A.O. Peart
Chapter One
ETHAN
The shrill of the fire alarm and flashing lights jolted me up from my bed at Firehouse 8. Swearing, Jack got up too, followed by the other members of our team. We were pulling night rotation shift. The proximity of our firehouse to downtown Portland practically guaranteed us to be dispatched to a fire at least once a week. But tonight was different, and I felt it in my gut. This wasn’t someone’s fireplace choking a little with smoke. This was a big job.
A call came in over the PA system, informing us about an incident on Daltona Street in the commercial district. There was an explosion in one of the old warehouses. Jack and I were trained in chemical hazard and explosives, so it came as no surprise that my team was ordered to arrive immediately. And that was all we knew for now. The dispatcher had no other details available.
We raced to the lockers, pulled our turnout gear on, and soon the firetruck, the tanker, and the paramedics’ rig drove through the slowly waking streets of Portland. The firetruck’s lights and blaring siren warranted us free pass through the sparse 4 a.m. traffic. Cars and busses pulled to the sides of the road, letting us through.
Jack blasted the horn and swore angrily, stomping on the brake pedal. A heavily bundled homeless woman started to cross the street, an old shopping cart in front of her. The cart was filled to the brim with all kinds of junk—probably containing all her possessions. Jack swerved the truck to the side, swiftly turning the steering wheel.
The woman stopped in the middle of the street as if surprised at the approaching firetruck with its lights flashing and horn screeching. She watched us, motionless, waiting for the vehicle to pass.
“Come on, lady! Move back!” Jack roared, although she wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway.
“Relax, bro. She’s probably deaf. Or doesn’t get it,” I said. I was normally a laid-back type, while Jack’s temper flared at the slightest reason.
In addition to being one of many cousins, he was also my best buddy. The guy had a heart of gold, despite his apparent anger problem. We both had served in the Marines, and then he had followed my path to become a firefighter.
Jack spat through his window. He shot me a glance and grinned. I snorted, shaking my head. The dispatcher updates chirped through the radio.
“What the hell is that about? An explosion?” Jack hollered over the siren.
“Must’ve been a gas leak.”
“Or some asshole dragged his barbecue inside again. Like last month, remember? Shit for brains.”
“Hard to forget,” I said.
I watched the sidewalk to my right. A small group of homeless people sat together, leaning against the building and smoking cigarettes. Two blocks farther, another two slept on the ground, wrapped in old, tattered sleeping bags.
“The cops are on their way too.” I nodded to my side mirror.
Jack glanced in his own mirror. “There is also a black unmarked car in the other lane, driving head-to-head with the cop. Someone’s asking for trouble. Wait, they just put a beacon on the roof. What the hell?”
By the time Jack finished his sentence, three black sedans with tinted windows accelerated past us, their beacons flashing red-and-blue.
“Cops?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. Looks more like one of the agencies.”
Jack looked at me. “Wonder which one. This job ain’t a barbecue accident.”
I frowned. “No, doesn’t look like it is.” I lifted the microphone and pressed the button to speak to the dispatch. “Give me more info on that explosion.”
She came on the line, “Not much left from the structure. All leveled down. Looks like a crapload of explosives were used.”
“Motherfucker.” Jack hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Which gang was it this time?”
“We might find out soon.”
Jack shot me a glance.
“What?” I asked.
He smirked.
“Oh, that tells me a lot, bro.” I laughed. I knew that look—he was about to give me shit about something.
“Where the fuck did you disappear last Friday? You were supposed to meet me and Julio at Black Pelican.”
Black Pelican was one of our hangouts that I lately decided to avoid. A certain feisty redhead bartender chick and I had too much of a past. I wasn’t interested in making it a future. But she was.
“I told you I might go if you two morons chose to get shitfaced somewhere else and not at the Black Pelican.”
A small, red sedan swerved onto our lane. Jack turned the siren on for a moment, and the car scooted away over two lanes to the left.
“Rita wasn’t there last Friday. You should’ve seen the new girl.” He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. “Tits like melons, man. And those eyes. I fucking get a hard on just thinking of her.”
“Tell her that, not me, asshole.”
He burst into laughter and punched me on the arm. Hard. The guy didn’t know his own strength. I tipped my chin toward the scene ahead of us.
Plums of thick, dark-gray smoke puffed above the spot where a small warehouse used to stand on the corner of Daltona and Warren Streets. Red-and-yellow fire licked the scattered chunks of concrete and fragments of broken timber strewn all over the area. The buildings around were badly damaged as well.
Jack pulled Rescue 8 to the curb. I opened the door and jumped out, my boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. I quickly scanned the area, trying to locate the Incident Command. I spotted Chief Holton talking with two dark suits. FBI?
The Chief was pointing to the screen of a small laptop in his hand. Both dark suits nodded and exchanged a silent glance.
“Ethan!” Chief Holton saw me approach but made no introductions.
“Chief.” I nodded.
The dark suits wordlessly walked away.
“Feds?” I asked.
“Yep.” His bushy eyebrows pulled together, deepening the permanent crease between them.
Chief’s eyes were puffy and red, the skin on his jowls sagging more than normal. He was pushing sixty, and his health was failing. Diane, one of my good friends, worked in the clinic where Chief Holton had his annual physical done for the past ten years. She didn’t think he should be working in such a physically demanding job.
He turned the laptop screen toward me and indicated the blueprints of the building. “Look right here.”
I leaned closer, but there wasn’t anything out of ordinary at the spot he alluded to. “What am I looking at?”
“A panic room,” he said under his breath.
“In a warehouse?” I sounded incredulous even to my own ears.
The Chief glanced around. Rescue 12 and 18 were laying hoses. Jack and the rest of my crew were getting our firetruck ladder extended and positioned by the adjacent building. One of the Rescue 18 Battalions was taking care of setting their ladder to the next-door building.
When the Chief looked back at me, our eyes met. His stare was hard when he quietly said, “This isn’t... wasn’t a regular warehouse.”
“I figured that much already.” I nodded toward the feds.
He followed my stare. “Yeah. I don’t know a whole lot about what’s going on here. They aren’t exactly the chatty type. But they want us to get to that panic room right away.”
“There can’t be any easy access after the whole structure has been blown to pieces. We need the drilling equipment and the excavation unit to get here,” I said.
“Yeah. They’re here.” He pointed behind me. The special units had just arrived. “That room isn’t on the blueprint filed with the city.” He gestured to the computer screen. “But the feds claim it’s there and insist that we find it quickly.”
“There is someone in there.” This wasn’t a question. I didn’t have to ask. Four years of deployment in Afghanistan with the Marines equipped me with the ability to put two and two together fairly quickly. “Someone important enough that the feds are swarming all ov
er.”
“They’re hidden well, whoever they are.”
Two police cars, with their beacons flashing, pulled into the site. The KOTS News Station van arrived right behind them. The doors slid open, and Anne Fischer, the morning news reporter, stepped out, pulling down on her tight mini-skirt. She had the best legs ever, but that wasn’t all I liked about her body. Anne was one of those lean but deliciously curvy women that looked amazing in and out of clothes.
I exhaled and felt my brows bunch together. Anne and I had a thing in the past. Nothing serious, just pure, adult fun. Hell, I haven’t had anything serious with any woman since tenth grade, which was purely by my own choice. Relationships were not for me, despite my mom desperately trying to hook me up with her girlfriends’ daughters.
Now Anne was here—at my workplace, so to speak. I never mixed work with pleasure, so seeing her at the incident site didn’t sit well with me. She was at her work too though, so I couldn’t hold that against her. I just didn’t want her to notice me.
I walked fast to my team to coordinate the operation. They knew what to do without me babysitting them, but I was their captain and my place was with them now. Besides, I wanted to avoid Anne. Damn, I wanted to avoid too many chicks lately.
“Rescue 12 and 18 are about to start.” Jack pointed to the groups of firefighters from the other two houses. They were almost finished with laying their hoses.
The ladders were up, extended all the way to the upper floors of the two neighboring buildings. We were to extinguish any interior fires, right after Rescue 12 and 18 took care of the exterior flames.
“Our hoses are ready?” I asked.
“Yeah, all is ready, Cap,” Jack said.
“Okay, we move in as soon as the interior fires are snuffed.
By the time the flames on the outside were doused, the drilling and excavation teams operation was already in full swing. Chief Holton came up behind me right before I went with my guys into the building on the left while Rescue 18 went into the right structure.
“Ethan, Jack, come here, you two.”
I looked back at him in surprise. “Sir?”
Jack stood beside me. He was a big guy, even taller and bulkier than me. At six-foot-two I towered over most of my buddies and coworkers. In our heavy fireproof coats, pants, and bunker boots, we looked like giants next to the short and plump chief.
Chief Holton glanced back and to the sides, as if making sure nobody can overhear us. “Jack, take the battalion lead. The Captain stays here. I have a special mission for him.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack nodded and rushed into the building, no questions asked.
Chapter Two
ETHAN
“What? You want me to leave my guys and stay here? What’s going on?” I was puzzled. Such a thing has never happened before. I was their Captain, and my team was my responsibility. Although, this was also direct order. I knew better than to question my superior.
The Chief lifted his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Jack can lead the team well enough. You are required to take on another task.” He motioned to the area where the excavation team was already moving the equipment off the side. “I want you to go to that panic room. With your Marine’s training you’re the best man for the job.”
“Jack has received the same training as I have, Chief.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. “I know, Ethan. But your cousin’s temper is better utilized there.” He nodded toward the building. “You know how to restrain yourself. Besides, this... well, hell, I’ll tell you what the feds just said. But it’s not to be discussed with anyone, Ethan. In that panic room is a sole witness to some big case the FBI is involved in. She’s young and terrified, and who knows in what state of mind she’s in after this mess here. They’re afraid she will pull out, and they’ll lose the only witness they have to pin down some criminal. What we need now is someone who can ease her out of there and make sure she feels safe.”
I gave him a skeptical look. Okay, so it was widely known that I had my way with women, although I would never kiss and tell. Some of the ladies apparently have done just that, because I’ve been quickly labeled as a “bad boy who won’t settle down.” No matter what, this was my private life, which I never mixed with my professional one. So why the hell would my own superior hint at my special talents? I’ve proven to him and everyone else at work that when it comes to my job, I won’t be second-guessed.
“Ethan.” His bushy brows pulled together as he pinned me with his steely stare. “Look, the FBI needs her. She’s the only one who can testify in that case. I know you can talk to her and make her feel protected—”
“So that’s what this is about? Giving some poor girl a false sense of security?” I was fuming, but I managed to keep my voice low.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, son. That came out wrong.” The Chief shook his head and exhaled forcefully. “Evidently, she’s been hinting already at pulling out, and so this,” he gestured around, “might be the last straw. What I’m asking is that you just try.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking at the spot where Group 3 from Rescue 12 and a few black suits congregated in a circle. More feds, together with the police, tried to keep the media away. Several local TV stations were at the scene, cameras rolling.
I spotted Anne standing in front of the KOTS News Station camera, talking to a large microphone with the Station logo attached to it. When she pointed to the scene behind her, the fabric of her white button-down blouse stretched tautly over her round breasts. A fleeting recollection of those gorgeous tits under my fingers surfaced from some dark depths of my mind. My cock stirred, and a pang of desire ran through me. I pushed the not-completely-unwelcome memories out of my mind.
“That’s the order, Chief? I will do it, but I strongly believe I’m needed much more with my men inside that building.” I shoved my thumb over my shoulder, in the direction where my guys did what was now absolutely necessary: killing the possible fire inside and preventing it from spreading into the next building.
He sighed. “It’s a request. Please, Ethan. She’s my daughter’s age, just twenty-three; a college girl in the FBI witness protection program. The kid doesn’t have any family... she sure as hell could use some help from a firefighter.”
That did me in. Chief Holton’s daughter was born with Down syndrome. Her mother died giving birth to her. The girl was recently diagnosed with a rare type of leukemia and started chemo treatments. She was the Chief’s only child, and was slowly fading away. How could I possibly refuse his plea?
“Okay.” I nodded and started to peel off my gloves and the heavy fire protection coat. The sun was up, and I was getting uncomfortably warm. “Is there a two-way communication established with that woman? A phone or a radio?”
“There was a separate landline, but it’s out of service now. Must’ve been damaged in the explosion. She’s not answering her radio either.”
“So no communication at all?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head.
We passed all the media, ignoring the journalists’ calls for comments about the incident. I bent at the waist, slipping under the barricade tape, Chief Holton following closely behind. I heard him grunt in discomfort when he had to bend his bad knee to lower himself under the tape.
Two feds approached us. This time the Chief made introductions. “Ethan, this is Special Agent Drasco,” he motioned to one on the left, “and this is Special Agent Cornell.”
They both nodded.
“This is Captain Ethan McCoy from Rescue 8, the Explosive Response Squad Unit. I briefed Captain McCoy about the situation,” Chief Holton told them. We need to move in. The lady in there might need immediate medical attention.”
“How is the air supply in that panic room?” I asked.
“The room is equipped with air scrubbers. They draw in fresh air from outside and can filter it indefinitely,” Special Agent Drasco explained.
Long enough to wait out a chemical
attack for example. Or at least the worst of it. Must be a well-constructed safe room. I thought. “So smoke from the fire should be no problem then,” I said.
Special Agent Cornell cleared his throat and said in a low baritone, “We are not completely positive on the air scrubbers’ functionality after the explosion. The system might’ve been damaged.”
“Is there an escape shaft?” I inquired.
“It was checked already, and the access is blocked by heavy debris.” Cornell shook his head.
“So let’s have our guys clear it.” What were the feds waiting for? That should’ve been already done.
Drasco and Cornell exchanged a fleeting glance, just a flicker of the eye, but it was enough for me to catch it.
Cornell drew in a breath. “The explosives were deposited at the escape shaft exit. A good part of the passage has collapsed.”
“So now this trap door here is the only way out, right?” I knew the answer, but without the complete blueprints of the underground structure I wanted to make sure we weren’t missing anything.
“Correct,” Drasco confirmed.
The excavation unit was close to be done with clearing the area and the salvage operation. They knew how to work efficiently and fast. I kneeled by the uncovered steel trap door in the concrete floor and carefully ran my hands over the metal. There were four handles flush with the surface of the door. I wrapped my fingers around one handle opposite the massive hinges, fitting my hand into the round recess under it. I yanked on it. Nothing. I suspected the door could only be unlocked from the inside.
“I doubt we can simply pry it open. This isn’t going to be easy.” I examined the edges closer. “Can we get some tools to try?” I asked the guys from the drilling crew.
“This door is designed to be unlocked only from the inside,” Special Agent Cornell confirmed my theory. He crouched next to me and rapped his knuckles on the metal surface. “And it is soundproof, so she wouldn’t hear if we tried to communicate with her.”
As expected, there was no response from the room. This was a real-deal safe room, not the stuff you see in the movies where a person inside might be verbally coerced to follow the attacker’s plan. Sound insulation in real life was done to eliminate such nonsense and also to prevent anyone on the outside from hearing what was going on inside, like a phone conversation with the police.
The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories Page 181