Page 87 of Unexpected Love
“Hey, Maggie.”
I make the turn as he drops his phone and sends it to speaker, struggling to get his seat belt fastened. I call back to 911 that we are responding.
“Oh my god. Jax.”
She’s cut off by the disembodied voice of dispatch confirming the address and cross street. “Respond to the area of 16 Main Street, Unit A.”
My heart plummets.
“Fuck. That’s my address.” Well, not technically. Mine is Unit C. The coffee shop is…
“Caller states visible smoke. Possible entrapment.”
I hit the main road, faster than I’ve ever driven the engine, pushing the limits of the apparatus and my ability to maintain control.
“Maggie? Mags,” Jackson yells into the phone.
My world tunnels to the road before me as we race to town. God help anyone who fails to yield the right of way to me right now. I will run over them.
As we make the turn onto Main, there’s a flash of fire midway down the street, and flames billow out the front window. Pedestrians run from the fire, some down the sidewalk, some cross the street. And Maggie stands smack in the middle of the street like either of us would need a signpost.
Jackson breathes a sigh. “Thank fuck.”
The brakes screech as I pull to a stop on scene.
“Radio us on scene,” I bark, jumping down from the engine, desperately seeking the faces of my favorite three people on earth.
A police cruiser comes screaming in from the other end of Main, sirens echoing off the buildings. Two more quickly following suit.
The first officer climbs out of his unit, hands out as if to stop me. “Hold up, we’ve got a report of shots fired.”
Oh god.
My heart skips a beat as I’m momentarily thrown back in time to another fire with an active shooter.
“Cal!” Dani’s voice cuts over the noise of the scene. Over my shoulder, I spot her racing toward me, arms full of a crying two-year-old and tears streaming down her face.
I know what she’s going to say before she utters another sound, and the world tilts on its axis.
A flash of another woman trying to make it out of a fire singes my thoughts.
Fuck that. I am not losing her today.
“Jules,” Dani sobs from halfway across the street. “Ritchie.”
I grab the side of my pickax from the compartment and tug my air mask on. Jackson has the infrared camera out and aimed at Jules’s shop—hell, at this point, it’s my shop too. And it means nothing without her.
“Two bodies, approximately five feet from the door. Looks like the fire’s only on this front wall. Go, I’m on water.”
I glance at the camera screen as I turn on my breathing apparatus. Two bright spots of orange light up the screen, one partially covering the other.
Seconds later, I’m breaching the door and barreling into the shop. Flames lick up the front window, but the rest of the shop is untouched. There’s a pile of burning material where the curtains should be.
My gaze darts over the interior. Visibility is low, but I can make out the prone shapes on the floor. Jules is on her back. Ritchie covers her, face down. “Victims located,” I speak into the mic through a tight throat.
Behind me, a blast of water hits the front window. Jackson providing me with coverage.
Four strides, and I slide to my knees next to them. The radio at my shoulder squawks. “Medic five on scene.”
