Ride the Fire
Authors: Jo Davis
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Romantic Suspense, #Contemporary Romance, #Suspense, #Fire Fighters
—
The Romance Reader
—The Best Reviews
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Romantic Times
Under Fire
a must read! Experience the flames of
Under Fire
!”
—Joyfully Reviewed
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Midwest Book Review
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Publishers Weekly
Beyond Her Book Blog
—Linda Castillo, national bestselling author of
Pray for Silence
—Joyfully Reviewed
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myLifetime.com
Trial by Fire
as soon as it hits the bookstores! Five Bookmarks!”
—Wild on Books
Trial by Fire
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—Romance Novel TV
Hidden Fire
Under Fire
Trial by Fire
I Spy a Wicked Sin
When Alex Was Bad
My family for encouraging me to keep writing, even when life refuses to cooperate.
My agent and friend, Roberta Brown, for her unfailing support.
My editor, Tracy Bernstein, for her faith in me and for keeping me wonderfully busy.
The Foxes, for keeping me sane. Or maybe we’re all just insane together and don’t know it.
My friend Brad Craghead, for naming Detective Taylor Kayne when I absolutely couldn’t think of what to call him! Great name, buddy.
And to you, the readers, for loving my Station Five boys as much as I do. It’s been a great ride, with new adventures to come. Thank you.
Everyone assumed he and Blair were blissfully happy, the quintessential Barbie-and-Ken couple with their two gorgeous children, not to mention a pair of nice vehicles, living on a spread they’d never be able to afford if not for Blair’s fancy job. Sean snorted, figuring at least one of those points was spot-on.
His teenage son and six-year-old daughter were perfect. Even more than the job he loved so much, he breathed for his children. Not, however, according to his pissed-off wife when they’d had it out over the phone earlier.
Your son is going to be so let down. How can you do this to him, Sean?
Bobby understands. I can’t leave my men in a bind—
Oh, save it! Always with the excuses, and they’re getting old. You know, if you can’t appreciate what you have here, someone else might.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Blair?
“Hey, Cap. What’s with the long face? In the dog-house again?”
Sean turned to see Clay Montana swagger toward him, grinning like a fool. “Is my name Sean Tanner and do I have a pulse?” He couldn’t help but smile back at their resident cowboy.
“Ouch.” Clay grimaced in sympathy. “That’s what happens when you break the first rule of bachelorhood.”
“What’s that?”
“Never sleep with the same woman twice. Unless a man wants to end up like you—pussy-whupped and with couple of rug rats biting at your ankles.”
Sean laughed, shaking his head at the cowboy’s earnest expression. The guy wasn’t joking. “Yeah? At least I know where my woman’s been, and I happen to like my rug rats just fine, thanks.”
Clay shrugged. “Whatever, it’s your blood pressure, not mine. So, what happened?”
“Blair ripped me a new one for working overtime tonight instead of going with her and Mia to watch Bobby’s football game. He’s the starting quarterback again, and he’s doing really well since he took over for the first-string kid who got injured. He’s even been approached by a couple of college scouts.” His chest puffed out with pride at that.
“Hey, that’s great! For Bobby, anyhow. We can probably swing it if you want to take off and catch the last half. If nothing else, we can try to call in the lieutenant to cover.”
For a long moment, he was tempted. “Nah, that’s okay. I already asked Six-Pack. He couldn’t make it in and I don’t want to leave you short a man. Besides, there’s a couple of games left in the regular season and I promised Bobby I’d make those.”
“Sucks being the boss, huh?”
“Only when I have to disappoint my kids to come ride roughshod over you bozos,” he said, shooting the other man a grin. “Someday you’ll understand.”
Clay shuddered. “Not me, man. No freaking way will you see me stick my head through the golden noose.”
Sean snickered as Clay strode back inside, presumably to make himself useful doing something. Sean thought his friend protested too much. Firefighters were family people, nurturers at heart. They all fell eventually, and he’d bet Clay would be no different.
The evening crawled at a snail’s pace with only a couple of minor calls, and Sean began to think he’d given up his day off for nothing. But if he hadn’t come in, the station would’ve gotten called to some real disaster and he would’ve ended up here all the same. Murphy’s Law.
It was almost a relief when dispatch sent them out to an accident—except this one was major, with two possible fatalities and a third person, a screaming child, trapped in the burning car. In the front passenger′s seat of the quint, Sean stared intently down the highway, knowing time wasn’t on their side. They weren’t going to make it before the fire consumed the vehicle, and he hoped the police or bystanders were able to free the child and anyone else involved.
Behind the wheel, Clay gestured to the blaze in the distance, growing closer. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Sure as hell is,” John “Val” Valentine said grimly from the back. “We’ve got a car bred to an eighteen-wheeler, folks.”
The police hadn’t yet arrived. The eighteen-wheeler was parked on the shoulder, as though it had some sort of engine trouble. The car that had hit the rig from behind was fully involved with flames, too, the blaze beginning to engulf the back end of the big semi. Clay pulled the quint as close as they dared, the ambulance on their tail, and they all jumped out. Clay and another man scrambled to grab hoses, while Sean and the others went to assess the situation, check on survivors and their injuries. Other cars had pulled onto the shoulder, and shocked witnesses stared at the spectacle, a couple of women sobbing.
One older woman grabbed the sleeve of Val’s heavy coat. “They c-couldn’t get the little g-girl out! The older boy, who was driving the car, a-and the woman, they were dead. But the little one was screaming for her daddy to put out the fire and—and . . .” The woman clapped a hand over her mouth, overcome by recounting the horrifying events.
Sweet Jesus.
Her words made Sean’s blood run cold. “Ma’am, are there any other survivors you know of?”
“The driver of the big truck says he’s fine. He’s over there,” she said in a wobbly voice, and pointed. Sean followed the gesture to a distraught man sitting on the shoulder of the highway, his face in his hands, and doubted the man was fine at all.
“Val, check on the driver while I go talk to the witnesses.”
“Got it, Cap.”
Pushing his fire hat back on his head, Sean turned and began to walk toward the inferno and the agitated witnesses. Three men were pacing too close to the fire, hopeless expressions on their faces. There was nothing they could have done, and Sean felt sorry for the poor bastards. Nobody should have to encounter something as sad as this.
He opened his mouth to yell at the three men to move back—
And that’s when he saw the license plate on the back end of the car, curling and blackening from the intense heat. Saw the letters and numbers rapidly being overcome by the flames.
Blair′s car.
An older boy and a woman.
A little girl screaming for Daddy to put out the fire.
“No.” He stopped, rooted in place, his mind resisting the truth. Unwilling to make the final connection, to make it real.
Because if it was real, he had nothing.
Was
nothing. Not without his family.
His children.
“Oh, God . . .”
His knees buckled, hit the asphalt. He struggled to draw in a breath, to scream, but his lungs were frozen.
“Cap! Cap, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” Someone crouched beside him and a gloved hand grabbed his arm.
“That car,” he whispered. “That’s my wife’s car. My family . . ”
“What? No, no, I’m sure you’re mistaken. Sean?”
The truth swept in, as black and bitter as the stench of gasoline and burning bodies, and he couldn’t stop the images.
Blair. Bobby. Mia, his sweet baby.
Blair had been right to damn him to hell. He’d put work above his family and they’d paid the ultimate price. He hadn’t deserved them, and now . . .
No, please, God. Please.
He slumped sideways, falling into darkness.
“Sean? Oh, Jesus. Somebody help me over here!”
But there was no help for him.
Not ever again.
