Stealing His Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 4)

by Jen Peters

  Brandt nearly sagged with relief. A whole day with everyone speaking Spanish would have been difficult.

  “Children! All of you!” she called out. “English now, in honor of our guest!”

  It was a very segregated group, with the women chattering up a storm in the kitchen while the men talked and cheered on favorite football teams. Javi said they’d much rather watch soccer, but for Thanksgiving, they would keep to North American traditions. “Which is a good thing, because I wouldn’t want to miss the Cowboys against the Bears,” he added.

  They sat down to a melding of traditions: turkey with a spicy pumpkin sauce, roast corn, tamales, and spiced mango.

  Brandt hadn’t even gotten his fork to his mouth when his pager went off. Javi stood, holding his closer to his ear. A house on Fourth Street, with someone still inside.

  “Abuela, we must go,” Javi apologized. “I will be home later.”

  She took his face in her hands and kissed each cheek, then did the same to Brandt. “Be safe, mijos. Vayan con dios.”

  Javi drove to the fire station while Brandt clung to the armrest through some tight turns. They hustled into their gear, as much hustling as they could do with ninety pounds of it, and leapt onto the engine. Justin was at the wheel, and rocketed the short mile, sirens screaming.

  Brandt was on the ground before they even stopped. He did the same quick assessment the chief was doing—half the home was already engulfed. The rest billowed smoke.

  An older woman, a younger one, and three kids hugged each other on the front lawn.

  “Where’s Dan?” the fire chief called to them.

  “He went back for the cat!” the younger woman screamed. “Get him out! You’ve got to get him out!”

  Justin and Mick were already hooking up the hose. The chief nodded to Javi and Brandt.

  “Stay with me,” Javi said, pulling his breathing apparatus down.

  That wouldn’t be a problem, Brandt thought. He may have helped at a few fires, but he didn’t have near the experience or training Javi did.

  Flames were already eating the front door, so Brandt smashed through a still-intact bedroom window and Javi climbed through first. They stayed low through the smoke, checked the room and the closet, called it clear.

  Brandt’s airline hissed and growled as he breathed. Sweat rolled down his face and into his eyes. The smoke was dark, and he was virtually blind, but he could see a glow in the ceiling—there wasn’t much time. He felt his way into another bedroom, with Javi behind him. On the floor, in the closet, under the bed—no one.

  “Room clear,” he said through the amplifier in his mask.

  An answer came from Javi, but Brandt couldn’t understand it. He did hear him radio their status to the fire chief, and heard instructions to Justin and Mick on the hose.

  They returned to the smoky hallway. Brandt was grateful to see a stream of water shooting through their entry window, but there were flames in the ceiling now.

  He reached forward and tapped Javi’s boot.

  “Man…nee-…-elp,” came Javi’s voice over the amplifier.

  Brant’s radio crackled above the roar of the flames and water. “Evacuate! Evacuate!” The engine outside sounded five sharp blasts.

  Javi radioed in and moved up to the unconscious man’s head, shoving him to a sitting position and locking arms around his chest.

  Brandt turned around and grabbed his legs, and they heaved him up. The heat was rising, the visibility nil.

  “Go!” Brandt yelled. He kept a steady pace, breathing heavily, watching the ceiling flames. A chunk of debris fell, and Brandt shifted sideways to dodge it.

  He was sweat-soaked and hot even through his gear, and Javi must be the same. They’d make it, though. They had to.

  Brandt radioed again when they got to the bedroom. The water stopped spraying in, and they made for the broken window. Brandt sent the man’s legs through to outside fire crew, and stepped back to make room for Javi.

  Javi safely followed the man through. Brandt heard a tremendous crack.

  The weight of a beam crashed against his helmet, then his shoulder. He tumbled to the floor, and another beam cracked across his legs. He reached for his radio but couldn’t reach it.

  The heat, the light of the flames rose around him, and more of the ceiling came down. He heard the little ding-ding-ding of his PASS.

  So hot. So hard to control his breathing.

  Chapter 29

  Raine was sure that Brandt was at the fire. Her gut, her restlessness told her that. She tore down one street and then another, following the smoke billowing above the trees. When she reached the burning house, neighbors were already watching flames fill one half.

  The fire engine was in place. Two firefighters worked a hose, two more were getting another one started, and two were breaking a window to go in the non-flaming side. Which one was Brandt? How could anyone tell who was who?

  Three kids huddled on the front lawn, crying, while their mom went back and forth between them and the house. “Dan! Dan!” she screamed.

  A neighbor tried to calm the woman. The chief appeared from behind the garage, shaking his head in answer to someone’s question. He spoke into his radio but didn’t get an answer.

  The second hose finally started up, aimed through the broken front window. More smoke billowed out, but the flames didn’t seem to decrease.

  Raine’s whole body was already tense and stiff, but now it felt like stone. Who was in there? Brandt? Justin? Javi?

  Raine stared at the window where the firemen had gone in, where water was shooting in now. Two more of the crew stood outside. “Why aren’t they doing anything?” she cried to no one in particular.

  “They’re ready for a Mayday call,” Nora Cooper said next to her. Raine hadn’t even noticed her.

  “M-Mayday?” Raine stammered.

  Mrs. Cooper’s face was grim. “In case the firefighters need rescuing.”

  “Do you know who is who?” Raine asked.

  The older woman pointed. “That’s Justin on the hose—he got a splash of blue paint on his jacket a few months ago. Don’t know how he did it, but at least I can pick him out now.”

  “Anybody else?”

  Mrs. Cooper shook her head. “I know them all, of course, and I think maybe that one is Mick, but other than that…”

  “Brandt might be in Portland with his parents,” Raine said hopefully.

  “Brandt? No, I heard Javi was taking him to his grandmother’s for Thanksgiving.”

  So Raine had been right. She’d had a little spark of sense hiding inside her, the one that said she imagined things too easily, the one that she was never good at listening to. Mrs. Cooper’s words blasted it to pieces. If Brandt were in town for the holiday, he’d be here at the fire.

  The fire roared, and a young firefighter moved the crowd back, although they were already several houses down. “Don’t want any embers shooting this way,” he said.

  Raine nodded, but her eyes were glued to the burning house. She sent up a silent prayer for Brandt and the others. Mrs. Cooper’s lips were constantly moving.

  There was movement at the broken window. The two waiting firefighters approached, taking an unconscious man to the paramedics. The firefighter inside stumbled out after them.

  Raine breathed a sigh of relief, one hero safe. But what about the other?

  The firefighter looked around frantically, waved his arms. The chief reacted immediately, speaking into his radio. The two who had pulled the victim out hurried back inside and a shrill alarm sounded. Other firefighters came running.

  “Man down,” Mrs. Cooper whispered.

  Raine couldn’t move. Couldn’t take her eyes off the broken window. Couldn’t hear anything but the roar of the flames.

  The center of the roof fell in with a crash, and she jumped back, shivering. She wouldn’t feel calm until Brandt was on the lawn in front of her. Alive.

  A firefighter appeared in the billowing smoke. He cla
mbered through the window, turned, and pulled another limp man through the window—this one in fire gear. His partner followed.

  Raine started forward, but Mrs. Cooper held her back. “Whoever it is, you need to let the medics work on him. You’ll just be in the way.”

  The paramedics hovered, blocking Raine’s view, but when they had him settled on a stretcher, she whimpered.

  Brandt.

  Her legs trembled. “Steady,” Mrs. Cooper said. “They’ll take care of him.”

  They wheeled him to the ambulance. She tore out of the motherly woman’s grasp and ran. “Brandt!” she cried as they slid him in. She grabbed a paramedic’s arm. “He doesn’t have any family here—take me with you.”

  “We’ve got both of them, ma’am—we’re going to need all the room. But you can follow in your car. We’re headed to the clinic, but they won’t stay there for long.”

  She started to protest, then wiped the tears from her face and ran for her Jetta. She couldn’t keep up with the ambulance, but she wouldn’t be far behind.

  “Brandt Walker? Where is he?”

  The receptionist looked at her blankly.

  “He came in just now, in an ambulance? From the fire?” Her fear was turning every statement into a question.

  “Ah, of course, miss. The doctors are with him now. Are you family?”

  “No…yes…I’m his, his fiancée. Can you tell me anything?”

  The receptionist shook her head. “Dr. Abado and Marie, our nurse, have just gone in.”

  Raine was frantic. Was he burned? Smoke inhalation? Had he been under the roof that caved in? “You’ve got to know something. What did the paramedics say on the way in?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Then her face softened. “But they’ll probably be taking him down to Riverbend in Springfield.”

  “Will they let me go with them? Or at least see him first?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll let them know you’re here, though.”

  All Raine could do was wait.

  She paced, sat, and paced again. The woman from the fire, Mrs. Porter, was staring out the window, murmuring and counting rosary beads.

  Raine wanted to go to her, but she thought if she asked how Mr. Porter was, she’d crack herself. She finally got a cup of water from the dispenser and took it to her.

  Mrs. Porter took it and nodded, but never stopped murmuring. They both looked up when they heard helicopter blades. Life Flight hovered and landed just across the parking lot, and someone scurried out just as a door opened.

  “Mrs. Porter?”

  The woman turned, hope on her face, and then dropped the water cup at the doctor’s grave look.

  Raine watched her walk slowly over and follow the doctor through the door.

  Raine’s chest tightened, and she could hardly get air into her lungs. Brandt. What about Brandt?

  She forced herself to focus on something, to relax just a little and breathe. The ficus plant in the corner was losing its leaves, and she began counting how many were left.

  A few minutes later, the helicopter took off again, and Mrs. Porter hurried back through the waiting room, cell phone to her ear. “They’re taking him to the Burn Center in Portland, but I can’t drive myself. Can you come?”

  The woman went outside and paced the sidewalk, but her words gave Raine hope. Mr. Porter was still alive, so Brandt would be just fine, right?

  She heard her name. Tori had arrived, and Raine would never find out how many leaves the ficus plant had. “Hi, Tori.” Her voice came out shaky, tired.

  Tori pulled her into a long hug. “I had to get Tyler settled—Linda’s watching him for a bit. How are you, honey? How is Brandt?”

  Raine twisted a lock of hair. “I don’t know; they can’t tell me much yet. They’ll probably take him down to Springfield.”

  “That’s what we get for living in the boondocks.”

  “They took Mr. Porter in the helicopter.”

  Tori pulled her into a hug. “I thought they might. He was in there way too long.”

  “I’m really worried about Brandt. They wouldn’t tell me anything until I said I was his fiancée. Is it awful I did that?”

  Tori laughed and squeezed her tightly. “You haven’t been able to stand the sight of each other for the last week, and now you’re engaged! Sounds like my Raine.”

  She pulled back. “I’m not flaky. It was the only way—”

  “I know, I know. And I would have totally done the same thing.”

  Raine leaned against her again. Her warmth and touch were more comforting than Raine had expected. She’d been so used to depending only on herself.

  “Miss?” the nurse interrupted. “They’re taking him down to Riverbend. He’s still unconscious, but he’s stable.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Just for a minute. They’re getting him ready now.”

  Raine followed the nurse back and saw Javi first, his ears red with burns. Brandt was half-hidden behind an oxygen mask, his face grimy and bloody. He was fastened to a backboard with a splint on one leg and an IV coming out of one arm.

  Raine blanched. Her gorgeous, athletic Brandt, unconscious and badly hurt.

  “You’re the fiancée?” someone asked.

  She nodded silently.

  “You’ve got about three minutes. I wouldn’t touch him—he’s pretty banged up—but you can talk to him.”

  She took the last step to his stretcher or bed or whatever it was. There didn’t seem to be much of him that wasn’t injured or hooked up. Except his right hand. She took it gently, stroking the back of it, running her fingers over his callouses. His gloves had done a better job than the rest of his gear.

  “They said he’s got a concussion,” Javi said.

  Raine turned to him, still stroking Brandt’s hand. “Do you know what happened?”

  “The ceiling collapsed. The beams landed on him as we were getting the guy out. He’s a hero.”

  Of course. Despite their arguments, Brandt was the helping type of person. Saving someone’s life was just par for the course.

  “Miss, we’ve got to move him now,” the ER nurse said.

  She pulled his hand to her lips for a gentle kiss and stepped back reluctantly. “I’ll see you down there, Brandt,” she whispered.

  The staff bundled him up, secured all his tubing, and slid him back into the ambulance. They drove off, sirens screaming, and Raine was left with nothing but emptiness.

  “Come with me, Tori. Please?” Raine shifted from foot to foot, her fingers twisting the hem of her coat, the buttons, her hair.

  Tori pulled her into a long hug. “Almost, sweetie. Linda can only keep Tyler for another hour. My neighbors can keep him overnight, but they won’t be back until this evening.”

  Raine didn’t think she could hold it together that long. Brandt was stable now, but that didn’t mean he’d stay that way. And even if he did, she wanted, she needed to be there when he woke up.

  She took a deep breath and straightened. “If I drive down myself, will you still come later?” The look on Tori’s face made her continue. “I’m fine. I’ll be careful. But I have to be there.”

  Tori studied her and finally nodded. “But you be careful. Stick to the speed limit, and no passing cars on those curves. We don’t need you hurt too.”

  Raine hugged her tightly and turned to go.

  “Text me when you get there,” Tori called after her.

  Raine waved agreement as she hurried out the door. An hour of mostly-careful driving later, she zoomed under the overhang of Riverbend’s Emergency Room, left the car by the curb, and dashed in.

  Chapter 30

  Brandt rested in the grayness, quite content to simply be. It was both comfortable and comforting, and he saw no reason to change that. What would he do, anyway? He had nowhere to go, no senses to satisfy, not even any limbs to move. He could just float and watch the changing depth of gray.

  It lightened some, and he thought he might have a sen
se of something outside himself. Perhaps a faint noise?

  But as the gray lightened to white, bits of discomfort crept in. In the background at first, so slight he wasn’t sure it was there. Then a definite discomfort, followed by actual pain. He wanted to dive back into the fog, but the light was suddenly bright, and there was noise all around him. Shouts, calls, clangs.

  Fire and pain all over.

  He writhed against it, moaned, twisted to get away.

  “Another milligram of dilaudid,” he heard.

  He blissfully sank into the gray fog again.

  * * *

  Raine paced outside the treatment area of the emergency room. She’d already chewed her nails down; now she picked at the cuticles. She sucked on one that bled.

  By the time she’d arrived at the hospital, Brandt had already been whisked away for treatment. She hadn’t even gotten to see him. They did tell her he had a severe concussion—the probable cause of his unconsciousness—plus some broken bones. They didn’t know about internal injuries yet. Her worry stepped up three levels.

  “Miss, they’re arranging a room for Mr. Walker, but would you like to take his things until it’s ready?”

  She nodded numbly and found herself holding a bundle of dirty fire gear. She settled in an empty corner and began to sort and fold.

  And weep.

  Underneath the soot, the back of his jacket had burned some. Not much, but blood had spread across the inside lining.

  She fingered the stickiness, rubbed two fingers together and lifted them to her nose. She didn’t smell anything in particular, but it was his blood.

  Brandt, the guy who’d almost run her down before they even met.

  Brandt, who had jumped right into community life as soon as he moved to town.

  Brandt, who knew the awful decisions she’d made, the things she’d done, and who believed she wasn’t that person anymore.

  Brandt, who she was fast falling for, who she now knew she was close to being in love with.