of her crew, “Has the rest of the open air been cleared?”

  A loud groan sounds above them, followed by a splintering crack, like a building roll of thunder. A small piece of burning wood hits first, just next to their feet, only a few moments before a portion of the ceiling caves in and only a moment before they’re able to dive out of the way. They sprint to the single loading bay that hasn’t been consumed by flames yet but stop short by several feet, resisting the impulse to leap to their safety.

  “Shit, we are out of time. Are we clear? Did you finish checking your quadrants?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, we’re clear.”

  “Move out!”

  They take off running for the loading bay that is beginning to fill with flames. As her team starts jumping down from the concrete ledge, a shrill cry causes a shiver to skitter down Ashton’s spine. She freezes only a foot from jumping and spins to look around the burning warehouse.

  “Lieutenant! Jump!”

  “I hear something!”

  The fire is closing in on her from all directions, but she knows that sound was not the hissing and cracking sound of burning wood or the shrieking groan of hot metal twisting. She walks back towards the fire and wills her ears to pick up the sound again.

  “Come on! Where are you? Scream!”

  And at her command, the shrill cry sounds to her left. She darts forward and opens a cabinet door to see a small black kitten with orange spots shaking in the bottom corner.

  “There you are. Okay, come here.”

  She sets her axe down and scoops the kitten up in both gloved hands. She cradles the kitten against her chest, grabs her axe, and spins back towards the exit.

  “Shit.”

  The water hoses are being focused right at the loading bay, but the fire is defiantly filling the entire opening. She looks down at the kitten to make sure her glove is completely covering it. She drops her axe, removes her air tank and respirator, then runs and jumps. Fire and water rage against her for seconds that feel like minutes, then as she reaches open air, her crew catches her, bracing her landing. Once she has her footing, they take off running away from the warehouse.

  She checks to make sure the kitten didn’t get squashed in her glove, then starts screaming orders to the three crews on her side of the warehouse to redirect the jets of their hoses to pound holes through the wall of fire.

  She rushes to the paramedics, and asks, “The boy – where is he? How is he?”

  As one of the paramedics offers her jacket back to her, he says, “He’s on the way to the hospital. He was unconscious and appears to have lost a lot of blood, but he was stable when they left. Are you injured?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  She turns around, and as she’s about to walk away, the paramedic says, “Wait, Lieutenant, we should check you out.”

  “Later.”

  She walks away at a fast pace and pulls Erin off of a train holding a hose aimed at the warehouse. She throws her arms around Ashton and firmly kisses her lips.

  With Erin’s vibrant green eyes staring sharply into Ashton’s gray eyes, she firmly says, “Ash, I’m going to kick your ass for scaring me like that. What were you…?”

  “Erin, I found a girl in there. I need you to…”

  “Ash, for the last time, I’m not a doctor of humans. I’m a vet.” Ashton pulls
her hand down some, revealing the kitten. Erin’s face softens, and she coos, “Oh, poor precious baby.” She pulls her glove off and lightly pets the kitten’s shivering head, making her release a small cry. “She is why you almost didn’t make it out of there?”

  “Well, yeah, I heard her screaming just as I was about to jump down. Can you check her out?”

  Erin grabs the sides of Ashton’s face and pulls her down a few inches to kiss her squarely on the lips. And despite Ashton’s lips tasting like soot and sweat, she gives her a passionate, full mouth kiss for several moments. As she pulls away, she releases a small burring moan, then clears her throat, looking side to side to see if anyone heard her. Ashton just grins at her, making Erin’s nervous expression turn into one of smugness, which Ashton finds adorable.

  “We’ll have to borrow some equipment from the paramedics till we can get back to my clinic. Let me see her.” Ashton tries to pass her the kitten, but she shrieks loudly and digs her little claws into Ashton’s tee shirt. “Awe, she likes you. She has bonded to you.”

  “She’s just scared.”

  Erin shakes her head as she rubs Ashton’s cheek, brushing some sweaty soot away. “You saved her life. You made a friend for life.”

  “That will be a problem if she belongs to the boy that we found in there.”

  “Possibly. Come on.”

  Erin is a full-time veterinarian and joined the station as a volunteer firefighter three years ago. Ashton and Erin were immediately attracted to each other and after only a few weeks of knowing each other, they found themselves lost in the throes of passion in Ashton’s truck after a few drinks at the local bar favored by the department.

  They were hot and heavy for the first month, but their desires and passion quickly became so intense that their need to be physical became a distraction for both of them in their respective careers. They were missing calls from the firehouse and Erin’s clinic. They were showing up late to work. They were even caught in the act on more than a couple of occasions in Ashton’s office at the firehouse, risking both of their futures with the department.