“Salt & Steel units, report. Active fire on the Palmetto Royale stationary casino vessel. Multiple passengers on board. Unknown origin.”
Wyatt was moving before the word fire finished echoing.
“Roper, copy,” Cal snapped on the radio as Wyatt’s shirt and pants hit the floor. He donned a performance shirt, tactical pants, and boots as he secured his knife and radio and grabbed his rescue kit while he picked up his comms to click in. “Cal, I’m taking tactical lead.”
“Already tracking,” Cal replied. “Duval’s en route. She’s running shore-side coordination. You handle water and interior.”
“Copy that,” Wyatt answered, his mind already on the beautiful doc.
Grabbing his bag, he stepped out of his back door, running for the dock. He hopped into a boat, turned the key, then gunned the engine.
Flames were already licking the night sky upriver, orange cutting into the darkness while smoke boiled upward in thick rolling clouds that moved wrong for a simple electrical fire.Not a clean fire. Damn it, it’s too fast and looks too hungry.
Wyatt’s gut tightened as the Palmetto Royale came into view, the floating casino glowing against the dark water like a nightmare dressed in crystal and gold. The boat sat tied to the farend of the marina’s commercial pier, less than fifty yards from the fuel dock. Music still blasted through the speakers while emergency lights flashed along the decks. Smoke curled from the upper lounge windows as passengers crowded the railings, screaming.
Man, I was just there.
Several people had jumped into the dark water. Wyatt tried to distinguish how many were splashing in the black water between the casino boat and the marina dock. He throttled down and swung his skiff alongside the working pier, where a handful of Salt & Steel staff and two marina workers were already running toward the edge with life rings.
Wyatt cut the engine. “Ropes out! Ladders first, pull from the water!”
A voice carried from the dock. “We’ve got them!”
Wyatt didn’t wait for the boat to settle before he jumped onto the pier, boots slamming against wet planks. People flailed in the water ten to twenty feet from the dock. He could see dresses dragging them down and dress jackets ballooning with trapped air.
A marina worker dropped a rope ladder over the edge while Rhea kneeled beside a piling, grabbing for a woman whose hands were slipping off the dock edge.
Wyatt reached down and hauled a man up by the collar, shoving him toward Cal. “Get him clear!” A man in uniform dragged the coughing man away from the edge, where two civilians guided survivors farther down the pier toward the parking lot.
Another splash made Wyatt react. He grabbed a woman, lifting her from the water as she clung to the ladder. Then he heard it. A child screamed.
Wyatt spun, scanning the dark water between the dock and the casino boat. A small head surfaced once in the chop, arms thrashing, and then vanished.
He dove without hesitation. Cold water punched the breath from his lungs as he kicked hard, eyes stinging. The glow from the casino lights cut through the murk as his hands swept forward. His fingers brushed the fabric as they closed around it.
The kid was tangled in a floating life ring, face blue but still there, still fighting.Not tonight. Not on my watch.
Wyatt surfaced, lifting the child high. “Take him!”
Hands grabbed, then the child was taken, passed down the line toward the dock. Wyatt climbed out, chest burning, smoke scraping his throat raw as his mind scrambled, assessing the plan. And then he saw Letty.
Letty stood on the dock.Let’s see what you do under pressure, doctor.Wyatt paused longer than he should have. The doctor moved through the chaos with the calm authority of someone who had already decided the outcome would be survival. “Clear this lane… now. Oxygen kits here. Blankets to the right. No clustering.”
Some people listened as she spoke, and others needed repetition.
Letty stepped into their space without apology. “Move,” she ordered. “You’re blocking triage.”
She wasn’t patching wounds like earlier. She was commanding the dock. Wyatt paused.If she gets hurt doing this…
A man collapsed, coughing. “Sit him up,” Letty said to a Salt & Steel operative standing close. “Don’t lay him flat. It’s smoke inhalation.” The teammate obeyed as she got to him, counting breaths with him, steady, grounding. Another responder brought oxygen.
She scanned again, motioning and calling out to responders, directing them to victims.
Letty spotted Wyatt the moment he hauled himself onto the dock. “Roper,” she called. “I need a hard boundary here. Civilians keep drifting back.”
He nodded once, sharp and immediate. “You heard the doctor. Back now!”
They moved as Letty nodded to him. Trust snapped into place between them as if it had been waiting.
