“I’m going to get suited up and go in there to cut the cables, then inspect the tank.”
“Well, where’s my suit?”
She sat down on the bumper, nudging off her low-heeled shoes and slipping her long legs into the attached boots of the one-piece suit. “You don’t have one yet. Your measurements were taken only today. It’s still on order for you.”
“What about that suit?” he protested, pointing to a second one hanging on the wall.
Brie shook her head, sitting again. “That’s Jeff’s, and it won’t fit you. You’re too big for it, Tanner. Here, help me get the air pack over my shoulders.”
Muttering a curse under his breath, Linc lifted the forty-pound air pack off its holder and spread the array of nylon straps aside so that Brie could struggle into it. “I don’t like this, Brie. You shouldn’t be going in there without a partner. That’s the law of fire fighting: you always work on the buddy system.”
She felt the weight of the air pack on her shoulders and pulled the nylon straps to tighten them. She snapped the latches closed across her breast and stomach, then shrugged a few times to settle the tank comfortably against her. “Normally, I’d agree with you. But I can’t allow you to go near that tanker without being properly protected. You might breath in hydrochloric acid or step in it, or it might explode. You need the safety this suit offers.”
Running his fingers through his hair, Linc said, “Let me put on an air pack and go in with you.” No woman could handle a task like that alone. How could she recognize battery cables from other cables in a huge truck engine?
Brie was grateful for his help in getting the bulky suit up and over the air pack. The silver-colored material of the gear glared in the dying rays of the sun hovering on the western horizon. She closed the crotch-to-throat Velcro and tested her breathing apparatus. Everything worked fine. Linc held the silver hood in his hands. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s impossible.” Her voice turned grim. “I’ve already had one partner die, and I’ll be damned if you’ll be the second because I overlooked a point of safety.” She slipped on the oxygen mask, which fitted over most of her face. She tightened the rubber straps on either side until it was sealed, keeping her from breathing any poisonous fumes.
Linc suspended his protests, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to argue. Brie needed his support, not his dissension in the face of a crisis. He lowered the hood and sealed it to her shoulders. A large glass plate showed her beautiful green eyes and thick lashes and nose behind the clear plastic of her oxygen mask. “How can I communicate with you?” he demanded, raising his voice.
Brie pointed to a small radio inside her suit and to a similar one on Jeff’s. “Just put on the headpiece and take Jeff’s radio off his suit,” she shouted, her voice muffled.
At least he’d have radio contact with her! Linc slipped on the slender headpiece with the mike close to his lips. She picked up the toolbox, and he followed her around the van.
“Are you sure you know where the battery cables are located at the back of that truck?”
Brie almost laughed but had the good sense not to. “Yes, I know where they’re at.”
Linc rubbed his jaw, giving her a dubious look. “You sure?”
“Look, I know by now you don’t think women are of much use beyond the bedroom.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did.” She met and held his cobalt gaze. “Put your prejudice aside and maybe you’ll find out that women can understand mechanical and electrical things, too.”
Linc clamped his teeth together, his jaw rigid. The looks she received from the bystanders made him want to laugh: the people were reacting as if a Martian had landed. The bulky silver suit did resemble something from outer space. Brie walked with surprising agility in the cumbersome outfit, but then, she was a feline.
Linc went with her as far as the troopers’ cars. He gripped her arm, gently swinging her around. “You be careful out there, kitten. You get into trouble, you call me. Understand?”
Brie’s eyes widened momentarily as his raspy voice came through the headset she wore. A heady warmth suddenly blanketed her, and she felt an exquisite sensation at his concern. A tiny shiver of pleasure raced up her spine when his voice dropped intimately at the word kitten. “I will, Linc. And thanks.” She smiled. “See, even three-legged dogs are valuable.”
That was her last contact with him for the next ten minutes. Linc paced back and forth, watching as Brie made her way toward the tanker with the small toolbox in her left gloved hand. When she finally reached the rusty, battered truck and leaned into the truck engine and cut the cable wires, his heart began a slow, uneven pounding. He stood, legs apart, binoculars to his eyes, watching her every move. Brie, be careful! he told her silently. The what ifs overwhelmed him. What if there was a leak in some unknown place? What if there was a spark if she cut the wrong cable and it caught fire? She could easily be killed in the resulting explosion. What if her air pack suddenly stopped working? She could suffocate in minutes if she couldn’t get out of that suit to fresh air. What if the breathing apparatus developed a leak and she breathed in some of those deadly fumes? She could be dead before he would be able to race that half a mile to rescue her.
Muttering another curse, Linc swore violently that this would be the last time Brie would ever go anywhere by herself. She needed a man around in case anything happened! She wasn’t able to handle a situation like this by herself! He punched down the radio button. “Talk to me, Brie. What’s going on? What do you see?” His voice came out in a low growl of impatience.
Brie felt immediate relief when she heard Linc’s voice. Talking used too much oxygen. If she were breathing lightly and evenly, she would have twenty-five minutes of air. If, like today, her breathing was choppy and erratic, she had perhaps twenty minutes. She climbed down from the rear of the truck and approached the tanker. Her eyes narrowed as she quickly took in the condition of the rusted tanker. “I don’t see anything yet. I’ll let you know, Linc. Got to conserve my air. Out.”
With painstaking care, Brie examined every square inch of the overturned tanker. The tank was badly dented, and she got down on her hands and knees to slide her gloved hand along the area where the tank rested on the berm. If there was any leak, the dirt would be dark and damp.
Brie knew that it was possible the entire truck might shift down unexpectedly. If it did, her fingers, if not her entire hand or lower arm, would be caught and crushed. Then she could be trapped, and in far greater danger. Sweat trickled down her brows and into her eyes. She shut them tightly, then blinked a few times. The sun was still warm even at six o’clock, and sweat was running freely down her body. The suit acted like a sauna. It was a great way to lose five pounds in a half hour’s time. Except she needed to gain weight, not lose it.
As she neared the top of the tank, she stood up and minutely inspected the hatch and shoring mechanism, making sure it wasn’t sprung. The lid was plenty tight. Brie got back down on her hands and knees, continuing her inspection. Finding no change in the dirt, she went to the other side of the truck and crawled in between the huge tires and axles, hunting for leaks. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. She had to be careful not to tear her suit on the jagged metal sticking out at odd angles from the truck. If there was a leak, one tear could be her death. Chemicals were quickly breathed in by the pores of the skin, and that could kill her just as though she had breathed them in through her mouth and nose.
“Brie?”
Linc’s voice was quietly furious. He’s probably lost sight of me, she thought, making her way toward the cab of the truck on all fours. “Nothing so far. Lid’s secure.”
“You’ve got five minutes of air left.” That wasn’t a comment, it was an order for her to get away from the truck.
Brie smiled and slowly made her way out of the tangle of wheels and torn truck cables and stood near the cab. “Roger. On my way out now. Tell Sergeant D’Onofrio that the truck’s secure
. There’s no danger of a leak.”
Chapter Three
Linc’s eyes were burning with obvious concern as he walked the last hundred yards from the barricade of police cars and met her. Without a word, he helped her out of the hood. The fresh air felt heavenly, and Brie closed her eyes as she loosened the rubber straps of her face mask. She pulled it over her head, breathed in deeply, then gave him a welcoming smile.
“I never lose the wonder of taking the first deep breath after wearing this gear.”
Linc’s mouth was a thin line as he walked at her side toward the van. “You may be the boss, lady, but that’s the last time you ever go into a situation by yourself.” He still didn’t believe she had been able to cut the battery cables by herself, much less make sure there was no leak.
Brie gave him an understanding look. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t like the idea of going in alone, either.”
He tried to ignore the natural warmth that emanated from her. The crisis had brought them together as a team, and he found himself reacting like a team member. “Like I said, it’s the last time that’s going to happen. So many things could have gone wrong.” His jaw tightened and his mouth worked as he wrestled with emotions he refused to share with her.
“They’ll have a suit for you by next week, Linc,” she soothed. “Chief Saxon will give us a call when it’s ready.”
Partly mollified, Linc nodded. “For whatever it’s worth, you really bring out my protective side, lady.”
She smiled, amusement in her dark jade eyes. “Don’t look so distraught over it happening, Tanner. It’s not a disease, you know.”
Linc didn’t have time to respond to her obvious teasing. Brie was hounded by a television camera crew and two local newspaper reporters the moment she stepped beyond the line of state police cars. He hated reporters with passion and stepped in front of her to protect her from their rabid charge, placing his bulk between them like a wall. Brie gave him a silent thank-you and escaped to the rear of the van to change. The reporters were behaving like spoiled children because he was an unknown who had broken up their charge.
“Hey, buddy,” one freckle-faced reporter with carrot-red hair called, “who do you think you are? We have a right to interview Ms. Williams!”
Linc stood with his arms crossed. Sergeant D’Onofrio joined him, looking equally menacing.
“You’ll get your interview when we’re done coordinating this haz-mat cleanup,” Linc growled back.
“If you’re with the haz-mat people, why aren’t you in uniform?”
Linc glared at the pushy little reporter. “It was my day off. Now do us all a favor and stand back. When we’re done, you’ll get to talk to Ms. Williams. But not now.”
“But,” the television reporter cried out, “I’ve got to make the eleven o’clock news!”
“You’re breaking my heart. When are you reporters going to learn you can’t interfere in a crisis like this? You wait your turn.”
The trooper at his shoulder allowed a hint of a grin to appear as they watched the newspeople reluctantly disperse.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Mr. Tanner. If I did that, my post would get accused of being uncooperative with the news media.”
Linc snorted, dropping his hands to his sides. “I hate those people, if you can call them that. They’re always underfoot.”
The sergeant smiled, looking past Linc. He spotted the tanker that had been dispatched to come and pump the contents from the damaged one making its way slowly toward them. “I’ve worked a couple of times with Brie, and it’s my opinion she allows those reporters too much time. She gives in to their demands.”
“She won’t any more,” Linc promised, turning and walking to the back of the van. Brie was putting on her shoes when he rounded the corner. Her hair was dark with sweat and plastered against her head, the bangs hanging limply over her eyebrows. The heavy, protective gear, had made her perspire, and her one-piece uniform clung to her body as a result. He appreciated her slender lines.
“Do me a favor?” Brie asked, lifting her head as she tied her shoelaces.
“Name it.”
“In the front, between the seats, is a jug of water. I’m dying of thirst. Can you—”
“I’ll get it. You just sit there and rest for a minute.”
Brie swallowed her smile, aware of Linc’s exaggerated protectiveness. John had given her a similar, although not as powerful, sense of care. Jeff didn’t, but perhaps that was because of his age. Linc came back and handed her a plastic glass. The water was lukewarm but it tasted wonderful anyway. She drank three glasses before her thirst was sated. Thanking him, she stood and touched her hair. With a grimace, she tried to tame the wet strands into some order, then gave up.
“You look beautiful just the way you are,” Linc said.
“You have strange taste, then.”
He shared her smile, watching the golden flecks of life in her eyes. “I have good taste, though. Does that count, Ms. Williams?” he asked her in a gritty tone.
Brie’s heart thumped at the sudden intimacy between them. She felt heat flooding her cheeks, and avoided his intense blue stare. “The tanker’s here,” she stammered, avoiding his question altogether. “Come on, I want to talk with the driver before the troopers allow him through.”
Linc followed, keeping an eye on the restless band of reporters nearby. Good, they were staying out of the way—for once. Brie spoke at length with the driver, and Linc found himself in awe of her knowledge of the equipment to be used, of pumping procedures and of how to safely take the chemicals out of the overturned vehicle. No woman could know that much about mechanics!
Climbing into the van, Brie motioned for him to come inside. She was allowing him to go with her! Then he decided since they were going to the overturned truck, he’d personally check for leaks, not trusting Brie’s inspection. The women he knew always glossed over situations, and Brie could have, too.
Floodlights provided by a nearby volunteer fire department illuminated the transfer of chemicals. Linc looked at his watch and realized it was nearly nine o’clock. The day had died in a crimson sunset earlier. He had suspiciously checked the tanker for leaks. To his chagrin and relief, he didn’t find any. Brie had caught him at it and broke into a grin, making him feel foolish. And it needled him further that she had said nothing and merely turned away to leave him to complete his personal inspection.
Linc made sure all the equipment was hung up in the van afterward. He said little as the tanker carrying the noxious chemicals slowly drove away. In the floodlights, Brie’s features were washed out and taut with exhaustion. He wanted to urge her to forget the reporters, but she doggedly shook her head and went over to them. She answered their barrage of questions for nearly twenty minutes. He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally ended the press conference and walked to the van.
“Why’d you go out of your way to talk to those idiots?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Because the people of Ohio need to be informed on what we do. Every little scrap of information through the media to them may help us do our job in the long run, Linc. It helps everyone if we can teach the public to check tankers as they pass them on the highway, see if they have any leaks, then report them, if there are.” She stopped near the van, giving him the keys. “You drive, I’m getting tired.”
He opened the door for her and saw a shadow of a smile lurking at the corners of her glorious mouth. “Chauvinism is not dead,” he informed her silkily.
She climbed in. “Does that mean you’ll put my seat belt on, too?”
Linc hesitated, very aware that she looked so vulnerable because of her fatigue. “Just say the word. Nothing’s too good for you, lady. Not after the way you handled this haz-mat situation.”
Brie met his dark eyes, realizing he respected her for the first time. “Get in. I’m not so weak that I can’t buckle up. Will I need to put on a crash helmet with you at the wh
eel?”
Linc shut the door and grinned. “My good friends always called me Captain Crash.”
Brie chortled and waited until he climbed into the van before saying, “Is that short for Captain Crash and Dash?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“That’s an old fire fighter’s pet name for those who crash through a burning structure’s door, then fall through the floor into the basement. We never thought much of the crash and dashes in our department, or any other, for that matter. They risk other people’s lives with their inability to think coolly under stress.”
He got the van on the road and they headed toward Canton. “I’m not that kind,” he protested.
Brie slumped into her seat, relaxing and closing her eyes. He wasn’t a reckless driver, and she smiled slightly. “So, how many pumpers or tankers did you wreck then? There had to be a reason for the nickname.”
He glanced at Brie, alarmed by the faraway tone in her soft voice. Darkness shadowed her features, relieved only by the lights of passing vehicles. “The name Captain Crash was given to me because in certain situations I just lower my head like a bull and charge.”
“Wonderful. Now you tell me. What did you do, bully those poor reporters earlier? They didn’t have many nice things to say about your handling of them.”
His brows drew down. “Tough. I’ll never let them at you when you’re exhausted or busy coordinating an incident.”
Sleep tugged at Brie, and she wanted to give in to it. “Linc, I’m going to knock off for a while. It’s still an hour until we get home. Wake me up when you hit the outskirts of Canton, okay?”
Again, Linc was struck by Brie’s exhaustion. Didn’t she ever get a decent night’s sleep? “Are you all right?” Concern was obvious in his voice, and he saw her look at him through her lowered lashes.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry, I didn’t breathe in any of that stuff at the site. I’m just beat, that’s all.”
“Okay. Sleep for a while.”
“Sure? It’s been a long, hard day for you, too.”
Come Gentle the Dawn Page 5
