Ryley's Revenge (Gloves Off #2)(78)
I gave him a skeptical look. Okay, so it was widely known that I had my way with women, although I would never kiss and tell. Some of the ladies apparently have done just that, because I’ve been quickly labeled as a “bad boy who won’t settle down.” No matter what, this was my private life, which I never mixed with my professional one. So why the hell would my own superior hint at my special talents? I’ve proven to him and everyone else at work that when it comes to my job, I won’t be second-guessed.
“Ethan.” His bushy brows pulled together as he pinned me with his steely stare. “Look, the FBI needs her. She’s the only one who can testify in that case. I know you can talk to her and make her feel protected—”
“So that’s what this is about? Giving some poor girl a false sense of security?” I was fuming, but I managed to keep my voice low.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, son. That came out wrong.” The Chief shook his head and exhaled forcefully. “Evidently, she’s been hinting already at pulling out, and so this,” he gestured around, “might be the last straw. What I’m asking is that you just try.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking at the spot where Group 3 from Rescue 12 and a few black suits congregated in a circle. More feds, together with the police, tried to keep the media away. Several local TV stations were at the scene, cameras rolling.
I spotted Anne standing in front of the KOTS News Station camera, talking to a large microphone with the Station logo attached to it. When she pointed to the scene behind her, the fabric of her white button-down blouse stretched tautly over her round breasts. A fleeting recollection of those gorgeous tits under my fingers surfaced from some dark depths of my mind. My cock stirred, and a pang of desire ran through me. I pushed the not-completely-unwelcome memories out of my mind.
“That’s the order, Chief? I will do it, but I strongly believe I’m needed much more with my men inside that building.” I shoved my thumb over my shoulder, in the direction where my guys did what was now absolutely necessary: killing the possible fire inside and preventing it from spreading into the next building.
He sighed. “It’s a request. Please, Ethan. She’s my daughter’s age, just twenty-three; a college girl in the FBI witness protection program. The kid doesn’t have any family… she sure as hell could use some help from a firefighter.”
That did me in. Chief Holton’s daughter was born with Down syndrome. Her mother died giving birth to her. The girl was recently diagnosed with a rare type of leukemia and started chemo treatments. She was the Chief’s only child, and was slowly fading away. How could I possibly refuse his plea?
“Okay.” I nodded and started to peel off my gloves and the heavy fire protection coat. The sun was up, and I was getting uncomfortably warm. “Is there a two-way communication established with that woman? A phone or a radio?”
“There was a separate landline, but it’s out of service now. Must’ve been damaged in the explosion. She’s not answering her radio either.”
“So no communication at all?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head.
We passed all the media, ignoring the journalists’ calls for comments about the incident. I bent at the waist, slipping under the barricade tape, Chief Holton following closely behind. I heard him grunt in discomfort when he had to bend his bad knee to lower himself under the tape.
Two feds approached us. This time the Chief made introductions. “Ethan, this is Special Agent Drasco,” he motioned to one on the left, “and this is Special Agent Cornell.”
They both nodded.
“This is Captain Ethan McCoy from Rescue 8, the Explosive Response Squad Unit. I briefed Captain McCoy about the situation,” Chief Holton told them. We need to move in. The lady in there might need immediate medical attention.”
“How is the air supply in that panic room?” I asked.
“The room is equipped with air scrubbers. They draw in fresh air from outside and can filter it indefinitely,” Special Agent Drasco explained.
Long enough to wait out a chemical attack for example. Or at least the worst of it. Must be a well-constructed safe room. I thought. “So smoke from the fire should be no problem then,” I said.
Special Agent Cornell cleared his throat and said in a low baritone, “We are not completely positive on the air scrubbers’ functionality after the explosion. The system might’ve been damaged.”
“Is there an escape shaft?” I inquired.
“It was checked already, and the access is blocked by heavy debris.” Cornell shook his head.
“So let’s have our guys clear it.” What were the feds waiting for? That should’ve been already done.
Drasco and Cornell exchanged a fleeting glance, just a flicker of the eye, but it was enough for me to catch it.
Cornell drew in a breath. “The explosives were deposited at the escape shaft exit. A good part of the passage has collapsed.”
“So now this trap door here is the only way out, right?” I knew the answer, but without the complete blueprints of the underground structure I wanted to make sure we weren’t missing anything.
“Correct,” Drasco confirmed.
The excavation unit was close to be done with clearing the area and the salvage operation. They knew how to work efficiently and fast. I kneeled by the uncovered steel trap door in the concrete floor and carefully ran my hands over the metal. There were four handles flush with the surface of the door. I wrapped my fingers around one handle opposite the massive hinges, fitting my hand into the round recess under it. I yanked on it. Nothing. I suspected the door could only be unlocked from the inside.