Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(38)

“I don’t know what to believe, Ryan.” She was in full sobs. “I came over to apologize, to tell you...”

“To tell me what?” he shouted over the sound of the rain, thankful to see the headlights of Melissa’s car pulling away.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Forget it.” She jumped when a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, following quickly by a thundering crack.

“No.” Ryan took hold of her arms again. She jerked out of his grasp. He sighed and looked up at the sky. The storm had come fast and was getting worse. “We’ve got to get out of this. Let’s go inside and talk.” They were both soaking wet. Jess was trembling, from the cold rain, or her emotions, he didn’t know. Jess turned on her heel and ran toward her house. Ryan followed. “God damn it, Jess!” he shouted.


“Just go away, Ryan. Go entertain your friend.” Jess kicked off her shoes on the porch and went to open the door.

Ryan clutched her wrist and spun her around. “Do not walk away from me again.”

She stood nose to nose with him, her eyes blazing with undiluted anger. “You’re no better than Derrick.”

“I’m nothing like that f*cking * and you know it.”

“Fuck you.”

It was wrong that her defiance turned him on. He should be pissed, and he was, to a certain point, but he was more aroused than anything. He half guided, half pushed her up against the wall and then crushed his mouth over hers, not caring that they were still outside, where anyone could see. She groaned and clutched handfuls of his hair between her fingers. “Don’t keep pushing me away,” he said, scraping his teeth down her neck.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered.

“I am too.”

She dug her fingernails into his skin as he sucked on her earlobe. “Maybe…”

Crash!

Her words were cut off by a horrendously loud clap of thunder, so piercing it made them both jump and turn. Lightening had struck a tree four houses down, and to their horror, they watched it fall directly into the center of the home.

Jessie screamed, but Ryan went into action, yelling at her to call 911 before jumping off her porch and running to his house. Moments later, he was dressed and rushing to his truck, pulling on the protective fire jacket he always carried.

“Ry-an!” Jessie was screaming his name, pointing at the house. He glanced over and saw the flames coming from the front window. The Jernigan’s lived there and he noted both their vehicles in the driveway. Damn, they were home, along with their young daughter and son.

He jumped into the bed of his truck, opening the lockbox and pulled out an extinguisher, helmet and first-aid kit. Jess ran across the lawn, still barefoot, screaming, “What can I do to help?”

“911?”

“They’re on their way. Wait for them,” she screamed. He couldn’t do that, not with an entire family’s life teetering on the edge. He said nothing, just jumped from the truck and began to sprint toward the burning house.

The front of the house was gone, caved in and burning fiercely now. He turned the corner and nearly ran over Amy Jernigan, carrying her infant daughter in her arms.

“Help,” she was screaming, the baby wailing in her arms. “Sam’s still… there, trying… get…Jake.”

He grabbed her arms, trying to get her to calm enough to give him directions. “Amy, where did you see Sam last. Where was Jake?”

She was sobbing, nearly incoherent. “Jake. Upstairs. Bedroom. Right. Stairs.”

He’d heard enough. About that time, Jess came flying around the corner and he thrust Amy and the baby her way. “Take them to your house, get the baby inside.” Then he took off before checking to see if she obeyed.

He dropped the first aid kit for later and pulled on his helmet before surging through the open door in which Amy had fled. The smoke was thick in the back of the house and getting thicker by the second.

Although they’d been neighbors for a while now, he’d only been inside their house one time before. He’d brought over a gift when Emily had been born, but felt sure he remembered the layout of the house well enough.

He charged into the hall at a half crawl, trying to stay below the layer of smoke. He found the stairs and rushed up, just as he heard screams and desperate banging coming from above. Sam was ramming himself into the door, but not effectively enough to get it open. He was coughing violently, shirt pulled up over his nose, but he wasn’t stopping. He was desperate to get to his son. It appeared as if he planned to die trying.

“Get back,” Ryan yelled, tossing down his gear and pulling the man by his shoulders. “Go, I’ll get him. I promise. Wait outside his window. I might have to lower him out.”

He hoped it didn’t come to that, but knew he needed Sam out of the house. Giving him an assignment was the easiest way to get him to do what he wanted. Ryan was relieved when, after only a few seconds, Sam turned and puked; hacking up soot and ash, then dizzily headed down the steps.

Ryan didn’t take the time to test the temperature of the door. Fortunately, Jake’s room was at the back of the house. The smoke had spread there, but not yet the flames. The tree landed to the left of his room, but had taken out enough of the wall to wedge the little boy’s door shut. Jake picked up the ax and swung with all his might. He chopped five more times before the wood splintered enough to kick in.