America's Bravest (11 page)

For a moment, she hadn’t understood.
“Nonexclusive?”

At least he’d reddened with
embarrassment.

“As in dating others?” Her tone was
incredulous. “
Sleeping
with others?”

“Um, yeah.” At the tears that immediately
formed in her eyes, he added, “Look, honey, you knew the score. I
told you when we started dating I wasn’t a tie-me-down kind of
guy.”

“Eight months ago. You told me that eight
months ago and proceeded to be exclusive the whole time. Or I never
would have slept with you.”

He fidgeted. “I don’t feel like settling
down. I love you but—”

She hadn’t even railed at him. Hadn’t even
said what a schmuck he was to have had sex with her before dropping
his little bomb. Instead, she’d walked out of the boathouse, gotten
in her car and left him behind.…

It had taken her a long time to get over him,
to trust men again. Damn it, she hoped this didn’t cause her a
setback. After a period of depression, she’d vowed not to waste
another minute crying over Brody O’Malley. And that was a promise
to herself that she intended to keep.

oOo

Brody wasn’t his usual upbeat self as they
raced toward the Rescue 7 rig. A compressor had blown in a factory
that made light fixtures, a fire had broken out, and there was a
whole night shift inside. The Quint and Midi from Firehouse 7 were
called, too, as well as two other trucks from different locations.
The incident was serious.

“You okay?” Felicia White asked on the way
out. “You’re quiet. You’ve been quiet for days. Is it because 9/11
was last week?”

Firefighters all over the country had a hell
of a time on the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that changed
their lives. Brody included.

“Partly, I guess. But I got a lot on my
mind.”

“At least you’re a thinker.” She snorted.
“That brother of yours is all reaction and no thought.”

Needling their lieutenant was a favorite past
time of Brody’s. So after they jumped into their turnout gear and
climbed on the truck, he continued their conversation. “For the
life of me I can’t understand why you don’t like Ryan. Most people
do. Hey, maybe you have the hots for him and you’re pretending to
hate him like a first grade girl.”

“Bite me! Besides, it’s his type I don’t
like.”

“Rye and I couldn’t be more similar and you
like me.”

“Nah, you’re a better man.”

He gave that some consideration as they sped
through streets slickened by rain. It was true in some ways,
especially concerning women. Ryan could be a dog. He had a rule of
six with them: never spend more than six hours with a woman you
didn’t like, never let a relationship go on for six days if you
hadn’t slept with her, and break off all but the best matches after
six weeks. Once or twice, he’d dated someone for six months, but
they didn’t go any further.

Then there was the fact that Ryan had been
one of the reasons Brody had broken up with Emma Walsh, whom he
couldn’t stop thinking about after seeing her at the reunion. His
brother had razzed him during his and Emma’s entire relationship
and nagged him to ditch her before the two of them went to Europe.
Brody hadn’t fought too hard. At eighteen, he wasn’t ready to
settle down. Still, he’d missed her like crazy on the whole trip
and through the first semester of his freshman year.

Now, he missed her again, which was
ludicrous. But Felicia was right. He’d been quiet all week.
Introspective. Nostalgic. The unexpected meeting with Emma had
affected him—a lot. And he hadn’t even gotten to talk to her again
that night. She was either in deep discussion with her beau of two
years, or she was working on details of the event. But he had a
feeling she was also avoiding any contact with him. Meanwhile, he
couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Their captain’s grave voice from the front
seat brought him back from the memories. “This is gonna be a long
night, guys. Lots of injured people, the update from the chief
says.” They reached the site and the cap hopped off the truck,
barking orders. “O’Malley, go right to Incident Command. The chief
wants you working with the other medics.”

All of the HCFD were now trained EMTs, but
there were more than a few with advanced certification like his as
a paramedic. Jumping off the truck into the cool mid-September
night, he strode to IC and found Battalion Chief Erikson directing
the scene. “Hey, O’Malley, glad to see you. You’re going
inside.”

“How bad is it?”

“The medics in the building report people
pinned under machines and some buried in debris. Enter through the
front door and go left. Factory work stations are at the far
end.”

“I’m on my way.” Donning his mask and air
tank and buttoning up his turnout coat, Brody raced inside. The
thick, black smoke meant the chemical elements in the building were
noxious. Breathing in that shit was dangerous. Dropping to his
knees because of the heat and the fact that he couldn’t see
anything, he crawled his way down the corridor, running his hand
along the wall to find his way. He bumped into some chairs but
finally reached the factory.

He called out, “Yo, O’Malley here.”

“Straight, O’Malley.” His friend, Zach
Malvaso, another paramedic, yelled the directions.

Brody inched over. Malvaso’s voice was tinny
through the mask. “Male, looks to be around forty. He just stopped
breathing. Take over CPR.” Zach eased back and stood. “I got more
where this came from.”

Staying on his knees, Brody began his chest
compression. Meanwhile, the water slapping on the fire, shouts, and
falling debris created a cacophony around him.

“One-two-three-four-five.
One-two-three-four-five.” His hands pressed on the guy’s chest in
time with his counting. After some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, he
got the man breathing. He whipped off his mask and gave the guy
air. Over the next half hour, Brody alternated sharing his own
oxygen and taking some for himself. When he didn’t have his mask
on, he coughed violently. So did the victim.

Finally, a crew came in with the Hurst
equipment. A generator rent the air, and soon, rabbit tools were
prying the weight off the man’s legs. “Come on, buddy,” Brody
whispered as the man was freed. “Stay with me.”

Behind him now, White and Sands handed him a
collar; after he secured the guy’s neck, they lifted him to a
backboard. “You two take him out,” White told them. “I’m heading to
the next one.”

Brody eased off his air tank and set it on
the stretcher so the man could have air. Carefully, they hefted
him, crept around debris and skirted smoldering timbers. He coughed
and choked.

Sands stopped. “Take some of my air,” she
shouted and started to remove her mask.

“No. Keep going. We’re close to the
door.”

At least they could see better, which meant
the fire was must be nearly doused. Sands caught her foot on
something and stumbled, causing the air tank to fall from the
backboard. Brody reached for it but missed, and several pounds of
metal hit his foot instead. “Jesus.” Though it was almost empty,
the contact hurt like a bitch.

When everything was right again, he hobbled
with them to the front exit.

Once outside, another team of medics relieved
them of the patient, and Brody fell to his knees, choked and
coughed again. Sands came over and forced some oxygen on him. His
lungs felt better, but his eyes stung and watered. He held on to
the fact that he was feeling shitty, but at least they’d had a
save. After a few minutes, he put the mask down and breathed clean
air, hoping the symptoms would abate. Now that the emergency had
abated, his foot hurt like hell.

About fifteen minutes later, Gabe approached
him. Bending down, he looked Brody in the eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had a mouthful like that in a
while.”

“You should have shared air with Sands. It’s
going to cost you in recovery.”

“How’s the guy?”

Even though his vision was blurry, Brody
could see the grim expression on Gabe’s face. “Sorry, Brody. He
crashed in the ambulance. They couldn’t revive him.”

After seeing the O’Malley brothers at the
reunion, Emma had experienced a disconcerting three weeks. She’d
been preoccupied at school, short with her mother and distanced
from Mark. So she was glad for the distraction of herding
forty-five fourth grade students off the bus and into Camden Cove’s
Fire Station 1, despite the inevitable excited screeches they
emitted. Thankfully, this was not Brody O’Malley’s house—or even
his department—because he was the source of her irritability.

“Ms. Walsh, come on,” little Terry Miller
said. Rambunctious and hard to handle, he seemed to listen more to
her than his parents or even the school administrators.

She reached out to him for safekeeping. “Hold
my hand, Terry.”

Together, they entered the bay area. In
preparation for the trip, Emma had researched firefighting
equipment and terminology and taught some of it to her kids—so she
knew what to expect. Three garage-type doors opened up to an engine
that carried water and a truck that handled ladders and tools. One
big space to the left was empty. Folding chairs had been set up
facing a row of firefighters, two men and a woman. They hailed the
kids, and as she and her colleague Sara Carson got the little ones
seated, Emma faced forward again and saw Brody O’Malley had joined
the group. On crutches. Damn it all, why was this happening to her?
There was no way he should be here.

“Good morning, people,” the short wiry
officer—she knew because he wore a white shirt—said. “I’m Captain
Falcone. Welcome to House 1.” He pointed to his left. “This is
Firefighter Ames, next is Firefighter Wellington and finally,
Paramedic and Firefighter O’Malley.” Who looked ridiculously
handsome in navy pants, light blue shirt and with a navy T-shirt
peeking out. She’d never seen him in his uniform, and it did
something to her insides.

Terry bounded up. Without waiting to be
called on, he stood. “How’d you get hurt, Mister Firefighter?”

Brody dropped down on a chair, folded his
arms across his chest and stretched out his feet—one encased in a
soft shoe. “I was carrying an injured man out of a fire, and my air
tank fell on my foot.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be on your back? Ms.
Walsh showed us pictures.”

Brody gave the boy a half smile and Emma’s
response to it was visceral. She remembered vividly how everything
she did in high school brought on a smile of approval from him.
She’d thought he was genuinely interested in her. Really cared
about her. “I put my air mask on the wounded guy. My tank went
along with him on the stretcher.”

“Aw…” Terry, of course, was hoping for a more
exciting scenario.

Hell. Emma tried not to think about Brody
running into burning buildings. He’d joined the fire department
right after college, and though she’d gotten over him by then,
she’d worried for a while about his safety. Finally she’d stopped
thinking of him altogether except when someone mentioned him. Now
the danger he was in every day doused her like cold water in the
face.

“If we can get back to the lesson,” Falcone
said somewhat impatiently. “You’re gonna split into groups and
visit three different areas that will demonstrate what we do.
Firefighter Wellington will show you the machines that we use to
pry open cars.”

“The Jaws of Life?” someone besides Terry
called out.

“Yes. You’ve been taught well,” Brody put
in.

“Next is the equipment we use to fight fires,
including the trucks, which you can sit in after we finish.
Finally, our paramedic—he’s like a doctor—is going to demonstrate
some of his duties and what’s in his ALS bag. That means Advanced
Life Support.”

Since Emma and Sara had been informed about
how the day would go, they’d already spilt the students into three
groups. Fifteen kids headed to each area while she, Sara and an
aide accompanied one. Thankfully, she didn’t get the medical
station first. And she made a quick decision to ask the others to
let her stay with the woman and her gear.

Firefighter Wellington was pretty, with
steel-blond hair a shade or two lighter than Brody’s and kind hazel
eyes. Had she ever hooked up with Brody?

“This is the breathing mask,” Wellington
started with.

“It’s a SCBA,” Terry called out. “Like diving
equipment without the U.”

“Yes. Those letters mean self-contained
breathing apparatus. Would someone like to volunteer to try it on?”
Each kid’s hand shot up and Firefighter Wellington picked a shy
little girl in the back.

Later, she hefted up a tank. “This is filled
with air. Let’s see who can lift it.”

Several volunteered again.

When it was time to switch areas, Emma waited
for Sara to come to her group so she could ask about exchanging
places, but instead her friend stayed behind, talking to Brody.
Sara was young and pretty and single. And Brody still looked like
dynamite. She tried not to watch the two of them together, the
flirting that came to Brody as natural as breathing.

“Come on, Ms. Walsh. Let’s go.” Terry
again.

Emma resigned herself to her fate.

Brody’s gaze locked on her when she reached
his space. “Good morning, Ms. Walsh. That pink sweater looks
beautiful on you.”

Damn her light complexion. She blushed.
“Thanks, Firefighter O’Malley.” She cocked her head. “How did you
happen to be here today? You don’t even work in Camden Cove.”

“But I’m in your county, and the Fire Academy
services three fire districts. I’ve been at the Academy on desk
duty and when I heard your group needed a medic today, I
volunteered.”

On purpose? To see her? She’d told him she
was visiting a station house in Camden.

He smiled at the students, and Emma’s heart
did another little flip-flop. “Now, who would like to see Ms. Walsh
be my patient?”