How to Tame a Wild Fireman (29 page)

Megan wrapped Goldie’s leash around her wrist and began coaxing her toward the barn door.

Lara tugged at Patrick’s arm. “Did you call the firemen?”

“Yeah. They’re on their way.”

“Then you should get out too. This whole place could blow up.”

“I’m keeping an eye on it. The structure’s still sound. There’s plenty of ventilation thanks to all the holes in the roof. If I don’t keep some water on it, it’s going to go fast.” He glanced back at Megan and Goldie. “Can you get them the fuck out of here, like, now? This is making me nervous.”

“How do you think I feel? Come on, Patrick, please.” She put her arm around his waist, as if he was a stubborn llama digging in his heels. “Don’t be crazy.”

He turned flinty blue eyes on her. In that moment he looked so commanding, so utterly in charge of himself and his surroundings, that she felt a moment of pure awe. “I’m not. Now get them out.”

Lara opened her mouth, shut it again. If he was going to be so pigheaded as to stay inside a burning barn that might collapse at any moment, there was something she wanted to say. Something so important, so significant, that she couldn’t get it out of her mouth. Then Goldie bleated, a panicked sound that sent intense fear welling through her. She pushed it away before it swamped her. She had to stay strong for Megan, for Patrick. “Promise you’ll come out if it gets worse,” she ordered him, silencing the other thought that drummed through her mind.

At his nod, Lara ran to help Megan. Goldie had reached a state of advanced anxiety. Her eyes were rolling back in her head, her entire body a mass of trembles. If only she had a tranquilizer pen with her, but no such luck. “How about if we just lift her up and carry her?”

“She’ll kick us or spit at us,” Megan said.

“What if we each bind together two of her legs and just lift her up?”

“Are you kidding?”

“You know what? She’s a llama, not a mule. I bet if we just start walking out of here, she’ll come. She knows fire’s bad.” Lara jumped to her feet and stalked toward the daylight outside the barn. “If she wants to stay here with the scary fire, maybe that’s her choice.”

Megan skipped up beside her. “If she doesn’t come, Patrick’s going to be mad.”

“Would you guys just go?” he roared at them over the sound of rushing water and snapping sparks.

“He wants us to leave. Anyway, Goldie’s coming.” A huge swell of relief swamped her as Goldie trotted past them. “She might be scared, but she’s no dummy.”

Patrick’s voice came roaring after them. “Run!”

Then something exploded and the fires of hell rained down.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

F
lames raced along both side walls of the barn, like the inside of an incinerator. A loud crash sounded, followed by a long, ominous creaking noise. Lara’s ears rang and nothing seemed to sound right.

“Run,” she yelled in Megan’s direction. When no one answered, she looked back. Megan was sprawled on the floor, one leg bent under her. Something had fallen on her leg; it looked like a chunk of metal. She ran back, crouched by Megan’s side, felt her pulse.

Still alive. Thank God.

“Megan, can you hear me? Are you awake?”

A low moan sent a shot of relief through her. Then she realized she couldn’t see Patrick in the wild confusion of smoke and flames.

“Patrick!” she screamed.

Megan stirred. “Patrick? Where is he?”

“Patrick!” Lara tried again, in the grip of sheer, blinding fear. He was somewhere in that crazy morass of lethal flame, armed with nothing but a garden hose and his own skills. “Patrick!”

“Get . . . out!” His voice came to her faintly from somewhere on the floor. “Get . . . Megan . . . out.”

Lara’s thoughts spun in a wild kaleidoscope.
Get Megan out?
Yes, of course that’s what she had to do. Megan needed her. If she didn’t help the girl, she’d burn to death in this barn. But what about Patrick? She couldn’t just leave him. She couldn’t.

“I . . . Patrick, please!” Her voice broke.

“I’m . . . coming. Promise. Get Megan. Love. You.” His voice came in short, breathless gasps, so she wasn’t sure if she’d heard right. He was hurt. She knew it with every fiber of her being. She had to go to him, see if she could help him. But she couldn’t, she had to do as he asked and help Megan.

She crouched next to Megan’s face. The smoke was lighter down there. She took off her particle mask, which she’d pushed on top of her head earlier, and fastened it on Megan’s face. Above it the girl’s eyes were huge with fear. Lara spotted one of Megan’s blue paisley bandannas sticking out of her pocket. She plucked it out and tied it around her own mouth. It gave her less breathing room than the face mask had, but she couldn’t have Megan passing out.

She kept her voice brisk and businesslike. “I’m going to roll that metal thing off your leg, then I’m going to help you get up and we’re going to get the hell out. You understand?”

Megan nodded. Lara crawled to the lower part of her body and shoved at the metal. The chunk of steel looked something like an old tool, or maybe a pump handle. It was warm to the touch but not hot enough to burn. Logic told her the piece of metal hadn’t exploded, just rolled from somewhere. When she pushed it off Megan’s leg, she saw a giant bruise on the girl’s skin.

“I think you might have a fracture,” Lara told her. “We have to get you out of here. Bend your good leg and get your foot under you, then I’ll lift you up.”

She put her hands under Megan’s arms and heaved her upward. Megan cried out as her injured leg dragged along the floor. Lara wished she could stop and tend to her, but the flames licking at the walls were roaring loader than ever, and a hot wind chased after them.
Get out, get out
, it seemed to be saying—­as if it spoke for Patrick.

She gave one last, desperate glance into the depths of the barn but saw no sign of him.

“Put your arm around my neck and let’s go,” she yelled to Megan. They limped toward the door one agonizing step at a time. It was so close, only a few yards away, but if felt like an impossible distance, with Megan moaning in pain. Lara cursed the fire, the smoke, the distance from Patrick.

She hadn’t told him that she loved him.

She did it now, into the constant, roaring cacophony, every word snatched away by hot wind. “I love you. Get out. Please.”

Something hot landed on her leg. She bent down to brush it away, and burned her hand.
Stupid.
Another cinder flew against her arm. Shit. They were going to burn to death in this place, she and Megan, their poor human skin and flesh no match for this vicious whirlwind of flame. She wrapped her arms around Megan, determined to take the worst of it.

Just then, when they were still at least two yards from the big barn door, a crowd of figures stormed in. Lara blinked at them, eyes stinging, sure she was hallucinating one more bizarre happening in this surreal stream of events. What were they, these helmeted, masked, padded ­people emerging from the gray and orange swirl? Whatever they were, they took charge immediately. One of them broke away from the others and ran toward her and Megan.

Lara snapped out of her smoke-­induced trance. She tried to say something but all she could do was cough.
Firefighters.
Of course.

The firefighter—­she thought it might be Pedro—­picked up Megan, one arm under her back, the other under her knees.

“Her leg might be broken,” Lara finally managed to say. Her throat felt raw from the smoke. He nodded. “Patrick Callahan’s back in there somewhere.”

Another nod, and a thumbs-­up. He gave her a push toward the door, obviously wanting her to go ahead. She resisted. “I have to see if Patrick’s okay!”

“We’re on it,” he yelled through his face mask. “He’s holding up a broken post.”

“What?”

He prodded her again. “Just go. We got Patrick. We’re not going to let anything happen to him.” He shifted Megan in his arms and jerked his head at Lara. “She’s going to need your help, no paramedics on the scene yet.”

Lara nodded and ran after him, through the cinders clutching at her with sharp, fiery fingers, through the choking smoke, away from death and terror and . . . the other part of herself.

My God, that’s what it was. Somehow, Patrick had woven himself into her heart, her body, her soul. Or maybe he’d been there all along, waiting for her to discover his daring, his unexpected kindness, everything that made him Patrick, precious, irreplaceable Patrick, who was now single-­handedly keeping a barn from collapsing on them all.

She burst into the open air, where more firefighters were hauling a heavy hose toward the barn. One firefighter, axe in hand, headed up a ladder toward the roof.

“Don’t you dare chop up my barn!” Big Dog yelled from the ground. Candy was with him, hanging desperately onto one of his arms. Lara caught her eye and pointed to the firefighter still carrying Megan. Candy screamed and pulled away from Big Dog.

When Pedro had carefully settled Megan onto a patch of grass, Lara knelt next to her. The girl’s face was a white mask of pain, her lips trembling. “You’re doing great, Megan.”

Pedro pushed up his face mask. “There’s a medical kit in the engine. You got her from here?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave Megan’s side.

Lara lost it. She screamed at him. “Go back in and get Patrick! What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Candy, who had just knelt at Megan’s side, glanced up. “Patrick? What do you mean, get Patrick? Where is he?”

Pedro gave Lara an angry look, snapped his face mask down and plunged back toward the barn.

Candy grabbed at Lara. “Where’s Patrick?”

“The firefighters are getting him out.” Lara’s voice shook. It better be true. It had to be true. “He’ll be fine.” But how could it be true? How could he be fine when he was stuck inside the heart of a volcano?

She forced herself to focus on Megan. “I’m going to feel your leg, see if there’s an obvious break. Ready?”

As soon as Lara touched her, Megan gasped and Candy burst into tears. Lara pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Candy.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I need your help. Can you go to that fire engine and find their medical kit? It should be obvious. It’ll have either an X or a cross on it. Can you do that for me?”

Candy took a deep, gasping breath, then nodded tightly. “I can do that. I’ll be okay. I’ll be right back.”

Lara felt Megan’s pulse, noted her shallow breathing. The girl was probably going into shock. She needed to get to a hospital as quickly as possible. In the calmest voice she could manage, she said, “Sweetie, I need you to stay still. Just relax and let me do my thing. I promise you I’m very good at it. The firefighters are good at what they do too, so don’t worry about Patrick. Just focus on me and do exactly what I say, okay?”

Megan’s drifting gaze homed in on Lara’s, and after a moment she nodded.

“Okay, first thing, stay calm. Have you ever seen those T-­shirts? ‘Stay calm and sleep with a firefighter’? ‘Stay calm and read a book’? That sort of thing?”

A smile ghosted across Megan’s pale lips. Good sign.

“Great. Stay calm and do what Lara says.”

Assessing Megan’s purpling leg, she saw lots of swelling but no break in the skin. Judging by the amount of pain and swelling, she’d probably sustained a simple fracture.

“I don’t think it’s a major break,” she told Megan, taking the opportunity to check the girl’s alertness. She could have some other, hidden injury, blood secretly pouring into her abdominal cavity. “I’m going to immobilize it so it doesn’t hurt as much, then we’ll get you to the hospital and they’ll splint it properly. Sound good?”

Megan nodded as Candy reappeared, hauling a heavy, soft-­sided orange saddlebag with an X and First Aid written on it in Sharpie. Lara looked inside and found plenty of material for a makeshift splint, including a flat tongue depressor and some Ace bandages.

“Candy, I’m going to need your help. I want you to hold her ankle and keep a tiny bit of a tug on it while I set this splint.” She demonstrated, taking gentle hold of Megan’s ankle and applying a steady traction. Megan bit her lip to stop the moan of pain.

“That doesn’t hurt her?” Candy cried.

“It’ll hurt a little, but once we get that leg immobilized, she’ll feel a lot better. You okay, Megan?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“What the hell’s going on here?” The booming voice of Big Dog startled them. Candy, who had just taken hold of Megan’s foot, jarred it against her thigh, making Megan cry out. He stepped so close to Lara that she felt his pants leg brush her arm. Too close for comfort. Whether he was still in shock or not, the man was unpredictable. She couldn’t allow him to interfere.

Lara gave him a stern warning look as she wrapped the Ace bandage into a pad. “I’m splinting her leg. Please back away.”

“Get your hands off my daughter.”

“Daddy! Stop it!” Megan was getting agitated, which was the absolute worst thing that could happen.

She had to get him away from Megan. The splint would have to wait. Scrambling to her feet, she spread her arms wide, as if to shield Megan from his presence. “Mr. Callahan, you’d better back up, right now. You’re causing more harm than good.”

“Who asked you to play doctor?”

“Go away, Cal,” Candy urged from her position at Megan’s feet. “Please, just go. Have you forgotten? Lara
is
a doctor, and she’s helping Megan.”

Big Dog made a wild gesture with his arm, barely missing Lara. “I’m not leaving my own daughter in
her
hands.”

“Would you stop with that stupid attitude?” Candy wailed. “I’m so sick of it I could cry!”

But Lara had had enough. “Don’t let her move that leg, Candy,” she ordered Mrs. Callahan. “And you, Mr. Callahan, you might not like me, but you’d better get used to me. I’m not going anywhere.” She moved forward, forcing him to retreat one step at a time. “And if you don’t let me do my job, I’ll get those firefighters to remove you from the premises.”

She’d used that line a few times at the hospital with unruly family members, but had no idea if it would work on someone’s private property. But it did its job; it caught his attention. He drew his head back as if building up a head of steam. And then—­

“You don’t call the shots around here!” he bellowed, planting his feet so she’d have to bump into him. “I do. If I don’t want you here, you better get out.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I won’t! Not until Megan’s leg is set and Patrick’s safe!”

“Patrick? What’s he got to do with it?” He tried to bully past her.

She had to do something, say something so crazy and extreme he’d forget about bothering Megan. Something that would grab his attention once and for all.

“We’re getting married, that’s what!”

It worked. He stopped dead, his jaw falling open.

“So you can put that in your cigar and smoke it!” Which didn’t even make sense, but was worth it just to see the look on Big Dog’s face.

“Did you guys hear that?”

The raspy, hoarse voice made her swing around. Patrick, supported by a firefighter she didn’t recognize, was looking at her with a look of wicked glee. He was covered in soot and bits of hay. In his sweaty, sooty face, his eyes glittered like blue jewels catching the sun.

“Did you just say . . .”

She flung herself at him, only checking herself at the last possible moment in case he had injuries. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks to these guys. They’re making me go to the hospital, but I’m not worried. I’ve been through worse.”

“He has multiple abrasions and a possible hematoma,” said the other firefighter dryly. “Probably a hernia and a cracked rib or two. That tends to happen when you’re holding up a barn with your back. Fire’s under control now.”

“Thank God,” said Lara. Big Dog grumbled something behind her.

A siren announced the paramedics’ arrival. “Rescue ambulance is here. We gotta get this guy out of here,” said one of the firefighters.

“Do they have room for two patients?” Lara asked. “I have a simple fracture and a possible shock victim over here.”

“Megan?” Patrick swung around to look at his sister.

“She’s fine, but it’s a lot of trauma. And the circumstances aren’t exactly conducive to proper field care.” She deliberately ignored Big Dog’s grumbling. “She needs a hospital.”

Paramedics jogged toward them with a gurney. Patrick pointed at Megan. “There’s the patient. She’s got a broken leg, so be careful.”

They veered past him and went to collect Megan. “Patrick, you need to go too,” Lara said.

“Someone can drive me. I don’t need an ambulance. Broken leg’s worse.”

“You’re so pumped full of adrenaline right now you’re not feeling the pain. But you could have internal bleeding or other damage.” She called to the paramedics. “You can handle two patients, right? Abrasions, hematoma, possible cracked ribs, possible internal bleeding.”