That’s my fucking girl.
No . . . not my girl. Not at all.
My subordinate. My probie. Who I need to keep in ranks to keep safe.
“Heads up, crew. Thirty seconds out.” Sandy turns the old girl onto a suburban street.
And that’s when we see it.
Chapter 14
LONDON
The screaming is the first thing I hear when I take my headset off and climb down out of 53. Davey stands beside me. “Holy hell.”
“Hell’s got nothing on this clusterfuck,” Sandy curses.
The five-story apartment building that sticks out like a sore thumb in suburbia is engulfed in flames. The rusted external ladders hang at odd angles. People hanging out of windows, screaming for help. One woman is holding her baby out the window on the fifth floor.
Oh god.
Five levels. At least four apartments on each level...
Dozens of rescues.
Dozens of trapped souls.
Hammond is on the radio requesting back up. Hopefully they send more than 41 or 37. Hell needs more watering down than that.
“Davies, Tennison, hoses. Owens, water. Sandy, prep the ladder.”
Hammond has gone in full-on boss mode.
Schmiddy strolls—he literallystrolls—to the bystanders on the sidewalk.
I rush the hose, screwing the metal cap over the outlet as Davey rolls it out. Aim high, track the smoke patterns. I run for the end of the line, and when Davey taps my shoulder, I pull the lever back. The hose inflates, jostling us to the side as water careens upward toward the building. The third floor has the most smoke, the biggest blaze. I send the water in that direction, through the blown-out windows.
The roar and hiss of the flames and water colliding is too much.
The hose sags minutes later, and Owens is running another hose to the fire hydrant two blocks away, coupling hoses together to make the distance.
“Shit, you got this?” Owens says, handing me the new hose. Davey taps my shoulder, and I step back, letting him take point. My arms ache as I stand behind him.
Hammond is scaling the ladder to the second floor as Sandy works the controls. Owens climbs up behind him, and moments later they disappear into the burning building.
My grip on Davey’s shoulder turns tight.
“I’m good,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. But his gaze tracks mine to the building.
Whatever is plastered all over my face has his brows drop.
I don’t even care at this point.
All I can think of is Owens and Hammond in that disaster. I know that’s selfish. I know it’s literally our job. But they...
I haul in a lungful of air, hoping it will stave off the panic that’s rising by the second.
Engines 41 and 37 fly down the street to our position. The relief that floods in is almost too much.
