America's Bravest (2 page)

“Thanks, cuz.”

When Chief Malvaso left, Rachel stood again
and crossed the short distance to Gabe. “Hey, Cap.”

Up close, those dark chocolate eyes focused
on her intently, sparking with remnants of anger in them. His brown
hair was a little longer than he usually wore it. And damn it, his
woodsy aftershave filled her head.

“Hey, Wellington.”

She noticed he never used the
princess
nickname and always called her Wellington. That
was common among firefighters, especially when they were in a
burning building with another group who might have a Rachel or Tony
inside the structure. But Gabe
never
used her given
name.

“I, um, wanted to ask what housework I’m
assigned today, because I’m taking two extra days of furlough
besides our four days off. I’m leaving at noon. Not a good time, I
guess, to do that.”

“It’s fine. This shit with the reporter is
making me crazy, but I refuse to deny my squad the time they need
off for doctor’s appointments or the like.”

It wasn’t a doctor’s appointment, but she’d
be damned if she let her group know where she was going. “Thanks.
I’ll do my chores now if you tell me what they are.”

“Felicia made up the list today. It’s already
posted.”

“Oh, okay.” She hesitated, not wanting to
leave him yet. That had happened a lot lately. “I’m sorry you had
to be the bearer of bad news.”

Sighing, he shook his head. “I can’t believe
society is so down on us after all those accolades in 2001. Hell,
some states are even trying to take away our collective bargaining
rights.”

“People always go back to their old ways when
a crisis is over.”

He gave her a little smile that jump-started
her heart. “You’re pretty young to be that cynical,
Wellington.”

“I’m older than my years. In any case, you
did a good job, like your cousin said.”

“Thanks.” She was shocked when he reached out
and touched her arm. Oh, he showed affection to other group
members, but rarely to her. “Is everything okay? With the time off
you need? You’re not sick, are you?”

“Nope, it’s a family thing.”

Cocking his head, he studied her, his intense
gaze making her nerves jitter. She tried not to fidget. “You’ve
been working here eighteen months and we still don’t know much
about your family.”

“That’s okay. You don’t want to. You’re lucky
to be part of the Malvaso clan.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’ll
head out.”

He nodded. “Take care, then.”

Rachel left, thinking about the Malvaso
family gatherings and the fun escapades they had together, which
were legend in the department. But comparing her family to them
wasn’t the worst part of being around Gabe Malvaso.

Her main concern was that she had the hots
for her captain. Her feelings were totally unprofessional, not to
mention more than stupid for a woman in today’s fire
department.

oOo

The abandoned building on Jay Street was
already filled with smoke when Rescue 7 pulled up to the site. As
soon as the truck stopped, Gabe hopped off and headed to Incident
Command. Cal Erikson was already directing the action from a
computer on the hood of his Jeep. The machine contained the
blueprints of the building filed with the city.

“What’s the status?” Gabe asked the
chief.

“The structure’s abandoned. But you know what
that means.”

“Homeless people inside.”

“Engines 17 and 23 are laying hose. Truck 5
is getting ladders up and broaching the front access. As soon as
they’re in place, take your group around back.” When Gabe started
to walk away, Cal stopped him. “Be careful. These old
buildings—”

“Hello, Chief.”

Glancing to the other side of Cal, Gabe saw a
tall brunette, her cheeks flushed with excitement, had come up to
them.

Cal stiffened. “Ms. Allen. Chasing fires
now?” His voice was cold and sarcastic.

“I am.” Her violet eyes flashed at the
battalion chief. “Since you keep emailing me about how brave and
worthy your guys are, I thought I’d come to a few calls and see for
myself.”

“Emails and calls you never answer.”

Gabe said, “Chief, my guys need to talk about
back entry.”

Subtly, Erikson gave Allen his back,
effectively closing her out. Gabe’s group needed no such thing, but
Cal would be glad to be rid of Lois Lane.

In five minutes, Gabe’s group was inside the
building. The interior of the former department store consisted of
large open spaces, which might make finding trapped victims easier.
The fire was rolling, but the smoke wasn’t yet thick enough to
blind them, as often happened. “Keep your gear tight and SCBA
secure,” Gabe said through the radio attached to his face mask.
“It’ll be bitchin’ hot in here, but don’t loosen up.”

Though their turnout gear was heavy, they
needed the fireproof protection of helmet, bulky coats, pants and
bunker boots. Air tanks, of course, were vital.

They went slow, all six of them. When they’d
gone about twenty yards into the room, Gabe spotted a stairway
leading to the second floor. “White, take Sands up with you. See if
Truck 5 needs some help on search and rescue. O’Malley and Ramirez
go left on this floor. Wellington, you’re with me.”

They separated and Gabe said a brief prayer
that his group would be safe. He led the way through another
corridor and reached an open doorway. The basement. “Stay here,
Wellington, while I test the steps.”

As soon as Gabe went down a step, he realized
it was spongy. But when he took a few more, he realized the
staircase was too unsteady to hold up. They’d need ropes and backup
to check the basement.

A loud boom rocked the building, then a
second one. The entire structure shook, and the steps shifted
beneath him. Gabe realized they were going to cave before he could
get back up. When he turned to signal Wellington, he bumped right
into her.

In seconds, the staircase collapsed and they
fell with it.

Rachel awoke coughing. Total darkness
surrounded her. For a minute, she didn’t know where she was. Then
she remembered. Oh, shit. The staircase had collapsed. Gabe had
told her not to follow him, but she had anyway, and now they were
both trapped.

Gabe! Where was he? Since she could see
absolutely nothing, she felt around her immediate area. Her gloved
hand came upon something clunky. Rounded, with a hose. Her air
tank. It must have come off with her helmet and SCBA. Before she
could search farther for Gabe, she heard movement, a groan of pain.
On her knees now, she followed the sound. About five feet away, she
touched an arm. “Gabe, are you all right?”

“Don’t know.” His words were grunted out.
“Wellington?”

“Yeah. I, um, followed you down the steps.”
She wished she could see him, but she couldn’t. She held on to his
arm because the contact made her feel better.

“You disobeyed a direct order,
Firefighter!”

“I know.” She unsnapped her turnout coat and
shrugged out of it, and her gloves, because the air was stiflingly
hot down here. “You can put a letter in my file.” If they ever got
out. Which at this point was not a given. “Tell me what hurts.”

“My back. My mask and helmet are gone but the
tank’s digging into me. Help me get it off.” More groans as she
turned him to his side and blindly wrestled with the gear. “That’s
better,” he mumbled, and she could sense him lie back down.

“Let me check out the rest of you.” Gently,
she prodded his left arm and shoulder. Then his right side.

“I’m just sore,” he said.

Opening his turnout coat, she felt his chest.
Crazily, given their situation she thought about how she’d dreamed
of touching him like this, only in different circumstances and
without clothes on. Still, she patted down one leg, then up the
other. When she got to his abdomen, he barked, “Enough.”

“Your stomach hurt when I touched it?”

“No. I’m good.” His reply was curt, as if she
was doing something wrong.

Sitting back on her haunches, she took in a
deep breath. More aware now, she noted a stale musty odor.
“Nothing’s broken that I can tell. I can’t see you though. You have
any cuts or bruises?”

“My left temple.”

“Maybe you should lie there a while.”

“I said I’m good. I need help sitting up,
though. I’m dizzy and my back hurts.”

“Okay.” Inching over in the direction of his
voice, she scooted to his shoulder and slid an arm under him from
the right side. With the action, his face turned into her breasts.
She stilled, and he said, “Jesus Christ.”

“Why do you keep yelling at me?”

“Just help me up, Firefighter.”

Shrugging, she got him to a seated position,
then slid her hand over the wall behind him. “There’s a wall about
a foot from you. Can you ease back?”

“Yeah. Is it dry?”

She put her hand on the wall again. It was
crumbly and pieces of cement came off in her fingers. “Uh-huh.”

“At least we’re not in a wet basement.”

Since they couldn’t see each other, she could
only hear him shuffle to a different position. “I’m against the
wall now.” His voice was less harsh, if still raspy.

Rachel settled next to him, could feel the
slight brush of his shoulder against hers. She heard him slap his
leg. “The lights on our helmets would help!”

“They must have gone out in the fall. I’ll
find them.” Again, she got to her knees and crawled forward,
sweeping her hand around in front of her for the helmet. Gloves
gone, the debris on the floor scraped her palms and fingers. “I got
one.” She tried to switch it on. “No luck.”

“Search for the other.”

Still kneeling, she rummaged around. Dirt and
dust that had settled from the cave-in flew up, making her eyes
water. She proceeded until she found the second helmet. “I got it.”
She switched on the lever.

“Great!” he said.

Eerie, that’s what the single beacon of light
was, shining into such complete darkness. She caught a glimpse of
Gabe’s big form slumped against the wall. Cautiously, she crawled
back to him. Careful not to shine the light in his eyes, she set
down the helmet. “You’ve got a cut on your forehead. Scratches on
your neck. The arm of your coat’s ripped. That’s it.” She chuckled.
“Your face is filthy, Captain.”

“Hand the helmet to me.” He scanned her with
the light. “Your hair’s a mess. You have a bruise on your cheek.”
He checked her hands. “Scratches, is all.”

“It’s a freakin’ miracle we’re not injured
other than your back.” Though her shoulder ached some.

He coughed from the dust, which still clung
to the air in little particles that they could now see floating
before them in the light. “Let’s hope our luck holds out with the
radio.” Into his lapel mic, he said, “Rescue 7. Malvaso and
Wellington reporting.”

Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. “I’m
not surprised. We’re boxed in pretty good to get any reception. Or
it broke in the fall. Try yours.”

She did, with the same negative result.

He swept the area with the light. “Walls are
ten courses. Area’s about eight by five. Chunks of concrete and
timber sealed us off.”

Sealed off. Which meant they had limited air.
And she bet the makeshift walls were thicker than iron. Her heart
rate sped up.

In the dim light, they met each other’s gaze.
“This isn’t good,” she whispered.

“Nope,” he answered. “It isn’t.”

oOo

His back hurt like hell as he maneuvered his
coat off, then went for his turnout pants. After he refused her
offer of help, Rachel shed her pants and boots, too, as the
temperature in the closed-off space had spiked. He thought about
how she’d touched him through the heavy material. Even in dire
circumstances, having her hands press his cock, and his face buried
in her breasts, affected him. How could that be when they were in
so much trouble?

When he was down to his white shirt and navy
pants, he managed to lean back against the wall again.

Wearing just her uniform, too, she began to
unbutton her light blue shirt. Hell. “W-what are you doing?”

Without looking up, she said, “I got a clean
white T-shirt under my uniform. I’m going to tend to that cut with
it.”

“Want me to close my eyes?”

“No need, unless you feel like it. You can’t
see much anyway, but I’ve got on a sports bra, and it covers as
much as what I exercise in at the house. But go ahead, Galahad, if
you want.”

“That’s Sir Galahad to you.”

Chuckling, she removed the outer shirt,
reached to her waist and yanked up the tee. He didn’t avert his
gaze and was treated to a hazy view of her toned skin and even more
toned breasts. After she re-dressed, she sidled in close and knelt
up. “I wish I had water.” Gently, she touched the wound on his
head. It stung. “I’ll get the worst of the grime off, though.”

“You know that no water down here means more
than not being able to clean my cut.”

She sat back and looked him in the eye. “I
know. We can’t hydrate and we could run out of air before they
rescue us.”

“If they rescue us.” He reached for her hand.
Squeezed her fingers. “We entered the building at ten a.m.” He
checked his watch, which miraculously hadn’t broken. “Eleven. They
won’t know where we are. I didn’t relay our whereabouts when we
headed down here.” He shook his head. “The fire was really rolling.
They probably had to evacuate and might not even have a head count
yet.”

“They’ll put it out, Gabe.” Her voice was
full of bravado. “And find us.”

“I hope so. But we need to be realistic.
We’re in pretty deep.”

“Should we, I don’t know, try to dig
ourselves out?”

He scanned the area with the light again.
“Too much debris to make a dent.” Silence. “We should conserve the
light.”

“Well, we might as well get comfortable
before we go dark.” She stood, grabbed their turnout gear and
formed their coats into two piles, their pants like a pillow of
sorts.