by A. R. Barley
There was something ominous about the crackle of the fire. Ominous and strange. It was too fast, too ferocious. Unnatural. Either they’d had a hundred different gas leaks, all over the building, or it was the arsonist’s work.
Any minute now the place was going to explode.
Troy’s heart hammered against his chest. “This is going to be bad.”
“We’re going to be fine,” Luke said, but his voice had lost any trace of humor.
There was no way to empty that many residential units in time. People were going to die, lots of them. The more time Troy and Luke spent inside the building the better the odds that they’d be among the casualties.
Troy settled his helmet into place and switched on the radio. “Captain, it’s Barnes and Parsons. You got any orders?”
The line fizzled and popped. “The super’s talking about an illegal daycare on the sixteenth floor. 1605. A lot of people have come out. Not a lot of kids.” There was a short pause. “Be careful. Do your job. Do it well. Don’t die.”
Luke and Troy were both in motion now, hauling ass into the building. The emergency staircase was to the right of the door. Troy led the way, taking the risers two at a time. “Nice to know you’d miss us.”
“You kidding?” The captain chuckled. “You guys are irreplaceable. Where am I going to find a stubborner pair of assholes?”
Chatter crowded up the radio with other men calling in for direction. Troy didn’t mind. He needed to concentrate on his breathing if they were going to make it up all sixteen flights with forty-five pounds of equipment.
A man in a pair of ugly khaki pants hustled past them, knocking awkwardly against Luke’s side.
“Keep to the right,” Troy called up the stairwell. He had to repeat himself five more times before they got to their final destination. The smoke grew thicker and his legs grew more tired the higher they got. Each time it got harder to draw in his next breath after the words. When they hit the sixteenth floor landing, he was panting for air amid billowing clouds of smoke.
Thank God the daycare wasn’t on twenty.
Troy hoped the penthouse residents had already gotten out. He pulled his mask down over his face and gave himself two quick puffs of air before returning it to its previous position. “Let’s do this thing.”
Luke stepped in front of him. His gloved fist reached out to pound on the door of the first apartment. “FDNY. Get your asses moving, people.” When he got to 1605, he kicked the door in.
There was a sharp whimper and then a sob.
Fuck. The kids were still there. Troy stepped inside to assess the situation: a woman in her twenties with tears streaming down her face and five toddlers in a six-kid stroller.
“Hey, sweetheart.” They didn’t have time to waste, but they wouldn’t get anywhere if the woman was hysterical. He pasted a smile on his face. “My name’s Troy. You got a name?”
“Anna.”
“Whatcha doin’ here, Anna? Didn’t you hear the alarm?”
“The kids were napping when it went off. I had to get everybody dressed and into the stroller.” Wet green eyes peered out from behind long black lashes. She gulped. “By the time I was done, the elevator was locked down. I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave them.”
And there was no way she’d be able to carry five toddlers down the stairs by herself.
Troy radioed down to the captain, then bent over to undo five sets of buckles. “Anybody else?”
“They all got picked up early.”
Thank God for small favors. He handed her the first kid, then passed two over to Luke. The last two landed one on each of Troy’s hips. They each had to weigh forty-five pounds on their own, and it was sixteen long stories down.
“Everybody hold on tight.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above the sobbing kids.
The crack and pop of the fire was audible now. The scent of charred household goods filled the air.
The fire was getting closer.
Too close.
“Luke’s going first. Anna, you’re next. Lift your shirt over your nose. It’s not a mask, but it’s better than nothing. Now, we’re not running, but we’re not going slow either. Follow him to the stairs. Don’t stop until you’re on the street.” He exchanged wary looks with Luke. They both knew the odds of success weren’t good. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t know if I can make it,” Anna said. “Maybe the sprinklers will kick on.”
“The sprinklers didn’t turn on at all?”
“Not a drop.”
Damn. It was something to think about later. “You can do this, Anna.” There was a loud crack somewhere like the building coming apart. “On the count of three.” His nose itched, but there was no way to scratch it without dropping his precious cargo. “One. Two. Three.”
The gray hallway carpeting was plush under his heavy boots. The walls were a soft rose color. The art in the apartment building’s public space was tastefully muted, nothing like the bright splashes of color Alex favored.
Twenty steps and they were back in the damn stairwell with its utilitarian color scheme, grayish green on grayish brown. A pair of stubby arms wrapped around Troy’s neck and he found himself looking down at a tight red braid. “Don’t let go,” he told the kid.
It was like being strangled by a Muppet. “Don’t drop me.”
One step at a time down the stairs. He made it to the fifteenth floor and turned his attention to the second kid in his arms, a boy with golden curls a shade deeper than Alex’s. “You don’t want to hang on?”
“Humph.” The kid’s face scrunched up. He considered his options for a full minute before latching onto Troy’s shoulder. “It’s a cat-as-tro-phe.” He pronounced every syllable in the word separately.
“My mom’s going to flip,” his friend agreed.
Troy concentrated on his breathing. His arms were straining, and his legs felt like they were about to fall off. He couldn’t control that any more than he could itch his nose, but he could keep breathing. Another few floor signs passed now. They were on eight now, and there were more people on the stairs rushing around them.
A few steps ahead of him Anna’s shoulders were visibly shaking, but she didn’t stop moving once, not even when they heard a booming like a mountain being ripped in two.
The explosion rocked the building, and sent Luke stumbling against the wall. It was definitely going to leave a bruise in the morning.
“Run.” A piece of concrete and rebar slammed into the ground a foot to his left. The building was coming down around them.
“Run!” Luke heard him this time, and their convoy started to move faster. Sweat poured down his back and pooled at the base of his spine.
They could see the light now.
They were going to make it.
“Get out of my damn way!” A pudgy man in a navy business suit and a lemon-yellow tie bounded down the stairs from above. “Assholes.” His elbow knocked hard into Troy’s side.
Air disappeared from inside his lungs. The force sent his body twisting and stumbling. Momentum tipped him over. The landing was three steps down. He couldn’t get his feet under him in time.
If he didn’t do something fast, he’d end up on the ground with two toddlers underneath him.
He twisted hard to the right.
The move put him even more off balance—his body wasn’t supposed to bend that way—but at least the kids were on top of him.
Crack. His head hit something hard and everything went dark.
Chapter Nineteen
Alex was knee deep in smoke inhalation victims when the word went out. A firefighter had fallen in the stairwell. His heart stopped. His lungs felt like they were about to give out. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Instead, he watched a phalanx o
f men in yellow uniforms enter the crumbling apartment building.
Luke.
The downed man had to be Luke.
Or Hoyt.
Luke was a showboat and Hoyt barely did the minimum when it came to assisting fire victims.
Troy followed orders, paid attention, and—most of all—he cared.
Damn.
He cared so much.
Not that he’d ever let on to the other guys.
No other firefighter Alex knew took as much care when turning someone over to the EMTs. Troy was meticulous about his reports. Sometimes it was a little much. Other times it was the difference between knowing what happened to a fire victim and guessing.
On very rare occasions it saved lives.
Troy really was one of a kind.
Completely unlike anyone else Alex had ever met.
Strong and powerful, but also giving and warm.
And he wanted Alex.
His mother had clearly dropped him on his head as a child.
Why the hell had he asked for more time?
He was an idiot.
Whatever fears he had about other guys didn’t apply. The relationship might not work out—nothing in life was guaranteed—but Troy wasn’t going to betray him. He definitely wouldn’t humiliate him. He was every deep, dark fantasy Alex held close to himself in the night, and he was offering himself up on a silver platter.
Yes. Alex swallowed back a knot of emotion. Hell, yes. The next time he saw Troy, he was going to shout the words, right before he dragged him into the nearest private corner and jumped his bones.
The door to the apartment building opened and a young woman stumbled out with a toddler on each hip and three more crowding around her feet. A pair of firefighters swept her up and escorted her over to the four waiting ambulances. Two more had already left, taking the worst injured to the closest hospital while the rest were triaged.
“Hey, cutie.” His partner for the day was Moira Green, a single mother in her early forties. At home she was a dragon. Her kids were both teenagers, extremely well-behaved teenagers who’d rather cut off their own limbs than make trouble. But she had a soft spot for kids under five. She gestured toward the nearest kid. “Come here and let me check you out.”
“They have to stay with me.” There were tears on their caretaker’s face, but her voice was iron: “I’m responsible.”
Moira stared at her for a long minute. Then she grabbed her bag. “Okay.” She hustled over to where the other paramedics had converged on the children.
“Coming out!” The shouts drew attention from all sides, and then a smoke-covered fireman came through the door. Luke Parsons, upright and healthy, holding on to a spinal board with a man Alex didn’t recognize on the other end.
Alex forced himself to examine the figure lying on the board. Heavy black boots. Limp legs in thick yellow pants and then the fraying edges of a bunker jacket. A muscular chest with a helmet balanced on top.
Cropped brown hair. Too short to get a real grip in, but Alex still remembered how soft it had felt against his skin.
He swung his supply bag over his shoulder. His feet hit the ground. With the building unstable, they were supposed to wait for the firefighters to bring people to them. It didn’t matter. Not when it was Troy struggling against the board’s straps.
“Goddamn it,” he grunted. “I walked in. I can walk out of here. It’s not that bad.”
Alex ignored his protests. He was too busy pulling supplies out of his bag and glaring at Luke. “What the hell happened?”
The firefighters never stopped their slow march toward the ambulance. “He fell and hit his head. I’m worried about brain damage—not that anyone’ll be able to tell.”
“My head’s fine,” Troy objected. “It’s my arm that hurts.”
He was talking and coherent. Alex shone a penlight into his eyes. Decent reaction times. Those were good early signs, but it didn’t mean anything without an MRI. “What happened with his arm?”
Luke shrugged. “I didn’t see it, but I heard him hit the ground. I think it broke.” They slid the board onto place on the waiting stretcher and clipped it down. The stretcher went into Alex’s ambulance.
“It’s sprained,” Troy objected from where he was strapped into place. “I’ll be fine.”
“Right arm or left arm?”
“Right arm.”
Alex poked him tentatively and Troy’s entire body tensed. Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. His face went white then red then green.
Uh-oh.
“Don’t you dare throw up,” Alex warned. “You’re flat on your back. You vomit now and there’s nowhere for it to go. I’ll have to clean it out.”
Troy nodded. It took him a few seconds to find his voice, enough time for Alex to perform a few more standard diagnostics. “You going to take me to the hospital?”
“Yup, and this time you’re not checking yourself out early.” Not if Alex had to burn through all his vacation days and stay with him the entire time.
This wasn’t the time to freak out.
He couldn’t think about Troy as his roommate or future boyfriend. He needed to be professional, to keep going through the motions. His hands were shaking, but it didn’t slow him down. He yanked back Troy’s jacket, cut open his shirt, and began attaching monitors.
“The fuck happened to him?” Moira climbed up into the ambulance and took up her position on Troy’s other side.
“He fell on the stairs.” Alex repeated what he’d been told. He frowned.
Troy wasn’t clumsy. He might not be a prima ballerina, but he was steady on his feet.
“Did you slip on something?” he asked. “Was there too much smoke?”
“There was a man.” One of the kids had escaped his minder. A golden-haired tot in an Incredible Hulk T-shirt peered up into the ambulance. “He was carrying us, and the man pushed him on the stairs. It was terr-i-ble.”
“Anna says no pushing.” A second reedy voice joined the first one as a little girl with wiry red braids joined hands with her friend. “His mom should put him in a time out.”
“Tell Ian.” Troy’s eyes flickered shut. His breathing was slowing. “He should be hanging around here somewhere.”
“Not now.” Alex slapped his cheek. It was light. A love tap. The second time was harder. “It’s not time to sleep now, Troy. I need you to stay with me.”
Troy gasped. His eyes opened. “What?”
“Don’t fall asleep.” Air forced its way down into his lungs as he gulped for breath. He needed to be professional. He needed to be strong. Most important, he needed Troy to stay with them until they got to the hospital. He swallowed hard. “That’s an order.”
Firm lips tipped up into a soft smile. “Yes, sir.”
Good enough.
Moira made a notation on the clipboard where they recorded vital information. It was almost time to go. “You really hit Ian?”
“It was pretty awesome. We’re going to need someone else to arrest the idiot.” Luke grinned at the kids. “Is the man still around? Think you can point him out to me?”
Alex wished him all the luck in the world, but he had more important things to worry about. Moira was already swinging the big ambulance doors shut. “You got him?” She maneuvered up into the driver’s seat.
“He’s mine.” Alex laced his fingers through Troy’s good hand and braced himself against the wall. “Please, stay with me.” His voice cracked. “Everything’s going to be okay. Stay with me.”
“Just drop me off.” Troy grunted. “I’ll be fine.”
Like hell.
Chapter Twenty
Troy woke up to the sight of blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile the size of all outdoors. He grinned back. “Touch me
and die.”
Connie jerked back. “Very nice.”
“Uh-huh.” He tried to lift his head and failed. Sage-green walls, antiseptic odor, unexplainable beeping. He was in a hospital room. He remembered the fire, the kids, and the fall in the stairwell. Every single part of him ached, and his arm hurt. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Uncle Alex had to finish out his shift.” Connie sniffed. “We’re here to make sure you don’t do something stupid.”
Shit. They weren’t alone. Troy levered himself up into a sitting position to get a better look. Sammy was on his right-hand side, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and the red pullover sweater Connie’d dropped off earlier. The clothes looked good on him, or maybe it was all the extra food the nurses had been feeding him. He’d filled out some since the fire. His cheeks were plush and pink. He winked at Troy and went back to reading his book.
Troy bared his teeth. “What counts as something stupid?”
“Trying to leave,” Connie said. “You’re not allowed to check yourself out. No matter what. Not until the doctors say it’s okay.”
“Not that they’re going to say it’s okay,” Sammy added without looking up from his book.
“Am I allowed to get up and find a nurse?”
The two teenagers exchanged looks. “Nope. You want a nurse, we’ll track someone down. You want anything—we’re on it.” Connie bounced forward onto her tiptoes. “Do you want something?”
Coffee. Advil. Alex’s bed. None of those seemed like possibilities anytime soon. It had to be a mirage. Troy’s eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them again the hospital room was going to be empty and—
Snap. His eyes cracked open. Connie was snapping her fingers two inches from his face. “Yo, Troy. You alive?” Sammy was turning the page. His fingers curled inward and he turned to the only sane person in the room. “How long has she been here?”
“Six hours,” Sammy said glumly. “I told Alex I could watch out for you, but he kind of freaked out after you fell asleep.”
That explained the pile of half-eaten snack food at the end of the bed.
