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“No, sir,” they replied.
“Take another line in,” the chief said.
After going back for replacement SCBAs, Lana beat Sean to the hose and, along with two other firefighters, headed for the building.
Smoke was now pouring out of the lobby doors along with a constant rain of water. The lobby was now engulfed in flames and while Lana turned on the hose, she wondered how that could have happened. But with no time to contemplate it, she forged ahead.
The building groaned and Lana looked up and saw cracks developing in the ceiling above her. Burning plaster began to rain down and then a huge chunk of the ceiling started to fall. Someone hit her in the middle of her back, and she went down, losing her grip on the hose. It started to serpentine like a snake as it whipped back and forth. She heard a thud and turned in time to see Sean fall. It was as if everything was in slow motion. Lana didn’t hesitate. She was up and moving, discovering that the other two men were down, too. She was able to rouse Smitty, a veteran. She grabbed her radio and shouted into it that the lobby ceiling was collapsing. Smitty grabbed one of the downed firefighters and lifted him into a fireman’s carry.
Sean’s head had been injured. She bent down and muscled Sean onto her shoulders.
It was no easy task. The man weighed a ton, all that muscle and he was tall to boot. He must be at least six-two to her five-nine.
When she got him outside and lowered him to the pavement, she saw even more blood trickling down his temple. The gash was the only abrasion she could see. She checked his breathing, and he was holding his own.
Another loud crash sounded at her back, but it barely registered with her. She never even looked over her shoulder.
She unbuckled the strap and removed his hard helmet. She worked efficiently and quickly.
“Sean,” she said over and over. When his eyes popped open, Lana found herself staring into deep pools of intense gray.
Two paramedics came over and Lana backed up, letting them take care of Sean.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She just stared at him, her chest feeling tight. When he sat up and insisted he was all right, a weakness buckled her knees.
But she couldn’t give into it. It was an unspoken rule that firefighters never discuss their fear, especially for her. It would look weak to her fellow firefighters if she acted like a worried mother hen. Sean would never live it down and she’d be ribbed about it mercilessly.
A firefighter she didn’t know came to stand next to her. He had soot on his face, but it was odd how his turnout coat and pants seemed brand-new.
“Way to go,” he said softly. “That was awesome the way you pulled him to safety.
Lana could see the obvious look of respect on his face, and she gave him a nod.
It was a nice gesture, but she didn’t care what he thought about her rescue. It wasn’t something that she had done for his respect. At this moment, all she wanted to do was touch Sean to make sure he was all right.
While the paramedic dabbed at Sean’s cut, he searched around him. His eyes met hers. Experiencing the same rush of feelings she’d had only a moment ago, Lana found herself close to tears. They stared at each other for a few moments, releasing a funny fluttering sensation in her chest.
It was then she realized that she was going to follow through on seducing Sean. She cherished their friendship, but only now realized that experiencing physical passion with him was something she’d always felt was lacking in their relationship. Unspoken or not, she was going to have Sean O’Neill purely because she wanted him.
Relief washed over her, and she let out a sigh to expel the tension in her body. He smiled at her then, a big, beautiful grin that lit up his handsome face and made her knees buckle all over again, but for decidedly different reasons.
She drew back, suddenly afraid.
Blinking back the tears and stowing the overpowering urge to pull Sean into her arms, she turned away, went to the big red rig, gathered up another air tank and turned toward the fire.
Her work here still wasn’t done.
* * *
Murmurs and rustlings about the fire being arson filtered down to Lana. A firefighter breaking down the fourth floor found a suspicious area in one of the apartments. There was evidence of flammable liquid called accelerants, which was substantiated by the clear burn line or demarcation on the carpeting, where the arsonist set down trailers of the accelerant and ignited them.
Lana “knocked down” the fire ground including the tedious, but crucial task of checking all the burned materials for lingering embers. The debris would be put into a pile that would be pulled out later and dumped in the street. The remains of the fire would then be hosed down.
The call had come in at two o’clock in the morning, and Lana’s arms now felt like lead from swinging her ax and hauling debris. She’d been busy for almost seven hours. She was currently working in the basement, and as she paused, she noticed spalling in the cement on one side of the basement. Spalling, which was cracked concrete, was caused by intense heat, and it was odd that the basement would have shown any signs of that. A fire normally burned upward, not outward and never downward. Flames were drawn toward ventilation and followed fuel paths.
It could only mean that someone had started a fire in the fourth-floor apartment and the basement.
Lana bent down and took a closer look at the charred area and knew that she’d been right. Someone had intentionally set this fire, hoping that people would die.
