Page 4 of Fractured Memories

“Jake, I want you to make sure these people get to the other side of the street. When the firefighters arrive, I want you to tell them that Detective Noah Hodgeis inside the house conducting a rescue operation. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Assured the civilians would be safe until more first responders arrived, Noah spun on his heel and raced for the house. The flames were intense. Heat, coupled with smoke, poured over him. Sweat coated his skin as he circled the property, searching for a point of entry. The kitchen was obliterated, but the west side of the house was untouched by flames. For the moment. Using the butt of his gun, Noah punched a hole through the glass in the primary bedroom window.

“Felicity!” He screamed her name through the opening. No response. Noah knocked out the jagged shards of glass clinging to the frame before launching himself through the broken window. A chunk of glass sliced his arm, more tore at his pants. He ignored it. Felicity was likely injured and unable to flee the house. There was no other explanation. Every second counted.

He wouldn’t let her die. He couldn’t.

God, give me strength. Guide me to make the right decisions.

Smoke hung heavy in the air. Noah pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth. Quickly, he cleared the adjoining bathroom, verifying no one wasn’t inside, before moving toward the living room. “Felicity!”

The roar of the fire was the only response. Tears coursed down his cheeks, his body’s natural reaction to the irritants in the air. He frantically blinked to clear the water away.

A gaping hole existed where the kitchen used to be. Flames, fueled by the fresh oxygen, grew by the second. They ate everything in their path. Entering the house and searching for Felicity was against protocol. Noah didn’t have the right equipment and should’ve waited for the firefighters. Harper’s face flashed momentarily in his mind. If he died, his little girl would be an orphan.

But if he turned back and later learned he could’ve saved Felicity… Noah wasn’t sure he could live with himself. He pressed forward. The smoke was so thick, Noah couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. “Fee!”

The childhood nickname fell from his lips without a second thought. Felicity had played on his swing set, spent Christmases at his house when her father was working, and held his hand at his parents' funeral. She was a part of his life and the thought of losing her was too painful to contemplate. “Fee, answer me.”

He tripped over something near the staircase and crashed to the ground. Pain erupted through his body at the bone-jarring impact. Noah gritted his teeth. He turned to untangle his foot from the object. His fingers stumbled over warm skin and silky hair.

Felicity. Noah wiped at his eyes, clearing his vision long enough to assess the situation. She slumped against the staircase with her eyes closed. Thick tape covered her mouth, more secured her body to the railing. His fingers trembled as he pressed a hand to the curve of her throat. Felicity’s heartbeat was thready and weak, but there. She was alive. Noah’s lungs burned from the smoke even ashis mind registered the fact that this fire was no accident. Someone had tried to kill her.

Flames reached the living room curtains. The fabric went up in a whoosh of hot air. A beam in the ceiling groaned in response as the crackling blaze grew larger. The smoke grew thicker. It was heavy and blinding. Noah fumbled with the bindings holding Felicity to the railing. The tape was thick—industrial strength—and difficult to remove. He retrieved a small knife from his pocket and flicked it open.

The house groaned again. The flames were making their way along the roof. Sparks dropped to the ground, eating anything in their path. The couch. The bookshelves. Sweat poured down Noah’s face, mixing with the soot coating his skin. The heat was brutal. It stole his breath. The low oxygen levels in his body made him lightheaded. He battled against his own physical need to run. He wouldn’t abandon Felicity.

The knife was dull from previous use. Noah had been meaning to sharpen it for weeks, but kept forgetting. Now he was paying for that mistake dearly. He sawed at the tape holding Felicity hostage to the staircase railing. Outside, sirens wailed. The firefighters and other first responders had arrived, but from the way the building was moaning, the roof wouldn’t last long. It was about to cave in.

“Come on, come on.” His movements were quick, his focus absolute. The sweat from his skin, along with Felicity’s, made everything slick. The blade sliced his palm as the handle slipped from his grip. He barely felt the pain.His adrenaline was in high gear, blocking out everything except the desperate task at hand. Finally, Noah felt the tape give way. He grasped one end with his hand and yanked hard.

The binding snapped.

Felicity’s slender form leaned toward him. Noah didn’t waste a second. He lifted her into his arms. The house rumbled as an exposed beam crashed into the living room. Sparks peppered Noah’s bare arms and burned holes through his clothing. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. The roof was about to collapse.

He raced for the rear bedroom, praying they would get out of the house before being burned alive.

FOUR

The next morning, Felicity winced as she assessed the staples along her scalp in the hospital bathroom mirror. The wound was irritated, but there was no sign of infection. She’d been admitted last night for a concussion, along with lung damage caused by smoke inhalation. It would take weeks for the bruises and cuts caused by her tumble down the stairs to heal, but she was alive. God—and Noah—had protected her.

Felicity sent another prayer of thanksgiving upward. She arranged a lock of hair over the staples before gingerly securing her curls into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Her sepia-colored skin was paler than normal, but cream blush had put a natural flush to her cheeks. She added a bit of the same color to her lips. The result was simple, but effective at hiding the rough night’s sleep she’d had.

She exited the bathroom. Her friend, Cassie Hollister, was standing next to the window. The blonde beautywas dressed in a tank top and khaki shorts. One hand cradled the growing baby bump along her midsection as she turned with a smile. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” A shower and fresh clothes had gone a long way to making her feel normal. “Thanks for stopping by the rental to get my things. I really appreciate it.” Felicity glanced at the doorway. “Where’s Noah?”

“He ran home to get cleaned up.” Cassie tilted her head toward the glass cutout that provided a view of the nurse's station. Her husband, Nathan, was visible. The former Green Beret leaned against the wall, but his relaxed posture was deceptively casual. His gaze never stopped roaming, looking for any sign of trouble. “Nathan promised to guard your room while Noah was gone.” She arched her brows. “If the two men weren’t such good friends, I’m not sure Noah would’ve agreed to it. He refused to leave your side all night.”

Felicity remembered. She’d come to inside the ambulance. Noah had been holding her hand, his handsome face covered with soot. She’d lost consciousness again and had woken hours later to find him still standing guard. His protection was the only reason she’d been able to sleep. “He’s worried.”

“For good reason. You were nearly killed last night.” Cassie reached for a takeaway cup resting on the nightstand and handed it to Felicity. Her nose wrinkled. “It’s from a vending machine down the hall, but I figured you wouldn’t mind. Cops are used to drinking sludge, right?”

Felicity laughed and took the cup. The scent of burned coffee beans hit her nostrils one moment before she tooka sip of the dark liquid. Her taste buds revolted against the bitterness. Still, she forced another sip. “Sludge is right. I didn’t think anything was worse than police department coffee. I was wrong.”

“Maybe I can help.” Noah stood in the doorway. Sunlight highlighted the sharp angles of his face and the gray strands woven through his russet hair. A navy polo shirt molded over broad shoulders before being tucked into a set of BDU-style pants. His belt was loaded down with his handgun holster, cuffs, and badge. In one hand, he held a tray of takeaway coffees, along with a bakery bag from a local shop in town.

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