And then a shadow passed through the flames.
Movement.
A shape stumbled out of the smoke around the burning truck.
“Rhea!” I bellowed as she burst through the flames like something forged in hellfire, with her soot-blackened gear scorched by the fire.
She was bent over, and it took me a second to realize she was dragging someone with her, arms locked under his, refusing to let go and give up, even as she was burdened by the load.
“Medic!” She screamed from under her air mask. “He needs help!”
It was Martinez, unconscious and limp in her arms.
Medics and other fire department crew took him from her, swarming around her as they pulled him onto a stretcher and to the waiting ambulances. Rhea fell to one knee, gasping and shaking as she ripped her mask and helmet off, her eyes were wild as she scanned the scene like she was counting heads, checking on her team.
Then she saw me.
Vulnerability crashed over her face so fast it stole my breath.
I crossed the distance in seconds, catching her as she tried to get back on her feet. “You’re okay,” I said, gripping her shoulders and urging her further from the fire. “You’re okay.”
She nodded, coughing the acid smoke out of her lungs, tears streaking clean lines down her cheeks. “He was knocked out,” she rasped. “I couldn’t get out the other side; the blast knocked a wall down. But I wasn’t leaving him there. The only way out was through the fire.”
I held her as the exterior team tackled the fire from the roof and outside, knocking the flames down with special foam, extinguishing the tanks that were in the truck bed.
Martinez groaned from the stretcher inside the ambulance, and we turned our attention to him as he came to, overwhelmed and shaken. His first words were her name.
“Rhea,” He croaked through a dry throat, “She saved me. She saved my life.”
The words echoed out through the crowd of firefighters and spectators.
Hero.
Life saver.
But she wouldn’t feed into it, she wouldn’t celebrate the win. Silently, she pulled her helmet back on and turned back toward the fire. “I have to get back to it.”
I hated the idea of letting her go back to the thing that had almost killed her moments ago, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Every single day she ran into burning buildings and dangerous scenes without even thinking twice, and I understood that.
I did the same thing.
It was what I loved. And so did she. So, I stood back and let her go, giving her a quick nod when she grinned at me before grabbing a line and helping one of her crew put more foam on the fire.
And I stood in awe, watching the glow of the fire glisten off her soot-covered face, reflecting in the deep depths of her green eyes every time they found me in the crowd, completely mesmerized by her.
Then I got the fuck to work to find out what the hell happened.
As I worked the scene as a police officer, collecting witness accounts and surveying the scene while the firefighters got the fire under control, that icy feeling of suspicion didn’t leave my gut.
Trucks carrying full tanks of propane didn’t just crash into the back of community ice rinks in the middle of the night without a driver.
And the front seat of the truck was empty when Rhea got to it.
I knew, deep down, that there was going to be far more to the tale in the morning than just how Rhea saved Martinez’s life. Another notch against the safety of Cedar Bluff’s businesses and livelihoods.
I paced the living room,wearing a path into my carpet as I waited for news. Rhea and Tanner were safe, I knew that, thanks to Tanner’s shaken call a few hours ago. But I could tell by the tone in his voice that it was almost a completely different kind of call he had to make.
A notification call.
