Chapter 19

Steve yawned as he drove on the empty county road toward home. Glancing at the clock in the dash, he smiled. It was Christmas. The stars looked close enough to pluck out of the sky, and the snow lay in a thick, white blanket on the surrounding fields.

He couldn’t wait to get home, to shower off the smell of smoke from the last call and crawl into bed with Camille. In the morning, the kids would open presents and pretend that they weren’t as excited as when they were five. His life had seemed off-balance for so long, with the problems in their former towns and the moves and the years of sleeping next to that empty pillow. Then he’d run into Camille again, and everything had seemed to right itself after that.

He tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck. The previous call had been frustrating. Even though he’d just been mopping up a garbage fire in the alley behind the gas station, it’d still been a bear. Just when they thought they’d put it out completely, they’d find another hot spot. Having to pick through garbage looking for embers was not his idea of a fun Christmas Eve activity. He’d much rather have been with Camille and the kids in their warm house, the lights from the tree decorating the room as they talked and told stories and hung stockings.

At least he’d have tomorrow with them. He couldn’t wait to see Camille’s reaction to her gift. His smile of anticipation faded as he spotted a red glow in the distance. Fire. His gut clenched as soon as he recognized it, adrenaline rushing through him, making his hands grip the wheel tightly. It had to be very close to the ranch, and all he could picture were Camille and his kids, asleep in their beds. Grabbing his phone, he started to call dispatch when the cell rang in his hand.

It was the house number. His muscles tight with tension, he answered. “What’s wrong?”

“Daddy,” Maya sobbed, and his heart squeezed with dread. “The barn’s on fire!”

As soon as he’d seen the call come in, he’d known that the fire he’d spotted had to be on their property, but her words still hit him like a closed fist. “I’m five minutes away, honey. Have you called dispatch?”

“Will did.”

“Good. Are the horses out?”

“Camille…” She sucked in a quavering breath as her voice broke. “Camille’s getting them out.”

His mind blanked with terror. Camille was inside the burning barn, trying to lead panicked horses to safety? He wasn’t sure what else he said to Maya, how he ended the call. All his focus was on getting home and saving Camille. His foot pressed down on the gas, and the truck flew, juddering around tight turns and fishtailing as he hit the driveway.

Passing the house, he drove right up to the barn, his eyes locked on the horror in front of him. The structure was fully engaged, flames licking the red walls all the way up to the shake roof. The wind blew flaming debris off the roof and sent it dancing toward the trees. In the rows of cultivated evergreens, light flickered, and he knew that the fire had spread. Shoving the pickup door open, he jumped out, charging toward the front of the barn.

“Dad!” Will was suddenly in front of him, blocking the way.

“I need to get her out!” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the roar of the fire. “Camille’s in there!”

“Dad, you can’t! Not that way!” Will’s eyes were huge in his pale face, and he suddenly looked much younger than he was. “The door’s locked.”

“Locked?” That didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a lock on the outside of the sliding door.

“Padlocked. There’s one on the other door, too.”

Padlocked. The realization that someone had locked Camille inside a burning barn sent cold rage tearing through him.

“Will, the fire’s spreading. Bring the others to the main road. Keep them safe.”

Will gave him a tight-lipped nod. Steve stalked back to the toolbox built into the bed of his truck. He pulled out his heavy-duty bolt cutters and strode to the barn door. Someone was yelling something, but Steve couldn’t make out the words, his head buzzing with the anger that had temporarily masked his terror.

The padlock on the door sent a fresh surge of fury through his veins, and he snipped the thick metal as if it were baling wire. Yanking the remains of the lock off the door and throwing them violently to the side, he reached for the handle and jerked the door open.

The flames roared at the influx of oxygen, and Steve was glad he was still wearing his bunker gear. He’d been so anxious to get home to Camille and the kids that he hadn’t wanted to delay by changing at the station. Without his SCBA gear, the heat and smoke felt alien, the air harsh and deadly as he pulled it into his lungs.

Pushing away all of his thoughts, all of the alarms screaming at him to wait for the other firefighters, the ones who’d have the gear for this, he stepped into the burning barn. The heat was overwhelming, and the smoke scratched at his throat, reminding him of his unprotected, vulnerable lungs. It didn’t matter. Camille wasn’t safe, either, and she’d been in there too long already.

He jogged down the aisle, trying to see through watering eyes and the thick smoke. The entire barn was ablaze, and a small part of him mourned for the building, one he’d been in thousands of times since his childhood. To his dawning surprise, he saw the stalls were empty. Buttercup, Freddy, Q, Maybelle…none of them were trapped and burning.

As he grew closer to the end of the aisle, his hope rose. Maybe Camille had gotten out when she’d freed the horses. Doubt tugged at him, though, making him move faster. If she’d gotten out, she would’ve been with the others. She never would’ve watched as he’d run into the barn without trying to stop him, especially when there wasn’t anyone left to save.

He reached the end of the aisle, but Camille wasn’t there. His stomach dropped as his frantic gaze darted around the barn, trying to peer through the thick smoke and darkness to see where she might be trapped. Where could she be? He’d checked all the stalls and the full length of the aisle. The feed room? The tack room? Had she gotten turned around and was passed out in a corner somewhere, hidden in the shadows?

Terror choked him worse than the smoke. Coughing, he crouched lower and rushed back toward the other side of the barn. He tried to cling to his usual calm logic, but it slipped out of his grasp, panic fighting its way into his thoughts as the fire grew wilder and Camille was still nowhere to be found.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Turning, he squinted, peering through the haze of smoke and the disorienting shadows caused by the leaping flames. A figure was outlined by the darkness outside the gaping Dutch door, and Steve lunged in that direction. His heart squeezed with hope, even as his brain told him that the form was too big to be Camille.

The light from the fire bounced off the person’s jacket as he turned sideways and stepped through the opening. Steve recognized the reflective stripes as bunker gear, just as he noticed the firefighter was cradling a smaller figure against his chest. His heart leapt again, jolting almost painfully. Backup had arrived, and one of the firefighters was saving Camille.

“Camille!” he shouted, and the firefighter jerked his head around. The face shield and SCBA gear hid his features, so Steve couldn’t recognize him. As Steve rushed toward them, the firefighter ducked through the door out into the night. Stumbling over the remains of a fallen board, Steve caught his balance and surged toward the opening, overwhelming relief whipping through him. Camille was out of the barn. The firefighter, whoever he was, had gotten her out, and an EMT would be there to help her.

She’d been so still, though. He ruthlessly shoved the thought out of his head, refusing to consider how limply she’d lain in the firefighter’s arms. Coughing, he ran through the opening and looked around, blinking his watering, stinging eyes as he tried to see where the firefighter had carried Camille.

Something was wrong, though. There was no rescue truck, no flashing lights, no crew of firefighters swarming the area. Except for the roaring flames behind him, everything was quiet…too quiet.

Just as the realization that backup hadn’t arrived was starting to take root in his mind, he saw the firefighter from the barn. He was jogging toward the flaming trees, Camille still in his arms, his gait rough and uneven. Steve wasn’t sure if the firefighter had an injury or was thrown off-balance by the person cradled in his arms. All he knew was that he needed to get Camille to safety, now.

“Get back here!” Steve bellowed, but the wind and his ravaged lungs conspired against him, and his words were barely audible over the background noise. He started running after them, his brain fogged with fear for Camille. Why was the firefighter carrying her toward the burning evergreens? It didn’t make any sense.

Steve chased after them, but the unshoveled snow was too deep, slowing him down to a frustrating slog. His body protested every movement, wanting to stop and cough, but he pressed on. Despite his ragged breathing, he was gaining on the fleeing figure. As they got closer to the tree line, Steve sucked in a hard breath. The fire was spreading quickly, the wind sending sparks and flames from tree to tree before whipping the inferno into a fury. Snowflakes and embers bit at his face, the contrast between hot and cold strange and terrible.

The destruction hit him low in the gut, but he pushed it away. He needed to get to Camille. That was the priority right now.

The firefighter paused at the edge of the fiery trees, looking over his shoulder. For a split second, Steve thought that he’d stop and wait, that he’d end this chase that made no sense. Just as he started to hope, the firefighter ran into the trees.

“No!” Steve yelled, agony filling him as he watched the two dive into the rows of trees. He couldn’t lose Camille, not now that he’d just found her. He ran after them, heading straight toward the smoke-clogged forest. His agonized lungs and the deep snow slowed him down to a nightmarishly slow speed, but he plowed on. He had to save her.

Without hesitating, he plunged into the inferno after them.

* * *

Camille woke in yet another fire-ravaged nightmare.

The Christmas trees all around them were blackened skeletons dressed in flames, the evergreen scent she loved so much tainted and bitter from smoke. Hard arms held her against a chest covered in rough fabric. Looking up, she bit back a scream. It was the faceless man from her nightmare.

This time, though, he was all too real—and she wouldn’t let him take her.

Reaching up, she shoved at the shield covering his face. He let out a shout as his head snapped back, and she swung her elbow at his chest. His arms loosened, just slightly, and she threw herself forward, needing to get away from this nightmare come to life. She rolled out of his hold, falling weightlessly for the longest moment before she hit the ground hard.

He reached for her, looking so much like the menacing figure from her nightmares that she almost froze again. No! she shouted in her head, managing to roll away and scramble to her feet. Her legs didn’t work well, her muscles shaky and stiff, but panic gave her strength to run.

Stumbling and fuzzy-headed, she sprinted forward, trying to find a way through what looked like an impenetrable wall of flame. She ducked between the trees and ran, two blazing rows of trees hemming her in. Flames billowed out, tossed by the wind, and heat seared her skin. She skittered to the side, away from the fire, but there was nowhere to go. A second wall of flame blocked her on the other side. Just as in her nightmares, there were no doors, no escape. It was just her and the hungry fire and the dark figure chasing her down.

With a crack, a burning tree fell to the side, blocking her way. She stumbled to a stop, barely managing to halt before she tumbled right on top of the flaming evergreen. She whirled in a circle, searching for a hole, some opening clear of flame that she could squeeze through, but there was nothing but fire.

“Camille!” Steve’s voice made her freeze, and she sucked in a breath to respond. A hand gripped her arm, yanking her around, and her shout emerged as a hoarse shriek of fear.

The nightmare firefighter dragged her close, and terror seized her mind, making it impossible to think. She could only stare at the flames reflecting off his face shield, her own horrified reflection caught in the burning depths.

“Camille!” Steve’s shout jolted her out of her panicked paralysis, and she jerked back against the firefighter’s hold. This wasn’t one of her nightmares. This was just a person, and she could fight—she would fight. She’d just found contentment and love and family. She wasn’t about to give up her life easily.

She swung her arm, wishing she knew how to fight, but he easily blocked her with his free hand. With a sound of rage, she struck out again, this time catching the edge of his face shield. Locking her fingers around it, she shoved it upward as hard as she could, taking a grim satisfaction in his grunt of pain. The helmet and shield tumbled to the ground, revealing his all-too-human face.

Shock turned her rigid as recognition hit her.

“Nate?”

“Don’t be scared, Camille,” he said, and it was somehow so much more horrible to hear the familiar voice coming from this threatening figure. His attempt at a smile sent a shiver of horror through her. “I’m rescuing you. I got you out of the barn.”

“I don’t understand. Why’d you drag me in here?” A flare of doubt, telling her that she might’ve been wrong to run from him, tickled her stomach, but she squashed it. “This isn’t safe!” She waved an arm at the burning trees surrounding them.

“I know.” He took a step and staggered slightly, reminding Camille of his slurred words in the kitchen. “I was going to take you to safety—I wanted to take you to safety—but Steve was following us. He would’ve taken over, and everyone would’ve called him the hero. Again. All of this would’ve been for nothing.”

“You’re not making sense!” Her voice went high with panic as the wind blasted, sending a shower of sparks swirling around them. She jumped away, frantically looking around, searching for an escape.

“Camille!” Steve’s shout came again, closer this time. It was the best thing she’d ever heard.

“Steve!” she shouted back. “We’re here!”

“No!” Nate lunged for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back against him. “He doesn’t get to be the hero. Not this time!”

“Camille!” Steve burst into their small clearing, and Camille had never seen anything so beautiful as his sooty, terrified face. He lunged toward them but then froze, his gaze locked on her attacker’s face, his soot-streaked face blank with shock and horror.

“Nate?” Steve’s voice, filled with utter disbelief, cracked as he said his brother’s name.

Nate’s arm looped around Camille’s neck as he yanked her closer, pressing against her throat when she tried to fight back and making it even harder to breathe. “Why are you here? You were supposed to be at the fire! Why do you make everything so hard?”

“What?” Grief and anger replaced the shock in Steve’s expression as he took a step toward them, and Nate’s arm tightened. Struggling, her vision slowly fuzzing, Camille began to choke. “Let her go! What are you doing?”

“It’s my turn to save the day,” Nate shouted as Camille fought to pull air into her lungs. “I planned everything so carefully. I get to be the hero this time!”

With a roar, Steve lunged forward, swinging a fist at Nate’s face. When the arm around her neck loosened, Camille dropped to the ground, banging her chin on Nate’s forearm hard enough to leave her stunned. Her head spun as the flames shot higher around them, embers and sparks hissing as they hit the snowy ground. A burning branch broke from one of the trees and fell next to her arm, and the flare of heat brought her out of her daze.

Shaking off her dizziness, she crawled away as Steve let out a pained grunt. Fear for him clutched her when she saw Nate’s fist swing toward his center, hitting with a thud that bent Steve in half. Looking around frantically, she spotted a wooden box of the handsaws they used to cut down the trees. Stumbling toward the box, she grabbed one of the saws and turned back toward the pair, unsure how she was going to use her newfound weapon, but unwilling to let Steve battle it out alone.

With a primal wordless cry, Nate plowed forward, driving his shoulder into Steve’s middle. The two brothers tumbled to the ground, hitting the snowy ground as a shower of sparks cascaded over them. They rolled over and then over again, each struggling for control of the other, locked in a tight battle.

Camille took a step toward them, breathing hard, fear and smoke squeezing her lungs, unable to tell who was who in the uneven light of the flames. Steve rolled them once more, flipping his brother over so that Nate was on the ground, knocking slush and blackened branches to the side. Rearing up, Steve swung, his fist striking Nate in the face: once, twice, three times.

Finally, Nate went limp, his head and limbs falling into the melting snow beneath them. Panting, Steve stared down at his brother for a long moment before slowly pushing himself to his feet. Swaying, he looked at Camille. Dropping the saw, Camille launched herself at Steve.

He gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly but carefully, as if she was something precious. It was over too soon, though, and he set her away from him, his eyes raking over her as if checking for injuries.

“Can you walk?” he asked, his voice a husky rasp as he stripped off his bunker coat and wrapped it around her.

She nodded, although she wasn’t sure how long she could stay on her feet. Steve propped his unconscious brother up and pulled him over his shoulders. Camille stared at Nate, unable to accept that Steve’s sweet brother was the figure from her nightmares…and the person who’d almost led her to her death. She dragged her eyes away from him and met Steve’s gaze instead.

“Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed onto the back of his belt with a shaking hand, willing to follow wherever he’d lead, knowing that he’d get her to safety.

That was what Steve did. He kept her safe. Always.