Page 135 of Hearts Storm

“Brex, you’re on the chopper,” Logan orders, stuffing his feet into his boots.

“Already there,” Brex responds. Halfway to the door that leads up to the helipad, he shoots me a quick grin over his shoulder. “See you on the mountain, Pretty.”

As Brex disappears, Logan hurries over, tugging on his helmet. “Follow Dave’s lead. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Green eyes blaze into mine as his lips twitch. “We’ll see how well you can ‘sir’ me when our shift is over, yeah?”

Fifteen minutes later, Dave and I are tearing down a winding road toward the mountain in the LFSR ambulance, sirens wailing, red and blue lights flashing.

The sky above the ridge is already turning yellowish-orange. Ugly black smoke billows up in thick, rolling plumes, blotting out the fading light and the stars just starting to wink to life.

Dave’s got both hands on the wheel, jaw set as he navigates through tight switchbacks.

Adjusting my headset, I check the radio for the third time. “Dispatch, this is Ambulance One. ETA to staging area is approximately twelve minutes. Copy?”

“Copy, Ambulance One. Be advised, ground crews are already on scene. Engine Three and Engine Five have established a perimeter on the east flank. Chopper making its first drop now, so watch your six.”

My gaze flicks to the sky, and sure enough, I can just make out the silhouette of LFSR’s helicopter hovering over the ridge, a long plume of red fire retardant pouring from its belly tank like a bloody waterfall.

God, I hope Brex stays safe up there. The winds have picked up at least two knots since we left the station.

The past few days have been a nightmare. Storms rolling through every afternoon, lightning strikes all over the county. LFSR’s been running nonstop: flooding in the Oakridge neighborhood, a kitchen fire at Lakeside Grill that could’ve taken out the whole building if the guys hadn’t gotten there in time, and three separate boating accidents on the lake after a freak microburst capsized a fleet of rental pontoons.

“So, Logan and Brex, huh?” Dave yells over the sirens.

His question comes so far out of left field that it has me squeaking, “What?”

Dave rolls his eyes as he cranks the wheel, squealing into a turn as we chase after one of LFSR’s fire engines. “Please. We all knew even before you told us.” He shrugs. “Well, about Brex anyway. We suspected Logan, but we were having a hard time agreeing on which one of them it was. Guess we were all correct.”

“Jeez, Dave. It almost sounds like you guys had a running bet.”

He throws me a quick side-eye.

“Oh, fuck off. No you didn’t.”

“It was Alan’s idea.”

The soft spot I had for Alan dwindles a few notches as my lips twist in annoyance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I grip the oh-shit handle as Dave takes another hairpin turn, ambulance leaning hard to the right. “There actually was a bet?”

“Not exactly.” Dave has the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “More like... a pool? Alan organized it after what he witnessed at the gala. Everyone threw in twenty bucks.”

“Everyone? As in, everyone, everyone?”

“Alan, Kurtis, Taylor, Justin, a few of the guys from C-shift...” he says, ticking each one of them off with a small nod.

I press my palm against my forehead, equally mortified and amused. “Unbelievable.”

“Don’t look at me. I had my money on Brex from day one,” Dave grins. His easy, lopsided smile makes it impossible to stay mad at him. “The way he looks at you? Dude, it’s like watching a golden retriever with his tongue lolling out begging for a T-bone steak. No offense.”

“Some taken,” I grumble halfheartedly, shaking my head with a grin.

These fucking guys. Sasha did warn me they were nuts. Up until now, I had no idea to what extent.

“Anyway. Alan’s the one who cleaned up. He had both of you on his ticket. Walked away with almost four hundred bucks.”