Page 7 of Rescued Dreams
“I don’t need any more advice.” Ridge swiped at his forehead and realized too late he still had his gloves on. “Just tell me that the truck crew aren’t in danger. That they aren’t being personally targeted. Then there’s a hope I’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.”
Bryce said, “I guess we should figure it out. I happen to know a private investigator.”
“Fine, call your girl. Tell her we’ll pay whatever she charges.” He needed to know if their friends were at risk.
Because if Amelia’s life was in danger, there was no way he would leave Last Chance County.
She might have given him up. But he wasn’t going to lose her.
THREE
Amelia drove the fire truck back to the firehouse since she was the one with the least injuries. The quiet in the cab, everyone thinking—or overthinking—or relaxing for a moment, gave her time for her thoughts to wander. She gripped the wheel and swung Truck 14 into the engine bay of Eastside Firehouse ten minutes before the end of their shift, more than ready to hand off the rig to the incoming crew.
Thinking about Benson always got her way back in her head. She didn’t need that. Now she resented Ridge for bringing it all back up. The captain from Benson—Coda, because he was the child of deaf parents—had been nice about it, but he knew the story.
Amelia didn’t want the past invading her life here. She was just going to shove it from her mind the way she’d been doing ever since she got back. Not that there weren’t plenty of problems in her history based here in Last Chance County, but at least those were all dead. Or in jail.
Izan rolled his shoulders, sat over in her spot in the passenger seat. “Gonna shut the engine off?”
The two women on her crew had hopped out.
Amelia put the rig in Park and shut the engine down, leaving the keys in the ignition. “Interesting day.”
“I’ll say.” He hopped out. “Pretty much a miracle we’re all mostly unscathed.”
They’d all been checked out by the medics on scene, and no one had needed to be taken to the hospital—which meant not only was everyone good, but Truck 14 was still in service. Going out of service was a necessity sometimes. They couldn’t respond to a callout if they were tied up at the hospital and had the fire truck with them.
She jumped out of the truck and rolled her shoulders, feeling the pull of her sore muscles. A good day of hard work. Tomorrow she would hit the gym where she was a member and use the sauna—get rid of the tension. Until then, she needed a hearty meal and a strong cup of tea.
Amelia got her gear stowed away and slipped her feet into running shoes she kept at the firehouse. She pushed through the double doors into the hall that stretched from the engine bay to the front door. The kitchen was to the left about halfway down one straight hall, off which was a U-shaped corridor with the bunk rooms, the gym, officers’ quarters, chief’s office, and the conference room so that the building was a square. On slow days, they made the rookies race around the hall doing laps, and when they were bored and the chief was gone, they turned it into a relay with obstacles and those guns that shot foam darts.
She took the quiet hall past the bunk rooms to her office in the south hall, able to hear the chatter from the kitchen and living area on the north side of the building. Her counterpart for the next shift was already in the office, logging on to his laptop.
She knocked and entered. “I just have to grab my backpack.”
Lieutenant Morris was pushing fifty, heavyset with thick dark brows and not much hair on the top of his head. He took off his reading glasses and turned, making the chair creak. “Sounds like it was an eventful shift.”
“Excitement is better than sitting around waiting for the bell to go off.” She hated feeling antsy with too much energy and nothing to do. “How about you? Do anything interesting on your day off?” She swiped her book from the nightstand and dropped it in her backpack.
“Not really. The kids had a track meet, so I went to that. Chief James wants to talk to you on your way out.”
Amelia frowned. “Any idea what it’s about?” She’d been planning to change and head out, not get sucked into a meeting.
Morris shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”
She swung her backpack onto her shoulder. “Have a good one.”
He muttered something, but she ignored it. Personal and work didn’t mix. She knew that better than anyone. She didn’t have to work the same shift as Morris, and she liked it that way. Amelia and Bryce had a friendly rivalry. Morris would have been forever trying to undermine her just to make himself look better.
Something she’d had enough of for a lifetime.
Amelia was going to keep things professional with everyone, even if it killed her. Considering the alternative nearly had, she knew the stakes, and she was okay with doing her job to the best of her ability and then going home to her echoey house. No one could ask more of her than that.
She knocked on Macon’s door and heard a muffled “Come in.”
“You wanted to see me, Chief?”
He sat behind his desk, a gold ring on his left hand. A Styrofoam container on his desk that smelled like Italian seasoning. “Shut the door, Lieutenant.” His expression shifted, but she didn’t know what it meant.
