Page 1 of Avery's Hero

PROLOGUE

Walking into the Valley Hospital’s waiting room makes my skin tight. All the chairs are filled with the LCFD firefighters. They look exactly like me. Grimy. Sweat-crusted. Exhausted and worried all to hell.

When I approach the desk, a weary-looking volunteer says, “There’s no news on the fire chief yet. You can join the others.”

Nope.That’s not happening. “Thanks, but I’ll be outside.”

I’m not going in there with all that grim air. Feels far too much like a funeral.

Detective Martin is lingering outside the hospital, his back against the brick exterior wall. His eyes are quick to find me. He waves a notepad in the air, beckoning me toward him.

I shake his hand. “Thanks for coming. I know the chief would appreciate you checking in on him.”

“Of course. He’ll be fine, by the way. He’s too salty to go like that.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Since we’re both avoiding the waiting room, I might as well catch you up.” He taps his notepad. “Looks like this could be another arson case. Neighbors reported seeing someone running from the antique store just before the flames were spotted in the window.”

“I was afraid of that. Shit, I can’t believe we’ve got a third possible arson.”

My work phone rings in my pocket. “Sorry, got to take this, looks like a county-issued phone number.” Wandering toward the parking lot, I answer the call. “Captain Mitchell here.”

The nasally voice on the other end is unmistakable. It instantly makes my hackles rise. “This is Mayor Johnson.”

My first inclination is to tell the S.O.B. to fuck off for all the trouble he gives the department, but he hurries his words. “I just got a call from the chief’s wife. He had a stroke. He’s going to be okay, but he’s not going to return to work any time soon, and he told her that you should be appointed as the temporary chief.”

A weird choking sound comes out of my throat. It sounds dangerously like a growled version of ‘fuck.’

“Mitchell? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Unfortunately.

I try not to sound like a dick, but probably fail. “I can hear you.”

“Report to me tomorrow morning, at nine.”

Forget me not sounding like a dick. This just got out of hand. “Whoa! Wait a minute there?—”

The phone beeps. Call ended. I stare angrily at the screen.That asshole.

Gripping my temples between my thumb and index finger, I stare at my boots. What the fuck? This is the last thing in the world I wanted.

I want to be a firefighter, not a damned politician. The chief’s job requires way too much playing nice.

The door of the hospital whooshes open. A familiar voice booms behind me, “Brock! Chief’s alert and talking! The report is good.”

Reeves looks relieved until he sees my face. “Shit. Man, what’s wrong?”

I shake it off. “Glad he’s okay. What a fucking scare to have him go down like that.”

He rubs both his hands over the dark shadows riding his cheekbones. Reeves aged ten years since we left the firehouse for the call. He was the first one to get to the chief when he collapsed at the fire.

His frown deepens when he looks at me again. “Why do you look like you’re about to go in front of a firing squad?”

My lip curls back. Reeves will understand when I tell him who was on the line. “The mayor called.”

“I don’t know where this is going but you’re scary-looking right now.”

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