Under Fire (30 page)
“Seems a helluva lot longer.” Because of the nasty concussion, his return had been postponed by another week, their gathering at the Waterin’ Hole rescheduled for Saturday night. He’d missed half of January and the first week of February.
Skyler released him and the others followed suit with the same exuberant greeting, practically squeezing him in half. Even Salvatore joined in the celebration. Everyone did, except Tanner.
The captain stood apart from the rest, his green gaze watchful, revealing none of his thoughts. After the others had taken turns welcoming Zack, their attention naturally shifted to Tanner. Waiting.
The happy chatter quieted as the captain stepped into the semicircle of the group. Halting a few feet from Zack, he reached inside his jacket, removed a key ring, and tossed it to him without a word.
Zack caught the ring one-handed, snatching it from the air. Opening his palm, he stared at the keys to the quint. Emotion stole his voice and he willed himself not to make a scene in front of the whole team.
Closing the remaining distance, Tanner slowly stuck out his hand. A peace offering, a new beginning.
Zack hesitated and for an instant, remorse flashed across the captain’s stern features. A kernel of humanity as he stood exposed and humbled before his team. Extending his apology the only way he knew how.
Zack gripped his hand, noting the slight relaxing of the lines around Tanner’s mouth. A lessening of tension and something suspiciously close to warmth in his eyes.
“It’s good to have you back,” he said.
And proceeded to render everyone speechless by pulling Zack into a brief, manly hug. The man who hadn’t reached out to another soul in more than a year did so now without a single qualm.
“Thanks, Cap. I’m ready to get to work.”
Tanner let go and retreated a step, giving Zack a critical once-over. “Good, you’ve put on some weight. Lungs clear? Concussion healed?”
Zack smiled. “I’m fine. The doctor gave me the green light, remember?”
“The doctor’s life doesn’t literally depend on the physical strength of the man standing next to him.” His lips curved up in a rare ghost of a smile. “For what it’s worth, we’re all damned glad to have you standing next to us.”
After clapping Zack on the shoulder, he turned and walked off, his lean-hipped stride carrying him inside.
“He looks better,” Zack said. “Almost like his old self.”
“Some days,” Skyler replied, unusually serious. “But I gotta wonder if we’ll ever have him back.”
“Is he still drinking, Howard?” Zack asked quietly. All eyes swung to the lieutenant for the answer any one of them could’ve given, but he was their anchor. Solid and steady. They trusted him implicitly, looked to him for guidance in matters affecting everyone.
“Yeah.” He sighed, running a hand through his spiky, two-toned brown hair. “He’s mixing whiskey and prescription drugs, going through a fifth every two days we’re off shift. I check on him when I can, but it’s not enough. Something has to give or he’s going to kill himself.”
“Or someone else,” Eve said, her expression wretched.
Salvatore broke his silence tentatively, as though unsure he should offer his observation. “Lately, I’ve noticed . . .”
Six-Pack nodded. “Go on. We’re not talking trash about Sean. This is important.”
“Watch his hands,” Salvatore murmured. “They’ll be shaking by midafternoon.”
The lieutenant blew out a ragged breath. “Withdrawal. Shit. If he shows at the Waterin’ Hole Saturday night, we’ll have to keep an eye on him.”
Skyler blinked. “Shit, he’ll bash our heads together for getting in his biz. What can we really do?”
“Stage an intervention,” Zack suggested. “Tough love. Encourage him to get sober, then work through his grief.”
“Man, I don’t see him going for that,” Salvatore put in, shaking his head.
Zack glanced around the worried group. “Maybe not, but what other option does he have? If he doesn’t, he’s going to die. Howard?”
The lieutenant stood quiet for a long moment, staring out at the cold, cloudy morning. Muscles in his jaw working, brown eyes bleak. “I’ll make some calls, find out the right way to hold an intervention. Then we’ll pick a day next week and do it. I don’t think he’s got long before he hits bottom.”
“I’ll be there,” Zack said, hoping it was true.
Provided I haven’t been iced by Joaquin’s hit man by then.
Despite Cori’s adamant claim, he didn’t believe for a minute the man wouldn’t take him out if it benefited him to do so. Jesus.
Provided I haven’t been iced by Joaquin’s hit man by then.
Despite Cori’s adamant claim, he didn’t believe for a minute the man wouldn’t take him out if it benefited him to do so. Jesus.
The others chimed in their agreement just as three loud tones over the intercom system alerted them to an incoming call. A three-alarm fire at an apartment building had begun as a domestic dispute—two words heralding the most dangerous of situations for all involved.
Adrenaline zinged through Zack’s blood as he and the others jogged for the locker area in the bay. With quick and efficient movements, he bunked out in his pants and heavy coat, the same ones he’d been wearing on the bridge. They’d been cleaned and bore no trace of his ordeal, and to his relief, their familiar weight was a comfort rather than a source of unreasonable fear. Last, he slapped on a fire hat that replaced the one lost to the river, and sprinted for the quint.
Hauling himself into the seat, he started the engine and gripped the wheel. Waited as everyone took their places, then eased the quint out of the bay, hitting the lights and sirens. God, he’d missed this. Not people’s lives being placed in danger—
never
that—but commanding the two-ton piece of machinery. Fulfilling his role in the universe as few were qualified to do, each day a new challenge.
never
that—but commanding the two-ton piece of machinery. Fulfilling his role in the universe as few were qualified to do, each day a new challenge.
Today being no exception. As Zack neared the perimeter of the police barricade at the end of a residential street, saw the carpet of flashing lights and the SWAT team taking up positions around the complex, his blood chilled.
Beside him, Tanner muttered a terse, “What the fuck?”
Yeah, that pretty much summed up the circus. Black smoke billowed from the second floor of the building, which meant residents possibly trapped on the upper floor. Yet the police weren’t allowing the fire department to approach, as evidenced by the engine company from Station Two crouched on the north side of the building, taking cover behind their vehicles.
Zack slowed to a stop and rolled down his window to get instructions from an officer working the barricade. “What’s going down?”
The burly cop leaned forward, hand on the butt of his pistol. “Got a man on his second-floor balcony over there holding a gun to his wife’s head. Motherfucker set fire to the unit, blocked entry to the apartment. The flames are spreading to the surrounding units, but it’s not safe to approach. Got folks trapped on the third floor; fire’s blocking the stairwell. Can’t get to them because the asshole’s shooting at everyone who twitches.”
“A total clusterfuck,” Skyler groaned from the back.
Zack couldn’t agree more. “Where do you want us?”
The cop waved a hand toward the company from Station Two. “North end, with them. Stay low until you get the all clear.”
“No shit,” Zack muttered as he drove toward their colleagues. He parked behind the other engine, and Six-Pack wheeled their ambulance in beside the first. Everyone bailed out and Tanner stalked over to speak with Captain Lance Holliday.
The normally easygoing Holliday appeared supremely hacked as he greeted Tanner, raking his fingers through his thick auburn hair, jaw clenched, eyes flashing.
“We don’t get in there now, we might as well bend over for the press,” Holliday snapped, jerking a thumb toward the news-hungry crowd amassing against the police line.
Pushing back his hat, Tanner gave a slight nod. “Damned if you do . . .” He let the statement hang, his meaning clear.
This wasn’t going to end well. The only real question was how much damage would be done on all fronts.
Zack followed the captains’ gaze to a balcony near the opposite end of the complex, about sixty yards from where the engine companies were parked. Too damned close. Through the smoke, he could barely make out a man wearing a light-colored shirt. The man’s movements were erratic as he bobbed back and forth, holding a smaller person in front of him, presumably the estranged wife.
Zack jogged over to join Holliday and Tanner. He waved a hand at the burning structure. “Will they let us enter around back where this nut can’t see what we’re doing?”
“Us” being a collective term. The Rapid Intervention Crew worked outside, ready to intervene if a firefighter inside found himself in trouble. The FAO, who was not part of the RIC crew, never left the engine unless there was a major disaster requiring the mobilization of every single firefighter, which was rare. In his years at the Sugarland FD, Zack had never known such a situation to occur.
Holliday nodded. “We’re trying to get clearance. What the fuck is taking—” His radio crackled and a police sergeant whose name Zack didn’t catch relayed the green light.
“All right, let’s go,” Holliday shouted, waving an arm at the entire assembly. “Let’s move this party to the other side of the building, work it from there.”
Firefighters scrambled onto the ladder truck and quint, while Salvatore and another man moved the two ambulances to a side street, accessible but a healthy distance from the danger. Zack followed the other FAO, and they parked with the hostage drama safely on the opposite side of the building. Safe being relative. They still had the fire and trapped residents to deal with, and God knew a crazed gunman was unpredictable at best.
Zack supposed he ought to be comforted by the SWAT snipers surrounding them, prepared to shoot to kill. Somehow, he wasn’t.
He noted the location of a nearby fire hydrant, then quickly attached the preconnected hoses and flipped the gauges. Approaching sirens heralded the arrival of a third engine company, an eerie wail that sometimes reminded Zack of the cry of a woman. The sound died out front and in moments, a new team of firefighters skirted the building at a fast clip, two of them carrying a tall ladder.
Three ladders were erected next to balconies holding frightened residents, and none too soon. Flames shot from second-story windows in a burst of shattered glass, licking upward to consume and destroy. Children screamed, mothers and fathers trying in vain to calm them. An elderly couple clung to each other, and one man, half dressed in a business suit, yelled into a cell phone, his fear palpable.
Four men turned two hoses on the blaze through the windows, while three teams, including one consisting of Paxton, Skyler, and Salvatore, entered the complex to battle the flames from the inside. The others manned the ladders, one rescuer positioned at the top, one at the bottom, assisting the residents. They streamed downward like ants, kept from blind panic in large part due to the calm of their rescuers.
The elderly couple made slow progress, the woman first, her hesitant steps guided by the firefighter who’d climbed the ladder below her. On the other two balconies, the able-bodied children shimmied to freedom, followed by a mother carrying an infant, the men last.
When everyone had been extracted and whisked from the scene to be tended as needed, a search ensued for any people remaining in the building. Best-case scenario, there weren’t any more, because anyone left was most likely either unconscious or dead from smoke inhalation.
Holliday and Tanner kept abreast of the hostage situation via a pair of uniformed cops hovering nearby. Zack caught snatches and what he heard wasn’t good. The guy hadn’t surrendered and was completely irrational. He’d either kill his wife or—
A single gunshot cracked the air like a whip, causing everyone to jump and scan the complex for an imminent threat. The pairs of men working the hoses briefly shut off the nozzles, prepared to dive for cover if necessary.
An exchange over one of the police officers’ radios broke the tension. “Suspect down! Can you get a visual on him?”
“Negative . . . whoa, the woman’s comin’ right over the ledge! Somebody get a ladder to her before she falls.”
“Got her covered. Down she goes.” A frazzled silence. “Okay, they’re bringing her around back to get checked out.”
“Around back?”
“So the missus doesn’t see them working the crime scene around her husband’s body,” came the terse reply.
“Copy that.”
A ripple of relief went through Zack and, he was sure, the others, as well. Activity resumed and in a moment, two firefighters rounded the corner of the building, supporting the shaken woman, who stumbled between them. Tanner struck out to meet the group.
Movement from a second-story balcony caught Zack’s eye. It crossed his mind that another resident was in need of rescue, someone their efforts hadn’t reached. A man in a light-colored shirt stepped into view, bringing up his arm. To wave, Zack thought, just as the glint of metal flashed in the man’s hand.
The man who would sooner kill his wife than allow her to escape.
Oh, God!
“Gun!” he yelled, racing for Tanner and the unsuspecting group. “Get down! Get down!”
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