Dallas Fire & Rescue: Hearts Afire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (MacKay Destiny Book 3)

by L. J. Garland

“Fine. Say whatever you need to say then I’ve got to go.”

  “It’s too dangerous. Donnie Mizener’s out there looking for you.” He stared her down. “You need someplace to stay until they find him.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, how would you know how dangerous that guy is?”

  Here it was. The moment he’d dreaded since he bumped into her outside the café. “You want to know? I’ll tell you.”

  One year ago….

  “I love you, too.” Grinning, Aiden ended the call, tucked his cell phone into his pocket, and slumped into the sofa. Sacramento’s early afternoon sunlight streamed through, Station 17’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and he took it as a sign his life was right on track—just as it should be. Kick-ass firefighter job, check. The perfect girl, check. Super-romantic evening planned for said perfect girl, check. He looked at his watch. Six hours and counting.

  Glancing up, he caught Kyle Dean smirking at him. “What?”

  Kyle poured himself some coffee. “Boy, she’s got you whipped.”

  Aiden snorted. “You wish you were whipped like me.”

  Kyle reached up into cabinet and pulled out the container of coffee and a fresh filter. “Been down that road already.” He dumped the used grounds in the garbage. “Got the T-shirt.”

  “Multiple roads and T-shirts” The older guy had been married four times. None stuck.

  “Yeah, seems like every couple years I feel the need to get married to some random woman, buy her a new car, and give half my bank account to her.” He loaded fresh coffee into the machine and set it to brew. “Not that there’s much to give.”

  “You just haven’t met the right one.”

  “No such thing as ‘the right one.’ Least, not for me.” He wagged his head. “I was a firefighter when I met her, and I’ll be a firefighter when the door hits her on the ass on the way out.”

  Aiden chuckled. “Melanie’s different.”

  “I can tell by that goofy-ass grin on your face.” He came over, plopped in the chair across from him, and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “So, tonight’s the big night.”

  “Yep.”

  “She knows about the job, and she’s okay with that?”

  “Yep.” They’d had a long discussion once they’d both realized their relationship had grown serious. She’d been cool with the whole deal. “And, tonight, I’m asking her to marry me.”

  “Huh.” Kyle drank his coffee.

  “What?”

  “Sure she’ll say yes, MacKay?”

  “Yes.” Not only was she beautiful, she loved him, too. What else was there? “I’ve got a three-quarter carat round-cut diamond ring—”

  “Wait, what if she doesn’t like round cut?” Kyle rubbed his jaw. “My third wife…no, my second wife wanted square. She almost said no.” He shook his head. “Probably shoulda taken that as a sign.”

  “She’ll love it,” Aiden said with confidence. “And, if not, we can take it back and apply it to something she wants. Doesn’t matter to me so long as she’s happy. Plus, I’m taking her to The Supper Club to pop the question. How can she say—”

  Lights flashed above the doorways, indicating a fire call had come from dispatch. Aiden and Kyle jumped up, rushed to the bays to grab their turnout gear, and climbed aboard one of the fire trucks. They took off in a hail of sirens and flashing lights, the horn blaring to warn approaching motorists.

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of a blazing apartment building. The crew from Station 17 went to work in a well-orchestrated chaos that they practiced regularly to keep their response time low and their effectiveness high. The truck ladder was extended, and one of the guys aimed water onto the roof of the building. Ambulances and fire rescue arrived less than a minute later to help the residents who’d managed to escape.

  Flames on one end of the building licked at the sky. Black smoke coughed from upper floor windows. Part of the brick façade had crumbled, sprawling amid the knee-high grass and out onto the uneven sidewalk.

  Aiden shook his head. “People were living in that rat trap?”

  Kyle pulled on his self-contained breathing apparatus. “Shit happens to good people. They didn’t want their families living on the street and ended up here.” He snapped the SCBA buckles and snugged up the straps.

  Frowning, Aiden secured his gear as well. He’d known Kyle for several years. To say the guy was jaded would be an understatement. “The Red Cross or some other agency will help them out. Find someplace for them live.” He opened the tool compartment on the truck and pulled out a Halligan bar.

  Kyle tugged on his gloves. “Sure they will.”

  Captain Bingham came over and the crew gathered around him. “We got reports of people on the fourth and fifth floors,” he told them, loud enough to be heard over the din. He jerked his thumb toward the building. “The south end is fully involved, which means we’ll go to the north and take the stairs there. We need two teams. One on the northeast. One on the northwest. Clear the floors, meet in the middle, and get the hell out.”

  “MacKay and I got Northwest,” Kyle volunteered.

  “Fine.” The captain pointed. “Smith, Wellington, you take northeast.”

  The two guys nodded.

  “Fields and Reeves, you back them up. Take the people they bring out to the bus to get medical attention.”

  The tall guy and shorter female both nodded.

  “This place was already on the dockets to be condemned.” The captain rolled his gaze toward the building. “It’s a damn tinderbox. Sacramento PD says they got reports of a meth lab in the basement and were in the process of getting a warrant. The lab chemicals probably started the fire.” His mouth pulled into a grim line. “Stay away from the south end. The fire’s eating this place up like candy, so get in, clear it, and get out. Trust your instincts. If it doesn’t feel right, get out immediately.” After a curt nod, he tilted his head toward the blaze. “Go.”

  Aiden followed behind Smith and Wellington. When they reached the side entrance, Smith jammed the end of his Halligan bar between the door and the jamb and pried it open. Fields held it while the two teams entered.

  Smith and Wellington peeled off down the dim hallway, headed toward the east stairs. Aiden followed Kyle to the west. As they strode down the narrow passage, he took care not to stumble over the bags of garbage, stacks of paint cans, and other miscellaneous debris. More kindling.

  When they reached the stairwell, the door wouldn’t open. Kyle rammed his shoulder against it several times, and at last, it gave way.

  “Damn kid’s bike had the door blocked.” Kyle grabbed it, shoving it out of their path.

  They worked their way up the stairs. Inside his turnout gear, Aiden sweated. The extra seventy-five pounds and five flights left him panting. He struggled to keep his breathing even so he didn’t use his oxygen up too fast.

  As Kyle stepped out onto the fifth floor, he paused. A low roar permeated the thick air. “Fire’s come across to this side,” he said over the com. “We’re running out of time.”

  Aiden gave a thumbs-up. “You take one side of the hall. I got the other.”

  They worked down the hallway, breaking into apartment after apartment. When he came out of one, he glanced down the smoky passage. Smith had a small body in his arms. A kid. Aiden’s chest squeezed with hope that the child would be all right.

  He pried open the next door on this floor. He swept his flashlight left and right, the beam fighting through the darkness. And then….

  “I got one,” he reported over the coms. He hurried forward to the form lying on the floor. Easing the body over, he found a middle-aged woman. Setting his fingertips to the side of her neck, he caught the faint pulse. Still alive. Lifting her, he carried her out of the apartment and into the hallway. Kyle joined him.

  “She’s got a pulse, Take her out. I’ll check the last apartment.” Aiden handed the woman to his partner who then hoisted her over his sho
ulder. “You go on.” He pointed. “I’ll meet you in the stairwell to clear the fourth floor”

  Kyle gave a thumbs-up and turned toward the stairs. Aiden pushed open the last door. It swung inward. A low crackling growl accompanied the smoke billowing through the opening. Inside, flames undulated along the ceiling, crawling toward him, consuming the apartment in greedy bites. The room glowed in a surreal dance between darkness and golden-orange light. A blast of heat washed over him, demanding he retreat.

  Crrreeak. Pop-pop-pop!

  The hairs on his neck stood on end. Aiden peered down the smoke-shrouded hallway. “Kyle?”

  “Get out, MacKay,” Kyle yelled over the coms. “It’s below us. Get out now!”

  Screeeek!

  Somewhere, metal twisted.

  That’s not good. Adrenaline flushed through his veins, and his heartrate kicked up. Smoke pressed down, forcing him to crouch lower. He moved toward the stairwell. “Kyle!”

  The floor bucked beneath his feet, throwing him to his hands and knees.

  Oh, shit.

  “MacKay!” his partner’s voice rang in his ears. “Can you hear me?”

  A beam dropped in front of Aiden and punched through the floor. The carpet snaked after it like fishing line from a reel. Aiden scrambled but the floor gave way, tilting into the hole. He rolled to his back, searching for anything to grab to slow his descent into the gaping maw.

  “MacKay!”

  “Kyle, I’m sliding—”

  His boots lost purchase, skidding over the last of the floor. He reached out, but nothing met his fingertips. He slid. Down. His heart pounding in his ears.

  And then the last of the floor left him. He dropped into nothingness. Black, smoky tendrils whipped around him, curling along his limbs, blinding his sight as heat pressed against his back.

  He hit the floor below, and a sickening snap reverberated in his leg. A scream pushed up his throat, drowning out his partner’s yells. He crumpled, folding in on himself. He blinked, squinted through a pain-filled haze. God, what is that jammed into my leg? A bone? His raspy breaths filled his helmet. Where did that bone come from?

  Darkness gnawed the edges of consciousness. He fought to keep his eyes open. “K-Kyle. I—”

  Screeeek! Pop, pop, pop!

  The world gave a violent shake then dropped away. Delivering him into a fiery embrace below.

  Present day….

  “I don’t remember much else after that.” He seemed to close in on himself.

  “Oh, Aiden. I had no idea.” Jessica reached for him, but he moved away.

  “Just….” He took a deep breath. “Gimme a sec.”

  The horror he must be reliving. She waited. He’d listened to her story, letting her tell it in her own time. She would give him the same courtesy. He hadn’t told her everything yet—the wall he’d put up between them made that clear.

  She eased onto the edge of the bed, wishing she could comfort him like he’d comforted her. She wanted to hold his hand, to be close to him. But he stood near the doorway, his hands balled into fists at his sides. An emotional war played out on his face. Would he hit something? Yell? Turn and march out the door? Or worse…tell her to leave?

  At last, he looked at her, his gaze softening a fraction. “You don’t know.”

  “Know what?” she whispered.

  “The universe did bring us together.” He swallowed, pain engulfing his face. “But it tied us together in a horrible way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Eleven months ago….

  Aiden forced his eyes open. Wires. Tubes.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  He lay in bed, floating on whatever drugs the nurse injected into his IV. An elastic shirt hugged his torso. A thin sheet over one leg, the other hung suspended in traction.

  I am so fucked up.

  He remembered going on the call to the burning apartment building. Suiting up. The smoke. Falling. Flames. But not much else.

  His grandparents came that first night. His sisters, Kat and Brigit, too. Kyle and several of the guys from Station 17. Or at least that was what the nurses told him. Those first few days in the ICU kinda blurred together.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” Kyle’s sneakers padded lightly on the tile floor as he crossed to the bed.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  His partner and friend squeezed his hand. “How ya doin’?”

  “Doctors say good.”

  “They gotcha on the good stuff.” He sat in the visitor’s chair.

  Aiden rolled his eyes toward the IV. Drip. Drip. Drip. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “The guys are bitching about having to take up the slack. So, you’d better get back on your feet soon. Don’t think I can take too much more of their whining.”

  “Smith and Wellington?”

  He barked a laugh. “Shoulda heard them complaining about pulling your sorry busted-up ass out of that building. According to them, you need to lose a few pounds.” He held up a hand. “And don’t blame it on the gear. I already tried that, and they didn’t bite.”

  He grinned. Sounded like them. Good guys.

  Kyle’s brows pulled together, his mouth warping with anguish. “It shoulda been me, Aiden.”

  “What?”

  “You had the woman. You should’ve taken her out.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. “Then I would’ve been the one…. Two floors, man.”

  Holy shit.

  “No one told you?”

  Aiden shook his head.

  “The captain told us the ignition point was the south end of the basement. Meth lab blew. The fire moved north. Then came up from below. We had guys on that end, but….” A haunted look filled his eyes. “The whole thing was coming down. You fell through two floors into the middle of it. How you survived….” He wiped his hand over his jaw. “Shit. You’re one tough son of a bitch.”

  More like lucky. If you could call it that. He shifted his gaze to his leg to give his partner a second. Two floors. And I don’t remember any of it.

  Just as well. He glanced at his partner. Kyle does.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Kyle straightened. “On an up note, they caught the guy.”

  “The guy who started the fire?”

  “Yeah. Sacramento PD got him in custody.”

  Aiden raised a brow. “That didn’t take long.”

  “They connected the dots. Two other labs blew up earlier in the month. All three belonged to Donnie Mizener.”

  Aiden shook his head. “Donnie Mizener?” Sacramento’s slipperiest snake owned 90 percent of the drug traffic on the west side. Meth, coke, LSD, uppers, downers, designer crap. If it was cutting edge, Donnie sold it. Rumor had it he was building clientele all the way down to the elementary grade kids.

  “Yep. And with three labs fire-bombed, and all connected to him, seemed someone had it out for him. But the boys in blue couldn’t get enough evidence to make a warrant stick.”

  No surprise. The guy had a stable of lawyers and probably owned a judge or two. And anybody else who could keep him in business.

  “But then they caught a break.” He wagged his head. “Firebug walked right into SPD and confessed.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Guy I went to school with, Ben Wojovitz, is in Vice. And, get this, he says the firebug is Mizener’s girlfriend, Marla something-or-other.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Said they got in some fight about getting hitched. She wanted a ring. He didn’t get her one. So, she blew up some of his labs to get his attention.”

  “Holy fuck,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah. But here’s the kicker.” He leaned forward again. “Ben said she heard about one of the firemen getting injured.” He jabbed a finger at Aiden’s. “You. She said she felt guilty. Never meant to get anyone hurt. Like blowing up a meth lab is so predictable.” He gave a disgusted snort. “Facing some serious jail time, she decided t
o make a deal, turned state’s evidence. Ben says they brought Mizener in last night.”

  Aiden worked to wrap his head around all Kyle had told him. The police caught one of Sacramento’s biggest drug dealers all because the guy’s girlfriend wanted to get married. Crazy.

  “And you’re famous, man. All over the news. Sacramento firefighter helps take down a drug kingpin. You’re a superhero.”

  “I don’t feel like a superhero.” He’d been a firefighter two weeks ago. But with the compound fracture in his leg and the burns on his back, healing would take time—not to mention the skin grafts the docs talked about. Would he be a firefighter after?

  “Speaking of rings and engagements”—Kyle’s gaze moved to the door—“Where’s Melanie? Thought she’d be here.”

  Aiden’s lungs squeezed, an icy band crushing his ribs, robbing him of breath. “She’s, uh…. She can’t be here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She called and—”

  “She called.” Kyle met his gaze. “On the phone.”

  “Listen, you were right.” He looked at the ceiling tiles over his bed. “She can’t handle the job. What it means to be a firefighter. She thought she could, but, after the accident, she said she didn’t sleep for two days.”

  “She was worried.” His gruff tone offered little defense for her. “We all were.”

  His sisters, Kat and Brigit, had taken shifts watching over him—or so the nurses had told him. But, after two weeks, and with the doctors saying he was out of the woods and needed to rest and heal, he’d told them to go home. They both had their own fire-related jobs to do. Reluctantly, they’d agreed but promised to come back tomorrow—after they’d checked on his cat, Ptomaine. His grandparents had been more dogged, determined to be there for him. But they’d been exhausted, and he didn’t want anything happening to them, so he’d sent them home, too. Uncle David and Aunt Autumn and their boys came by often—even his cousin James who rarely left his wildly successful business in San Francisco helicoptered in and made sure the doctors knew no expense was to be spared. Which explained the private round-the-clock nurses and the suite he occupied. He needed the space for the constant flow of MacKays worried about his welfare.