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Under Fire

Page 22

by Davis, Jo


  Zack couldn’t agree more. “Where do you want us?”

  The cop waved a hand toward the company from Station Two. “North end, with them. Stay low until you get the all clear.”

  “No shit,” Zack muttered as he drove toward their colleagues. He parked behind the other engine, and Six-Pack wheeled their ambulance in beside the first. Everyone bailed out and Tanner stalked over to speak with Captain Lance Holliday.

  The normally easygoing Holliday appeared supremely hacked as he greeted Tanner, raking his fingers through his thick auburn hair, jaw clenched, eyes flashing.

  “We don’t get in there now, we might as well bend over for the press,” Holliday snapped, jerking a thumb toward the news-hungry crowd amassing against the police line.

  Pushing back his hat, Tanner gave a slight nod. “Damned if you do . . .” He let the statement hang, his meaning clear.

  This wasn’t going to end well. The only real question was how much damage would be done on all fronts.

  Zack followed the captains’ gaze to a balcony near the opposite end of the complex, about sixty yards from where the engine companies were parked. Too damned close. Through the smoke, he could barely make out a man wearing a light-colored shirt. The man’s movements were erratic as he bobbed back and forth, holding a smaller person in front of him, presumably the estranged wife.

  Zack jogged over to join Holliday and Tanner. He waved a hand at the burning structure. “Will they let us enter around back where this nut can’t see what we’re doing?”

  “Us” being a collective term. The Rapid Intervention Crew worked outside, ready to intervene if a firefighter inside found himself in trouble. The FAO, who was not part of the RIC crew, never left the engine unless there was a major disaster requiring the mobilization of every single firefighter, which was rare. In his years at the Sugarland FD, Zack had never known such a situation to occur.

  Holliday nodded. “We’re trying to get clearance. What the fuck is taking—” His radio crackled and a police sergeant whose name Zack didn’t catch relayed the green light.

  “All right, let’s go,” Holliday shouted, waving an arm at the entire assembly. “Let’s move this party to the other side of the building, work it from there.”

  Firefighters scrambled onto the ladder truck and quint, while Salvatore and another man moved the two ambulances to a side street, accessible but a healthy distance from the danger. Zack followed the other FAO, and they parked with the hostage drama safely on the opposite side of the building. Safe being relative. They still had the fire and trapped residents to deal with, and God knew a crazed gunman was unpredictable at best.

  Zack supposed he ought to be comforted by the SWAT snipers surrounding them, prepared to shoot to kill. Somehow, he wasn’t.

  He noted the location of a nearby fire hydrant, then quickly attached the preconnected hoses and flipped the gauges. Approaching sirens heralded the arrival of a third engine company, an eerie wail that sometimes reminded Zack of the cry of a woman. The sound died out front and in moments, a new team of firefighters skirted the building at a fast clip, two of them carrying a tall ladder.

  Three ladders were erected next to balconies holding frightened residents, and none too soon. Flames shot from second-story windows in a burst of shattered glass, licking upward to consume and destroy. Children screamed, mothers and fathers trying in vain to calm them. An elderly couple clung to each other, and one man, half dressed in a business suit, yelled into a cell phone, his fear palpable.

  Four men turned two hoses on the blaze through the windows, while three teams, including one consisting of Paxton, Skyler, and Salvatore, entered the complex to battle the flames from the inside. The others manned the ladders, one rescuer positioned at the top, one at the bottom, assisting the residents. They streamed downward like ants, kept from blind panic in large part due to the calm of their rescuers.

  The elderly couple made slow progress, the woman first, her hesitant steps guided by the firefighter who’d climbed the ladder below her. On the other two balconies, the able-bodied children shimmied to freedom, followed by a mother carrying an infant, the men last.

  When everyone had been extracted and whisked from the scene to be tended as needed, a search ensued for any people remaining in the building. Best-case scenario, there weren’t any more, because anyone left was most likely either unconscious or dead from smoke inhalation.

  Holliday and Tanner kept abreast of the hostage situation via a pair of uniformed cops hovering nearby. Zack caught snatches and what he heard wasn’t good. The guy hadn’t surrendered and was completely irrational. He’d either kill his wife or—

  A single gunshot cracked the air like a whip, causing everyone to jump and scan the complex for an imminent threat. The pairs of men working the hoses briefly shut off the nozzles, prepared to dive for cover if necessary.

  An exchange over one of the police officers’ radios broke the tension. “Suspect down! Can you get a visual on him?”

  “Negative . . . whoa, the woman’s comin’ right over the ledge! Somebody get a ladder to her before she falls.”

  “Got her covered. Down she goes.” A frazzled silence. “Okay, they’re bringing her around back to get checked out.”

  “Around back?”

  “So the missus doesn’t see them working the crime scene around her husband’s body,” came the terse reply.

  “Copy that.”

  A ripple of relief went through Zack and, he was sure, the others, as well. Activity resumed and in a moment, two firefighters rounded the corner of the building, supporting the shaken woman, who stumbled between them. Tanner struck out to meet the group.

  Movement from a second-story balcony caught Zack’s eye. It crossed his mind that another resident was in need of rescue, someone their efforts hadn’t reached. A man in a light-colored shirt stepped into view, bringing up his arm. To wave, Zack thought, just as the glint of metal flashed in the man’s hand.

  The man who would sooner kill his wife than allow her to escape.

  Oh, God!

  “Gun!” he yelled, racing for Tanner and the unsuspecting group. “Get down! Get down!”

  Their gazes swung toward Zack, reflecting surprise and confusion, but disaster struck before his warning registered. A series of pops shattered the air. One of the firefighters helping the woman jerked and went down, hitting the asphalt hard, where he lay unmoving. His partner shoved the screaming woman to the ground, covering her body with his.

  Tanner whirled and Zack yelled at him again as more pops sounded.

  From nowhere, Eve barreled into Tanner like a star linebacker, hurling them both to the ground. Bullets peppered the asphalt around Zack and he got horizontal, fast. “Shit!”

  He hadn’t survived all the crap of the past few weeks to be taken out by some crazed, abusive husband. Out of sheer reflex, or maybe stupidity, he raised his head to see where the gunman was pointing. Belatedly, he wished he hadn’t.

  A rifle shot rang out and the man’s head snapped. A dark hole appeared in his forehead and for the space of two heartbeats, Zack could’ve sworn the guy looked surprised to have been beaten.

  And then the gunman folded like a puppet with its strings cut, disappeared from view.

  Now it was over.

  For some.

  Sobbing reached his ears. The woman’s. And an anguished moan, ripped from the depths of a man’s gut. An unmistakable sound of anger and terrible knowledge.

  Zack pushed to his feet, spotted Tanner and Eve disentangling themselves, staring at each other. He was so relieved—and wretched with guilt because of it—that the moan hadn’t come from Tanner. That Eve, his best friend, was all right. The captain gave her a fleeting smile and stood, saying something Zack couldn’t hear and offering her a hand. After a brief hesitation, she grasped it and returned Tanner’s half smile as he hauled her up.

  Nearby, the second firefighter knelt over his fallen friend. He shrugged off his coat and suspenders, ripped off h
is regulation shirt, and used it as a compress against the bloody gunshot wound in the other man’s chest.

  “Come on, Randall,” he entreated. “Stay with me.”

  Zack spun to call for more assistance, but it wasn’t necessary. Firefighters streamed toward the group, medical equipment and a gurney in tow. He glanced again at the gravely injured man attempting to speak with blood bubbling at his pale lips, and knew.

  So did Randall.

  “Tell . . . tell my wife . . .” He never got to finish.

  Tears streamed unchecked down his partner’s grief-stricken face. “I will, buddy. I promise.”

  Zack watched the young firefighter’s eyes glaze as the last breath rattled from his body. Helpless rage consumed him, choked his throat. His gaze narrowed at the balcony where the gunman lay. It’s not enough. Will never be sufficient justice for a good man’s wife and family.

  A promising life gone at the whim of an asshole. One more bully who’d never answer for his crimes. Who wouldn’t face judgment on earth. Had probably gone to hell laughing.

  Zack wished with all his soul that he’d been the one to pull the trigger. Put that hole in the bastard’s forehead. The direction of his thoughts startled him, but the next realization shocked him to his toes.

  No, he’d give anything to have tortured the man. Ripped the murderer apart with his bare hands. Slowly, painfully, his heart a dead thing inside him while the hunter became the prey. Screamed in agony and horror as he saw the tables turned and knew he’d pay.

  And pay.

  Until he drew his last, bloody breath.

  Exactly like Randall.

  Walking away from the awful tragedy, he wondered what Cori would think about that. What she would say if she knew the man she’d allowed into her bed wasn’t much better than the dead man on the balcony.

  Little better than the husband who’d abused her for years. Because if he harbored any doubts before, he had none now.

  If their unseen nemesis touched Cori, he’d die begging for mercy.

  “Okay, I saw the news coverage. Ready to talk about it?”

  Cori set aside her coffee mug and studied Zack in concern. Yesterday, the moment she’d seen a recap of the horrifying spectacle on the television in the nurses’ lounge, she’d left a message on Zack’s cell phone. One that had gone unreturned for several hours. And when he’d finally called, he’d steered the conversation firmly toward Cori and her safety. He’d needed reassurance of her plans to stay with Shea overnight while he was on shift, etc. She understood why, but he couldn’t divert her forever.

  He appeared bone tired, which was to be expected after his first shift in the better part of a month—especially after the tragedy of losing one of his own. He tossed his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter as he’d no doubt done hundreds of times before, dark emotion bleeding through the weariness.

  “It’s over and I’m fine. How was staying at Shea’s last night? Is the arrangement gonna work out?”

  “It was a regular slumber party. We stayed up too late, watched an old movie, and ate junk food. Don’t change the subject.”

  He shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the back of a breakfast-nook chair, and crossed the short distance between them, pulling her into his arms. With a sigh, she snuggled against him, resting her cheek on his chest. His heartbeat drummed a steady rhythm in her ear, slow and comforting. God, she could’ve lost him yesterday on what should’ve been a routine job manning the quint. Her hold on him tightened.

  “Will it always be like this?”

  To his credit, he didn’t avoid or pretend to misunderstand the question. “That call was a fluke, beautiful. Ninety-seven percent of our calls involve traffic accidents, medical emergencies in the home, and a variation of all sorts of weird situations people get themselves into. Nothing too dangerous given the odds, so don’t worry, all right?”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “My brainy numbers guy. Must be why I . . .” Take the plunge. Say it, chicken! She drew back, tipped her face to his. “Why I love you.”

  Blue eyes widened behind his glasses. His mouth fell open, his dumbfounded expression so comical she might’ve laughed if she weren’t suddenly afraid of his response.

  The slow, sexy smile spreading across his handsome face stole her breath.

  “I’m sure I misheard. Say it again.”

  “I love you, Zack Knight.” Reaching up, she brushed a lock of black hair from his eyes. “After yesterday, I wasn’t going to wait any longer to tell you.”

  Framing her face with shaking hands, he lowered his lips to hers. Brushed them in sensual contact before slipping his tongue inside. He stroked behind her teeth, deepened the kiss. Hot, urgent, yet sweet. All Zack. Pouring his feelings into a simple touch, his body straining against hers, arousal searing her through their clothing.

  He broke the kiss, gazed into her eyes.

  “I love you, too,” he whispered. “So much it hurts.”

  Joy filled her to bursting, but she couldn’t resist teasing to lighten the overwhelming moment. “I can tell.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked. “Not exactly what I meant, but now that you bring it up . . . does my nurse have a remedy for my pain?”

  “I believe I have a little something.”

  Taking his hand, she led him upstairs to their room. And proceeded to do something she hadn’t dared before.

  Be extraordinarily late to class.

  They undressed, savoring each other without touching at first. She loved the way his muscles rippled as he tugged off his navy polo, his lean and sinewy strength. The small scar on his shoulder from the bullet was red, but healed. A smattering of crisp black hair trailed from his chest to his stomach, where it formed a beeline straight to the nest at his groin.

  He stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside, facing her in all his naked glory. His penis jutted, seeking sanctuary in her heat, flushed and thick.

  She discarded her bra, wriggled out of her panties, never taking her hungry eyes off him. “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  “My line, but thank you.” Stepping close, he linked his fingers with hers, erection branding her belly. “You’re stunning.”

  Cutting off her reply, he backed her into the bed, pushed her gently onto the mattress. Levering himself over her, he settled himself between her thighs and reached for his glasses.

  “No, leave them on.”

  “They’ll get in the way.”

  “Just this once? Please?” She waggled her brows. “I think they’re sexy.”

  “Jesus.”

  But he did as she asked, his playful grin switching to feral male hunger as he positioned the head of his cock between the slick lips of her sex.

  She cupped the firm globes of his ass and arched her hips, pulling him inside an inch or two. “Please, I need you.”

  With a groan, he slid his length deep, filling her. All the way, skin to skin, sparking delicious tremors throughout her nervous system. Stretching her to the limit, a perfect fit.

  Bracing his arms on either side of her head, he began to move. A slow, languorous retreat to the very edge, his tip barely inside, then forward again. Impaling her inch by burning inch until seated to the balls.

  Out, a long slide. In.

  Decadent, unraveling her control.

  “Ohh, God. Zack, yes!”

  “Like that, beautiful?”

  “Yes! Don’t stop. . . .”

  He kept up the torture until she writhed underneath him, nearly mindless with ecstasy. His cock was so hot, claiming her as his. His muscles played under her fingertips, sweat dampening his back, his chest. His pungent male scent, his wicked lovemaking, drove her wild.

  “Faster, harder,” she panted, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  Tightening around her, he increased the tempo of his thrusts, her wish his command. He plunged deep and hard, holding nothing back.

  Cori clung to him, completely swept away. Nothing mattered except his body inside hers, giv
ing and taking. Making love to her, as he’d never done with anyone else.

  Mine.

  Her body incinerated, her orgasm erupting like a blow-torch. She stiffened with a cry, convulsing around him as he rode her.

  “That’s it, Cori. Gorgeous. Let yourself go for me. . . . Ah, fuck!”

  Plunging deep, he began to spasm. The warm rush of his cum flowed into her womb as he held her close.

  “I love you,” he rasped. “God, I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  They floated back to earth in a satisfied haze, unwilling to move. She enjoyed his weight pressing on her body.

  “You don’t know how much I needed you. I missed you.” He pressed an affectionate kiss into her hair.

  “Oh, I think I have a good idea.” Grinning, she wiggled her hips, emphasizing his being still buried inside her. “I missed you, hot stuff. You know, our schedules stink. I hate going out the door just as you’re getting home.”

  “You could always quit, stay home, and be my love slave. It’s your fault I’m ruined anyway.”

  Her inner feline purred at the reminder. This man was hers alone. To know he’d never been with another woman was a heady drug. “Oh? How, pray tell, have I managed to lead this paragon of innocence astray?”

  In answer, he stroked her wet passage with his softening cock. “Like this.”

  “Then who’s the love slave, fireboy?”

  He gave a fake put-upon sigh. “Okay, it’s me. But now it’s my queen’s duty to make sure her concubine is petted. Often. Having your very own sex slave is a big responsibility, you know.”

  “Yes, I do,” she deadpanned, wiggling again.

  “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to keep you in bed all day.”

  “Your point?”

  He paused, gazing down at her in amusement. “Do you know when I first fell in love with you?”

  “No, when?” she asked, intrigued.

  “When you got out of your SUV looking hotter than a firecracker and madder than hell, and you said, ‘Don’t they stop at red lights where you’re from, Forrest Gump?’ ”

  Her face heated in embarrassment and she covered her eyes with one hand. “Oh, my God! I’d forgotten all about it! I can’t believe I said something so bitchy to you.”

 

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