"I've got you," I assured, moving toward her.
She nodded without tears or panic, yet her steady gaze caught me off guard. I swept her up in one motion. She was lighter than expected, but solid. I turned back toward the door.
"Lieutenant! The east side's fully involved now. We need to move!" Dane ordered.
I tightened my grip on the woman, positioning my body between her and the worst of the heat as we moved into the hallway. The flames had intensified, now visible at the end of the hall, eating through the walls as if searching for me.
"Down the stairs, now!" I ordered as the house shifted beneath us.
We moved as a unit, Connor first, and Dane in the rear. The staircase threatened to give way with each step under us.
We were halfway down when I heard the distinctive crack of the structural failure overhead. Without thinking, I curled my body around the woman, shielding her as a section of the ceiling came crashing down near us, and debris showered us.
In that moment, heat seared through my gear, and my heart hammered as another fire flashed before my eyes. Another hallway, another voice calling for help, another decision that changed everything. Reggie. His face was superimposed over the smoke for a second and then disappeared.
Not here, not now.I pushed down the memory and focused on the woman in my arms.
"Go, go, go!" I shouted, propelling my team forward as the house groaned like a dying animal.
We burst through the front door into blessed air. The cool air of the outside world was shocking to my overheated skin. Still, I didn't stop until we were well clear of the structure. Only then did I set the woman down carefully on her feet by the awaiting ambulance.
As I pulled off my mask, my chest heaved, sweat poured down my face, and smoky residue was in the back of my throat, despite the protection. We made it — unlike last time — not like with Reggie.
The paramedics guided her to the ambulance. Her eyes found mine again over her shoulder before she got in. It was something about her eyes that intrigued me.
I stood back while the paramedics swarmed the woman, draping a blanket over her shoulders and pressing an oxygen mask to her face — standard procedure after smoke inhalation, though she didn't seem to need it much. Most civilians I'd pulled from fires were in shock or hysterical by this point, yet she sat on the edge of the ambulance, looking more annoyed than traumatized.
"Ma'am, you need to keep this on," the paramedic advised, repositioning the mask she'd pushed aside.
"I've had it on for five minutes. I'm fine," she insisted.
I approached the ambulance, peeled off my gloves, and tucked them into my belt. "How's our victim doing?"
"Vitals are stable. Minor smoke inhalation, nothing serious, but she's refusing further treatment," the paramedic responded.
"I'm sitting right here. I have a name. It's Gisselle Daniels."
Up close, I got my first real look at her. She was gorgeous, with natural curls, high cheekbones, and full lips, but it was her dark, intelligent eyes that captivated me.
"Lieutenant Crawford. How are you feeling, Ms. Daniels?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, considering I just lost my home."
"I get it. I'm glad you're safe."
"Thank you for getting me out. I appreciate it." Gratitude from victims was common, even expected, but warmth was in her voice.
"I was just doing my job. You were remarkably calm. Most people panic when they're in the middle of a fire."
Gisselle smiled. "Panicking has never improved any situation I've been in."
I nodded, unsure how to answer. Normally, civilians wanted to explain how scared they were or thought they were going to die.
"Were you alone?" I asked, gathering information for my paperwork.
"Yes. I was working on some designs. I'm an architect. I just moved here last month. This wasn't exactly the welcome I was expecting."
"Welcome to Goodwin Grove. We don't usually greet newcomers with house fires."
