The Firefighter's Appeal (Harlequin Superromance) (23 page)

The floor sagged as he tried to edge closer to the opening. With a grunt, Garrett pulled back and waved his light into the hole.

“Call out as loud as you can!”

The vibration of his orders bounced back at him. The floor creaked like an old spine. Garrett palmed the wall on instinct, for all the good it would do if the bottom went falling out from under him. He shuffled his feet slowly backward a couple of steps.

“Down here!” Barely audible through his headgear, the words rocked him. Someone was in the basement. Roan’s hand pressed into Garrett’s back.

“What’s up?”

“Need rescue gear. Get me a harness and set up the rigging.” Garrett threw a look over his shoulder. “I’ll stay.”

Walking out would mean leaving the victim alone, and he couldn’t do that. He knew too well that alone and abandoned in the middle of chaos was a bad, bad place to be.

Garrett stayed close to the wall, sweeping his light down the hole while Roan left to get the gear. From this angle, he couldn’t see much down the hole except for a gray refraction of his light through the inky blackness. His mind spun as his chest pulled thin strands of air into his lungs. Who was down there?
Damn.

He called out again, waited with bated breath for a response. There was none.

Roan returned and handed the gear through the hole. Garrett eased into the harness, clipped a floodlight onto his jacket and confirmed his tank had just over half of its oxygen left.

“We’re going to manually hold your line instead of hooking you to the truck,” Roan said, grabbing the front of Garrett’s harness and giving a huge pull.

Garrett did the same from the back. The rigging line that would keep him from crashing to his death meandered through the hole in the wall and out the way they’d come in. It was tight with tension, letting him know the men outside were set to lower him down.

“You’re ready.”

Roan handed over a fresh radio. Garrett put it in his pocket. The scratch of transmission went over the radio as Roan backed into the other room.

“Mateo is set to descend. Hold tight.”

Garrett punched down the flutter in his gut and eased his way to the hole. Chunks of mortar crumbled from above, hitting the floor and bouncing into the opening. Bracing a hand on the wall, feeling the tension tight on his back from the rigging, he bent down to examine the opening. No way he’d fit.

He used his ax to widen the hole enough that the bulk of his turnout gear and tank would fit through. Each whack brought down more debris until the air became one giant poof of dust. He wished he could see exactly how much of the house was still standing around him, but the piles of cave-in made it impossible to gauge. One last whack of the ax made the wall behind him shudder. Garrett flinched, curling inward in reaction.

“Damn.”

“What? What is it?”

The sound through the speaker connected to his shoulder made him jerk. He’d been leaning on the two-way transmission button on his radio.

He sighed to calm the butterflies in his chest. “Nothing. House just shook a little.”

“Hurry the hell up, Mateo,” Chief spouted through the airwaves.

Garrett scoffed. Bet Grail wasn’t smiling now.

“You got it, Chief.” He sat on the edge of the hole. “Descending now. Cut me slack.”

The tension on the back of the harness let up some and he slid into free space. His body was immediately suspended in air, the sensation giving him a total-body chill.

He aimed his light down into the darkness. A cement floor below, piles of broken beams and junk strewn about. To the right, a cave-in had created a wall of rubble that ran the length of the room. Garrett realized this was the part of the second story that had caved, taking everything with it. A chunk of wood came flying down the hole, knocking into his helmet and bouncing off.

“What the hell!”

He pulled down the clear shield on his helmet to cover his eyes and glanced up. The jagged end of a broken two-by-four rushed toward his face. He flinched and bunched his shoulders just as the beam hit the back of his helmet.

A deep shudder rippled through the air. Heart in his throat, Garrett gripped the line tighter as it lowered him a few more inches. He pulled a couple of deep breaths from the respirator as another shudder flew through the atmosphere.

His body began to sway as if a powerful wind had caught hold of him. Before he could open his mouth to call into the radio mic on his shoulder, debris began to rain down the hole. Something hit his shoulder like an invisible monster trying to take his arm clear off. Pain ripped through him, and the mic cord was torn from his jacket.

Garrett covered his helmet with one arm and pulled his body into itself as much as he could while hanging in the air. A thundering sound burst in his ears, followed by a massive crack like a huge tree going over in a storm.

“Garrett!”

Static. He heard a pulse beating like a drum. Then the sound of rocks pouring over one another into a pile, and daylight was snuffed out as the remaining upper level crashed down.

Closing him in while he hung there helpless.

Trapping him.

A string of curse words went through his mind, but he wasn’t even sure if they made it past his numb lips. Garrett uncurled slowly, his abs screaming in protest as he stretched out. He swayed gently as the floor above rumbled, deep and threatening, before all went quiet.

“Garrett, do you copy?”

He fumbled for the mic on his shoulder, found it wasn’t there. With a desperate pat, he located it hanging off his jacket, the cord frayed. He depressed the button to reply as carefully as he could with bulky gloves on.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Suspended but fine.” Fire seared through his right shoulder.

Static burst through the radio. “...get you out.”

He tapped the mic and pushed the button, but nothing else came through.
Damn.

Garrett bounced in the harness, expecting it to drop some, but it didn’t budge. Maybe the men had tied him off, maybe the line was trapped, but either way, he was stuck twelve feet in the air.

He followed his flashlight beam to the ground. Little piles of rubble, some boards with nails sticking up. Paint cans scattered everywhere. Not a soft landing if he had to bail.

Around him, the skeletal architecture of the basement made a creepy setting, reminiscent of a slasher film set. This wasn’t the first time he’d been trapped in rubble, but it was the first time in a basement. It was dang unsettling down here.

He listened for any sound—sounds that the men were poking through for the best way to get him out, sounds to reassure him that his rescue attempt hadn’t been in vain.

“Hey!” he called out, wanting,
needing,
to hear a response.

As far as he could tell, the width of the basement was cut in two by the wall of debris. Like upstairs, it would be impossible to see who or what was behind it. He swiveled in the harness, sweeping the entire perimeter with his light. Nothing.

Where had the voice come from?

“Anyone down here?” he yelled louder through the face mask, the force of his voice ringing in his ears. Damn, if he’d been imagining that voice—

“Here!”

Garrett swung back, aiming the light to the wall of debris. Pieces of brick rolled down from the center, as though they’d been poked from inside. His stomach bottomed out. Someone was under that pile. He looked up, hoping to see light peek through the opening so he knew the men were coming. Nothing.

The ceiling rumbled above his head. A muted sliding sound preceded the crack of timber. Something crashed into the floor above, making the ceiling shake again. Garrett braced his shoulders and ducked his head through the ruckus. Suddenly being suspended wasn’t any safer than being on the ground. If the ceiling collapsed, he’d be caught up in the rain of debris.

The noise quieted; he swept the rafters with the light and a bead of reflection flashed back at him. His eyes narrowed at the little specks of light. Before his brain could file through what the lights could be, a huge spider scurried out from a broken beam, its eyes eerily reflective in the light.

Garrett jerked back, nearly dropping the floodlight. Easily the size of his palm, its legs arched and primed for leaping, for scurrying or even for jumping on him, the wolf spider was enough to give him a heart attack. Garrett might be six-one and built hard, and he might have one hell of a tough job to back it up, but the terrified kid inside him that hated spiders was almost wetting his pants right now.

Garrett grabbed his utility knife, wincing against the pain in his arm, and flipped it open with one hand. The spider scurried to the side, its fuzzy gray-and-brown body visible where it sprawled on the beam. Above his head. Six inches from his helmet.

Turnout gear or not, nothing would protect him from raging arachnophobia. Garrett hesitated, watching the spider with a steady eye as he brought the knife up. He could stab it.... He had the perfect angle. Grunting through the pain, he brought his arm back, ready to impale the devil’s spawn when a second spider crawled out. And then a third. God, it was a spider army. Painful landing be damned. There was no way he was going to be trapped with
that.

Garrett turned the knife on his rope, began sawing through it, never taking his eyes off the glowing-eyed beasts. He didn’t look down as the rope frayed and uncoiled as he cut it down to the last tendon. Garrett pulled up his legs, closed his eyes and hoped for the best.

Goodbye, spiders.

Hello, pain.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
HE
LIGHT
WAS
GONE
.
Her chest ached with the clawing need to breathe deeper, to draw in fresh air. But there wasn’t any. The air was rancid with the full-bodied taste of dirt and concrete dust and the mold of old wood.

Lily lay still, straining to hear the voices she’d thought she’d heard earlier. Her surroundings weren’t silent. Slight rumbles and loud creaking sounded all around her, but nothing like a human voice. For a moment, a dim light had seeped through the debris pile next to her, giving her hope that someone knew she was there. But as it faded, like the voices, Lily suspected she’d imagined the whole thing.

She took as big a breath as she dared, and her mouth was immediately coated with dust. Coughing hurt so badly, but her lungs rejected the air, forcing it back out with deep spasms. Nausea followed, filling her throat with bile. Lily scrambled to roll onto her side, crying against the pain as she vomited into the debris. Panting through the spasms, her mind whirled with how she’d gotten here, how this had happened.

The tornado had hit so fast. She’d heard the storm sirens the first time, but the skies were clear and the radio said the winds had shifted. She’d only meant to come in to retrieve the picture of Katja from her office and the ornament Bodie had given her, which she’d hung on the side of her sister’s picture frame. But she’d found herself sitting in Doug’s office chair, her feet propped on his desk, lost in thought.

Thoughts of her sister, her father, the mother she barely remembered. Thoughts of the man who’d left her and the one she’d come to love.

And then the winds had slammed into the side of the house, dislodging bricks in one fatal blow. Lily had scrambled to make it down to the primitive basement, but she hadn’t reached the bottom of the stairs before something had hit her on the back and sent her flying.

How much time had passed? Her head ached so badly, Lily was afraid to move. She’d slowly worked herself into a sitting position, but had had to lie back on her bed of rubble because of the pain shooting down her forehead and neck. She tried to feel her scalp for bleeding, but the ground around her was soaked, along with her hair and clothing, making it impossible to tell.

Lily rolled her head from side to side, hoping for a mouthful of clear air.

Hope? Rescue?

Rescuers were out there; she knew it. They always came as soon as the tornado rolled away. But just because they always came didn’t mean they’d actually get her out. No one knew she was there. Garrett, Lincoln and her father all thought she’d left for Nashville that morning.

She wanted to sob, wanted to give in.
Garrett. Her father. Macy.
What if they’d been hit by the twister? What if they weren’t okay? What if they were trapped, injured...or worse?

“Stop it!” Tears came with the words. She blinked rapidly to hold them back. She’d gotten out last time. She could do it again. The firemen would sweep the town, check the damage, look for survivors. The trickle of water that was coming from somewhere became loud in her ears, followed by the thunder of her heartbeat.

A thud and a muted grunt sounded through the fine cracks in her caved-in prison. Lily cringed and looked up, afraid the weight of the house was finally going to crash down on her. Concentrating around the sound of running water, she heard movement—maybe a curse word—coming from the other side of the debris wall. Faint light flooded the small cracks.

A rush of adrenaline gave her the courage to try sitting again. The pain rolled down her skull like marbles, but it was more tolerable this time. Her right leg protested with agony when she scooted forward on her butt and tried to get her feet under her.

The light seemed closer this time, filtering in just enough that she could see what surrounded her for the first time. A wall of debris was in front of her, a stone foundation behind and beside her. There was no exit, no opening as far as she could tell. The light swept side to side, like a flashlight. A person. There was someone down here.

“Hey!” she croaked, her throat parched from the dirty air. Scrambling to find a bigger fissure to see through, Lily pressed her hands against the wall. A lopsided chunk of concrete popped from its home and rolled away. Light flooded the space.

“Here, I’m here!” She cried, not knowing if predeath hallucinations were messing with her brain or if it was real.

“Hang on” came the husky reply. Lily tried to pry more debris from the hole, but the material was wedged tight. She had just enough room to ease her arm through, trying to ignore the bites of pain all over her body.
Please, please, please, let this be real.

Someone grabbed her hand.

* * *

G
AME
ON
. T
HERE
was someone down here. Garrett saw the small hand pop out of the wall, waving desperately. He’d grabbed hold, warmth filling him when fingers wrapped around his heavy glove.

He adjusted the floodlight, centering it on the hole and the arm that was sticking out of it. His skull seemed to freeze as the light shone on the arm, revealing a brilliant swirl of orange hibiscus and green vines. His knees weakened, making him stumble as he stepped over rubble to press against the wall. Oh, God, he’d been wrong.

“Lily! Oh, shit, Lily! Are you all right?” He hit the button on his respirator and pulled the mask down. The thick air immediately filled his mouth and throat.

“Garrett?”

Her voice was muted. He raised his light to the ceiling, looking for a sign that the air was settling, but he found only a constant stream of particulate.

Lily’s fingers assumed a death grip on his glove. The urge to get to her, to get her out from behind the wall, threatened to turn him into a madman. He patted the wall with his free hand, looking for any way inside.

Deep breath. He had to stay in control.

“Answer me. Are you okay?”

He pushed down his own pain. Taking that free fall had been a risk, and his tailbone and hips were screaming at him for it. Combined with the hit his shoulder had taken, he felt about forty years older than he was at the moment.

She coughed. “No. I mean...I don’t know. I hit my head and...can’t breathe very well.”

He could tell by the delay in each word that she was struggling. Desperation welled higher, the primal urge to protect her, to get her out, was all consuming. Garrett pulled the broken mic and pressed the button, hoping against hope he’d get some kind of transmission. He called out to the crew, but the dead silence that echoed back at him made it clear the radio was toast.

“Why didn’t you leave this morning like you were supposed to?”

She panted a little, as if she’d been running. “My father?”

Garrett tipped the brim of his helmet against the wall, getting as close to the opening as he could.

“Oh, baby, he’s okay. I was with him this morning. He’s fine.” Filth floated into his mouth, making him spit. Garrett slid his mask back on, taking a deep draw of oxygen. God, his brain had never been so happy for fresh air, ever. “I need you to let go, Lil.”

“No!”

He closed his eyes against the pain in her voice. Why was this happening to her? Why again? She’d already been through hell once, and now...

Garrett swept the light down the length of the wall, looking for any openings he might have missed. The best he could tell, the debris was packed in tight from floor to ceiling. If he could find a space big enough, he’d pass Lily his mask and have her breathe from the oxygen tank on his back.

“I need to look for a way out. I’ll be right here on the other side. I won’t leave you.” Her fingers relaxed, letting him go, but she didn’t pull her arm back through the hole.

Forcing his heart and mind into work mode, Garrett surveyed the wall and the surrounding supports. The more he saw, the more dread filled him. The debris wall separating him from Lily was holding up the collapsed upper floor. The joists had snapped, disconnecting the floor above and angling it down like a slide into the basement. Rubble had caved in at the same time, creating a makeshift support for what was left of the floor.

If he disturbed the wall at all, it could bring the floor above down on their heads. He strode back to the opening.

“Lily, is there any light coming in at all from where you are?”

“No. It’s dark unless your light is shining.” She coughed a little, her hand withdrawing into the hole. Garrett made a grab for her, but she’d already pulled back.

“Lily? Talk to me.” He tried to wedge his hand through the opening, but it wouldn’t fit. “Lily?”

He shut his respirator off to conserve the oxygen and pulled the mask down again.

“I know you’re scared, baby. I won’t leave you. I’m going to find a way inside.”

Her voice was shaky and small. “Promise...you’ll get me out.”

Garrett held his hand against the wall. He hated promises, mostly because some you just couldn’t guarantee you’d keep. Even with the best intentions, things went wrong. And there was no telling how long they had before the house decided to come down completely.

“I promise you I’ll try.” That was the best he could give her, or himself. “Stay right by the hole. Are you okay right there?”

A stretch of silence preceded her response, and when she spoke, her tone was dry and desperate. “Yes.”

No. She wasn’t fine. She needed oxygen and she needed it now. Remembering the water bottle he’d stuffed in his jacket earlier, Garrett grabbed it and pushed it through the hole. He shone the light behind it so she could see.

“Lily, here. Drink some of this to clear your throat. Can you see it?” The bottle slid all the way out on her side. “Take little sips, okay? Maybe rinse your mouth out—get the dust out.”

She moved by the opening, giving him the slightest glimpse of her face in the light. Blood crusted over the side of her face, and the eye he could see was bruised and almost swollen shut. The grogginess in her voice wasn’t just the air quality. She probably had a concussion and was getting more and more fatigued by the minute.

He wasn’t a medic, but he knew the basics, and letting someone with a bad head injury fall asleep wasn’t good. If she did, who the hell knew what might happen? She might not wake up. He already felt the squeeze of each passing minute, but they suddenly counted a hell of a lot more. She needed a doctor.

“Lily, are you tired?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her reply was listless. He looked down the length of the wall again, wishing like hell he’d see something he hadn’t seen before. Now he wasn’t just looking for a way out, but he had to find a way to keep Lily conscious, too.

“Drink some of that water. Little sips. Can you do that?” When she didn’t answer, he stuck his mouth to the opening and spoke louder. “Baby, can you do that for me?” He fished a small Maglite from his pocket, twisted it on and slid it through the hole. “Here’s a flashlight. Grab it.”

“Okay.”

The weakness of her reply made him want to hit the wall. Garrett’s hands fisted, the muscles in his arms coiled and ready to unleash. Instead, he put his face mask back on and clicked the oxygen on.

He went left, searching the pile of debris for any crack that might offer an opening. There were small crevices here and there, and in a couple of places, openings big enough he could probably wedge his hand in, but nothing large enough to pass his respirator through. He turned right and surveyed the length for the same.

In the far-right corner, a pile of rubble on the floor made an incline. He scrambled up it until his head was nearly touching the ceiling. A wooden support beam lay on top of the debris wall, holding up the broken ceiling above. Just below the beam, a crevice opened up large enough for Garrett to stick his head through. Careful not to dislodge any of the rubble in the wall, Garrett popped his head through the opening and shone his light inside, seeing Lily’s tomb for the first time.

Her body lay prone just beneath the arm hole, the water bottle tipped and draining from her hand. His heart lurched in his throat. He called her name twice. No response.

“No, no!”

It was happening. He’d opened his heart to Lily and now...now she was going to be taken away.

Pulling gingerly away from the hole, Garrett scanned his light around the basement for just the right thing. Going back the way he had come, he spotted a long metal pipe poking out from beneath a pile of bricks. Using both hands, he cleared the debris until the pipe was exposed.

Pebbles hit his helmet, followed by a whoosh of dust from above. He covered his head with his arm, waited to see if more would tumble down. When he glanced up, a thick haze hovered above his head. He wiped a glove over his face mask to clear it, but the haze remained. Thicker than debris dust, it swirled as if an air current was waving through it.

Another pebble hit his helmet. Garrett looked down, saw a small orange glow. He reached for it, eyes widening. An ember. He pinched the ember between his gloved fingers and moved farther down where the haze was thinner. A crack in the ceiling dripped bright orange stars like carefree raindrops.

The upper level was on fire.

Garrett stumbled to the hole in the wall by Lily.

“Lily! Lily, wake up.” He whipped off his mask and shouted into the opening. “Wake. Up!”

He pulled off his glove and gathered a handful of small brick pieces. He tried to get his hand through the opening. The tightness of the cement and brick and wood ate into his flesh as he forced his hand through. Skin ripped, pain clawed over his hand until he felt free space. Breathing hard, he dropped a couple of the chunks, hoping he didn’t hurt her, but needing to get her attention.

“Lily. You’ve got to wake up. Please!”

No response.

“Goddammit, Lily. Please!”

His mouth filled with dust and smoke, his eyes burning.

Nothing. No, no. Please, no. He’d waited years to let himself go, to find someone, and now it was burning away. He knew in that nanosecond that he was in love with her. Because it hurt. It ripped his heart out and gutted him at the same time. This was what he’d always been protecting himself from—this pain, except he’d always thought the tables would be turned, that it would be him on his way out, leaving the woman he loved behind.