the siren. Hunter looked out at the view of Ocean City as the truck moved rapidly down the street. This truly was a beautiful place. Unlike the dry desert of Nevada, Ocean City was lush and green. Lots of palm trees and thick green lawns and colorful flowers. Plus the view of the ocean never got old.
Sixteen years. Had it really been that long since he’d been here? When he’d left, he had seen Ocean City only as a place of despair and heartache. The place that had robbed him of his mother and twin sister. The place where his father had become emotionally distant. The fresh start in Reno had seemed the only thing to do for his sanity.
The truck headed up Cline Avenue, ascending the hillside. Hunter stared out at the small, colorful houses. Pale blue, yellow, green, some pink. This part of Ocean City had homes that were more like cottages and reminded him of the vibrant, colorful houses in the Caribbean. It was very picturesque.
Though Ocean City had a fairly large population, it had a small-town feel, with lots of diverse communities. There were neighborhoods like this, filled with young families and young professionals. Then there were the college students who populated the west side of the downtown area. There was an arts scene, and a vibrant night life. And yet the town never lost its charm. It felt warm and welcoming no matter where you went.
“So what happened to the woman at the bar you met a couple nights ago?” Peter asked. Hunter had been out with Omar, Tyler, Mason, Peter and a bunch of the other guys on their shift the night he’d met Mary. They’d taken him out to get him acquainted with all of his colleagues, to welcome him back to Ocean City and to Fire Station Two. He’d ditched them all once the opportunity to leave with Mary had presented itself, and their hooting, hollering and high fives had shown him that he had their approval. He’d felt kind of silly bailing on them, but there was something about Mary and leaving with her had been an opportunity he definitely couldn’t pass up.
This morning, Hunter had avoided answering their questions when they’d sat down to start eating, but now that he was in the back of a moving truck with nowhere to go, Peter broached the subject again.
“Let’s just put it this way,” Hunter began, “it was a great welcome to Ocean City.”
Peter fist-bumped him in congratulations. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Ever going to see her again?” Omar asked.
Peter roared with laughter. “What are you trying to do, see him married off already?” He turned to Hunter. “Omar used to be our resident playboy. Until he off and fell in love.”
“Love is the last thing on my mind,” Hunter said.
“A man after my own heart,” Peter said.
Even if Hunter were looking for love, it wasn’t going to happen with Mary—not after the way she’d ditched him. He doubted he was ever going to see her again. He had her friend’s number, but calling to track her down would seem desperate. If she wanted a one-night fling, so be it. He’d had a great time.
“The guys here keep dropping like flies,” Peter went on. “Mason, Tyler and the one who shocked us all, Omar. At least now I have someone to hit the bars with. It’s like there’s some sort of disease spreading through our station... Forget the flu bug, this time it’s the love bug.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said, glancing back at them from behind the wheel. “Peter, you only wish you could find yourself a woman who wanted to see you for more than a day.”
All the guys laughed, but the laughter quickly faded when the billowing smoke from the structure fire came into view.
“There it is,” Hunter said.
The pump truck came to a stop. No more joking, they started affixing their helmets and masks.
“That’s thick black smoke,” Mason said.
“The building needs to be ventilated,” Hunter added. No one could go into a building with dense hot smoke without an outlet for the fire to escape. Rapid reintroduction of oxygen could cause the building to blow.
In other words, a back draft. Back drafts had claimed the lives of many a firefighter.
“Is anyone in the building?” the chief was asking the crowd of onlookers when Hunter and the rest of the guys jumped off the truck.
“No,” a woman said. She was barefoot, wearing a robe, and her blond hair was disheveled. “My husband and I smelled smoke, so we ran out. It’s just the two of us.”
The chief quickly assessed the fire. “Richards, Lovett—get that ladder on the roof. Take an ax and start ventilation. Wickham and Rogers, get to the back of the building and do the same.”
The men he’d named sprang into action. Omar and Hunter worked at getting the hoses. Tyler went to the pump truck’s controls.
Flames shot through the roof when the two firefighters there put a hole in it. Richards jerked backward, almost falling off the ladder as he tried to escape the sudden burst of flame. A collective gasp erupted in the crowd. Once Richards regained his footing on the ladder, people began to clap.
“Wickham, Rogers,” the chief said into the walkie-talkie affixed to his jacket. “How’s it looking back there?”
“Window’s open now,” one of them responded. “This one’s burning real hot.”
“Holland,” the chief said to Hunter, addressing him by his surname.
“Yes, Chief?”
“You and Ewing get a hose around to the back, start fighting that fire.”
“Yes, sir.” Hunter and Omar lifted a heavy hose onto their shoulders, the two of them carrying it to the back of the building. Hunter hit the nozzle to release the water, and the hose jerked backward from the pressure as he did. They immediately began attacking the angry flames shooting through the smashed open window. It felt good being back on the job. Hunter had missed this. The adrenaline rush of fighting a fire that wanted to destroy and take as many casualties as possible.
Not if Hunter could help it.
More firefighters arrived from another firehouse, and together everyone attacked the flames. The smoke turned from black to white as it mixed with moisture and rose into the air in a giant plume.
Red angry flames reached through the broken window like tentacles trying to claw at them. Hunter held on to the taut hose and aimed, blasting the fire. “I don’t think so.”
And when the flames began to recede, replaced with more white smoke, satisfaction filled him. Oh, yeah, it definitely felt good to be back in action. And at least while he was fighting this fire, he wasn’t thinking about the woman who’d left him overheated in his bed, wanting more.
On Monday morning, Lorraine whipped her car into an empty parking spot just a block down from the building that housed the lawyer’s office. She got out and put enough money in the meter for two hours. Then she glanced at her cell phone. She’d made good time. She had ten minutes to spare before her appointment.
She walked briskly toward
