Shane sat in the back of Engine 81 as it drove, lights and sirens, to the fire. The perspective from up here was different than behind the wheel of the ambulance, but welcome. When Charlie had looked at him like she was going to murder him when all he’d done was steal one of her fries, Shane figured it might pay to give her a bit of space before next shift. He’d practically been living with her since the police had found that note, but things had quieted down. In fact, there hadn’t been a peep from anyone in relation to Charlie since. Maybe whoever had left that note had found out that the detective on the case was a personal friend of the guys at the firehouse, and had backed off, figuring harassing her was more trouble than it was worth. He could only hope, but either way, Charlie had promised to get in touch with Jesse today. Shane hoped Jesse would be able to reassure her about whatever was bugging her.

The truck arrived at the scene, and Shane grabbed his helmet and climbed out of the truck. This wouldn’t be the first asshole they’d dealt with, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Either way, Charlie had promised him she’d keep her guard up and stay around other people, and so on their first day off, he’d taken an extra shift with the crew that manned the truck. It would help clear his head, and being around a different squad meant he could get his head in the game without anything else to worry about.

The scene was chaotic: an apartment building with dozens of residents standing around on the street outside, most in their pajamas, as well as probably about double that many again of nosy assholes that couldn’t mind their own business. It was the middle of the night, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t these people have anything better to do, like sleep? Unless it was his building that was actually on fire, a little apartment blaze wouldn’t be enough to get Shane out of bed at oh-dark-thirty.

His gaze roamed about the crowd, hoping to spot someone who looked familiar, but there was no one. Shane forced his attention back to the fire. This was out of the pattern of the two warehouse arson fires, with at least fifty residents having been at risk. And besides, at those scenes, the places had been deserted. There’d been no one to spot, so even if he did notice a bystander acting weird here, he had no one to compare them to. “Parker, you and Brooks are on search,” the lieutenant called out, and Shane grabbed the halligan set, making his way to the building. He’d taken this shift to get his mind back in the game and off all the shit that had been plaguing his crew the last few weeks. That wasn’t going to happen if he kept thinking about it.

“Arial!” the lieutenant called out, sending others to man the ladders and start beating back the fire from outside the building. Shane nodded at Brooks as they entered the building, then pointed—he’d go left and up the stairs, starting the search of the apartments while Brooks cleared the lobby.

He shouldered open the door of the first apartment. “Fire department, call out!” Nothing. Shane swept the rooms, just in case—Mason’s rules. Even though this wasn’t his shift, Shane still followed it. When he found nothing, he closed the door and made his way to the next. Clear. Then again. He kept going, breathing a sigh of relief when the first floor swept clear. He hoped that the residents standing around on the street had been all of them. It would be a blessing to attend an apartment fire where everyone had managed to get out. His radio crackled to life. “Lobby’s clear,” Brooks said. “I’m coming up to you.”

“Skip straight to second,” Shane said in reply. He headed for the stairs, testing them before going forward. The fire was still burning but seemed to be concentrating upward. The guys outside would get it under control soon enough. Making it up to the second floor, he began the process all over again. Apartment one, clear. Two, clear. Shane smiled beneath his oxygen mask. Maybe the universe really was smiling on them that day.

“Coming up on second,” Brooks said through the radio. “Where are you, Parker?”

“Apartment two oh four,” Shane said, pushing open the door. He’d taken three steps into the apartment when he heard it. The ominous creaking sound that all firefighters knew meant fucking move. Shane twisted, attempting to turn, but the hall was narrow. “Fuck,” he muttered, pushing forward. He managed one step, two, before an impact landed heavily on his shoulder, making his arm numb and taking him out. Shit. He tried to move his other arm to activate his PASS alarm, but a shooting pain running across his back stopped him.

“Parker, you okay?” Brooks’ voice came over the radio. Shane wriggled, trying to move enough to at least reach that, but it was no use. He was pinned beneath a hunk of burning roof beam, the heat of it reaching through his turnout gear. How long could he lie there before it was compromised? Over his grunts and the crackle of the fire, he finally heard it—the loud, sharp wailing of his alarm, letting the rest of the crew know he hadn’t moved for thirty seconds. “Damn it!” Brooks said through the radio. “Hang on, Man, I’m on the way.”

Seconds later, he arrived at Shane’s side, taking in the scene. He swore loudly again before barking for help into the radio. “Swing the ladder! Parker’s going to need evac through the window.”

Shane closed his eyes for what seemed like only a second, throwing them open again when a hand shook his free shoulder, the pain jerking him back to reality. Rodriguez, the EMT from second shift, was lying on the floor next to him, shining a fucking annoying light in his eyes. “Keep your eyes open, Shane,” he said. “Can you do that for me?”

“If you keep the fucking light out of them,” he said back, groaning when the weight lying across his shoulder shifted. Damn, when had the rest of the boys gotten here? He tried to turn his head and the world swam.

“Keep still for me, Shane,” Rodriguez said. “We’ll have you out in no time.” The beam shifted again, and an excruciating pain radiated down his back. Maybe it was time Shane listened to him.

* * *

Shane pulled the oxygen mask off his face. “Seriously. Lights and sirens aren’t necessary. I’m fine.”

Rodriguez grinned at him and snapped it back into place. “You’re fine when the docs clear you. Until then, we’re taking no chances with one of our own.” He pushed Shane lightly on his uninjured shoulder to get him to lie the hell down. Damn, Charlie was going to be pissed at him for getting injured. Not to mention Mason and Chief Stone.

It had taken another ten minutes to get Shane free and then hustled down a ladder on the backboard and loaded into the rig. It felt supremely weird being on the other side, but Shane lay back. He knew what a pain in the ass combative patients could be, and so he’d give Rodriguez and his partner a break. Besides, he was starting to feel a little woozy.

“What the hell?”

“That’ll be the pain med,” Rodriguez said. “Good shit, isn’t it?”

The ambulance started to move, and Shane was just drifting out when he heard another call over the radio. “Ambulance 32, advise when you’re back on call. Company 81 is being redirected direct to another apartment fire.”

“Copy that.” The voice of Rodriguez’s partner, Ryan Taylor, came over the radio. “What’s the address?”

“801 Second, evacuation in progress.”

The words filtered slowly through Shane’s brain, and when he finally processed them, he jerked upright, this time nearly pulling out his IV and adding the pain from that to his throbbing shoulder.

“Shane! Lie down or I’m going to have to sedate you, Asshole.”

Shane grabbed at the IV, attempting—badly—to remove it one-handed. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Eight oh one on Second. That’s my place.”