“Well, it’s not.”
I grab my helmet and leap from the truck before she can stop me.
Her reprimands follow me up the driveway, my boots slipping on the pine needles. This place is a hazard.
Harlowe’s beyond pissed, yelling about going in blind and protocol. But I run faster, dread climbing my throat with every step toward the porch.
I know what I saw—someone is in there.
The fire is closing in fast, and I’m risking everything if I’m wrong.
Harlowe’s got every right to be worried. She doesn’t know me. I’m a hotshot from out of town. If something happens, this is her evacuation and her ass on the line.
I’m the backup.
The muscle.
And right now, I’m a fucking liability.
IfI’m wrong.
But my gut tells me I’m not.
My fist shakes the door. “Emergency services! This is a mandatory evacuation. Get out now.”
The faded pink and green floral curtains flutter again.
It’s the same damn pattern—roses and leaves. Pale and yellowing with age.
The very same curtains my grandma had hanging behind her favorite chair on the ranch. I can still see them catching fire when the house went up. The three of us watching, helpless, as everything around us turned to ash.
The worst fucking moment of my life.
I stuff the memory down, forcing myself to focus on the present.
Dust shakes loose with every hit of my fist against the door, raining down faster and harder until pain blooms through my hand.
I’m not coming off this mountain until I know this house is empty.
The door opens, sending me toppling toward an elderly couple. I catch myself with a hand on the frame to keep me from plowing into them.
I knew it.
Relief sweeps over me, but it doesn’t last. Now we have two more people to evacuate.
One look at their faces confirms they’re confused and scared.
The wife has a hearing aid that looks like it predates me. Tears cloud her hazy eyes.
Beside her, the husband is hunched over, fumbling with pill bottles as he packs them into a bag.
They waited too long to leave. Or maybe they didn’t know.
My training doesn’t stop the tremble in my voice as I take the bag from him, stuffing the prescriptions in myself. “This is a mandatory evacuation. We need to go.” My voice barely sounds like mine.
They flinch.
Fuck.
