Protecting What's Mine(62)

Linc braced the woman against him and shoved at the window, relieved when it budged an inch and then two. Air. He couldn’t feel it or smell it through his mask. But it was there.

His breath was coming in pants, and he carefully slowed it to manage his air.

“In place. Window is stuck,” he reported.

The dog gratefully shoved his nose through the crack for a moment before turning his devoted attention back to the limp and lifeless woman in Linc’s grasp. Back and forth, he went to breathe and then to lick.

It felt like hours, and as those precious seconds ticked by, Linc lost all visibility again. Clouds of smoke, an entire sky’s worth, filled the room, black and hot. And in another minute, there wouldn’t be a life left to rescue.

He used his body to shield woman and dog from the flames that were closing in around them.

There was a rumble of engine, and he could just make out the ladder truck easing into place, half in the alley and half in the grass, its ladder extending toward him.

Linc shoved his hand out the window and waved.

The dull thud of a ladder hitting the brick was the sound of salvation.

As was the tap on the glass. The dog barked again.

“Extraction team in position. Window’s stuck. Chief, might want to get back. I’m gonna bust the glass.”

“Do it,” he said, curling himself over his charges as the glass broke behind him and shards rained down on them all. He felt, rather than heard, the dog’s pathetic whimper.

“Gonna be okay, buddy,” he promised. “Just hang in there.”

Smoke poured through the window frame now. But he could see Zane’s big, gloved hands and then the rest of him as he climbed into the room.

“Good timing, Stairmaster.”

“I like to make an entrance.”

Linc all but shoved the woman at him. Zane held the victim by the arms while another firefighter got her legs. And then they were gone. Disappearing onto the ladder in the rush of smoke.

“Your turn, buddy,” Linc said, crouching down to find the dog. “Try not to bite me, okay? I’ll forgive you if you do because this is scary shit, but it’ll just slow us both down.”

There was no graceful way to do it. He moved by feel, kneeling down and shoving his helmeted head under the dog’s belly. “I’m gonna wear you like Granny Lily’s shawl, but you’re getting out of here,” he promised

The dog gave a groan and shifted listlessly on his shoulders.

“Steady now,” Linc said as he backed out of the window, feeling for the rungs through gloves and boots. “Just another second.”

He found the first rung and the second. And just as he swung out of the window and onto the ladder, the ceiling inside came crashing down.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

“Roof’s going,” he gasped into the radio as he climbed as quickly as he could under seventy pounds of limp dog. “Get us out of here.”

Debris rained down on them as the ladder swung away from the building.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed. The dog licked his mask.

“Real pretty scarf you got there, chief,” Zane called from just beneath him on the ladder.

Back on the ground, a paramedic found a pulse on the woman and had an oxygen mask strapped to her before Linc made it off the truck. Zane, still in his mask, helped him heft the dog off his shoulders onto a blanket on the ground.

He was weak. His fur was badly singed. And there was a nasty cut on one of his pads. But he looked up at Linc and wagged his tail. Linc dragged off the helmet and mask and took a deep breath.

“Here.” Khalil, the six foot six ex-point guard for Benevolence’s high school basketball team, handed Linc an oxygen mask.

He shook his head. “I don’t need it.”

“No, but your friend here could use some.”

Together, they gently slipped the mask over the grateful dog’s nose.

“Good boy,” Linc said. “You saved Grandma.”

The dog’s tail tapped lightly as his eyes closed. Linc swore the dog was smiling.





29





The late-night rain pelted the windows of the cottage. It was past her bedtime, but Mack wasn’t inclined to admit that she felt compelled to wait up until she saw the lights come on at Linc’s.

As a first responder herself, she had a unique perspective. She knew exactly how much training and protocol went into responding to an emergency. She was also acutely aware of all the ways a routine call could go sideways.

She turned the page in her novel—because she had time for fiction now—and adjusted the pillow under her boot again.

Sunshine snored contentedly, her fluffy head resting on Mack’s shin. If she was going to do more dog-sitting, she’d need a bigger couch.

She caught a glimpse of light from the backyard and craned her neck.

“Your daddy might be home,” she told the dog. But Sunshine was too busy dreaming of rabbits and vanilla ice cream to respond.

Carefully, Mack eased her leg out from under the dog’s head, replacing it with a pillow. She limped quietly into the kitchen and spied the lights on at Linc’s.

“Good,” she whispered.

The soft knock on the back door startled her. There on the other side of the glass was Lincoln Reed.

Illuminated by the lonely porch light, he was filthy. Ash and dirt streaked his face and forearms. Rain soaked his t-shirt through to the skin beneath. Those blue eyes burned brighter than any flame.