Single Dad FILF: Fireman I'd like to.... (HotShots Book 3) Read online

  Single Dad FILF

  Fireman I’d Like to…..

  Savannah May

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Thank You Darlings

  Also by Savannah May

  Chapter 1

  Ryder

  I’m gripping down on a hose intent on breaking free from my two-fisted hold. It fights back as I direct the plume of highly pressurized water to the A-side of the blaze. I have to jerk it forcefully to one side when Tom emerges from the building. He lifts a gloved hand in the all-clear signal that means no one’s trapped inside. Thank fuck because this one is a killer of a burn. I doubt anyone could survive in the inferno of heat raging up to the night sky.

  There’s also smoke billowing from the back of the building which means the fire has auto-extended. At least one window has blown out due to the build up of intense heat trapped inside and allowed the flames to sear direct into the cockloft above.

  Tom has barely stepped clear of the possibility of the walls coming down on top of him when the sound of manic yapping starts up. It’s coming from somewhere at the attic window within the wall of heat. What the…?

  “You hear that?” I say as Tom staggers up beside me and pulls off his helmet for some fresher air. “It sounds like…”

  “It is.” He croaks. “Shit.”

  A dog.

  Sounds like a small one from the pitch of the yapping and it’s going batshit crazy somewhere on a higher floor.

  “Ryder wait, what are you planning?” Tom yells over the roar as I hand over the hose, making sure he’s got full control of the force before letting go. “You aren’t thinking about…”

  Words are hard to get out what with the bellowing flames and how they’re eating up the oxygen. Tom and I barely to need to use them at all, even on a night when we aren’t called out to put out an inferno. We can sit in a bar and know exactly what the other is thinking without having to go into verbose detail.

  Women always say things like, ‘Your friend is the strong silent type, isn’t he?’ when trying to get me to give up some details on Tom’s character. Me, they generally refer to as “buttoned-up”. On a good day that is. More usually it’s “brooding”, “standoffish”, or just plain “douchey”.

  Whatcha gonna do? I can’t change my personality to make it appealing to bar birds. And there’s always one that thinks she can get under my skin. Make me into a better man through the power of her love and romantic shit like that means nothing.

  “Ryder. You hear that popping? The roof’s coming down any minute.” Tom yells.

  I’m already on the move, checking my oxygen tank as I go.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Dunlop, get back here. Don’t start with the hotshot heroics.” It’s Hal, the captain, giving the order but I don’t turn back. “You can’t save the mutt. It’s too late.”

  “I can’t leave an animal in there to die, Chief.” I shout back, grabbing my axe from the truck.

  The yelps from the dog are becoming more pitiful. How can I stand here all safely suited up while a living thing is trapped and eaten up by flame? Animals aren’t lesser beings than humans, not in my book.

  “It isn’t worth sacrificing your own life.” The Chief bellows.

  “I got this.” I say. “I can feel it.”

  Before he can say anything else to convince me, I fit the mouthpiece and mask and head into the building.

  “You got some fucking death wish, Dunlop? Because if so you can take it to some other station.”

  I hear Hal cursing at me on the headset, telling me, ordering me, not to go in but I turn down the volume. It’s not as though I’ve got any desire to lose my life or some shit like that. Nor am I trying to be a hero although the crew josh me at any opportunity for the risks I’ve taken in the past. When I say I can feel it, I mean it. It’s as though I have an intuition with the blaze. I can sense when it’s crossed a raging line into the deadly zone. This one has crossed that line but I’m pulled in anyway. I can also sense when there’s still the opportunity to get the better of it.

  I don’t know how to explain it exactly. Any fire is a death trap of course but when I’m fighting it I feel at one with the burn. I’ve got a buddy, Yale, who spends his life free-climbing the world’s toughest cliffs and he says the same, that when he’s climbing he’s at one with the rock, as though they’ve merged as one. You can’t fight an enemy unless you feel akin to him. That’s how it is for me and the flames.

  And like I told the chief, I can’t stand back and listen to some poor animal burn to death. Even if it means I’ll be ribbed by the other guys for a week about loving puppies. I’ll get sent every cute dog video on the internet but what the hell. I can take it.

  I go through the door Tom just emerged from and soon as I get to the stairs I immediately feel the force of heat pushing hungrily up against the Kevlar I’m sheathed in.

  Chief was right, this whole place is going to come down. But not yet. I breathe calm, deep, but slow and head toward the sound of barking. At least the dog is giving me a constant call out to lead me right to him. I’m amazed it’s still conscious in the wall of smoke. I can’t see two inches in front of me. That tells me again that it’s a smaller dog, lower to the ground where there’s less smoke.

  Gotta move fast.

  The door at the third floor is locked. Which is weird seeing as Tom just gave the all clear. All clear means he’d have kicked in all the access points to check every room, not only for signs of life but also for anything combustible that could set up an explosion. Good thing I thought to pick up the ax.

  I lift the hammer and bring it down between the jamb and lock so the wood splinters, then I kick the door in, hoping the little mutt isn’t waiting right behind it. I douse the wall of flames in front of me but of course it’s like a drop in the ocean now that the blaze is out of control. All I can do is beat back the frontal wall as I advance. My heart rate has picked up simply from the effort of cooling my body inside the suit. The roar of sound is deafening even inside the helmet.

  The dog’s barking leads me straight up another flight and toward the window, which is open, the air feeding the flames. The beast goes ballistic when he senses my presence. He must be terrified but when I bend to grab him, he wriggles out of my grasp then takes off closer to another window. For a second I think he’s going to hurl himself out, which would have saved us a lot of hassle if he’d done that in the first place. He would have survived the fall if we’d placed a jumping sheet.

  Just then a sound like a thousand whips cracking splinters the air and part of the roof beam caves in behind me. Shit.

  “Time to go Fido.” Jesus, the little mutt wriggles out of my hold and takes off on me again.

  This time it occurs to me to leave him. I don’t want to play the heroic card for some dumb animal that can’t tell when danger is paramount. But then the little pooch bounds up to me, barking fiercely. I must look like an alien invader to him in the turnout suit and BA mask but he doesn’t seem to care. And now I can te
ll he isn’t playing silly games, but dangerous ones. His pelt is matted to his little body and his eyes are peeling into mine, willing me to hear him, as though he’s telling me something. Like throwing a stick and the dog runs up to bark at you, insistent that you throw it again. Only this is way more urgent. Life and death.

  But there’s no time. We have to get out of here right now. I bend down to grab the mutt by the scruff and again he squirms out of my hold and makes a leap at something that attracts my attention.

  That’s when I see the small bare foot sticking out from the cloud of smoke. Holy shit, someone’s still in here. And the little beast was trying to tell me all along.

  “Good dog.” I mutter and reach out to ruffle his head. This time he allows me to touch him, as though relieved I finally get it.

  Come to think of it, how did Tom miss the pup? The smoke wouldn’t have been this thick when he was doing his sweep and anyway, he should have discovered this body during the primary search. That thought also rushes through my head in a flash as I bend down to the body on the floor. He really cut short on his responsibility.

  I can tell by the size of the foot that the person is female and that she’s lying facedown. I reach for her leg and discover she’s out cold but still alive. She must have been trying to make it to the window when the smoke overtook her. I can barely see a thing now, the smoke thickens. I have to run my hand all the way up her leg to locate her and I hope she doesn’t think I’m getting fresh, if she happens to come around.

  I use the last of the canister to blow back the smoke briefly and get a view that any man would kill for, if the circumstances were better.

  She’s butt naked aside from a black thong. As though she was trying to get dressed in a hurry and the smoke overcame her. The lacy fabric is a little twisted across one perfect cheek, curved and smooth. An irresistible cheek that a man would kill to cup his rough palm around, caressing the soft skin and then giving a firm squeeze. This and other thoughts rush through my mind like sparks before I pull myself out of my distraction and focus on the urgent issue.

  I can’t lift the passed out girl and the pup at the same time.

  “Come on fido, good dog.”

  This time he lets me grab him, and I stuff him inside my Kevlar. Just loosening the opening, I get a blast of heat that breaks me out in a sweat, although that could have something to do with the perfect naked girl I’m about to toss over my shoulder. We have to get out of here now.

  I reach into my pack and unfurl an emergency blanket to wrap the girl in. I wouldn’t want that lovely skin singed. Nor any other bastard to fill his head with images of her curves.

  As I lift her from the floor, I confirm she’s not wearing anything but the tiny panties. Her firm breasts bounce up on her chest and sway enough to send me half-deranged. I can tell they’d be as soft as - shit, focus man. You’re drooling enough to douse the fire from your mouth. Stop salivating over her bare skin and do your job. Get us all the hell out of here.

  She’s unconscious but still breathing. I wrap her quickly but carefully in the silvery heat retardant material, desperately trying not to stiffen from the sight of her amazing breasts swaying under me. Flashed images continue to pass through my mind, of what it would be like to have her sprawled across my bed while I suck one of her pink nipples between my lips and roll it over my tongue.

  “Now is not the fucking time, Ryder.” I grit under my breath.

  I lift the woman up across my shoulder, effortlessly even though she’s out. Her pliant body settles there like she was jigsawed for my physique. I clamp my arm over her upper thighs and forcing myself not to think about the smooth curve of her bare ass cheek lying next to my jaw and all the treasure hidden close enough to delve my tongue into, I consider the best route of egress.

  I could attempt to smash through the other window but that’s risky and could cause the flames to explode. More than that, I don’t want to pass the girl off to anyone else. I know it seems ridiculous even as I sense it in my blood, but she’s mine and I can’t let her go. So we’ll go out the way I came in. And the girl will stay safe in my arms.

  I take off for the stairs just as the roof gives in with a thunderous crack and a loud sigh. It comes tumbling down on where the girl was laying moments ago in a heap of burning soot and ash. Outside I hear the crew shouting my name.

  The soot is so thick in the stairwell, I have to elbow the wall and inch forward totally blind. I take a moment to remove my mask and cover the victim’s mouth for a few inhalations. This smoke is a killer. When I bust through the front door, the crew come running to help with the casualty and get her into the medic van. For an instant some possessive streak flares through me and I almost hang on to her, refusing to release her. I have the impulse to ride with her, make sure she’s okay. After the hundreds of people I’ve rescued, this is the first time I’ve been caved in by the need to ensure one of them is safe. I don’t even know her name.

  “Christ, that was close.” I husk out, my throat burning up even with the oxygen mask. I can only imagine how the girl will feel when she comes around. If she comes around.

  “There was a victim left after recovery?” The captain barks. “How did we not know this?”

  He’s glaring at Tom who in turn is glaring at me.

  “Always gotta play the hero.” He snarls.

  “Like that’s a bad thing?” I snap back.

  I know there’s no way he completed the full search. He must have cut corners out of fear or laziness. I can’t believe my one friend, a guy I trusted with my back would do that. I’m so enraged at what I see as betrayal that I fly off at the mouth right in front of the Chief.

  “Only a fucking psycho would do something that shitty and then blame someone else for their lousy ass behavior.”

  “Who you calling a fucking psycho?” Tom lunges at me as though to start a brawl but the Captain and a couple of the other guys yank him off.

  “Tilson, you’re on report. Suspended until investigation. Dunlop, you’re in rehab.”

  “I’m fine,” I protest. “I don’t need molly-cod-“

  “Rehab. Now.”

  Chief heads over to the ambulance to check on the girl before they take her in. I skulk over to the ‘rehab’ area to sit and recover while they check I’m fit to work. Tom gives me the old bully eye.

  “I will end you.” He threatens.

  “Oh boo hoo.” I mewl like a girl but inside I’m burning at how I’ve lost a friend. The only one I have. Had.

  Like I said, psycho. The world’s full of them these days.

  I sit with an energy drink watching the squad fight out the rest of the burn and feeling useless. The collapsed roof goes some way to blanketing the flames and the guys soon get the rest of the fire under control. It’s only after the ambulance has pulled away to take the girl to hospital that I remember I still have a squirming little mutt stuffed inside my jacket. I pull him out and feed him some water from a throwaway cup which he laps at like a fish in the desert. He looks up at me with huge eyes as though inquiring where momma went.

  “I know, Bud.” I miss her too.

  Chapter 2

  Lainie

  I wake up and right away I’m afraid. My chest and throat hurt like hell. Worse than when I had tonsillitis as a kid and it felt like matches were being struck inside my neck every time I inhaled. But the pain isn’t what’s scaring me. After all I’m used to that. Nor the fact that I have no clue where I am. All I can think of is, where’s Thad? Because until I know he’s not close, close enough to hurt me, I can’t even think about breathing.

  I’ve had all kinds of crazy men in my life before. People seem to think I’m pretty and that in turn seems to attract obsessive types. Guys that need to know where I am and what I’m doing, especially who I’m doing it with, every moment of the day. And guys like Thad who even though you tell them you aren’t interested, assume that because they want it you do too.

  There was Dane who was a football dropout.
He’d wanted to be a quarterback star but wasn’t, because of too much partying, booze and other stuff probably. All the anger at his own failure he projected on me. That became more and more aggressive until the night we got into a fight, about his football rival Sam and he slapped me. And it must have made him feel good because once he started he couldn’t stop. And then there was the biker guy and now this trucker… But I’m rambling.

  I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Like my mind wants to trip off on it’s own random stuff to distract me from the real issue. That all of those previous bad boyfriends were choirboys compared to Thad.

  Thad is dangerously scary. The kind of man you leave town for and change your name for and wish you could move to a safe house in some South American country where he’d never track you down. I did all those things once already, aside from the safe house in South America stuff because I don’t speak much Spanish but clearly I should have gone because how is it possible that I’ve landed in an even worse situation? When I opened the door, the first time all innocently, naive in the delusion of my safety, I could tell by the slit of his eyes that he took it as a personal offense that I had thought to ever get away from him.

  “Lainie, Lainie, Lainie,” he said in that throaty husk of his I once thought was sexy. “Who said you could go?”

  But Thad doesn’t seem to be around at the moment. Maybe he went out and left me alone, left me to deal with the injuries, but I know he’ll be coming back. And when he does, it’s going to hurt.

  “Ah, you’re awake, how are you feeling? Any nausea? Chest pain?”

  Chest pain are you kidding?