“Fire department,” he hollered. “Anyone in here?”
No answer, but he heard the coughing again.
“Someone’s in here,” he said into his mic. “I’m heading farther back in to investigate. Still no sign of flames.”
“Right behind you,” Kal said.
He knew his brother would have his back. One or both of them always did.
He was about to turn the corner into a room when he was met face-to-face with a short, masked … he had no idea. Woman, maybe? Yeah, definitely a woman. He saw a swinging ponytail. She had a bandana tied around the bottom half of her face, and he wasn’t sure whether she was the owner or whether she was looting the place because she had her arms filled with what looked like tattoo equipment.
“Get out of my way,” she said, then erupted into a heavy cough.
He’d figure out the owner-versus-looter question after he got her out of there. “Fire department, ma’am. You need to vacate the premises.”
She shook her head and pushed at him to move him out of her way. “I need to get my stuff.”
“Your stuff can wait. We have to get you out.”
“I’m not”—she stopped, wracked by spasms of coughing—“leaving.”
He didn’t have time to argue with her, so he started to pull her toward the exit. She resisted, turning back toward the storage room. He tried to draw her in the right direction, but it was obvious they were going to play tug of war, and the smoke was getting thicker back there.
He didn’t have time to argue with her, so he had no choice but to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her out. Everything she’d had in her arms clattered to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He didn’t bother answering her since what he was doing was obvious. He passed Rafe and Zep.
“Found the source of the smoke,” Rafe said. “An electrical outlet short. We’ve got electrical turned off. They’re breaking into the wall now to make sure there’s no fire in the walls.”
Jackson nodded. “I’m getting her out of here. I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
“Put me the hell down.” She was wriggling, which didn’t make his job any easier.
He also didn’t intend to let her win this battle no matter how much she fought him.
He made it outside and set her down. She started back inside again. He grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her over to the truck. He pulled his mask off and opened the door where the oxygen was located. EMTs should be showing up soon, and then she’d be their problem. Until then, he needed to give her oxygen.
He put the mask on her face. “Breathe.”
“I’m fine.” But her body betrayed her by coughing, and her voice was raspy from the smoke.
“Breathe.”
She took a couple breaths of oxygen, then pushed the mask away. “Okay. I’m good now.”
She tried to get up, but his hand on her shoulder kept her on the bumper of the rig. “You’re not going in there.”
Her face was smudged gray from the smoke, but she had a gorgeous set of blue eyes, currently glaring up at him. “And you can’t stop me.”
“Actually, I can. What the hell were you thinking not evacuating at the first sign of smoke?”
“I was thinking that everything I own is in there, and I was trying to get as much of it out as I could before the fire broke out. I would have run like hell if I’d seen flames. I didn’t see flames.”
She let out a series of deep coughs, so he put the mask on her face again.
“Smoke can kill you, too.”
She glared up at him. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
He shook his head. She was one hell of a smart-ass. But at least she was right about one thing.
She was alive.
* * *
REBECCA “BECKS” BENNING glanced in misery over at her ruined shop. She was glad she didn’t own the building. Of course, if she did, it wouldn’t have had the faulty wiring, which had led to this massive disaster of a day.
She’d had three appointments for today, and, since it was Saturday and May, it was a beautiful day to be at the beach. Who knew how many walk-ins she would have gotten for tats or piercings? All that beautiful income literally up in smoke. Likely along with a lot of her inventory. She could already imagine how difficult it would be to clean the smoke off her equipment. Her ink was closed tightly in bottles, so maybe it would be okay, but the cleanup was going to be a nightmare.
And since she lived in the small apartment above the shop, chances were everything in there was also covered in smoke.
She’d deal with it. Hadn’t she always managed with whatever happened to her? She’d find a way to come out of this. And if worse came to worst, she’d couch surf with some friends until she could get into her apartment again. It was the work that was going to be a problem. And where was she going to store all her stuff? Sleeping on someone’s sofa was one thing. Storing her equipment and finding a place to set up shop in the interim? That was going to be the big issue.
Her mind was whirling, and right now she felt a little dizzy. She leaned forward, letting her hands rest on her knees while she breathed in the oxygen from the mask that the EMTs insisted she keep on. She rested in their rig while she watched the firefighters haul out smoke-damaged pieces of her shop. And with every load, she felt her livelihood slipping away more and more.
“You feeling better, miss?”
She gave a thumbs-up to the very nice EMT with the soft voice whose name tag said ACOSTA. His partner was a cute perky blond chick named Smith.
Grumpy Firefighter seemed to be semi in charge of the others because he pointed and gave instructions to the other guys.
She blamed a lot of her woes on him. She’d had nearly all of her tattoo guns and was on her way out of the shop with them when he’d intercepted her. Then he’d had the audacity to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder like she was some damn damsel in distress or something.
She knew what she’d been doing, and she had tied a wet bandana over her face to keep from breathing in the smoke. Or at least much of the smoke. And okay, maybe she’d been coughing—a lot. But she’d been on her way out the door. She wasn’t stupid. She knew breathing in smoke was dangerous.
She sat up and watched Grumpy Firefighter more closely. Hard to tell what anyone looked like under all that gear. He was nothing more than a yellow-and-red blob right now. But earlier, when he’d jerked off his mask, she’d gotten a glimpse of dark hair and extremely intense gray eyes. He had a nice mouth, too.
Not that she was interested in him that way. But he reminded her of someone from way back when. The old days. The bad days.
One of the other firefighters came up to her. “We need to get some information from you, ma’am,” he said.
She grabbed the clipboard and filled out the form, then handed it back to him, studying him as she did. This guy looked familiar, too. Hispanic, dark hair, tan skin, soulful brown eyes, and the most amazing, thick, long eyelashes. She used to tease Rafael about his eyelashes all the time. She looked at the firefighter’s name tag. It said DONOVAN. So, no, it wasn’t Rafe, because Rafe had a different last name.
“Ma’am?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking you look a lot like someone I used to know.”
The firefighter smiled, his teeth bright and even. “Yeah? Who’s that?”
“A homeless kid I used to hang out with. I’d tease him about his long eyelashes. You have those same long eyelashes.”
He frowned, then looked down at the form and back up at her. “Rebecca. You ever go by Becks?”
Her stomach dropped. “All the time. Your name wouldn’t be Rafe, would it?”
“It would. But this can’t be. You sure look different. It can’t be you, Becks, can it?”
She knew who she was, but this had to be the weirdest coincidence. She and Rafe had been tight—like the closest siblings. She couldn’t begin to hope. “But your last name didn’t us
ed to be Donovan.”
“And yours didn’t used to be—” He looked down at the form again before turning his gaze back to her. “Bennington. Damn. It’s really you, Becks?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s really me, Rafe.”
He pulled her against him, and a hug had never felt so good. It was like she’d just found her long lost family.
“Hey, we don’t hug the victims, Rafe.”
A tall well-muscled guy had come around the side of the fire truck. Becks looked at him, and damn if he didn’t look just as familiar.
“Kal, this is Becks.”
Becks studied the guy as he removed his helmet. She saw brown hair and amazing green eyes.
They’d been the same age when they’d hung out. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been a gangly pre-teen. He’d grown up. Filled out. Damn, he was handsome now.
“Kal.”
“Becks? Wow. You grew up.”
“So did you.” She couldn’t believe two guys she’d been so close to had rescued her today.
Rafe threw his arm around her. “Talk about kismet, huh?”
“Rafe, what are you doing?” Another voice interrupted them.
Rafe pulled away. “Jackson, this is Becks. You remember Becks, don’t you?”
Becks turned to stare at Grumpy Firefighter. This was Jackson? The one guy who’d made her twelve-year-old heart go pitter-patter?
Wow. So all three of them had stayed together. And now they fought fires together.
Only Grumpy Firefighter’s—Jackson’s—brows knit in a frown, and he said the words that made her heart sink.
“No, I don’t remember her.”
Well, damn.
About the Author
Jaci Burton is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Hope Novels, including Don’t Let Go, Make Me Stay, Love After All, Hope Burns, Hope Ignites, and Hope Flames, and the Play-by-Play series, including Rules of Contact, All Wound Up, Quarterback Draw, Straddling the Line, and more. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband and dogs. A lover of sports, Jaci can often tell what season it is by what sport is being played. She watches entirely too much television, which she considers “book research.” When she isn’t on deadline, Jaci can be found at her local casino, trying to become a millionaire (so far, no luck). She’s a total romantic and loves a story with a happily ever after, which you’ll find in all her books. You can learn more about Jaci on her website at jaciburton.com.
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Jaci Burton, One Perfect Kiss
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