Winterfall (2 page)

After they piled out of the trucks, she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

Sentry Security.

The same bunch who’d worked the fire in April. She hadn’t seen them at the other fires and wondered if they’d lost their contract to help with law enforcement. But here they were. To Juliet’s surprise, her heart started to bang again, but less from fear and more from excitement. She took precious seconds to glance toward the black SUV and note that the three security people from the fire in April were there, and so was another man she’d never seen before. Her gaze snagged on a broad, strong back and a particular walk she recognized. He turned toward her and oh, yeah, it was
him
. Tall, dark, and drool-worthy. A bolt of attraction hit her. A full-on sensation that curled low in her belly and tingled in her nipples. It shocked her. When the hell had that ever happened just from seeing a guy? No, she didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to experience lust for the mystery man. Because, yeah, that’s what it was. If he recognized her, he didn’t acknowledge it. Tricked out in what looked like military tactical gear and one hell of a big rifle, he strode toward the crowd. No police had arrived so far as she could see.

She quickly turned her attention back to her job.

The firefighters secured their helmets, dealt with the hoses, donned breathing apparatus and tools, and took orders to enter the structure. The house was abandoned but they’d certainly look for homeless or other squatters…they’d assume someone could be inside. Along with additional firefighters, they headed into the furnace, ready to beat back the beast.

They’d been in the structure several minutes working the hose and gaining some progress. Firefighters not on the hose had searched and cleared the house of victims. Everyone now made sure the flames couldn’t sneak up on them. Yet it wasn’t too long before the chief’s voice crackled over their radios.

“Striker, Van Pelt, Ballard get out now! Get out! Collapse imminent!” Chief Krisky’s voice roared.

Juliet was at the back of the line holding the hose, but she didn’t hesitate to obey Chief Krisky. No one with a half a brain in this job would disobey. Sweat rolled off of Julie’s scalp and soaked into the balaclava around her neck as she headed toward the front of the burning Victorian along with Striker and Ballard. At least the sweat couldn’t break the seal the self-contained breath apparatus made against her face. Sweet, pure air filled the mask, and even though her breathing stayed steady, the heat and threat of fire threatened to erode her confidence. Hard-won, on-the-edge-of-collapse confidence. She knew outside this mask lay certain death. The fire gobbled up oxygen, its greedy lungs sucking up everything life-giving. Only her bunker gear—turnout coat, helmet, pants, boots and gloves—protected the rest of her.

As she and the rest of the crew exited the burning building at a run, she could almost hear the fire’s lion-like sound chasing her. They’d barely escaped at a dead run when the walls came down.

A roar punctured the air as the old Victorian groaned and protested. A gust shoved Juliet forward, and she cleared the door with Striker and Ballard hot on her heels. She ran like the devil was at her heels. Her breath rasped in her throat as fear matched exhilaration. Everything happened at once as the Victorian gave a last death gasp and collapsed in on itself. The noise drowned out all else. Something hit her from behind with a stunning blow. She tried to balance but the force threw her forward. She face planted with a grunt as all the air rushed from her lungs. Debris fell from the sky, pelting her with boards and God only knew what else. She curled into herself, hoping to protect her head. Seconds later fear struck hard, and she shoved to her hands and knees.

“Get them outta there!” A harsh male voice rang through the chaos. “Rest of the place is comin’ down!”

Her ears rang, a low throbbing running through her head like a river. Before she could whirl to see what happened to Ballard and Striker, a pair of strong arms slipped around her. She glanced up into familiar brown eyes dark with concern.

Security guy from the fire in April.

Her throat felt raw, and she realized her breathing apparatus was still on, as well as her helmet. She managed to speak. “Ballard! Striker! Where are they?”

Security guy didn’t answer. He lifted her to her feet and up into his arms. Automatically her arms went around his neck, hanging on for dear life. When he took off running, she held on tight. Security man set her down on her feet near the SUV, but kept his arm around her. Peripherally she realized the other security people and firefighters assisted Striker and Ballard. Both men stood by the Station Three ladder truck. She sucked in one breath and then another.
Thank God.
Images slammed through her head, demanding she pay attention. Scenes of desperation and destruction, the throat-closing memory of smoke and fire choking the life out of her and Amy and that horrible night at the dorm.
Damn. Damn.
She struggled with the memories and tried to wipe them from her mind’s eye.

“Ma’am?” Security dude’s voice pulled her from a stupor. “Ma’am?”

A wave of nausea hit her. She frantically pulled off her helmet and breathing apparatus, afraid she’d upchuck any minute. The breathing apparatus hung down from the attached tank, and she allowed the helmet to hit the ground.

“Are you hurt?” the security man asked, his deep voice filled with concern as he cupped her face in both hands.

His gentle touch surprised her, and when he released her she wished for his touch again. Wished she knew something else to call him besides “Security Man” in her head.

Fine tremors ran over her body. “I’m…no, I think I’m good.”

He frowned and tilted her chin up with one finger. His dark eyes, so intense, threatened to pull every truth from her. “Wait here while I get the med kit.”

“What—” But he was around the back of the vehicle already.

Feeling dazed, she watched as another crew worked the house, spraying water on the doomed Victorian. Jeeter trotted her way, and he reached Juliet at the same time Security Man returned with a first aid kit.

Jeeter squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She managed an up nod. “How are Ballard and Striker?”

“Good now.” Jeeter glanced at Security Man, curiosity on his face. “Your friends got to them before we could.”

Security Man’s face was one hundred percent serious. Juliet shivered as a cold wind blew over the area and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jeeter released her and she glanced around. Security Man’s compatriots were working the scene like pros, keeping the area safe.

“Sit in the backseat of the SUV and we’ll check you out.” Security Man opened the back door.

“I’m not hurt. I need to work.”

“Listen to the man, Juliet. I doubt the captain will let you work until he does,” Jeeter said, his gaze intent.

Juliet? He rarely called her that. In fact, all the men called her by her last name, and that suited her fine. Something passed through Jeeter’s eyes that she couldn’t identify. She shrugged out of the SCBA tank and lowered it to the floorboard. Easing out of the turnout coat caused a sharp pain to run over her back and she gasped.

“You hurt?” Security Man asked.

She wouldn’t allow a little ache and pain to slow her down. “Muscle pull.”

Security Man’s gaze stayed firm. “Let’s be safe.”

“Jeeter!” One of the other firefighters waved at Jeeter.

Jeeter gestured back. “Be right there!”

“Go on,” she said. “They need you.” She threw Jeeter a smile. “Hovering over me isn’t helping anything.”

Jeeter’s mouth opened and closed. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

After he left, Security Man actually grinned.
Wow.
He’d taken his sunglasses off and his eyes burned into her with curiosity and interest. His gaze had an intensity that could have dropped a less well-defended woman to her knees. Combined with a smile like that, you had devastating, gorgeous and hunky all in one delicious package. This man had it going on. Up close and personal he also had rough written all over him. He didn’t have a pretty boy bone in his body. He looked cut from steel.

He took her pulse and blood pressure and found them normal, checked her pupils, and prodded her for broken bones. Those big hands smoothed over her impersonally, but the way her body reacted sure as hell
wasn’t impersonal
.

“Your friend is really worried about you.” Security Man returned the blood pressure cuff to the kit. “Maybe even has a crush.”

It was time for her mouth to pop open. “What?”

“Jeeter.”

She snorted softly and slid off the seat to her feet. Another wave of vertigo passed over her, and she grabbed at the seat.

He cupped her shoulders. “Whoa. Easy. Are you dizzy?”

“A little. It’s nothing.”

The smile had disappeared. “It isn’t nothing. You’re going to the hospital. I don’t see any sign of concussion, but you can’t be too careful.”

He let go of her and put the medical kit in the back of the SUV.

When he returned she lifted one eyebrow. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’m off shift after this anyway.”

Security Man’s smile returned as he crossed his arms. His biceps bulged in a delicious way she couldn’t ignore and for a second her attention wandered over his physique. When she looked up, his smile had broadened. Great, he’d caught her staring. Her face heated, and not just with embarrassment. Warmth and genuine kindness twinkled in those eyes, and she felt drawn to him against her will.

“You a full-time firefighter?” he asked.

“Volunteer.”

“You’re very dedicated.”

“Always have been.” She kept her sentences clipped. “And you’ve had medical training.”

“After I left the army I picked up EMT qualifications.” He put out his hand. “Mark O’Day, Sentry Security.”

A bit reluctantly she shook hands. “Juliet Van Pelt.”

His grip was firm but didn’t crush her fingers together, and she appreciated that. When he released her, his gaze darted to her hair, and a sliver of self-consciousness made her reach up and touch it. People had a habit of staring when they saw her hair. Luckily he didn’t ask why her short, spiky hair had streaks of gray running through it.

Jeeter and Captain Blake Detmer walked toward them. Good deal. She could escape. Captain Detmer’s wrinkled face and bald head made him look older than his fifty years, and everyone thought of him as a grandfather, which he was four times over. Despite his short stature, he could fight fires with the best of them.

“How’s Van Pelt?” Captain Detmer asked.

O’Day said, “She’s got a little dizziness. She needs a doctor to take a closer look.”

The Captain nodded. “We’re taking Ballad and Striker to the hospital. Let’s go, Van Pelt.”

“I’m great. I’m starting to feel like a damned parrot. Why won’t anyone listen?” she asked.

The men ignored her and introduced themselves, and her frustration level rose.

“It’s an order, Van Pelt,” the Captain said.

She gritted her teeth. She could argue, but knew that disobeying the Captain’s order wouldn’t work. “All right, I’ll go.”

“I’ll take her—” Both Jeeter and O’Day said at the same time.

Everyone went silent, staring at each other until she spoke. “We’ll be here a while taking care of hot spots and things like that. I’ll just hang out here until we’re let go from the scene.”

Captain Detmer ignored her. “O’Day, would you be able to take her? The rest of us need to finish up here.”

“I’ll check. Be right back.”

As he walked toward the other security personal, she watched his swagger. No. It wasn’t a swagger so much as a distinctive walk, one that spoke of confidence without arrogance. She’d always liked that in a man, but she hadn’t met any who owned the quality the way Mark O’Day did. The realization made her tingle in places she didn’t want to tingle.

“Give it up, Van Pelt,” the Captain said over his shoulder as he walked away. “You’ve been overruled.”

Jeeter’s expression said he didn’t like the outcome of the situation. “You okay with this?”

“I’m not, but like he said, I’ve been overruled.”

“That guy is pushy.” Jeeter glared at O’Day.

She smirked. “I’ll humor everyone and go to the damned hospital.”

His frown didn’t disappear. She watched O’Day talking with the two other men and the one woman in his security group, and he gestured over to Juliet.

It didn’t take long before he returned to her side, that same smile on his face. “We’re good to go.”

Jeeter didn’t hide his distrust. “You take care of her, you hear?”

O’Day didn’t look fazed or offended. “Absolutely. She’s in good hands.”

She gave Jeeter her equipment.

After they climbed in the SUV and took off, she looked out the back window. Jeeter stood there watching them depart.

“Your boyfriend is jealous,” O’Day said as he drove slowly through the neighborhood.

At first she didn’t think she’d heard him right. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Jeeter? He was throwing some serious shit-kicking attitude.”

She took off her turnout coat. “Everyone at the station house is like that. We’re a big family, and since Long Valley erupted we’ve all pulled together a lot tighter. He’d be that way with anyone. He doesn’t know you, that’s all.”

O’Day kept his attention on the road. “Uh-huh.”

“And what business of yours would it be if he was my boyfriend?”

“It isn’t. Just an observation. He isn’t your boyfriend yet, or he would have fought to take you to the hospital himself. But he
wants
you for himself.”

She stared at him, mouth agape, for a few seconds. “Most men don’t talk about stuff like…relationships. What planet are you from?”

“A few people think I’m from Pluto. I haven’t decided.” He threw her a look and a wink, voice thick with teasing. “The point is that he’s got it bad for you.”

“Ridiculous. What are you, Dear Abby?”

“Just a guy who takes the time to notice.”

She had to give him credit. “What was your specialty in the Army, Mr. O’Day? Psychiatry?”