Page 13 of Fire Fight
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, unsure why I was apologizing. The woman appeared no worse for the wear. Her clothes were still dry, drink still full in her hand.
With a huff, she disappeared into the crowd, her friend mumbling an apology to me before following.
In search of napkins, I turned back to the bar, only to find the bartender smirking and shaking his head. I’d find no assistance from him.
The natives had officially turned on me, and I needed to leave—now.
Wiping my hands off as best as I could on my jeans, I pushed my way through the crowd and exited into the night.
Goosebumps erupted on my arms instantly as the chilled air hit my drenched shirt, and I plucked it away from my body as I made my way across the packed dirt parking lot toward Black Betty, cursing the entire way.
In my back jeans pocket, my phone had been spared any damage. I pulled it out and started a Google search for a local laundromat. I’d also need to see about finding a new bag. Mine was likely ruined beyond repair, the dark amber of my beer soaking in and staining the pale canvas fabric.
I never saw the hit coming.
One moment, I was stomping the final ten feet to my SUV. The next, I was belly down on the ground, my skull throbbing.
Lifting a shaky hand, I probed my skull, my fingertips coming away red.
Blood.
What the fuck?
My bag had landed several feet away when I fell, and I tried to scramble for it and the taser inside. I only managed a few feet before my assailant caught hold of my hair and wrenched me back, my neck craning to an uncomfortable angle. A kick to my ribs had it snapping forward, a crunch echoing from my nose when my face collided with the ground. Pain bloomed, my eyeswatering, blurring my vision, and hot liquid dribbled into my mouth.
More blood.
A cold, terrifying laugh rose goosebumps all over my skin, and another well-placed kick to my side had me gasping for air. I still tried to crawl for my taser, screaming for help, but there was no one around to hear me. Another boot to my ribs yet again thwarted my progress.
The realization of how this would play out hit me with sickening clarity: there would be no escaping.
Confirming my thoughts, there was a jolt, burn, and buzz against my neck that reverberated through my entire body.
Then everything went black.
five
. . .
CREW
The blareof an alarm had me jolting upright in bed. Muscle memory brought me to my feet before I’d fully opened my eyes, stuffing them in my boots and moving from the bunk room to the garage behind the rest of my truck company.
The dispatcher’s voice rang out from the PA system as the bells cut out.
“Truck twenty-seven, engine forty-five, ambulance thirty-five. Warehouse fire, Maple and Alder.”
Adrenaline coursed heavily through my veins, energizing me better than caffeine ever could, and I donned my gear on autopilot. Mentally, I drew up a map of town, focusing on the area we were headed. Maple and Adler was in the industrial park, so we’d likely be heading into a warehouse, which would determine our game plan for tackling the fire.
As I hopped into the front passenger seat of our truck, the rest of the men loading into the back, something tickled my brain. Something about this night and the location of the call.
“Prom night, ain’t it?” Childers asked from behind me.
My blood ran cold as my thoughts cleared, his words catching that thread and yanking it to the forefront of my mind.
I shared a sidelong glance with Tuck, who was our driver. “You think it’s him?” I asked, loud enough that my whole crew could hear.
Tuck shrugged, eyes on the road, navigating us from the station at the edge of town and through the sleepy streets of Dusk Valley. “Hard to say until we get there. Been quiet for a few years, though.”
