Page 3 of Reckless
“Your level of fuck-uppery knows no bounds, Donovan. You’re not going anywhere.” McManus refused to budge, crossing his arms as if awaiting an argument. But Alex was done yapping, and he moved to just sidestep the guy so he could get on with what mattered.
“I said stand down, you little punk,” the captain spat, matching Alex’s lateral movement as he poked a finger into his chest. Although the sensation barely made it past all the reinforced protection of his turnout gear, the contact sent a hot, unrelenting pulse of oh-hell-no all the way through his blood.
He dropped his gaze toward the offending digit for only a split second before returning it to McManus’s beady eyes. “Take. Your hands. Off me.”
Testosterone collided with the uncut adrenaline coursing through Alex’s veins, creating a whoosh of white noise in his ears. He was vaguely aware of the thud of boots over pavement, another voice adding to the distant, muffled sounds beyond the anger making a spin cycle out of his gut. But the only thing he heard with any clarity was the irrefutable challenge of Captain McManus’s reply.
“Or what, son?”
His body went subarctic despite the heat rolling off the building in front of him. “What did you call me?”
McManus’s upper lip curled, his finger pressing harder as he hissed, “I said stand down. You’re out of your league.Son.”
In one scissor-sharp instant, Alex’s last thread of control spontaneously combusted.
His stiff-arm found McManus’s center mass in less than a breath, re-opening the direct avenue of daylight between him and the warehouse’s closest point of entry. His legs made quick work of the distance, while a punishing kick eliminated the barrier of the door. Heat and smoke met him in a one-two punch of hot and nasty, and he yanked his mask over his face with a swift tug.
“I’m pretty sure that’s less cordial than McManus is used to,” Cole said in a half holler, and Alex wheeled around just in time to see his best friend pull his own mask into place. Shock took a potshot at his rib cage, but the sensation didn’t last. Station Eight’s golden rule was to have each other’s backs above all else. Of course Cole hadn’t broken ranks. Just like Alex wouldn’t have if the situation were reversed.
After all, there was noIinteam.
“I’ll deal with that weasel-faced asshat later,” Alex said, pointing to the dimly lit corridor in front of them. “Right now, we need to make sure this place is empty, from the top down.”
“Copy that.” Cole snapped on his flashlight, jerking his helmet at the rusty door markedStairs.“Let’s go to work.”
Alex flipped directly to go-mode, the echo of his boots on the concrete steps alternating with his deep-lunged shouts for anyone within earshot to call out. He and Cole divided the third-floor office space down the center of the smoke-stained hallway, checking the offices at the far end with an economy of movement. The first few rooms turned up enough discarded food wrappers and empty liquor bottles to send Alex’s hackles into high alert, and he slammed the doors shut in his wake to hold off the spread of heat and smoke pushing up from below.
Someone was in here. And time was running out to find them.
“Fire department! We’re here to help you. Call out!” He tore a path to the next office, swinging his flashlight over the littered floor. The beam caught on a pile of rumpled fabric in the corner, and Alex’s heart knocked against his ribs like an MMA fighter in a cage match as he raced over the dirt-streaked linoleum.
A stuffed rabbit the color of grime tumbled from the empty sleeping bag.
“Command to Donovan,” crackled the radio on Alex’s shoulder, and shit. Guess Crews had gotten the news flash on his whereabouts. “Get your ass out of that warehouse.Now.”
“No can do, Lieu.” Alex stuck as much respect as he could to the words, but no way was he leaving this party with only half his dance card punched, especially now. He scanned the rest of the office, pulling the door snug within its frame as he moved back into the hallway. “We’ve got definite signs of squatters in here. I’m finishing this sweep.”
Crews switched tactics on a dime, although his tone was no less pissed. “Command to Everett. I want you both to fall outimmediately.Do you copy?”
“Affirmative, sir,” Cole said, swinging his flashlight back toward the stairwell door as he signaled to Alex that his side of the floor was clear. “But with all due respect, if Donovan’s finishing this search, I’ve got his six.”
Crews unleashed a string of upper-level curse words through the radio before continuing. “You’re in a world of goddamn hurt when you get out of there, Donovan.”
But as much as getting chewed out by Crews was going to suck in Technicolor 3-D, taking the hit in order to do his job right was worth every syllable.
“Copy that. But I’m not leaving ‘til the rest of this building is clear.”
Alex double-timed it to the second floor with Cole on his heels. Smoke clogged the hallways and larger storage rooms, turning their visibility to shit. In the handful of minutes they’d been in the building, the flames had rolled out to cover the entire north side of the second floor.
“Fire department! Call out!” Alex’s bellow thundered past his lips. Sweat streamed between his shoulder blades and over his eyebrows, his breath tearing a path through his lungs in spite of the mask regulating his air flow from the SCBA tank on his back. He repeated the yell in every door frame, searching each smoke-filled corner with growing despair.
No one answered.
“Donovan!” Cole hunched at the waist in the main hallway, planting himself in Alex’s line of vision with a tight shake of his head. “Looks like anyone who was in here took off. Squad’s gotta be close to done venting the roof, and this fire’s getting out of hand, fast.”
Alex squinted through the haze of smoke and soot, sweat pouring down to sting his eyes beneath his mask. Shit—shit—Cole wasn’t wrong. Alex might jump in hard sometimes, but that didn’t mean he had a death wish.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s hit the ground level and make sure no one got lost on their way to daylight. Go.”
