Read Online Touch of Fire by Samantha Sommersby - Free Book Online
Authors: Samantha Sommersby
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Chapter One
Ash rained down from the blackened sky like confetti on New Year’s Eve. Thick, acrid smoke blocked the sunlight. Garrett Flint removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. He frowned as he surveyed the canyon in front of him and the devastation beyond. He’d been within thirty minutes of ending his shift when the initial call had come. It had taken only a few hours for the fire to grow to mammoth proportions. The winds were high and almost constantly shifting. Despite everyone’s efforts to control it, the fire raged on—unrelenting, consuming fuel, and destroying lives. It was the worst he’d ever seen, yet it was only the beginning.
“Flint! You were supposed to leave an hour ago,” Captain Peter Porter shouted.
Garrett moved away from the canyon’s edge toward his captain. “You need the help. There’s no way you’re going to contain this with the men you have.”
“There’s no way we’re going to contain it, period. We were lucky to get the area evacuated. Go home and get some sleep like a good little firefighter.”
“But—”
“No buts. This one’s gonna last a while. You’ll have another chance.” The captain tossed his keys to Garrett. “Take the truck. We’ve got reinforcements coming.”
“Things change, you call.”
“We’re going over to the next block. Hopefully we’ll gain ground there. I’m afraid this one’s lost.”
“It’s only got the east side of the house. We might be able to keep it from spreading.”
The upstairs windows exploded, sending shards of glass everywhere.
“Don’t think so, son.” Peter shook his head. “See you in forty-eight hours.”
“Stay safe. I’d hate to have to break in a new captain.”
Peter walked down the path alongside the house and climbed on board the engine. Within seconds it pulled away, leaving Garrett behind.
Through the smoke and ash he could see a small pool house below. A sense of foreboding washed over him as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes. He couldn’t remember whether anyone had checked the pool house for occupants. Another window shattered from above, driving him to action.
Garrett raced down the twenty or so stone steps, around the edge of the pool, and up to the door. After knocking loudly to no effect, he tried the doorknob. The French door opened.
“Hello?”
No reply.
“Time to go home, Garrett ol’ boy.” He turned to retrace his steps and stopped dead in his tracks. There, framed in the bedroom window, was a woman. She lay in bed, her golden hair surrounding her face like a halo. The image was surreal. An untainted angel, peacefully sleeping while the fires of Hell unmercifully burned around her.
Garrett entered the small cottage through the still open door. He quickly made his way through the living room and into the bedroom. Leaning over her, he rapidly assessed the woman’s condition. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
“Miss! Miss! San Diego Fire Department here!” No response. Damn it, not another one! He pulled off his glove and searched her neck for a pulse.
The second he touched her, her eyes fluttered open and sought out his. Overcome with panic, she lashed out at him.
“Stop fighting me!” Garrett covered her body with his, lifting her hands above her head and stilling her movements.
As her head thrashed back and forth in the dim light he saw the bright yellow earplugs she’d stuffed in her ears. He held her head securely in place and pulled one out.
“I’m with the fire department. You’ve got to evacuate. The area is on fire and has been for some time. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She pulled out the other plug. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“It’s all right. Let’s go.” He quickly made his way over to the window and looked out to gauge the progression of the fire.
“I need to get dressed.” The woman climbed out of the bed, then stumbled, bumping into the nightstand and knocking over a lamp. “Ow!”
Garrett reached for her
Ash rained down from the blackened sky like confetti on New Year’s Eve. Thick, acrid smoke blocked the sunlight. Garrett Flint removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. He frowned as he surveyed the canyon in front of him and the devastation beyond. He’d been within thirty minutes of ending his shift when the initial call had come. It had taken only a few hours for the fire to grow to mammoth proportions. The winds were high and almost constantly shifting. Despite everyone’s efforts to control it, the fire raged on—unrelenting, consuming fuel, and destroying lives. It was the worst he’d ever seen, yet it was only the beginning.
“Flint! You were supposed to leave an hour ago,” Captain Peter Porter shouted.
Garrett moved away from the canyon’s edge toward his captain. “You need the help. There’s no way you’re going to contain this with the men you have.”
“There’s no way we’re going to contain it, period. We were lucky to get the area evacuated. Go home and get some sleep like a good little firefighter.”
“But—”
“No buts. This one’s gonna last a while. You’ll have another chance.” The captain tossed his keys to Garrett. “Take the truck. We’ve got reinforcements coming.”
“Things change, you call.”
“We’re going over to the next block. Hopefully we’ll gain ground there. I’m afraid this one’s lost.”
“It’s only got the east side of the house. We might be able to keep it from spreading.”
The upstairs windows exploded, sending shards of glass everywhere.
“Don’t think so, son.” Peter shook his head. “See you in forty-eight hours.”
“Stay safe. I’d hate to have to break in a new captain.”
Peter walked down the path alongside the house and climbed on board the engine. Within seconds it pulled away, leaving Garrett behind.
Through the smoke and ash he could see a small pool house below. A sense of foreboding washed over him as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes. He couldn’t remember whether anyone had checked the pool house for occupants. Another window shattered from above, driving him to action.
Garrett raced down the twenty or so stone steps, around the edge of the pool, and up to the door. After knocking loudly to no effect, he tried the doorknob. The French door opened.
“Hello?”
No reply.
“Time to go home, Garrett ol’ boy.” He turned to retrace his steps and stopped dead in his tracks. There, framed in the bedroom window, was a woman. She lay in bed, her golden hair surrounding her face like a halo. The image was surreal. An untainted angel, peacefully sleeping while the fires of Hell unmercifully burned around her.
Garrett entered the small cottage through the still open door. He quickly made his way through the living room and into the bedroom. Leaning over her, he rapidly assessed the woman’s condition. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
“Miss! Miss! San Diego Fire Department here!” No response. Damn it, not another one! He pulled off his glove and searched her neck for a pulse.
The second he touched her, her eyes fluttered open and sought out his. Overcome with panic, she lashed out at him.
“Stop fighting me!” Garrett covered her body with his, lifting her hands above her head and stilling her movements.
As her head thrashed back and forth in the dim light he saw the bright yellow earplugs she’d stuffed in her ears. He held her head securely in place and pulled one out.
“I’m with the fire department. You’ve got to evacuate. The area is on fire and has been for some time. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She pulled out the other plug. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“It’s all right. Let’s go.” He quickly made his way over to the window and looked out to gauge the progression of the fire.
“I need to get dressed.” The woman climbed out of the bed, then stumbled, bumping into the nightstand and knocking over a lamp. “Ow!”
Garrett reached for her
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