Page 7 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

Captain Stone nodded, then relayed the instructions on the tactical channel. “You want to stay with the victims?” he asked Fred, who nodded firmly. Technically, he wasn’t on shift, but the hell with that. “Good,” Stone said. “Keep them calm and see if you can assess their condition a little better.”

Fred turned back to the window of the limo and spoke to Cindy. “Cindy, I need you to tell me where it hurts.”

She rolled her head to the side and, still clearly disoriented, peered at him. “Hey, you’re the one with the trophy.”

“Was the one with the trophy.” Come to think of it, he had no idea where the thing had gone. He’d flung it away when he’d gone running toward the limo. “Can you move your limbs freely?”

“Limbs? Rachel, why’s he asking about my limbs? Who are you, anyway?”

Trying not to laugh, he pulled out his best reassuring smile. “Just call me Fred the Fireman.”

Rachel’s snort of laughter made his heart give a silly little jolt.

Rachel managed to keep it together by the skin of her teeth. Pressed between Cindy and the limo door, her trembling body drenched with the sweat of fear, she forced herself to shift her focus from her trapped state. Every time she felt the walls of the limo close in and the panic rise, she looked at Fred the Fireman. Something about him made her feel better, as if everything would—or at least might—be okay. After all, he’d intervened on her behalf a couple times already. She’d thought he was attractive back in the City Lights, but now, using him as an anchor against the tug of terror, she gave him much closer attention.

His eyes were the kind of deep, velvety brown that always seemed to reflect some kind of light. Shining eyes, she thought vaguely. No bad guy can fake shining eyes. She figured he was maybe a few years older than she was. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. And he smiled so easily. It gave her a warm feeling—he wouldn’t be smiling so readily if things were really bad. He’d lost the brown Henley he’d worn earlier, which left him in nothing but a white T-shirt, now streaked with grease and dirt.

And he seemed so capable. Not show-offy, just smart and skillful. The other firefighters, who were all a blur behind him, seemed to defer to him and respect what he said. One of them brought him a bulky firefighter’s jacket with reflective stripes and some gloves. He pulled them on.

“All right, then,” he told her and Cindy. “The trick here is to get you out without hurting you worse. Just so you guys know, the crane is being shored up to keep it from shifting once we start the extraction. We’re going to open the door now.”

Rachel just had time to wonder how on earth he was going to open a door that had been partially flattened when another firefighter heaved into view a giant tool that looked like a claw. After some loud, horrible mechanical screeching, the door was lifted away and Fred the Fireman was crouching next to Feather. An intense desire to flee the stifling, stinking deathtrap of a limo grabbed hold of her. If she could just get out, fight free, run and run until no one could catch her …

She yanked herself back to reality. She was here, now, not in that other bad, horrible place. And her friends needed her. If there was one thing she would never, ever do, it would be to leave behind someone who was trapped, or someone who needed help. She’d die first.

Focusing carefully, she unclenched her fists, where her nails had dug gouges into her palms. She took hold of Cindy’s hand in both of hers, looked into Fred the Fireman’s kind eyes, and said something she rarely, if ever, said to anyone.

“Tell us what to do.”

Rachel made it through the next half hour on a combination of sheer willpower and random babbling. Every nerve in her body screamed to get out of that limousine, but she refused to give in to the panic. Cindy passed out again, but Rachel managed to stay alert while Fred, with the help of another firefighter, maneuvered Liza and Feather out of the car. As soon as each girl was freed, Fred handed her off to a team of paramedics who whisked her away on a gurney. As each moment passed, the desire to be free of the space grew stronger. If she gave in to her deepest primal instincts, she’d be clawing her way past her best friend, broken bones be damned.

But she didn’t. When it was Cindy’s turn, she tried to help, though she had almost no room to move. Fred had to come halfway into the limo to operate, and this close she saw sweat beading his face and tension in his jaw. He looked so young for such a big responsibility as saving four people’s lives.

“How old are you?” she asked him without thinking.

He ignored her, rightfully so, focusing his entire attention on maneuvering Cindy’s limp form into his grip. She liked his face, with its square jaw and nicely shaped mouth. Nicely shaped mouth? Was this really the right moment for that kind of observation? Hell, she had to distract herself somehow.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate question. Clearly you know what you’re doing. And I hate it when people jump to conclusions when they don’t really know you. Don’t you?”

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