Chapter Twenty-three
Help me out, Spence. Help me find him. Help me.
If Charlie had an answer from the great beyond, Aidan couldn’t hear it over the roar of a fire consuming the front half of the pizza kitchen. He ducked down, then crawled across a floor he’d learned every inch of in the past few weeks. Good thing, because he couldn’t see a thing through the smoke.
“Mike!” He hollered once, but had to pull his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, feeling his whole body slide into combat mode. He’d been in worse. He’d survived worse. And so had most soldiers he knew.
But Mike was no soldier. He was a sick old man who was nowhere to be found.
He rounded the counter, noticing fresh semolina on the floor. He had to be here. He had to be close. He called out one more time, crawling around to the oven where—whoa!
Flames danced and ate up the whole front and left side of the restaurant, devouring the shelves and counters around it.
The oven. The damn fifty-year-old beast that couldn’t go over 647. Maybe it shut off…or maybe it sparked. They’d never tested it. Had Mike’s faulty memory failed him? Had he turned the dial and forgotten his own rule?
Smoke stung his lungs with every labored breath as he powered through to the other side of the kitchen. Could Mike have gotten out through the dining room? Flames engulfed that door, and the smoke blinded him so he couldn’t see through the small broken window.
“Mike!” Where the hell was he? There wasn’t much real estate left in this kitchen. The prep area. The fridge. The—
The apartment.
Of course, he went upstairs to save Ruff. Where they would both die if Aidan didn’t get to them. And Beck would be the next victim, dying of a broken heart at the very moment she was about to heal. He would not let any of that happen. He wouldn’t quit. He wouldn’t.
Come on, Spence. I know you’re up there. Help me out, buddy.
Crouched in a half crawl, Aidan took a shaky breath, refusing to cough it out or let his stinging eyes close. Instead, he made his way to the stairwell door. Flames danced around it, and he knew the glass window in the middle could shatter at any second, which would send the smoke up the stairs and let in enough oxygen that the fire would follow.
A few feet away, a hundred dishes crashed to the floor when the shelves burned, and a stack of pizza boxes combusted with a whoosh. Heat slammed him, but he stayed steady and used his shirt to cover his hand so he could turn the searing-hot knob. The stairwell was smoky, but totally passable if he could get up and down with both of them in a minute.
Of course he could. He had to.
Making sure the door behind him was latched, he started up the stairs, but didn’t make it two feet before the glass in that door shattered, too, letting the smoke roll in. The flames wouldn’t be far behind, and they’d eat up these old wooden stairs in seconds.
Which would trap Mike and Ruff—and Aidan—upstairs.
“Mike!” He bellowed the name, hearing the amplified echo in the dense air. “Ruff!”
In the distance, he heard a siren scream and…a dog bark. Muffled. Low. Terrified and frantic.
Taking one more look at the flames on the other side of the broken glass, he made a calculated guess. The stairwell would be completely impassible by the time the firefighters got here. Could they get Mike and Ruff out through the apartment windows? Maybe.
But they’d have a better chance if Aidan was up there and told them where to go. He stood stone-still for a split second. Run up there and save them himself, or find a way back outside and let a firefighter go up there?
He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. It went against his training, his gut, and his knowledge of right and wrong. He charged up the stairs, grabbing the still cool doorknob and swearing mightily that apparently Mike did lock some doors.
He pounded with full force, thanking God that whoever added this apartment hadn’t followed code. This was a hollow door, and he could kick it open if Mike didn’t unlock it in the next five seconds. “Mike! Lemme in! I can get you out!”
The only reply was Ruff’s insistent, out-of-control barking.
Maybe Mike was unconscious. Maybe shock or fear had knocked him out. Oh hell, maybe he’d had another stroke.
Without giving it another moment’s thought, he backed up, braced against the opposite wall, and lifted a booted foot to slam against the door near the lock. It broke enough for him to finish the job with one more kick and use his shoulders to muscle all the way through. Instantly, Ruff lunged at him, throwing his full weight on Aidan in a panic.
“Down! Down!” He roared the command, blinking into the red lights that flashed through the windows. Up here, the sirens were easy to hear, but he didn’t take a second to look outside.
“Mike, where are you?” he ground out, circling, then running toward the galley kitchen. And there he was, on the floor, lurched against a cabinet, his cell phone still in his hand. He’d come up here to save Ruff and passed out. Or worse.
Aidan vaulted toward him, checking his pulse, saying a silent prayer when the vein tapped his thumb.
“Move, Ruff!” He scooped up Mike’s limp body, hoisted him over his shoulder, and turned to the windows, ready to kick one out if he had to. He went to the middle pane and managed to shove the frame up, swearing under his breath when the paint stuck.
“Up there! He’s up there!” A chorus of voices from the small crowd that had gathered floated up, and instantly he saw the jacket-clad firefighters swarm and get the ladder in position.
“We got this, Ruff,” he said over his shoulder. “We got this!”
Next to him, Ruff barked and spun and essentially lost his mind over the chaos. In seconds, the ladder landed, and he could see the helmet of the man climbing up.
“Mmmm.” Mike moaned over Aidan’s shoulder, coming to. “Help me.”
“I got you, buddy. We’re getting you out of here.”
Smoke started to fill the room. The clock was ticking. The fire was on its way. He had to move fast.
In the next second, his cousin Connor’s familiar face popped into the view.
“Out of the way, Aidan. I’ll get the screen and take him,” Connor ordered.
Aidan didn’t argue, doing exactly what he was told, then easing Mike’s body out onto Connor’s sizable shoulder. He stole a glance below to see four more men, in position to catch anyone who fell, including his cousin, Declan, shouting orders to his crew.
But where was Beck?
He scanned the crowd being held back across the street along Bushrod Square, his gaze finally landing on Beck, who stood at the side, her arm around a wailing Sarah. She must have driven here, after all. Damn shame to witness this.
Beck looked up as Connor started down with Mike slumped over his shoulder and instantly turned her aunt around so she couldn’t see.
Aidan stuck his head out the window so she’d know he was okay. “One more!” he called. “A dog!”
“Then you!” Connor hollered from down the ladder, the insistence in his cousin’s voice easy to hear even over the noise of sirens and the fire behind him. He stole one more look at Beck, able to see the relief on her face. Horror, anxiety, and all those ancient fears were bubbling up inside her, no doubt. But everyone was alive.
Time to prove that to her.
“Let’s go, Ru—” He spun around, only then realizing that Ruff was gone. And then he heard a single bark from the staircase.
* * *
“He’s okay, Aunt Sarah. He’s down. They have him. The medics have him.” Beck kept repeating the same things over and over to her aunt, who thought she’d surprise them all by driving over to restaurant to celebrate Mike’s return.
Bitter smoke burned the lump in Beck’s throat as she fought back tears and tried to stay strong for her aunt.
Despite her body’s own quivering, Beck wrapped Sarah in her arms, keeping her aunt’s face pressed against her shoulder so the poor woman didn’t have to witness her livelihood going up in smoke and fire.
But Sarah lifted a tear-stained face, stealing a glance in time to see the firefighter reach the bottom rungs of the ladder with Uncle Mike’s limp body. “There he is.”
Please let him be alive, dear God. Please.
“Is he—” Sarah started to pull away, but Beck wouldn’t let her move.
“Let them take care of him. Let them give him oxygen or whatever he needs.” And please let someone get to Aidan and Ruff.
A team of fire engines, a squadron of firefighters, and at least four smaller utility trucks had arrived less than five minutes after her call, with the captain showing up first in a separate vehicle and Sarah shortly after that. Somehow, Beck had stayed calm enough to tell him who was in there, stunned when he nodded and said, “Aidan’s my cousin, ma’am. We’ll get him.”
She’d totally forgotten Declan Mahoney was Aidan’s cousin. He seemed to know the building well as she heard him holler commands to the dozens of men and women in heavy jackets and helmets dragging huge hoses, as choreographed as a dance.
All along, Captain Mahoney directed every move, shouting orders, on a phone, pointing men to doors, sending a team into the dining room through the shattered glass door. It was the only place not on fire in the whole building.
A flash of twenty-four medallions on a seafoam-green wall appeared in Beck’s head, but she shoved it away. One loss at a time. People mattered, not awards.
But if she hadn’t been hell-bent on winning one, would this have even happened?
She grunted at the thought, forcing her gaze to join everyone else’s—at the window where Aidan had been.
Except…where was he now?
Another firefighter was almost at the top of the ladder now, moving with remarkable speed, considering the weight of equipment on his back.
She couldn’t see flames in the apartment windows…yet. Plenty of smoke, though. But that was where Aidan and Ruff must have found Mike. She re-created the scene in her mind, trying to imagine how Mike had ended up there—to get Ruff when the fire started, no doubt. And then Aidan had gone in, scoured the burning kitchen, and bravely marched up to save two souls she loved with her whole heart.
But what about his soul? She loved that one, too.
Why wasn’t Ruff coming out of that window and Aidan following right now? Frustration burned inside her like the fire, as harsh as the smoke scorching her throat, making her want to scream out.
What’s happening up there? Where are they?
“Why doesn’t he come down?” she ground out the question, still squeezing Sarah, only vaguely aware that the crowd had grown. Every cell in her body was focused on the window, willing Aidan and Ruff to appear.
The firefighter turned and looked below, hollering something to the captain. Declan Mahoney didn’t even hesitate, but raised his hand and pointed. “Get him!”
Yes, please, God. Get him.
“Why did he go?” Sarah wailed, twisting in Beck’s arms to see what was going on. “Why did Mike leave tonight? Why?”
Because Beck had begged him to go into the kitchen and cook. And something had gone very, very wrong. She had no idea what, but it had.
She blinked at the tears blurring her vision as she stared up at that window, where all she could see was clouds of smoke. Where could Aidan have gone?
Ruff had run away. There was no other explanation. Aidan would die to save that dog, and she knew it.
“Please, can we see Mike?” Sarah pleaded. “Please.”
“Of course, of course.” Still watching the window, Beck wove through the crowd to get closer to where the ambulances were lined up on Ambrose Avenue. A group of medics surrounded Uncle Mike, who appeared to be on a gurney. She stood on her tiptoes to see if Mike was hurt, burned, or worse, before she let Sarah go closer.
But she couldn’t see over the crowd, adding a new frustration.
“Let’s give them a minute,” she said. A minute of chaos. Heat pressed on her face, the fire crackled and whooshed with the occasional deafening pop, sheriff’s deputies hauled out barriers and moved the crowd back, the bitter, deadly smell of smoke seeping into her every pore.
And still no sign of Aidan.
It all blurred in her teary vision and screamed in her pounding head. Again. Again. Again.
This time a fire. Last time a bullet. The time before that, a car accident. How many people would Beck Spencer lose?
“Mrs. Leone.” One of the paramedics came rushing over, a woman Beck recognized as one of the few regulars who stopped in at Slice of Heaven a few times a week. “Your husband’s asking for you.”
“Thank God,” Beck muttered as relief swamped her. She wouldn’t lose Uncle Mike. Not tonight.
“He’s had a stroke, you know,” Sarah said, stumbling toward the woman. “He’s not healthy. Do they know that? Do they—”
“He’s fine,” the paramedic assured them both as they came closer to the group around the gurney. “But we’re going to take him over to Vestal Valley General to be sure.”
As the crowd spread for them, Beck could see more professionals in action around a gurney, taking Mike’s blood pressure, checking his lungs and heart with a stethoscope, giving him oxygen through a mask. Just as Sarah and Beck reached him, two more paramedics lifted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Can I go with him?” Sarah asked.
The woman who’d brought them over didn’t hesitate. “In the front, with the driver.” Then she looked at Beck. “Will you follow?”
“I can’t leave,” Beck said to both of them, giving Sarah a reassuring hug. “I’m waiting for Aidan.” Who will come out of that building alive, damn it.
“And Ruff,” Sarah added on a soft sob, ripping Beck’s heart out.
“Oh, Aunt Sarah. We’ll survive this,” she promised with another hug. “We’ve been through worse.”
Sarah looked up at her, green eyes filled with pain and fear. “Thank you, Beck. Please thank Aidan. He saved Mike’s life.”
“I will. I promise.” And she added a silent prayer that she could keep that promise.
At the sound of a loud noise, she whipped around, seeing a massive cloud of smoke erupt into the night air.
“Stairwell collapsed!” She heard one of the firefighters holler the announcement to the team, and her heart did exactly the same thing.
Collapsed? What if he was on it?
Beck pressed her knuckles to her mouth and stepped back into the crowd, aching for the nightmare to end.
“Beck! Beck, we’re here.” At the sound of a man’s voice, she spun around to see Daniel Kilcannon running toward her, with Garrett, Jessie, Shane, Chloe, and Darcy right behind him.
“He’s inside,” she managed to say through a sob. “He’s in there.”
She saw Daniel’s step falter at the news, but he continued toward her, folding her into strong arms. She nearly buckled against him, falling into the comfort she so desperately needed.
“I’m going to talk to Dec,” Garrett said, heading straight to the captain, Shane right behind him. Jessie and Chloe wrapped their arms around Beck, too, forming a tight little circle of support.
“Is Aidan in there?” The high-pitched question came from Molly, running toward them with Pru and Trace on either side of her.
“He is,” Daniel said, refusing to let go of Beck. “But they’ll get him. I know they’ll get him.”
“It’s Ruff,” Beck said, tears streaming down her face. “He got Uncle Mike out, but then he didn’t come out because…Ruff…” She choked as Daniel stroked her hair and Pru patted her back.
Another shattering of glass and a small pop of an explosion made her cry out and pull away from Daniel to see what had happened. The dining room was on fire now, but the flames were sputtering under roaring hoses that doused the entire building with water. The façade above her apartment was hanging down, drenched by the hoses, with only the occasional flame up there.
How long had it been? How could he—
“Look! Look!”
As though they were one, the entire family turned in the direction Molly pointed, as a man emerged from the smoke of the dining room and stepped through the debris and broken glass of the front door.
Covered in soot, coughing, but alive and walking with Ruff draped over his shoulders, Aidan emerged from the smoke. He stumbled under the dog’s weight but was caught by the firefighter next to him.
“Thank you, Annie,” Daniel whispered, so softly that no one else but Beck could have heard it.
But the words to his deceased wife gave Beck a wave of chills as powerful as the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
“He’s fine!”
“They’re alive!”
“Thank God!”
The chorus of exclamations and gratitude was drowned out by Beck’s heart thumping at a rate she didn’t ever remember feeling before. The group broke up, Daniel let go, and they all sort of moved like one single unit toward Aidan, drawn like moths to their flame. But Beck stayed rooted in one spot and stared at Aidan as he marched toward the ambulance and finally eased Ruff to the ground.
She saw a medic bend over with an oxygen mask for Ruff, which folded her heart in half. But then her view was blocked by the paramedics and Kilcannons who circled Aidan. Immediately, someone wrapped him in a blanket, and someone else tried to put an oxygen mask on him.
But he shook his head, throwing off the blanket as he searched the crowd with a desperate, wild expression.
“Where’s Beck?” His voice was raspy but determined. “Where the hell is Beck?” he demanded, shaking off the hand of someone who tried to get him to lie down.
Finally, his gaze landed on her, making her realize she hadn’t taken one step closer to him.
Because she couldn’t. Couldn’t run to him and throw her arms around him. Couldn’t surrender and take the risk of losing a man she loved.
Love meant loss. Didn’t this prove it to her? She couldn’t take this chance again, couldn’t fall into that dark place again, couldn’t wake up and go to sleep mired in grief. Love wasn’t worth that pain to her. Hadn’t life made that clear enough to Rebecca Spencer?
Aidan muscled past everyone in his way, zeroing in on her. As he got closer, she could see the streaks of soot on his face and how dark his hair was. His chest heaved with every ragged, compromised breath. But nothing stopped him.
“Beck!” He yelled her name, snapping her out of her shock-induced trance.
“Aidan.” She tried to lift her arms to reach for him, but they were so heavy that she stood there until he got to her and circled his around her.
“I found Ruff. In the kitchen. I had to…” He struggled for a breath. “He’s going to be okay,” he said huskily, choking softly. “And so are we.”
But deep inside, she knew that wasn’t true.