His office. That’s near the Zamboni bay. That’s currently on fire.
I don’t answer. Instead, I spin on my heels and run as fast as I can toward the open door. Blaine shouts my name, but I ignore him. I can’t leave Boomer. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to him.
Adrenaline and fear course through me, powering me to run faster. The smoke is thicker as I near the coaches’ offices, and I cover my nose and mouth with my sleeve. The second I reach Coach’s closed door, I push my way inside. Boomer is on me instantly. He jumps up, putting his forelegs on my chest while bouncing on his hind legs to try and lick my face.
“Hey, buddy. Yes, I’m excited to see you too, but we’ve gotta go. I wasn’t gonna leave you. I promise,” I tell him, giving his flank a reassuring rub.
When I manage to get him down, I hook my fingers into his collar and turn toward the door. I push on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. I try a few more times, shaking the handle with more force, but it doesn’t open.
Fuck. It’s locked.
My pulse is loud in my ears, chest tightening as I gasp for air.
I try the handle again, but my hands go numb. Why can’t I get out? Why won’t the door open?
“Fuck!” I shout on a strangled breath.
Glancing around the office, spots cloud my vision. The wooden desk is blurry, like I’m looking at it from underwater. I look around frantically, trying to figure out another way out as panic soars through my veins. My heart is pounding hard in my chest, amplifying the ringing in my ears.
I try the door again, this time tugging on the door with both hands, but it doesn’t move. Why won’t it fucking open?
My lungs burn as my breath saws out of me, rough and shallow. I fall back into the desk, knocking some paperwork onto the floor. Boomer stands between my legs, nudging his head against my thigh, but I can’t feel anything. It’s becoming more difficult to suck in air, and I struggle to hold my head up. I feel so dizzy.
Fuck. This is it. I’m going to die. They’re not going to find me or Boomer.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him, unable to draw in a breath.
I attempt to stand again, but there’s no strength in my legs. I stumble into the wall and slump onto the floor. Boomer climbs into my lap, pressing his weight against my chest, licking all over my face.
Smoke is beginning to seep from under the door, and the walls start to close in.
Fuck, I can’t breathe.
My arms are limp as I wrap them weakly around Boomer’s body and close my eyes. I bring up Hunter’s face in my mind, and it’s the last thing I see before everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hunter
We’re on our way back to the station after spending most of the morning responding to a still-and-box alarm for a fire in the exhaust system of an event venue. Luckily, there were no injuries, but the smoke caused several alarms to be triggered in the area too.
“I’m going to order a meatball sub when we get back,” O’Connor groans from behind. “Maybe even two.”
“Potbelly’s?” Spencer asks.
“You know it. I might order a side of chili mac too. You can fuck off if you think you’re getting any of that.”
They continue to talk about all the food they’re going to order for lunch, and I use the rare moment of peace to rest my head against the seat and shut my eyes. But the moment lasts all of two minutes, and I open my eyes again when the radio on the dashboard beeps. I reach forward, grabbing it from its holder.
Clicking the receiver, I say, “Engine 3.”
“We’ve received a call of a vehicle fire at an arena, and you are currently the closest available unit. Can you respond to the call?” The dispatcher reads out the address, and Charlie has the sirens wailing before I can answer.
“Yep. On our way,” I acknowledge and return the radio to the holder.
“Wait, isn’t that the Thunder’s practice facility?” O’Connor asks, twisting around his seat.
“Yeah, it is,” Spencer says, and I glance over my shoulder as he holds up his phone, showing the Thunder’s practice facility on the map.
