by Peyton Banks
“Don’t worry about it,” Dalton replied. Overtime was the last thing on his mind at the moment. He would take it up with the chief later if it was a problem. “Are all of the tenants out of the building?”
He looked around the parking lot, and his gaze landed on a familiar vehicle.
Anya no longer had a car.
The white one he was staring at could be anyone’s.
“From what we know. We just made it up to the second level. That’s where the fire appears to have started.”
“Dalton!”
He whipped his head around. His brother made his way to him. The cops hovering by the yellow tape sure wouldn’t dare to argue with him. One scowl and a lesser man would quiver in his boots.
“Keep up the good work.” Dalton patted Dylan on the back and spun on his heel to meet his brother.
“Any sign of her?” Dallas asked.
“No. Anya’s still not answering.” Dalton shook his head.
“I called Mrs. Graham and spoke with her. According to her, Anya was headed home to get some things. She was supposed to meet her mother to go out for a late lunch, but she never made it.”
Dalton swiveled his head around toward the apartments again. “What car was she driving?”
“Mrs. Graham’s,” Dallas replied grimly.
Dalton cursed, his gaze landing on the white sedan parked in the lot.
“She’s in there,” Dalton snapped. He ran toward the structure but was yanked back by a firm hand on his arm.
“Wait a damn minute,” Dallas said. “You can’t just run into a burning building.”
“Like hell I can’t. It’s my job,” Dalton growled. He snatched his arm free from his brother’s hold.
“I get that, but you have nothing on to protect you.” Dallas narrowed his eyes on him.
Dalton couldn’t care less about that look. It didn’t work on him and hadn’t since they were kids.
“There’s always an extra suit on the engine,” Dalton explained.
Dallas jerked his head in a nod. “You go save your woman, and I’ll put out an APB on Glenn.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“Her ex. I have all the information. We’ll hunt his ass down.” Dallas’s face took on a look that made Dalton step back. This was one time that he was glad he was related to Dallas. “Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
Dalton almost pitied the guy. Glenn didn’t know what was in store for him.
Dalton gave Dallas a nod, jogging back to the fire truck. No words were needed to be said between them. They were close, and their bond strong. Dallas being here was a show of his love. They always supported each other.
Dalton opened a compartment on the side and found the other suit and gear. He dressed in record time. He grabbed the helmet and slammed it down on his head.
He had to save Anya.
He secured his SCBA to his back. Seeing an ax hanging in another open compartment, he snagged that just in case he had to force his way in.
Dalton stalked toward the building. The smoke.
“McNeil, where are you going?” Knox ran over to him with confusion on his face.
“This is Anya’s apartment building. I have reason to believe that she’s in there.” He pointed.
Two of his men were on the ladder, spraying water into the second-floor hallway through a busted open window.
“What? Are you sure?”
“No, but I have to check,” he growled.
“I’m coming with you,” Knox declared, falling in place with Dalton. He turned and shouted to the other firemen, announcing they were going in.
Dalton secured his breathing mask to his face and entered the burning building.
All in a day’s work, my ass.
Earlier that day, it had been to save his friend. Now it was to rescue his woman.
The only thing he knew about her place was that she had a second-floor apartment. She had spoken about finding a quiet little place to stay that she loved.
He carefully trudged up the staircase with Knox trailing behind him. Water ran down the stairs, making it harder for them to get up. Dalton gripped the ax in his hand tight.
He breathed in deep, taking in the fresh oxygen.
They made it to the top. There were four units on this floor. Which one was Anya’s? From the flame pattern, Dalton instantly knew which one was hers.
He waved his hand to motion for Knox to follow him. The smoke was thick, and the flames were still going. The water had only caused the fire to smolder. It was starting to pick back up at the farthest apartment door.
That had to be Anya’s.
They arrived at the door, and it was locked. Dalton knew the ax would be handy. He glanced over at Knox, who backed up, waiting for Dalton to break through the door.
Dalton swung the ax. It cracked the weak door of the apartment. He hit a few more times, and the wood finally splintered. Once the door was open, he and Knox had to jump away due to the backdraft.
Flames shot out of the apartment, reaching the ceiling.
Please let her be okay.
Within seconds the flames died down. Dalton stepped through the doorway and took in the small area filled with smoke and fire. The living room was totally lost. The couch and recliner were engulfed in orange.
He snatched off his mask. “Anya!” he yelled.
His lungs immediately burned from the smoke. He stumbled through the small apartment, leaving Knox. She was nowhere to be found. He headed down the hallway to what he assumed was the bedroom. The doorframe was burning bright, as was the ceiling and parts of the floor.
He froze in the doorway at the sight before him. Anya was hunched on her bed with her arms twisted around, locked to the railing by handcuffs. The fire was closing in on her bed.
“Shit!” Dalton rushed over to her. He tried stomping on the flames to put them out, but the carpet was igniting around them.
“Go!” Her voice was low and ended on a shriek. Her face was stained with tears. Even in the low light, he could see her face was darkened on the side.
Rage grew in his chest that someone could do this to Anya.
“I got you, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” Unable to resist, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He glanced down at her wrists, bound together by handcuffs attached to the railing. His gaze flickered to hers. “Do you trust me?”
She jerked her head in a nod.
He’d have to use the ax to get her free. One wrong move and he could possibly cut her, or worse, amputate a hand.
A coughing fit took him. He put on his mask and inhaled in a few deep breaths.
Anya coughed. Her head lowered to the mattress, and he knew he would have to work quick. She wouldn’t have much longer. He had to get her out into fresh air so she could breathe properly.
He glanced around and didn’t see any sign of Knox.
“Hold still,” Dalton shouted.
Anya’s head barely moved. Her arms were outstretched, leaving just enough room for the ax to hit.
Dalton tried to will his racing heart to slow down. He could do this. He swung the ax back, dropping it on the chains. The handcuffs were no match for his blade. Her hands immediately separated.
“Anya!” he shouted.
She didn’t respond. His heart seemed to leap into his throat as he tossed the ax down to the floor. He gently turned her over. He tore off his mask and placed it over her face. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe. When you take a deep breath, it will release oxygen to you.” He rubbed her hair, trying to get her to use his air pack. Her chest rose and fell several times, satisfying him.
Anya’s eyes fluttered open, slowly shutting again. In the darkness highlighted by the flames, he knew right then this was the woman for him.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
Beep… Beep… Beep.
The constant sound echoed in Anya’s mind. She struggled to break free of the comforting darkness.
Beep… Beep… Beep…<
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It took some work, but finally, her eyes opened. She blinked a few times, and her vision adjusted. A bright light flowed into her right. A window with open blinds was the culprit that helped bring her out of her cozy abyss.
Her gaze landed on her arm. She lifted it and took in the hospital band.
Her body jerked forward.
Where am I?
Fire.
Dalton appearing like a knight in shining armor in her bedroom.
Her gaze swept the room while she settled back against the pillows.
Hospital. An IV pole with fluids stood beside her bed, and a monitor above her head displayed numbers and lines streaming across the screen. Tubing rested beneath her nose, and she sensed a slight breeze of air flowing into her nostrils.
A figure sat slouched in an uncomfortable position in the chair next to her bed.
Dalton.
She felt a little loopy and didn’t know if she had received some kind of drug, or whether it was from all the smoke she had inhaled.
Anya opened her mouth to wake Dalton, but no sound poured out. Her throat was dry and painful. Her leg slid across the bed as she tried to reach forward for the cup of water that sat on the bedside table.
Dalton’s eyes flew open.
“Hey, welcome back to the land of the living.” His eyes softened. He leaned forward and handed her the cup.
“Thank you,” her voice was a whisper. She grimaced from the pin-prick-like pain that swept through her throat.
“Don’t speak, baby. Just drink the water. It will help.” He got up from the chair and pushed the table aside so he could sit on the edge of the bed.
Tears welled up at the realization that he had risked his life to save her.
If he had been a few moments later, the bed would have caught fire and—
She cut that train of thought off. She was alive. She’d made it out.
“But—” She tried to speak again, but this time he pressed a finger to her mouth.
“You’re going to strain your throat. You are going to have to rest it for now.” His eyes narrowed on her neck.
Her hand automatically flew to it.
She turned her face away from him, ashamed at what she must look like.
Memories of Glenn attacking her flooded her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pool of tears to stay away.
“Hey,” Dalton whispered. He gently gripped her chin and forced her to gaze at him. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.”
Anya wished she could voice everything she wanted to say. She needed to tell him how stupid she was, and that she should have said something to her parents before everything exploded in her face.
She glanced around, wondering where her parents could be.
“Your parents went down to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and something to eat,” he announced as if reading her mind. He gripped her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
Her lips tried to curl up into a smile, but her face was still and swollen. She patted her face and cringed. She probably resembled something out of a horror movie.
“Stop it,” he murmured, pulling her hand away from her face. Anger simmered in his eyes. His gaze wandered around her face, meeting hers again. “Who did this to you?” he asked. He trailed a finger along her neck.
The tears blurring her vision finally fell, burning a warm trail down her cheeks.
“Was it Glenn?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes widened. How did Dalton know about Glenn?
She slowly nodded.
His face darkened with rage. He pushed off the bed and paced the room. He ran a trembling hand through his hair.
“You should have told me that you were having trouble with your ex.”
Anya bit her lip, not really knowing how to respond, and if she could, what the hell would she say?
“Remember when the neighborhood kids would try to follow you home and make fun of you? Who was there for you?”
There was no need to answer that rhetorical question. They both knew the answer.
“Your parents were scared shitless when I called them and told them I pulled you from your burning apartment building.” He paused across the room and leaned his hands against the wall. His muscles in his shoulders grew tense.
She feared he would react and punch the wall.
But he didn’t. He straightened and ran a hand across his face. He glanced over at Anya and walked back to the bed.
“If you would have come to me, babe, I would have helped you take care of the situation. I’ll always look out for you.”
Through the tears streaming down her face, she watched him sit on the bed next to her. He took her hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes.
“You mean the world to me. I can’t lose you. From now on, no more secrets.”
She signaled for something to write with. Dalton hopped off the bed and jogged into the bathroom. He returned with a few paper towels in his hand.
“Here you go.” He handed her a book to lay her paper towel on and a pen.
There was so much she wanted to say, but now she was limited by no voice.
She scribbled a short message first and held it up to him.
You’re right. When I get my voice back, we’re going to have a long chat.
“Promise?” he asked.
She jerked her head in a nod.
“Good. Because there’s so much I want to say to you, too.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She beat down the tears that threatened to fall.
He rested his forehead to hers, and she was immediately comforted.
For now, she could block out the harsh reality she was going to have to face soon, and just bask in the present.
14
Dalton stepped out into the hallway with Dallas. He’d left the Grahams alone with their daughter. The team of doctors had just disappeared from the room, having assessed her and adjusted her mediations. Hopefully, they would be discharging her soon.
Dallas motioned for them to move down the hallway.
Dalton was tense, walking behind Dallas. He led Dalton to an empty waiting room at the end of the hallway.
“Did you find him?” Dalton asked immediately. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for his brother’s response.
He couldn’t read Dallas’s face.
“We got a solid lead on him. The idiot really thinks he’s gotten away. We’re tracking his cellphone right now,” Dallas announced.
“Good.” Dalton grunted. The son of a bitch didn’t deserve any mercy for what he had done to Anya.
By the bruises on her face, Glenn had slapped her a few good times, and the strangulation marks on her neck were enough to have Dalton seeing red.
Glenn had left her half dead, and by setting the building on fire, he had meant to finish her off.
Dalton shook his head. “Had I been a second later…”
“Don’t torture yourself.” Dallas laid a hand on Dalton’s shoulder. “You made it. You got her out. She’s alive. That’s all that matters.”
“Thanks, bro.” Dalton sniffed.
“Awe, don’t you go getting sappy on me. I’ll beat your ass to toughen you up,” Dallas threatened, holding his fists up in a fighting stance.
Dalton batted them away.
Dallas surprised Dalton by bringing him in for a hug. They pounded each other on the back.
“For real, thanks for helping.”
They stepped back from each other.
“You don’t have to thank me. I’ve been where you are.”
Dalton ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know all the little details of what had happened to Candi, but he knew it was something that brought them closer together.
“I just want ten minutes alone with the son of a bitch,” Dalton muttered. He took a seat in a chair against the wall. The image of a bruised and battered Anya would be burned into his mind forever.
“That might be able to be arranged.” Dallas shrugged.
“What?” Dalton’s gaze flew to his brother. As usual, Dallas kept a straight face, and Dalton couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious.
“Won’t be necessary. I didn’t say who was tracking Glenn right now.” Dallas came to sit next to him and crossed his legs. “Let just say I know a guy who knows a guy who owes said guy a favor.”
Dalton shook his head. “I don’t know what that means, but I have a strange feeling I don’t want to.”
“He will be handled. Rest assured, baby brother. He won’t want to look at another woman again.”
A chill went down Dalton’s spine. There was Dallas being that cold-hearted bastard again. He was glad he would never be on his brother’s wrong side.
“Dalton?”
He looked up. Anya’s mother stood in the doorway.
“Yes, ma’am?”
He and Dallas stood to their feet as she walked over to them.
“Dallas! Such a wonderful surprise. When did you get here?” Mrs. Graham asked.
Both the McNeil boys were courteous and accepted a hug and kiss on the cheek from the woman. She smiled, but there was strain around her eyes.
It had just about broken Dalton to give her and Mr. Graham the news about their daughter.
“I just got here not too long ago. I was updating my brother on the manhunt,” Dallas replied.
Mrs. Graham’s smile disappeared. She reached out and grabbed Dallas’s hand. “Find him. Make him pay for all of the pain he’s caused my baby girl.”
“You have my word, ma’am.” Dallas gave her a nod.
She turned to Dalton. “The nurse just gave Anya some pain medication. She’s asking for you.”
“Thanks.” Dalton cast one last look at Dallas, but he knew he wouldn’t have to worry. His brother’s word was just as good as done. Dalton patted Mrs. Graham on the shoulder and left the waiting area.
He made it back to Anya’s room, where Mr. Graham was stepping out. The older gentleman had tears in his eyes.
“I can’t thank you enough, Dalton.” Mr. Graham held out his hand.
Dalton took it in a firm handshake. Mr. Graham pulled him in for a quick hug. The burly man who was usually full of life and laughter was quieter.