One Fiery Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

5. These people were like his family—Pearce included. Now it was protocol that every firefighter have paramedic training.
    “That woman I saved?” he heard himself say. “She’s my ex from college.”
    Pearce let out a low whistle. “What’s the chance of running into a burning building and saving a woman you know?”
    “That’s what I was thinking. Which led to some higher thinking…”
    “Higher thinking doesn’t happen with the head in your pants, Lucifer.”
    He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. That was the trouble—he hadn’t only allowed lust to speak for his actions. His heart had swiftly ruled.
    In the other room, raucous laughter sounded, followed by several hoots and guffaws from his fellow firefighters. At this moment, he wished he could be sitting with them, chatting and enjoying some of Damon’s special barbecue, which Luke could smell all the way in here. Waiting for the next 9-1-1 call was hard enough without the crushing need to feel Josie beneath him. Or the worry about how to shake her off.
    “I think I fucked up pretty bad, Pearce. But I have no clue how to remedy it.”
    “Well, you’d better get your head on straight pretty quickly. We don’t have room for errors. Do you need the night off to regroup?”
    “Nah, not that. I’m all right.” The very last thing Luke needed was time to himself. He’d end up staring at the room numbers 429 quicker than he could respond to a four-alarm fire.
    At that instant, the bell pealed.
    Pearce brought his hand down on Luke’s shoulder, pinning him in place. “I’m trusting you. Don’t let me down.”
    “Never have, never will.” He grabbed his heavy pants and jammed his legs into them, hitching the suspenders over his shoulders.
    The rest of the squad suddenly surrounded him and Pearce, everyone yanking on gear and adjusting masks and tanks.
    In the background, the scanner radio blared. The voice gave the particulars in an urgent yet precise way, spelling out the address of an overturned tanker on the interstate.
    “Great. A fucking gasoline spill. Better have those gloves handy, Lucifer,” said their chemical spill specialist, Mitch Morelli. The big Italian stared at him a heartbeat too long.
    Luke clapped him on the back, dispelling the tension. He’d always felt Mitch had a thing for him and now was not the time to tell him not only was he completely hetero but he was entirely too fucked up by a woman to think straight. “I don’t need the gloves, Morelli. Now let’s roll.”
    “Scramble, men!” Pearce’s sharp command sent them all running for the response unit. Ahead of them, a crew of six men tore out of the parking lot in their largest truck. Morelli, Pearce and Luke jumped into the smaller one.
    Pearce was on the horn, barking orders to the police who were already on the scene.
    Luke checked all his gear twice before realizing his cell phone with Josie’s new number programmed into it was back in his locker. He couldn’t even give her a call and tell her—
    What? That he loved her?
    After 9/11, many firefighters wished they had spoken those three little words before responding to the call. Hell, his brother Ryan had probably experienced a moment of panic when he realized he was never again going to see his wife and kids.
    Luke’s job was dangerous. Perils could flare up in an instant, taking the lives of the people who fought to keep others safe.
    “You all right, Lucifer?” Morelli was jostled as the truck whipped around a corner.
    “He’d damn well better be,” Pearce ground out, shooting Luke a pointed glare.
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. No worries.”
    Ahead of them, the traffic of the main thoroughfare through the city split off to allow them right of way. The truck hit speeds of sixty miles an hour. The lights of the businesses were a blur. As they passed the street leading to Josie’s hotel room, Luke stiffened.
    Hell, he had to get his head on straight. While he most likely wouldn’t be braving the