Rescue Me
When a raging fire engulfs her apartment, Martha Benson can do nothing but send up desperate prayers that she might somehow be rescued—until she suddenly finds herself being carried out in the powerful arms of the one man she never expected to see again, Frank Ellis. When he miraculously parts the demonic wall of flames and leads them to safety, she’s stunned to realize that this ruggedly handsome man who once broke her heart can still stir sensual desires she’d long given up on ever feeling again.
As a young man, Frank was consumed by a haunting connection to fire that he did not understand and lived in fear that he might accidentally harm Martha. Forced to walk away from her for her own safety, he still dreamed of her and their youthful passion. And now that he has found her again nearly twenty years later, he’s determined to never leave her, and he knows he must learn to harness his mystical power to win her trust and make her his own.
As their reunion sparks their desire anew and forges a deep emotional and erotic bond, Frank and Martha must both confront their fears to rise from the ashes of their past and rekindle a love that can never be extinguished . . .
Rescue Me
N. J. Walters
Beyond the Page Books
are published by
Beyond the Page Publishing
www.beyondthepagepub.com
Copyright © 2015 by N.J. Walters. This novella originally appeared in the boxed set Into the Flames published in September of 2015.
Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs.
ISBN: 978-1-950461-24-0
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Books by N. J. Walters
About the Author
Chapter One
Lights flashed and bounced off the surrounding buildings, smoke billowed upward into the blue sky and loud voices filled the air, yelling instructions. All the uniformed men and women moved quickly and competently, pulling out hoses, raising ladders and getting down to the job at hand. It might have looked chaotic to the untrained eye but it was really a dance that took great skill.
“Hell of a way to start your vacation, New York.”
Frank Ellis, aka New York to his brothers at the fire station here in Chicago, stared up at the blaze engulfing a portion of the three-story apartment building. He’d been only hours away from ending his shift and starting his two-week vacation. “Yeah, hell of a way.”
He strode up to Chief Riley and waited for the instructions he knew would be forthcoming. “Ellis, you and Sanchez take the top floor. It’s midafternoon and we don’t know who’s at work and who’s home.”
“On it.” Adrenaline pumping, Frank and his partner went back to the truck and pulled on their SCBA—self-contained breathing apparatus—checked to make sure they were both strapped on tight and working properly, grabbed their axes and headed for the burning structure.
Frank was one of the few firefighters with two nicknames. His buddy’s mostly called him New York, after his hometown, even though he’d lived in Chicago for more than a decade. Others called him Gabriel, after the archangel, because he’d rescued so many people from fires. It was also the reason he was almost always sent into any structure where they thought there might be people trapped.
As Chief Riley had once told him, “Son, you’ve got the instincts of a bloodhound when it comes to finding folks.”
If the chief only knew the truth.
Hoses were being pulled from Engine 35 and water began to pour on the structure. Other stations had responded and were attacking the blaze from the other side. Frank led the way, as he always did, into the burning structure. The doorway into the lobby was open and smoke-filled.
He pointed up and Sanchez nodded. As always when he stepped into a burning building, his skin began to tingle and he had to work hard to contain himself and his excitement.
Frank knew the fire had started at the top. He didn’t question his instincts, which screamed at him to hurry. There were three flights of stairs and both men were loaded down with pounds of gear, all of it necessary to their job. He took deep, slow breaths and squinted to see through the smoke as he made his way upward.
The burn and crackle of the fire was so loud it was almost like the roar of a living beast. And that wasn’t too far off the truth. He knew fire intimately, knew it was a powerful entity to be respected. It called to him, sang for him, but most of all, it was in his blood. The temptation to strip off his protective gear and walk into the flames was almost overpowering. He clamped down on the urge and stuck to the job.
Frank knew his buddy was right behind him, both of them focused on saving the lives of anyone who might have the misfortune of being home on this beautiful summer afternoon.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they paused. Flames danced along the entire top floor of the older building, intent on consuming it whole.
“Shit,” Sanchez yelled. He agreed with his buddy’s assessment of the situation.
“I’m going in.” He pointed to the right. His instincts were driving him hard and he never ignored them.
Frank had barely taken a step when his head jerked around, almost of its own volition, to focus on the apartment on the left side of the hallway. The fire licked up the walls and the heat was ramping up. He knew Sanchez had to be finding it difficult to navigate.
“We need to go back.” He heard Sanchez’s voice over the radio but ignored it. “Damn it, Ellis,” his friend yelled when Frank didn’t turn back.
“Wait here,” he told him. “And get out if it gets too bad.” The fire couldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t hurt him. The others might burn but not him. He and the fire were one.
Frank knew he’d get in trouble for his actions—he often did—but that didn’t stop him from doing what he knew was right. The apartment door was like a wall of fire when he approached it. Frank didn’t hesitate. He lifted the axe in his hand, drew back and slammed the heavy head of the tool into the area just below the lock. The door flew open and he stepped inside the inferno.
The flames reached out as though trying to stroke his skin. They were so beautiful, so alive, it was tough not to become mesmerized by them. He shook his head to clear it. Ignoring the heat and smoke, he headed to the far end of the apartment. It took precious seconds for him to check the bedroom. Damn the smoke. It was so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face.
He felt along the wall and found another door. He twisted the
knob and shoved it open. It was the bathroom. He took a step forward and almost stumbled over a towel that had been shoved against the bottom crack of the door. His heart sped up.
Over his radio, he could hear the chief ordering everyone out. He ignored it. He was too close to stop now. The room was small and he knew there was only one place the occupant would be—the bathtub. He made his way there and, sure enough, a woman was curled up with what looked to be a damp towel over her head.
Frank set his axe aside and lifted the woman into his arms. He prayed he wasn’t too late. Her eyes fluttered open and his heart nearly stopped. In spite of the smoke and the fire, he could see her eyes. They were eyes he knew well. They’d haunted his dreams for half his life.
• • •
Martha Benson knew she was hallucinating. She had to be. Or maybe she was dead. She tried to speak but her throat was too raw. Instead, she inhaled a lungful of smoke and began to cough.
She was moving, being carried through the fiery blaze. A fireman had found her. But she wasn’t saved yet. Fire raged all around her, stinging her face and arms. She clutched at the man’s arms, silently begging him not to let her go.
His grip tightened and her hope was renewed.
A huge roar seemed to rise up out of nowhere. She instinctively turned her head to see what it was and then wished she hadn’t. A huge wall of flames blocked their only exit.
The fireman stopped. The flames seemed to reach for him, for them. Holding her with one arm, he raised his other hand. Martha blinked, not quite sure what she was seeing. The flames parted, as if by command, and formed a blazing arch around them. Her savior rushed from the room, practically dragging her. He kept one strong arm locked around her waist, the other held out in front of him, his hand moving like he was conducting a symphony that only he could hear.
She thought she heard him yell at her to hang on but couldn’t be sure. Down they went, over blackened stairs, the walls crumbling around them. Something fell behind them, sending up a shower of sparks. It was terrifying, a display of elemental strength.
The firefighter lowered his hand when they reached the first floor and scooped her up once again. He was running now, his urgency making her heart beat so hard her chest hurt. Breathing was virtually impossible.
They burst out into the sunshine. Warm air rushed over her skin but it felt almost cold after the heat from the fire. She shivered and peered up at the sun she never thought she’d see again. Her lungs and eyes burned. Every part of her body ached but the world had never looked so beautiful.
A man and a woman rushed toward them and tried to take her from the firefighter who’d rescued her. She tightened her grip on him, not wanting to let him go, which didn’t make any sense at all. There was no denying he was a brave man who’d saved her life, but he was a stranger. Yet, she couldn’t seem to make herself release him.
Nor did he seem willing to relinquish her. He ignored the paramedics and carried her to the stretcher that sat beside the ambulance. He laid her gently on it. She tried to speak but coughed instead. And once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
The paramedics jumped into action and quickly placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. She wanted to breathe deeply but it hurt too much. Her lungs were starved for clean air and she did her best to oblige them. She briefly lost sight of the firefighter and began to panic.
As if he understood her need to see him, he moved into view. He removed his helmet and slowly lowered the shield of his breathing apparatus. Martha blinked several times. She had to be hallucinating. Or maybe she was really dead and what she’d been through was some version of the flames of hell.
“Frank.” She tried to say his name but it came out as more of a croak.
His face was flushed, his clothing soot-stained, but his blue eyes were still as clear and alluring as the waters of the Caribbean. She’d always loved his eyes. His black hair was hidden by the protective hood he was wearing, but there was no mistaking that craggy face.
The paramedics were attaching some kind of intravenous line to her arm. She normally didn’t like needles but she barely noticed when they put it in. She ignored everyone and everything else and reached out to Frank with her free hand. He stepped forward, removed his glove and closed his fingers around hers.
They were warm and strong and steady.
“Hey, Martha.” It had been eighteen long years since she’d heard that voice. It was even deeper now than it had been when they were teenagers. She shivered but didn’t let go of him lest he disappear.
“It’s really you.” Her voice sounded more like a frog than ever but at least her words were understandable, even through the oxygen mask.
“Yeah, it’s really me.”
The paramedics lifted the stretcher to put her in the back of the ambulance. She gave a cry of fear. Frank had disappeared from her life once. She didn’t want that to happen again. She clung to his hand, making it impossible for them to load her aboard the vehicle.
“Go with them,” Frank told her. “I’ll find you.”
She didn’t trust him. Not anymore, and her expression must have shown her doubt. He squeezed her hand and released her. This time she didn’t try to cling. She had her pride, after all.
“I promise,” he told her.
The paramedics slid her aboard and the last thing she saw was Frank standing there watching her until the doors slammed shut. She closed her eyes and gave in to the fatigue and sadness pulling at her.
• • •
Frank wanted to jump into the back of the ambulance and go with Martha but he had a job to do. Bad enough he was going to get in deep shit for disobeying protocol, but he couldn’t compound it by leaving the scene. Not if he wanted to keep his job.
Sure enough, he turned to find his chief waiting for him. Riley’s face looked red enough for him to burst into flames. “Damn it, Ellis, what the hell were you thinking?”
Frank yanked the hood off his head and met the man’s gaze straight on. “I knew she was in there. I couldn’t leave her.”
“How did you know?” That was a question they always asked him after one of his seemingly impossible rescues.
He answered the same way he always did: “I just knew.” If he told them that the fire spoke to him, that he understood it in a way the rest of them never could, he’d end up in a psych ward somewhere. And that wasn’t happening.
And if he told them who he really was, what he was, they’d either try to kill him or lock him away. Neither was an option he was willing to entertain. No, he really didn’t think the chief would understand if he told the man he was a mythical phoenix and fire was his element.
Riley dragged his hand over his face. “Damned if I know how you do it.”
“Everyone else get out?” With the shock of finding Martha, the only woman he’d ever loved stuck in a burning building, he’d completely forgotten about everyone else.
He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he’d just pulled Martha Benson out of a fire. It gave him quite a start to realize he still loved her, as much as he had all those years ago. He might not have laid eyes on her since he was eighteen, but that didn’t change his feelings. They’d dated all through high school and had planned to go to college together and then get married.
All that had changed in a heartbeat and he’d left her in order to protect her. Or at least that’s what he’d told himself at the time. Over the years he’d questioned his motives and actions but it had been too late to change any of them.
The chief responded to a question that came over his radio before turning his attention back to Frank. “Yeah, everyone else is out. We don’t know if there are any other people trapped inside. We can’t send anyone else in there at this point.” As if to punctuate Riley’s words, the roof caved in on the far side of the building.
“What caused it?” Frank knew fires and this one seemed particularly aggressive. If he were a betting man, he’d say it was arson.
“
Not sure yet.” The chief began to walk away and Frank followed him, keeping pace. Everyone manned the hoses, trying to keep the fire contained so it wouldn’t spread to the surrounding buildings.
“It was arson, wasn’t it?” Frank told himself to shut up but couldn’t stop.
Chief Riley gave him a hard stare. “You know something I don’t?”
Frank dragged in a deep breath. “The way it burned. So hot and fast in one area screams it wasn’t an accident.” The fire was most concentrated around Martha’s apartment. He’d had a difficult time controlling it with his attention half on her and half on the blaze.
“I think you’re right,” Riley confirmed. “We’ll know more once we get this bastard put down.”
“Right.” Frank wanted answers and he wanted them now, but the fire came first. He dragged his gear back on and headed for one of the hoses. The quicker this fire was knocked down, the faster he’d get the answers he needed. He wanted this day over so he could go to the hospital and see Martha. He wouldn’t rest until he knew she was okay and that there was no lasting damage.
Chapter Two
Martha closed her eyes and listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor. She could still smell smoke even though a nurse had given her a sponge bath. For a person who’d almost died, Martha figured she was in pretty good shape.
Minor burns dotted her arms and legs, and she was pretty sure she’d have to get a couple of inches trimmed from her hair. The heat from the blaze had made the strands dry and brittle. Her lungs ached and her throat hurt. The hospital was keeping her overnight for observation and giving her antibiotics to ward off infection.
She opened her eyes and picked at the thin white blanket covering her. She wasn’t in any hurry to leave. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away. Crying wouldn’t change anything. “It’s only stuff,” she reminded herself. She swallowed hard and reached for the small glass of water on her bedside table.
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