Page 17 of Rescued Dreams
When the situation turned and there was nothing they could do, when saving a life was impossible, she would get very, very quiet.
That worried him more than her hard edges, which he’d been determined to soften with a relationship. Only, she hadn’t let him. She’d shut it down because it was safer for her to live in her little protected space where she called the shots and everyone was better because she held them to a high standard.
“I’m coming around.” Ridge picked up his pace and jogged around the side of the house, using the gate to make his way back there. A dog greeted him with barks and suspicion.
Ridge held his gloved fist out for the dog to sniff and closed the gate so the Lab didn’t get loose.
When the dog calmed a fraction, he rubbed the animal’s flanks and assessed him for injuries. “You seem okay. Come on, let’s go find them.”
The dog understood his intent. The animal led the way to the back patio with his tail wagging. At the corner, he glanced back at Ridge, who was a couple of steps behind him.
The dog would still need to be checked out by a vet, even just for smoke inhalation. It hung thick in the air like a cloud, coming out of all the vents in the walls and the crawl space.
He climbed up the stone steps to the back patio and spotted the above-ground pool. Not where he’d have put it, but no one asked his opinion about that stuff. He slid the patio door open and spotted Amelia in the smoke, coming toward him with a tween girl in her arms.
The dog went inside.
Amelia stopped walking. “Get that dog out of my way.”
Ridge whistled. “Hey, puppy. Come here.” He waved the dog over. “Come on. Outside.”
The dog came out, turning around to watch Amelia leave. She walked tentatively, like she was scared the animal would attack her.
“Give me the kid. I’ll take her.”
Amelia snapped out of it. “I’ve got her.” She stepped outside and headed around the house with Ridge following. He glanced back at the dog, but movement at the end of the yard caught his attention.
“Get her to the ambulance.”
Amelia was already out of earshot, but he heard her “Copy that” in his earpiece.
The dog turned, his ears pricked. He darted across the lawn to where Ridge had seen the movement, then disappeared into the trees. Ridge ran over.
He heard barking, then a yelp, like the dog had been injured.
Kicked.
Ridge chased after him. Two of his team members were fighting the fire, and another had rescued the victim. While he was running for…what?
He might not have worked on Truck for a while, but he’d been on rescue squad for more than a year, and coming back hadn’t been a demotion. He was in charge.
Qualified. Trained.
Why did he feel like he had no idea what he was doing?
He’d been certain he would be fine. He knew how to do this. Amelia wasn’t mad at him. At least, he didn’t think she was, when in reality, she had every right to be furious that her position had been taken away and given to someone else.
The dog scurried out of the trees, limping slightly.
Ridge slowed. As he reached the rear of the yard, he spotted a guy disappearing over a fence behind a line of trees. Just a flash of dark clothing. Considering Ridge had his turnout pants and coat on, it wasn’t surprising the guy had escaped. In this getup, he’d never beat someone wearing civilian clothes in a footrace.
The dog lay on its belly on the grass, ears up, panting hard.
Ridge left him and went back around the house. It would be faster to walk through the structure and see the state of the fire, but he didn’t have his air tank or mask. He’d wind up with early retirement and a list of health problems a mile long if he didn’t follow procedure and take the necessary precautions to keep himself safe. If he was injured or incapacitated, he couldn’t save anyone—and he couldn’t effectively lead a team.
A guy in a suit stood by the mom, close to the back of the ambulance. Ridge jogged over. “Your dog is in the backyard. He’s okay for now, but he needs to get checked out. How is Karlie?”
The guy put his arm around the mom. “She’s being treated. You guys saved her life.” His eyes were a little glassy. His dark hair, streaked with gray strands, was mussed as if he’d run his hands through it.
