Dallas Fire & Rescue: MacKay's Fire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (MacKay Destiny Book 2)

by Kate Richards

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Paige Tyler. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Dallas Fire & Rescue remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Paige Tyler, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  MacKay’s Fire

  A Dallas Fire & Rescue/MacKay Destiny Crossover

  By

  Kate Richards

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Also by Kate Richards

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing this book. I am proud to be part of the first release of Paige Tyler’s Dallas Fire and Rescue Kindle World. I hope you will have the opportunity to enjoy all the world has to offer at http://paigetylertheauthor.com/BooksDallasFireAndRescueKind…

  XOXO

  Kate Richards

  Prologue

  Present Day…

  “Mac, watch out!” The lieutenant’s voice came from where he guessed the front door was. “We have to leave, now!

  “Tim, go. I can’t leave her here.”

  “It’s not Tim! It’s Rusty. And that’s not Tina in there. Mac, you can’t save everyone.”

  He shook his head, trying to focus, to remember what he was doing and why. Too many years since he’d been the guy in the flames and he wasn’t supposed to be now. Almost ready to retire, he’d been driving by in his personal red truck, a perk of being chief when he’d seen the smoke. Pulling over to call dispatch, he saw the face in the window and the years melted away. Flinging on the turnout gear he still kept in one of the toolboxes in the bed, he’d given the details to the dispatcher. “It’s almost full dark. Gonna be hard to see in there.”

  “Got it, Chief MacKay,” she’d said. “I’ll get your crew right over. Where are you parked?”

  “The truck is on the corner of Main and Fifth.”

  “Dammit, sir, I hope you’re not planning to go in there. The guys are already on the way.”

  “There’s a woman on the third floor. She was at the window but now the window is on fire. I’m going in.”

  “Sir!”

  He disconnected the call and, ax in hand, ran into the building. He could hear the sirens in the distance, but minutes, seconds could make the difference between life and death for the woman—and any other people who might be left inside.

  Flames roared on all sides, making it nearly impossible to see, but training, both in the Army and Dallas Fire and Rescue told him to listen. Clutching his ax, he flicked his gaze right to left, impeded by his SCBA—self-contained breathing apparatus—mask, searching for the source of the woman whose cries had ceased a few minutes before and for additional danger. Nothing more than he’d already catalogued until he tilted his head back. Through the waving gray smoke, lights from outside cutting it into even more confusing configurations, he made out the glowing beam above him. Flickering red spots blistered blackened wood and, within seconds, it was hurtling toward him. He ducked and stumbled back, prepared to make his escape, when he heard it.

  Faint and far-away, deep in the building but at least now on the first floor where he stood, female sobbing and coughing. Rusty shouted again, but Mac kept moving forward. He knew better, had known even in his first year of firefighting not to allow himself to take chances, to act alone, but the voice called again and again and he had to continue on. No matter what, he’d never left a victim to die without giving it his all, and it could not happen this time. Not this woman. Shoddy construction once again likely to claim lives.

  This firetrap was under yellow tag already, why was she even in here?

  It was not the first time he’d faced such a dilemma.

  He couldn’t leave anyone behind. But a sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him. Another nightmare, another crappy developer skimping on materials and safety regulations.

  “Mac!”

  “Get out now.”

  “I’m right behind you. Let’s get her!”

  Chapter One

  Fall, 1965…

  Cedar Valley had very few large building fires, mainly because they had few large buildings. The fire department put out numerous grass fires, the occasional house fire, and responded to medical emergencies. It was in every way a small town firehouse. In fact, if it weren’t for their nearness to the foothills and the necessity for quick response to the grass fires and the frequent traffic accidents along the highways linking them to Sacramento and other larger towns, Cedar Valley would have had to get by with a volunteer squad.

  The community took great pride in their firemen and were always dropping off cookies and cakes at the firehouse, or just stopping by for friendly chat. Small town life.

  As the newest fireman, Evan “Mac” MacKay knew he should be more grateful for reasons of his own that Cedar Valley boasted the brick building with the flag flying above. And he was. Without it, he would have had to go to work in nearby Sacramento or take another job in town. Pumping gas or something. Or work full-time on the farm.

  He’d once dreamed of applying to Cal Fire and taking his chances on living anywhere in the state. It would be an exciting job, fighting wildfires, and he would have enjoyed it, but his aging parents preferred to stay and work their land and his brothers and sisters had all moved to the cities.

  The Cedar Valley Fire Department allowed him to continue to live at least some of his dreams and take care of his family. His responsibilities unfortunately filled every moment of his time. On his days off, he drove out to the farm and helped his dad with the chores. Between work and more work, he was lucky to fit in sleep much less a social life.

  And he saw no end in sight.

  His mother asked every time he showed up if he’d met any nice women lately, but he bit back the snappy retort that always came to his lips. It wasn’t his parents’ fault they were getting older and needed more help. Still, he’d begun to dodge her and park out by the barn when he went over to help Dad. A man could only take so many reminders that he lived like a monk, even if she only asked because her only grandchildren were in San Francisco and Los Angeles and she hoped he’d settle down and give her some she could see more than once or twice a year.

  Career and filial responsibilities first and then, if he ever managed to carve out time, he might go on a date someday. Until then, he and his right hand would remain good friends.

  Everyone said he had such great parents—which he did—and how lucky they were to have him to help them, but sometimes it weighed him down. He was the adventurer in the family. Enlisted in the Army right after high school and spent some time in Southeast Asia before anyone even knew the US was involved there. He took great pride in having served his country with such a top-secret clearance, but after his enlistment was up, he headed to Texas.

  The big city of Dallas had seemed the antithesis of his home in quiet Cedar Valley. And the GI bill enabled him to get the college degree he’d always wanted. Liberal arts degree in hand, he’d entered training and eventually joined Dallas Fire and Rescue. A lot of the guys were married with families, but Mac had no desire to do that anytime soon. He’d seen h
is folks working hard to support their offspring, most of whom showed little or no gratitude for all their sacrifices. Running a farm took all hands on deck, and it broke Dad’s heart when one by one the children left, returning rarely if at all to visit. If things continued as they were, everything would have to be sold off when the folks passed on. Any one of them who wanted it could have it, but nobody did.

  Including Mac. He was building a life and didn’t need handouts or inheritances. Unfortunately, he was nothing if not responsible. Oldest child syndrome, he’d heard it was called by shrinks, but who knew? They were a bunch of quacks anyway. Always trying to find some deep reason for things that could be easily explained. He wanted to stay in Dallas where the action was and explore more of the world on his generous vacations. Lots of pretty women there, too, who didn’t mind spending time with a fireman.

  Evan joined the crew at Station 58 and spent his first year with some of the best-trained, bravest, and smartest firemen in the entire country. He’d had the opportunity to learn from them, something he’d never forget, and had been looking forward to making his home in Texas when his dad had the first stroke.

  His buddy, James, woke him to give him the news and, within an hour, he was on the way to the airport. It had been touch and go. Within a week, his captain had received a call from Chief Carmichael at Cedar Valley and agreed to release him. And all his plans went swirling down the porcelain convenience without his having the least say in the matter.

  Cedar Valley was sure nothing like Dallas. The sky was clear and blue this fine fall morning in 1965, far from the unrest and noise in the big cities. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of the aspens someone had planted around the firehouse. He loved how they rattled this time of year as they dried and turned to red, orange, and gold. The trees were a little low for their liking here at the base of the Sierra foothills but still managed to thrive. The bench he occupied by the big rolling doors had a view of the entire valley, rolling fields and patches of trees, lots of orchards…suburban sprawl hadn’t hit them yet—much. Or the crime of the cities. Or the excitement of them.

  In Dallas, they’d even called him Evan, but back home he was Mac to everyone. Mac Jr. to the oldsters…although he was nobody’s namesake. His dad was Eldridge. It could have been worse. And, according to his mom, almost was. Dad had come within seconds of making him a true junior at the hospital the day he was born.

  He flexed his back, wincing at the ache in the lower middle. No matter how much training he did and what great shape he was in for his regular job, farming whupped his butt. Considering he’d grown up doing it, he should handle it better, but all those years overseas and in Texas had made him soft—according to his dad. Different muscles, he supposed. He could run five miles carrying a sixty-pound pack and be barely winded, but get him out in the fields with Dad’s ancient tractor and a harvest crew and he fell into bed so tired at night he might as well be dead.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  He turned around to find his buddy Tim striding out of the firehouse toward him. “What’s up?”

  “Chief is sending us to the elementary school to do the junior fire program this morning. We need to head out, or we’ll be late.”

  Great. Another part of working in the country. Sure, they’d had a program in Dallas, but it had been more organized, less random. Like…he didn’t have to do it. At the bigger houses, there were always guys who loved working with the school programs. Not that he didn’t admire them. The guys and the programs. He still had the Junior Fire Chief badge he’d earned in fourth grade tucked away in his dresser drawer. Just he’d spent so much time helping with his younger sisters and brothers he felt he’d done his duty. He wasn’t even sure he wanted any of his own at this point.

  Not after seeing how his siblings flew the coop and left Mom and Dad without a backward glance. Not for them or for him. After their innumerable letters for “loans” never to be repaid, which he’d sent every time out of his meager soldier’s salary…

  “Tim, nobody else available? I am not familiar with the program.” Always fall back on protocol.

  The redheaded, freckled fireman tossed him a brochure. He looked just like Archie in the comics, even down to the hairstyle, and he always had at least one blonde and brunette in his little black book. “I’ll drive, you study up.” He chuckled. “Nice try, though. But don’t sweat it. The kids will treat you like a superhero. And the teacher…Miss McIntosh? One hot chick, my friend!”

  Always on the lookout for a pretty girl, Archie was. “And if she’s so hot, why haven’t you snapped her up? Does she know a skirt chaser when she sees one?”

  The other man paused, one hand on the fire engine door handle, his pale complexion flushing. “No, of course not, I—”

  Mac hooted with laughter as he swung up into the high cab on the passenger side, brochure in hand. “She’s on to you my friend, isn’t she? Let’s get this over with.” He settled back in the seat and flipped the pamphlet open. “If you can keep from drooling at anything in a mini skirt long enough to drive us to the school.”

  They wheeled out onto the road leading toward the center of town, and Mac scanned the info in the brochure. It looked like a decent program, a bit better than the one he remembered where they heard some speeches from the fire chief and took a test to get their badge. The kids would be coming by the station for a tour and some activities even. He’d have loved that when he was their age.

  “Stone fox at eleven o’clock.” Tim half leaned out of the window and wolf-whistled. “Hey, pretty baby, want a ride on a fire truck?”

  The girl in question, her blonde hair a long sheet of shininess fluttering down her back, wearing a short yellow skirt and a long-sleeved blouse dotted with embroidered flowers, returned a gesture which required no translation.

  “No need to be cold, chick. I know you want me.”

  Mac winced. “What is wrong with you? Let’s book. Chief said next complaint about you, he’d have you on medical duty for the rest of the year.” Punishment detail—going out to try to help the sick and injured until someone with training for that, like an ambulance, showed up. They all hated that duty, feeling so helpless. “Didn’t you say we were already late?”

  They left the young lady walking along the road in peace and drove up to the school parking lot. The kids out on recess clustered by the fence to point and stare at the fire truck until a young woman, couldn’t be more than twenty-two or three, came outside and called to them. Reluctantly, they drifted back to the school building and lined up according to height, small to tall. The girl—much more of a stone fox than the one along the road in Mac’s opinion—led the class inside and returned to stand on the steps, hands on hips.

  “Excuse me,” she called, “but aren’t you supposed to be inside right now, ushering in a new era of safety and prosperity for my kids?”

  Mac popped the passenger door as Tim strutted around the front of the engine, carrying a box of supplies he must have gotten from one of the storage areas on the driver’s side. “Miss McIntosh.” Tim grinned at her. “Good to see you again.”

  “Engineer Royal.” She paused, and Mac took her in from head to foot. Although her straight black skirt went right to her knees and she wore sensible low-heeled pumps, the effect combined with a crisp white blouse with a rounded collar and a fuzzy gray cardigan with little pearl buttons made him want to throw himself at her feet. She had redder hair than Tim’s, held back by a white plastic headband, locks long and curled at the ends, bangs falling nearly into her eyes, which were a true deep-green enhanced by the flush in her cheeks and her pale pink lipstick. Eyeliner enhanced the cat’s eyes effect. His mouth dried and his heart thudded in his ears.

  That’s the girl I’m going to marry.

  Chapter Two

  “Excuse me?” The second fireman, one who had yet to visit the school, stared with mouth agape until Tina wondered about his mental stability. “Engineer Royal? If you and your fellow fireman are quite done staring at me
, my class is waiting for both you and me. Please?” She turned and headed back inside the low building housing the classrooms. One room for each grade, not the biggest school, but not the smallest either, and her class was much more malleable than the one where she had done her student teaching in Berkeley.

  Entering the room, Tina moved to stand by the front blackboard. She cast a severe look at the neat rows of desks, each populated by a boy or girl with a fresh-faced innocence that awed her. Had she ever been like that? Probably, but after growing up as the only child of divorce in her class, she didn’t feel that bright and shiny. Some of her classmates had not even been allowed to associate with her, as if she’d been tainted somehow by having a father who abandoned his family.

  “Children, when you are settled and ready, I will introduce our guests for today. I want to see feet flat on the floor and hands folded neatly on your desks. Sit up straight. Please show these firemen how my class behaves.”

  A few heads turned toward the door, where the two uniformed men waited, but, in less than a minute, they were all seated as nicely as any teacher could have wished, and she waved the men forward.

  “Class, this is Engineer Royal and…”

  “Fireman MacKay,” the other man supplied with a quick grin baring white teeth behind full, firm lips. Dark hair combed back from his forehead and pale-blue eyes completed the picture begun by the athletic body hinted at under the black button-down shirt and pressed slacks. His badge gleamed its message of confidence and safety. “Nice to be here today, kids.”

  “Welcome, Fireman MacKay,” she continued. “These gentlemen are graciously here today to share some information about a very important program we will be participating in. But, first, how do we greet visitors?”

  “Good morning, Engineer Royal and Fireman MacKay,” the class chanted.

  The two men moved to the front of the room and began their presentation while Tina settled at her desk in the back where she could keep an eye on her charges while going over homework assignments. When it became apparent the kids, especially the boys who were the most notorious talkers, were hanging on every word spoken by the notorious Engineer Royal, while his coworker passed out some brochures and other materials, she slipped into the hallway for a moment. Digging into her sweater pocket, she found her lipstick and compact and made an effort to fix her face. Usually she went the whole day without bothering to reapply, but, somehow, having a pair of handsome men in her classroom inspired fresh lipstick and a less shiny nose.