That time, Scarlett couldn’t stop her giggle from escaping, and Jeremy leaned around Connor and winked at her before standing back straight. His hands went to his shirt, and he pulled it up as if he were about to sling it off, displaying his ab muscles. “Do I need to show you how it’s done, Buddy? You’ve clearly let the side down. She’s still standing.”
Blush colored Scarlett’s cheeks, surprising her. The climate at the station was much the same; politically incorrect and completely irreverent. It was how the guys blew off stress, and she usually gave as good as she got. She frowned. Well, she used to. It had been a while since she’d been included in any of the daily verbal sparring matches. Connor looked down and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back close to his side. His expression tightened at the look on her face, and he turned back to Jeremy. “Back off, Man.”
Jeremy held up his hands, stepping back. “It’s all good.” He stepped toward the entrance to the common area, jerking his thumb up the stairs. “Boss man wanted the room available again in case any calls came in. I can see you’re . . . available, and so that’s all I need.” He turned, hightailing it back up the stairs.
Scarlett turned in to Connor’s chest, patting it lightly. “You didn’t need to be so hard on the guy. He was only joking.”
Connor’s frown deepened. “He was making you uncomfortable,” he growled. “Besides, I don’t want anyone else thinking about my girl like that.”
His words sent a million butterflies off in her stomach along with a burst of warmth all at once. His girl. She could get used to that.
She was moving to kiss him again, staying fully-clothed this time, unfortunately, when her phone buzzed. At some point, it had fallen out of her pocket, and it vibrated loudly against the concrete floor. She bent down and scooped it up, swiping to read the text message that had set it off.
Labs are back. Thought you’d want to know —Holly.
A tingle of excitement grew in Scarlett’s gut, mixing with the emotions swirled up at Connor’s words. Of course, with Harrelson keeping her continued involvement on the case on the down-low, she wouldn’t have gotten the official notification from the lab techs, but thank God for her friend in dispatch. Holly had looked out for Scarlett from the get-go. She’d just have to remember to tell her friend no more attempts at setting her up on blind dates. She’d found everything she needed right here.
She turned back to Connor, kissing him lightly. She resisted the urge to open her mouth and seek out his tongue. That would only lead to one thing, and even if Connor’s boss wasn’t about to send out more reluctant of the squad members hunting them down, she could well miss her chance to intercept the reports. She bent down, pulling on her boots. Somehow it was easier to tell him she was leaving if she wasn’t looking at his face. “I need to head to the station for a bit.”
“No problem,” Connor said. “I’ll have Mason organize a replacement for me. As soon as they’re here, we can get going.”
Scarlett bit her lip. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that walking out into the open was still giving her the heebie-jeebies, just a little. But that was something she was just going to have to get over. Someone took a shot at her. Big deal. She wasn’t the first cop to be in the line of fire as part of the job, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Something seared through her at the thought, and for a moment she was overtaken by memories of the night someone had shot at Derek. He hadn’t been so lucky.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, forcing the thoughts away. Derek’s death had left a gap in her heart that she thought would never be filled. For months, she’d done nothing except exist. She’d done more living in the last few weeks than she had for an entire year, and Scarlett wasn’t about to let herself be dragged back to that dark place again. She survived, and she owed it to Derek—to herself—to start living again. The first thing she was going to do was get the fuck over her fear. The one thing she could do was refuse to let any more of her life be tainted by one terrible night. As much as her heart would like to wait for Connor, she had a job to do, and that meant she needed to leave immediately or she’d miss her chance.
“I have to go now,” she said, hoping the reluctance she felt didn’t show in her voice. At the sight of Connor’s frown, she added, “but I’ll text you when I get there, if it’ll make you feel better?”
Connor looked like he was going to say something else, but then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. His breath felt warm against her neck, and she clung to him, sucking in as much of his scent as she could. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
“You better be,” he said. “Otherwise I might have to resort to Jeremy’s offer.”
His laughter was still ringing in her ears as Scarlett hopped into her truck out in the firehouse’s parking lot and turned toward the station.
The drive was quick, what rush hour Monroe did get having long finished, and too early for the moms to be out picking up kids from school. She frowned as a couple of squad cars passed her on the way. It was unusual, but they didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry. Besides, if there was another fire, it would be Connor’s crew that headed out first, all lights and sirens. She was sure she’d hear about that, even if Harrelson was still attempting to keep her in the dark. He’d promised to let her keep investigating, but habits were hard to break. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if her boss still tried to keep information from her in an attempt to protect her.
She smiled to herself as she stepped out of her car. Maybe by breaking this case open, Harrelson would finally realize that she wasn’t some delicate flower that needed to be wrapped up and hidden from the world. She was still a cop. After everything, her vow to protect and serve meant more to her than ever. She’d be damned if she was going to let some assholes with a new, exploding toy take over her town.
Her frown returned when she walked into the back of the station. As she walked down the empty hall and found an also empty bullpen, a heavy boulder joined the bad feelings swirling in her gut. The room looked as it always did, except entirely empty. Papers were strewn over desks, the occasional filing cabinet still open. Pens left uncapped on desks, a phone or two sitting off the hook on the desk, one with the headset left hanging off the edge, swinging by the cord.
It was damn eerie.
The whole vision reminded Scarlett of those documentaries where they showed you what the earth would be like if humans were suddenly wiped off the face of the earth. There were no creeping vines or wild animals making their way into the squad rooms just yet, but she could almost imagine it. The room was usually loud at minimum, but right now it was as if everyone had suddenly just disappeared, everything sitting exactly as it had been in a single moment.
The silence that was screaming through her mind was broken by the distant sound of chatter coming from up the hall. Scarlett nearly wobbled with relief, and the cold fingers wrapped around her spine receded at the sound of her friend’s voice. Holly. She’d know what the hell was going on. Her friend ruled dispatch, and as a result was always the first to know anything. Well, maybe that was more to do with the fact that Holly was an insatiable gossip. She was a sweetheart, though, and never meant it unkindly. Right now, Scarlett would take any info she could get.
She moved down the hall, her jog increasing in speed until she jerked around the corner to Holly’s domain almost at full run. When she got there, she took in the sight of her friend, alone in a room that was usually staffed by several operators during busy times. She worked the phones like a pro, picking up one and barking something into it before dropping it back, only to grab another and place it on hold to talk to someone in her headset. Scarlett watched the whole routine repeat itself several times over before she managed to get her friend’s attention.
Holly’s eyes widened at the sight of her, and her mouth dropped open. “Scarlett! What the hell are you doing here?” A phone rang again, and Holly jumped at the sound, running a hand through
her already-mussed-up hair and tugging on the ends as she picked it up. “No, your unit is on standby in case there’s a second wave. Meanwhile, I need you down at the National Guard base in case anyone pulls some more shit over there.”
At her words, Scarlett felt the blood drain from her face. No. There was no way Holly was reacting any way other than with absolute authority right now. Something was going down, and she needed to know. Now. She waited until Holly disconnected from the call and then stepped forward and yanked the headset from her head. “Holly. What’s going on?”
She expected to be reprimanded for snatching the headset, or at least have her hand slapped away, but Holly reacted as if Scarlett had done nothing at all. Instead, she twisted, grabbing a pen to scrawl something over a piece of paper. Scarlett tried to read over her shoulder. It wasn’t a report, or even anything official—just a blank piece of paper that Holly must have grabbed at some point in an urgent need to take notes. “Holly!” she barked. “What the fuck?”
Her friend suddenly seemed to remember Scarlett was still standing there. She turned, her expression still harried as she shoved the pen through her ponytail. “You don’t know?”
“No! I just left the firehouse fifteen minutes ago, and everything was fine and dandy then. Where is everyone?”
Holly’s eyes did that damn widening thing again, this time combined with guilt scrawling across her face. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but what the hell. Monroe needs all the hands on deck it can get right now.” She looked up, nailing Scarlett with her gaze. Despite her panic, her friend was all business. Any trace of her usual casual friendliness was entirely gone. The cold hand yanking on Scarlett’s spine returned.
“There was a bomb,” Holly said. “Oh, God, Scarlett. It took out half the high school. Everyone’s there.”
25
Connor
Connor sat himself down at the table in the common area. He’d grabbed a plate of food and the sports section of the paper in a vain attempt to distract himself. Even the knowing grins and occasional snorts from behind hands from his squadmates hadn’t managed to do that.
Surprisingly, they’d shown amazing restraint. Sure, there’d been a few hoots and hollers as he’d entered the room, and one elbow to the ribs, but overall, they’d been more congratulatory than leering. He grinned to himself. Maybe that had more to do with the fact that most of the squad had found the love of their lives over the last year or so and finally settled down.
Even Matt, an older member of the squad, had fallen—and fallen hard—just a few months back. In his mid-thirties and grumpier than someone twice that age, Matt Rivers was one guy Connor would not have been at all surprised to see single for years. A giant of a man with a gruff demeanor, Connor wasn’t sure he’d even seen the guy out on a date in the years he’d known him. Instead, Matt had seemed to lock himself away—for any and all social situations, now that Connor thought about it. And yet, all it had taken to bring the big man tumbling to his knees was a small blonde woman. Nearly half his size and probably half his weight, too, her reappearance in town had shocked Matt half to death. It had rattled them all, coming so close to the death of a fire victim, or even themselves in the process, but it had been more for Matt that day. Connor would never forget the look on his face.
Of course, now it all made sense. Matt’s panic that day was obvious in hindsight. When you loved someone, you’d do anything for them, even walk into a roaring fire. Connor stared down at the paper and took a bite of food, refusing to think about Scarlett somewhere out there on her own. He was being ridiculous. It was broad daylight, and she was a cop—an armed cop, for fuck’s sake. Yeah, she’d gotten hurt a few days ago, but that had been a lonely moron taking pot shots. Hadn’t it? There’d been no further attacks or even threats directly toward her since then. The chances of a random attack again in just a few days were almost impossible.
But that’s what they’d thought initially about the fires.
This was pointless. Connor dropped his fork back onto his plate, not bothering to be gentle about it, and pushed to stand. Mason looked up at him, raising his eyebrows at the clatter, but didn’t say anything. Connor shrugged at him and kept moving. The newspaper wasn’t going to have anything new enough for his purposes in it. He was stuck there for the foreseeable future, God forbidding any other emergencies that shift, and so he may as well make the most of the time. If he couldn’t accompany Scarlett, then the least he could do was throw himself back into their research. Maybe he’d finally find something that would help—something more concrete than the smoky trails and whispers that fell out of your fingertips as soon as you tried to grasp them.
He just opened his mouth to ask Mason if he could borrow the laptop again when dispatch’s siren rang through the firehouse, followed quickly by the dispatcher’s voice over the loudspeaker. The sound stopped Connor in his tracks.
Monroe was small enough that he knew the voice of just about every dispatcher that worked the system. He might not know them all personally, but each voice was familiar, and with it usually a name. Today, it was different.
He frowned, tilting his head to the side. He must look like a complete idiot. It wasn’t as if the announcement was hard to hear; the sound was practically blaring through the room. It was Holly; at least, he thought it was, but the usual upbeat tone to her voice was gone. Dispatch could probably get repetitive, and some operators droned the information out, but Holly always had a bit of a pep in her step. Until today. Today, she sounded like she was hurling the words out, her voice breathless and half-frantic.
As the alert sounded again at the end of Holly’s call, Connor realized his hands had rolled into fists. It took him another beat for Holly’s words to catch up with him. Explosion. High school. Students and teachers trapped. Connor ran.
A snort escaped him on the way down the stairs to the engine bay when he realized the rest of the squad was moving just as fast. It was something that had been drilled into them ever since the academy. Don’t run. It was dangerous, and panic—or even the appearance of it—was contagious. Watching his teammates thunder down the stairs next to him, it was clear no one gave a damn. Not with what was at stake.
As the truck pulled out of the firehouse, he threw out a quick prayer that Scarlett was hunkered down somewhere. She’d probably made it to the station before the alarm had gone off, but the timing was tight. Who was he kidding? Even if she had, she wouldn’t have stayed there long. She’d want to be in the field, and with so many citizens—God, so many children—in danger, he wasn’t about to insist that she step back. Still, he hoped her boss kept his promise to keep her involvement on the down-low. She could handle command, interrogate suspects, even liaise with the various branches that Connor was sure would be crawling all over the site by now. He could handle all that. Connor could only hope that she’d stay out of the line of sight of bombers—no, terrorists—who likely were already gunning for her.
When they arrived, the atmosphere was so charged Connor swore he could feel the air around them crackling. The county fire rescue service was already on scene, and other squads from nearby firehouses in the county were also pulling in, ready to offer assistance. The school held over a thousand students, and civilian traffic was thick with students, parents, teachers, even nearby locals. Some were fleeing the building, superficial cuts and bruises on their arms and faces. Parents stood, some crying, holding students in their arms, while others hunted through the crowd, some heading toward the collapsed structure. Others stood staring, shell-shocked at the sight before them.
Mason moved first, herding those standing on the perimeter away from the structure, while simultaneously calling out to Shane and Charlie to start up a triage area. Chief Stone had already disappeared into the fray, likely to find the other captains and anyone from HQ to coordinate the rescue efforts.
Connor stared at the school, or what was left of it. A large, gaping hole seemingly hung in the air, ripping a gash up the side of the building. It
traveled along the brickwork, exposing classrooms and offices alike. Chairs sat toppled, some having made it out onto the lawn. Paper fluttered out of some rooms, littering the space and landing on top of a fine layer of dust that coated every available surface. Even kids running from the building were covered in it.
Quiet rumbling sounds came from parts of the building. They were too soft to be more sections collapsing, but the building still settling and shifting didn’t make Connor feel any better. Who knew what shape the weight-bearing structures were in? A loud clunk came from near the front of the school, and trickles of small debris rained down onto the concrete.
Chief Stone reappeared, and Mason called out to him. “Chief, we gotta get in there!”
Alex jogged over to their unit, calling them around. “The site survey was just complete, and HQ are getting the utilities shut off as we speak.” He nodded toward Jeremy and Dean. “Gibson and Halstead, find the hydrant and get a line run. Hale and McClellan, you’re on shore-up. The rest of you are on void search the moment it’s safe to enter. Until then, look for surface victims, and help with debris clearance.”
The squad turned and splintered without a word. It was moments like this when Connor appreciated the camaraderie and family-like relationships at the house more than ever. No one needed further explanation. Each member of the house was a man or woman he was proud to work beside—top-notch firefighters who knew their job. Not a one of them was out for fame or glory, or accolades sometimes given, but to save lives. Connor turned with Seth and grabbed the webbing and equipment out of the truck and moved toward the crumbling school.
Under Fire (Southern Heat Book 7) Page 16
