by Anna Heskin
Protected by Fire
Alpha Colorado Firefighters Book 3
Anna Heskin
Copyright © 2019 by Anna Heskin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Sign up for Updates
Find My Other Books Here:
Anna Heskin on Amazon
1
Rachel
Ever since the Great Parking Showdown of 1982, the elementary school where I taught had assigned spaces for all staff. Legend had it the janitor and the art teacher bickered over the prime spot for an entire school year. It came to blows when the custodian found the teacher created a work of art on the windshield of his precious truck from his own feces.
As I parked my car in space 36, I glanced at the rust invading the numbered sign. They should update that for my replacement next fall.
With flattened cardboard boxes under each arm, I headed toward the building to retrieve the last of my personal items. The school year had ended the prior week, and all grades had gone out, leaving me free to wrap up the first stage of my career.
A few vehicles dotted the parking lot. On any weekday during the summer, at least a couple of teachers would be there, hard at work. A busted, piece-of-shit van was parked on the opposite end under a shade tree.
A shiver crawled up my spine as I took a closer look. The tinted windows prevented me from seeing if anybody sat inside. Why am I wigged out by that van? The school will be locked, if there is a creep over there, no worries. After staring that direction a few more seconds, I shrugged it off.
For the final time, I punched my code at the door and headed to my classroom. The smells of dirty laundry, bleach, old food, and freshly sharpened pencils still lingered in the air.
I fought back tears as I fumbled with the stack of good luck cards drawn by my second graders. They were the sweetest kids I ever worked with. Two years earlier, the job became my first full-time teaching gig out of grad school.
Most of the posters, flyers, and other materials on the walls went into the garbage. I wouldn’t need them for my next adventure.
I found spare gloves and other winter essentials buried in the back of a cabinet. As I fished them out, the sudden, screeching wail of the fire alarm made me jump. Dammit! Why do they have to test those today?
The windows on the outside wall faced a different direction from the road or parking lot, so I couldn’t see any activity. I stuck my head into the hallway and didn’t detect smoke. Rather than run outside for no legitimate reason, I assembled the last box.
Before I could load anything else, I heard sirens approach the building. Again, I checked the hall and didn’t notice anything amiss, so I resumed packing. Ugh, wish I had my noise-canceling headphones.
I had hoped to savor and draw out my last visit to the school but the unbearable noise made me work faster. My ears felt like they’d bleed by the time I packed the last item. As I stared at my stack of boxes, assessing whether I could carry them all in one go, the loud thud of clumsy footsteps echoed from the hallway.
I stared toward the door. Who the fuck is making that racket?
Suddenly, the door slammed into the wall. A short, unkempt man rushed at me, followed by the distinctive odor of gasoline. He carried a can of fuel in one hand and a toolbox in the other.
My mind screamed at me to run but my legs remained frozen. “Help!” I screamed.
The man laughed as he stopped a few feet in front of me. “Nobody’s gonna hear you over the alarm, sweetie.”
My lips quivered. “Mr. Zientek?”
A sly smile curled the edge of his dirty, hairy lip. “Told you I’d get revenge, bitch.”
The last time I saw the hilljack, his son was being taken from the school by the Division of Child Welfare. His final shout to the crowd of educators as cops dragged him away rang in my head:
“I’ll burn this fucking school to the ground. I’ll kill all of you.”
It sounded like the empty words of an unintelligent, pissed-off father. Nobody took him seriously.
The splashing of liquid around my feet interrupted the flashback. “I set the gym on fire. You’re next, bitch,” he said through green teeth as gasoline soaked my shoes.
Beads of cold sweat from my forehead dripped into the puddle at my feet. “Mr. Zientek, I had nothing to do with your son being taken away,” I said with trembling, outstretched hands.
Not entirely true. The mother died during childbirth, leaving the child to be raised by this horrific man and his drugged-out brother. The poor boy would’ve been better off living in a cave with hyenas. My colleagues and I couldn’t stomach the signs of abuse.
The wretched bastard chuckled and shook his head. “You all did. You’re all dirty. Now where did I put that lighter?” he set down the can and patted the pockets of his jeans and shirt.
The man didn’t have enough brain cells to reason with. I tried to sidestep him and run to the door but I slipped and fell to one knee.
He jumped in front of me. Pain flashed up my arm as he stepped on my hand. “Going somewhere, bitch?”
I screamed at the top of my lungs. My voice cracked and lungs heaved as unintelligible sounds bellowed from my throat. Dear God, someone please hear me over that alarm!
“Shut the fuck up,” the older Zientek brother said as he clamped his hand over my mouth. The offensive aromas of fried chicken and body odor overtook my senses as his grubby hand pressed into my nose.
My hair began to soak up gasoline as he pushed me flat against the floor. I thrashed around but his hand remained pressed against my face.
He added his second hand over my nose. “Bitch, when you wake back up, you’ll smell your own flesh burning.”
I continued to struggle as my vision faded around the edges. Thoughts of my sister Ali flashed through my mind as I realized only a miracle could save me from the demon’s suffocating grip.
Jim Zientek’s gleeful slobber dripped from between his teeth as he grinned above me. Unbearable pressure built in my head as my lungs burned. I felt hot, even though the gas remained unlit.
A different man’s voice boomed through the thick air. Was that in here, or am I dead?
My world turned black.
2
Justin
Even though the kids were on summer break, my adrenaline dialed up a notch when we answered a call from a school. The rest of my crew worked on the fire in the gymnasium while I canvased the halls, being sure everyone got out safe.
The hallways smelled like an accelerant, which disturbed me for two reasons: one, it meant the fire in the gym was the work of an arsonist, and two, they intended to burn down the entire school. I hadn’t seen an officer yet, despite the police being dispatched right after us.
The criminal is probably long gone by now. I hope they catch the bastard.
Room after room was dark or deserted. I ran the best I could with all my turnout gear. As I neared the
end of the second hallway, new sounds stopped me in my tracks.
The pounding of my heart sounded in my ears, along with the muffled cries of a woman. I tip-toed through the doorway and rushed the scene. A man wearing a dirty flannel shirt and crusty boots had his hands pressed onto a woman’s face on the floor.
With a primal shout, I swung the butt end of my axe downward, connecting between the perp’s shoulder blades. The satisfying crunch of bone made me yell again like the hero in a barbarian movie. A fresh surge of adrenaline hit me like lightning as I joined the stunned criminal on the ground, locking him in a choke hold.
“You’re messing with the wrong people, motherfucker,” I said, even though he couldn’t hear a thing. The dude was out for the count. I rolled him over onto his back, then kicked him in the balls with my steel-toed boot for good measure.
With the threat immobilized, my attention turned to the woman. Her beauty struck me harder than an axe ever could. After a few moments of staring at her, reality jolted me back to earth, and I got on my radio.
“We have a civilian down. Get paramedics to room 136. Send the cops too. Suspected arsonist is detained.”
The bastard remained motionless with drool in his beard. Even if he woke up, he wouldn’t get far with the pain of crushed testicles.
The woman had screamed moments before I entered the room, so I knew she hadn’t been without oxygen too long. Just long enough to make her pass out.
The victim appeared to be in her twenties. Part of her shiny, soft brown hair was soaked in a puddle of gasoline. I wanted to move her away from the mess but didn’t in case of a spinal injury.
Finally, the alarm silenced, bringing minor relief to my nervous system. What’s taking them so long to get down here? It hadn’t been thirty seconds yet since I made the call but I wanted the gorgeous young woman to get help right away.
The hillbilly arsonist began to wake up, moaning and holding his head while he squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. My first instinct was to bash his head in with my boot but firefighters are supposed to save people, not kill them.
A long orange extension cord sat in the near corner. I bent down and stunned him with a punch to the face, then rolled him onto his stomach. After tying his wrists together, I yanked his ankles toward his head and secured those, turning his body into an uncomfortable “C” shape. His purple hands made a weak attempt to struggle as he fell onto his side. He reminded me of a roped calf.
I glanced again at the victim. Out of the thousands of women I came into contact with on the job, none of them stirred up such emotions as this young woman. Red lines and shapes marred her sweet face where the bastard assaulted her. I didn’t know yet if she had other injuries.
“You dirty son-of-a-bitch! How could you do this to anyone?” I further flattened his balls with my foot, causing him to groan in a semi-dazed state. Before he caught his breath, I went to his other side and tried to see how far up his ass my boot would go.
The bastard would’ve been in less pain if the cops caught him before I did. Since I saw him assaulting the woman, I was well within my rights to make a citizens arrest, protecting her and detaining him using “reasonable and appropriate” force. Given the circumstances, I found my treatment to be very reasonable.
I fell to the floor and stroked her cheek. “You’re going to be okay,” I said. Her eyelids fluttered a bit and her lips moved, but she did not wake up.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. I hope it’s the paramedics.
“Captain, are you okay?” two of my crew members rushed into the room.
“Yes. Where are the paramedics?”
“They just pulled up.”
“And the police?” I asked.
“Right behind them.”
My men stared between my victim, the arsonist, the gas can, and the toolbox, putting everything together in their minds. With wide eyes, one of them said, “did you save her from that guy?”
I nodded. I knew people would proclaim me a hero, but all I cared about was the health of the young woman.
More footsteps echoed from down the hall. The victim’s eyes opened. Her sparkling hazel eyes, still full of life, locked onto mine. Even though I’d never met her, something in her gaze felt familiar. My heart raced in my chest while the rest of the room remained out of focus.
“Sir, give us space.” I heard the words but my mind did not grasp their meaning.
A paramedic grabbed me by the shoulders. “Captain, let us work on her.”
The woman’s eyes followed mine as I stepped to the side. We stared at each other until a new batch of police officers and firefighters arrived, looking for answers.
3
Rachel
My body ached like a truck had plowed me over. When consciousness returned, I found myself locked in a staring contest with a hot firefighter. The pain in my limbs melted away as his gaze caused a warm flutter in my stomach.
“Who ordered the going away party?” I called out.
A small group rushed over to me, oblivious to my joke. “Miss, what hurts?” a paramedic asked.
I ignored the question as the firefighter continued to lock eyes with me from where he squatted behind the paramedics. Since my sister married a fire chief, I met a lot of firemen but never this one. Yet, he seemed familiar to me.
The paramedic waved his hand in front of my face. “Miss, can you move everything?”
The first effort to sit up failed. I needed to know for sure I was safe. “Where’s Jim Zientek?” I called out.
“He’s detained,” one officer said. I glanced to the side and witnessed the cops unwrapping an extension cord from the worthless turd’s ankles while the other put cuffs on his hairy wrists.
“He tried to kill me,” I said, more from a sense of shock than anything.
“Miss, do you have any pain in your head, neck, or back?” the paramedic asked.
“No. It’s in my arms and shoulders where he threw me down and had me pinned.” Any slight movement on either side shot waves of pain from my shoulders down to my fingertips.
With the attacker detained, all I wanted to find out was who saved me, and the name of the handsome firefighter I locked eyes with. I also wanted a thousand baths to remove the smell of gasoline.
As if reading my mind, the firefighter took a position next to the paramedic on my right side. “Can we get her out of this gasoline now?” He picked up the soaked ends of my hair, then caressed the top of my head. Shouldn’t he be doing firefighter things and leave me to the paramedics and police? What else is going on here?
“We’ll get her cleaned up after we check her out,” the second paramedic said.
“Wait—are you the one you saved me?”
The sexy firefighter said, “yes, I am.”
“I heard shouting right before I passed out. That was you?”
“Yes.” He placed a hand on my cheek and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. “I’m Captain Marzon but you can call me Justin.” His deep blue eyes continued to soothe my discomfort.
“I’m Rachel.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Rachel. I only wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Same,” I said.
A paramedic cleared his throat. “Miss, we need to get you checked out at the hospital. We’ll get you out of here on a gurney.”
“Is Trevor here?” I called out to the police who remained in the room after the other officers took the bastard Jim out of there.
“Who?” one of them asked.
“He had a brother. Trevor. He was with him the day he came to the school and threatened us.” The cops ran out of the room, speaking frantically into their radios.
I knew I was safe, even if Trevor hid in the building somewhere. Justin eased the remaining fear. I wanted to talk to him more, get to know him, and learn what happened after I blacked out.
Another firefighter entered the room as the paramedics prepared the gurney. “Captain, everything is under control in
the gym. The fire didn’t spread far or cause more than superficial damage.”
“Great work,” Justin said.
“Are you rolling out with us?” the firefighter asked Justin.
A police officer butted in. “He needs to stay here and make a statement.”
Justin trailed the gurney as the paramedics began to wheel me out of the classroom. “You can get my statement at the hospital. I’m going with Rachel.”
“All right,” the officer said. “We need to talk to Rachel too so we’ll get both your statements at the hospital.”
Justin walked alongside as they wheeled me out to the waiting ambulance. Every time I looked at his face, he smiled down with a shimmer in his eyes and a single dimple in his right cheek.
As the paramedics got me settled in the back, a police officer approached. “Folks, a deputy has confirmed Trevor was sitting at home during the incident. He’s not a concern.”
The cop walked away before I could voice an opinion. “But he could still do something,” I said.
“Not to you,” Justin said. “I’ll protect you.”
Even though I could take care of myself, my instinctive desire to be protected by a man still brewed under the surface. Justin’s statement hit deeper than he could know. A man tried to kill me. A bigger man stopped him and now offered me safety.
As the ambulance drove away with Justin sitting in the corner, he took off his fireman helmet. His short brown hair had touches of gray on the ends. The tan on his face made me suspect he loved the outdoors as much as I did.
Justin stood and took my hand. The warmth of his skin conveyed the safety I enjoyed in his company. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay, given the situation,” I said. Thoughts of Jim’s face, intent on killing me, flooded back. I shivered, wishing Justin could climb onto the gurney and hold me.
Do I have these feelings for Justin only because he saved me? Or is there something more to this?
I stared in stunned silence the rest of the ride to the hospital. The events of the day did not seem real.