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His watch buzzed with a text from his home security system.
Smoke detectors activated.
Sam! She was inside his burning house! He sprinted to his official vehicle, bounded into the seat, and hammered the gas pedal to the floor, the tires squealing. He ignored the inbound police vehicles, weaving through the traffic like a race car driver. His street blocked by fire trucks, he bounced onto the sidewalk and slammed the SUV into park, jumping out without bothering to turn the engine off.
As he sprinted for his yard, a firefighter blocked him, grabbing his arm. “Hey, buddy, you can’t go in there!”
He yanked his badge from his back pocket and waved it in the guy’s face. “FBI. It’s my house, and there’s somebody in there.” He yanked out of the man’s grip.
“You mean Sam Kerr?” The firefighter chuckled and pointed at the street. “She’s fine. She’s at the ambulance, probably refusing treatment.”
Trevor scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Thank heavens.”
The firefighter smirked. “You are one lucky son of a gun, Mills.”
Trevor peered at the guy’s face under his fire helmet. “Harrelson. Thank you for saving her.” He’d played baseball with Mickey Harrelson in high school. The guy was solid, if not terribly bright.
Harrelson shook his head. “She saved herself. Came out of the cellar.”
Trevor chuckled, relief making his head light. “Of course she did. Hey, I’d like to catch up, but I need to make sure she’s okay.” He carefully didn’t look at his beautiful house; he didn’t want to know how bad it was until he had eyes on Sam. Plus, she was in danger, because his house hadn’t spontaneously combusted.
“No problem. Fire marshal will want to talk to you, though.” Harrelson turned away. “I’ll move your car.”
“Thanks!” Passing between the fire trucks, he found the ambulance. Sam sat on the back bumper, speaking to a deputy sheriff, who scribbled notes. “Sam!” No soot darkened her face, nor did she have an emergency blanket draped over her shoulders.
She looked up and smiled, then rose and pushed past the deputy. “Trevor.” She put her hand on his arm. “Is Deb okay?”
He forced his arms to remain at his sides, rather than yanking her into his chest. “She’s fine, Michael’s fine. Koslov is dead. But we need to get you out of here.” He scanned their surroundings. Bratva could easily hide in the growing number of onlookers. A silenced pistol could kill her before anyone noticed the weapon.
A female paramedic walked toward them. “You’re sure you didn’t inhale any smoke, Sam?”
Sam turned away from him. “I’m sure. I got into the cellar before it got bad.”
The woman nodded. “Okay. The fire department has mopped up, so we’re returning to the hospital. Be careful, though. Smoke inhalation can catch up with you later.” She turned away.
Trevor herded Sam back toward the ambulance. “What’s her name?”
“Nora.” Sam gave him a skeptical side eye.
Trevor caught up with Nora, flashing the badge he hadn’t put away. “Nora, I’m Special Agent Trevor Mills, FBI. Can you do us a small favor on your way back?”
“Maybe.” Nora raised a brow. “What kind of favor?”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We need a drop-off in the alley behind those houses.” He motioned with his chin toward his neighbors across the street. “It’s official business.”
Nora shrugged. “Yeah, sure, that’s easy enough. Climb in the back and tell me when to stop.” She turned away, circling her arm over her head. Her partner walked to the driver’s side of the ambulance.
Trevor climbed into the back, holding a hand out to Sam, which she actually accepted. Her small hand nestled warmly in his, making him smile. Before Nora closed the back doors, she leaned in. “Don’t try to steal my ambulance, though.”
Trevor laughed. “Not my plan. Not a bad one, though.”
“Oh, it’s a very bad plan.” Nora slammed the door, then climbed in the front, speaking to the driver. They pulled away.
He sat next to Sam on the bench seat parallel to the gurney and watched through the windshield. The ambulance turned into the alley. At his garage, he leaned forward. “Stop, please. Thanks much.”
“You bet. Stay safe.” Nora smiled over her shoulder. “Use the side door.”
Trevor opened the side door, peering both ways before exiting. Sam followed. He closed the door, and the ambulance drove away. Jogging to the garage, Trevor entered the code, and the door rolled up. Sam trotted to the passenger seat before he could ask, and he got in the driver’s side. “We may be spotted on our way out of here, although I’m hoping they head to the hospital.”
