Beau desperately wanted to try Marty’s phone again but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. It didn’t matter who was in the building, he had to do his job regardless. That didn’t stop him praying that Marty was safe and well. He helped Griff get his tank on, then did an about-face so that Griff could return the favor. Beau took the opportunity to scan the onlookers. Quite a crowd had gathered beyond the police barriers.
“Is he watching?” He knew from his training that arsonists often liked to observe the results of their work. To his astonishment, he spotted Alistair and Christian from The Underground along with three other young men he recognized. Alistair spotted him and waved frantically.
Carrying his mask, Beau strolled across to the barrier.
“You guys shouldn’t be here.”
“We can’t leave, Mr. Beauman… Marty’s in there. He went to use the bathroom. We were all in the cafeteria having coffee and cake. He hadn’t been gone long, then the alarms went off. There was smoke everywhere. It got bad really quickly and no one would let us back in the building.”
Beau’s heart felt like a lump of ice in his chest.
“You’re sure he didn’t get out another way?”
“As much as we can be. He would have come to find us. He doesn’t have his phone with him either. We found it on the table in the coffee shop.” Alistair acted as spokesman.
Beau noticed that Alistair’s face was bone-white and streaked with soot. Kai and Benjy were sobbing. Ellis seemed frozen with fear and Christian’s pale skin was tinged with green.
“Take everyone back to the club. As soon as I know anything I’ll get word to you, but you mustn’t stay here. This blaze is on the news.” He pointed at the TV cameras. “If Becket or Carey sees any of you here at the scene they’ll be frantic with worry.”
Alistair nodded. “We’ll do that… Please be careful in there.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Beau patted Alistair’s shoulder and headed back toward the building. He walked without seeing where he was going and only Griff’s voice knocked him from his trance.
“It’s our turn, buddy.” Griff gestured toward the four firemen staggering from the building.
“My boyfriend’s in there, Griff. Bastard set a trap. He knows me. He could be here watching this all go to hell.”
“There are cameras everywhere. Investigators will pull all the footage and make requests for witnesses to send in their cell phone pictures. If he’s here, you’ll get your chance to spot him. Now let’s go get your boy.”
Beau pulled his mask down and let his eyes adjust to the slight distortion in his vision. There was so much color and movement everywhere it was a relief to have slightly muted hearing. More fire trucks rolled up. Several jets of water were aimed at the building and ladders extended into the smoke-filled sky. Hoses like thick yellow pythons slithered up the ladders, hauled by men facing smoke and heat and the distinct possibility of injury.
He and Griff walked into a nightmare, followed by a second team. The entrance hall ran with black water while above their heads flames boiled and rolled. Beau blanked his mind. He had to get his head in the game or he’d be putting his colleagues’ lives at risk. Griff took the lead. He moved through the dense curtain of smoke, using hand signals to indicate which direction they should take. Beau and Griff went for the bathrooms while the other pair took the route toward the cafeteria.
Beau listened to the fire, which had a language all of its own. A background roar was interrupted by hisses, crackles and spitting. It was a language of violence, of defiance.
“Back off, bitch,” Beau muttered. “He’s using you. This place is no challenge.”
Griff made it to the top of the basement stairs. He pointed downward and gave a thumbs up. Beau responded in kind. Fire had eaten away parts of the wooden handrail but the steps were stone and intact. The flames had followed the path of least resistance and gnawed through the ceiling to the floor above. Fire caressed the walls and danced overhead along the charred beams. Beau could admire the beauty and the horror of it. The colors and lights tempted him like a siren, seducing him with her display. He had to block out his instinct to run, focusing instead on Griff’s back and the need to find Marty.
Beneath the bitter smell of smoke, the tang of petrol was evident. Huge quantities of accelerant must have been used. Beau didn’t have the luxury of time to consider how the fire had been set. A section of the ceiling collapsed ahead of them, venting the fire, feeding it so that it reared up as a lethal wall.
Griff dropped to his knees, and Beau followed his lead as the furnace rolled overhead.
“Fuck that was close.” The fire parted before them. Beau tapped Griff’s shoulder and gestured forward. “Let’s go.” Beau’s entire body vibrated with the need to move faster, and that was exactly why Griff took the lead. He would ensure that they were careful, methodical, that they didn’t miss anything or anyone.
“Why the fuck did they put the bathrooms in such an inaccessible place?”
Every minute counted. Beau uttered a little prayer. If Marty got hurt it would be Beau’s fault. He was the firebug’s target. Marty was just in the way. Griff came to a halt. Beau peered through the dense smoke and saw they’d reached the bathroom door. Griff ripped off a glove and pressed his fingers to the wood. He signaled that they were good to go. Griff kicked at the door but it didn’t budge. Beau removed the axe from his belt and pushed past him. He sank the blade into the wood over and over, splintering the panels. He stepped back and Griff charged the door. This time it gave way and the two of them pushed past the debris.
The smoke in the bathroom wasn’t quite as dense, but it still rivalled London smog. Beau peered through the gloom, desperately searching for any sign of Marty. Griff grabbed his arm and pointed to the far corner of the room.
“There. Under the basins.”
A body lay curled in the fetal position as far back in the corner as it was possible to get. Beau reached it in three strides.
“Marty! It’s him, Griff.” Beau pulled off his glove and felt for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. “Let’s go.” Beau picked Marty up and slung him over one shoulder.
Griff gave him a thumbs up and they moved, one behind the other, back to the corridor. The stone steps to the ground floor were intact but the wooden handrail was still burning, the varnish providing an effective accelerant. Everything flammable was alight. Paint curled and blackened, ash like dirty snowflakes rained around them. The heat was intense, and Beau knew the firebug had done a thorough job. For such a large building to go up so fast, so violently, there had to have been several ignition points.
As he reached the ground floor, Beau hefted Marty’s body and fixed his attention on the narrow rectangle of light that meant life-giving fresh air. He could not, would not, allow himself to contemplate that Marty might not survive. Despite the best efforts of his colleagues on the outside of the building, the fire had taken command. As he and Griff pushed toward the exit, behind them everything was being consumed. Beau knew better than to look back. His escape route grew narrower and narrower, the light swallowed by writhing amber and gold. He didn’t hesitate, just ducked his head, protected Marty’s body as best he could and dove through the flame. He hit the ground hard and rolled, keeping his weight from Marty. Griff landed half on top of him. Immediately they were doused with water as someone directed a hose on them.
“Must have been smoldering pretty good,” Griff commented to no one in particular. Beau yanked off his headgear and gauntlets then scrambled to his knees. He leaned over Marty and whispered a short prayer.
“Wake up, damn it, this is no time for taking a nap. I swear I’m going to tan your hide for scaring me like this.”
Marty’s eyes flickered open and he coughed. “Sounds like fun…” He broke into another coughing fit. “Why am I wet? Is it raining?”
A pair of paramedics shoved Beau unceremoniously out of the way.
“Move it, fire boy, let the magicians do their work. Don’t go far, though…you’re next.”
“Why does that sound like a threat?” Beau asked Griff, who lay on his back staring at the sky.
“Because it is. They can’t wait to start poking and prodding. Committed sadists, the lot of them.” He coughed up a laugh.
Beau decided on the least life-threatening option and got out of the way. As the paramedics worked on Marty, Beau scanned the crowd of onlookers. He focused on one face at a time, trying to spot anyone that seemed familiar. Crimson and gold shimmered on skin and glinted in hair. The spectacle of the fire had drawn all sorts, which was not surprising considering the pyrotechnics going on behind him. The building was fully ablaze and beyond saving. The shell might survive, but not much more. Fire shot out through the roof, visible in flashes through the dense clouds of black smoke. Beau’s senses were assaulted on all fronts. He could taste the smoke, smell an acrid mix of scents. His eyes stung and he flicked flakes of ash from his skin. Teams of men directed forceful jets of water at the building, aiming to contain rather than control the conflagration.
One of the remaining windows exploded outward in a shower of jagged, glittering shards. A collective gasp came from the crowd. Even at a safe distance from the building, Beau could feel the intensity of the heat and muttered a quiet prayer of thanks that he, Griff and Marty were all safely out of the building.
Someone tossed bottles of water in his direction. He caught them and handed one to Griff. “Did the other team get out okay?”
Griff twisted the cap off his bottle. “They’re over there.” He pointed to a group of men standing by one of the fire engines. They’re in better shape than we are.” He took a long swallow of water then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Shedding his kit, Beau heaved himself to his feet and went to stand as close as he could to Marty. He had an oxygen mask strapped to his face and the paramedics were about to load him onto a stretcher.
“He needs to go to the hospital to get checked out properly.” One of the green-uniformed men addressed Beau. “You can ride along and we’ll check you out on the way.”
“Is it bad?” Beau asked. Marty had his eyes closed and his skin was pale beneath the soot streaks.
“Hard to tell, but hopefully not. There was some blackening around the airways and that is a worry but he’s not coughing as much as I would expect from a really bad case of smoke inhalation. I don’t think there’s burn damage. He does appear to have some bruising on his hands. He’s definitely in shock, so we need to get moving.”
The paramedics lifted the stretcher until the wheels beneath it locked in place. They rested the oxygen cylinder between Marty’s blanket-wrapped legs and strapped him down. Beau walked alongside, keeping his eyes on Marty’s face. He yelled to Griff that he was heading to the hospital, and Griff jogged over.
“How is he?” Griff asked.
“Don’t know. Can you let the boss know where I’m going?”
“Sure thing. I’ve got you covered. Hope your boy pulls through, mate.” Griff patted Beau’s shoulder and let him go.
As they reached the back of the ambulance, Beau shivered at the sensation of déjà vu. “I fucking hate these meat wagons. Hate hospitals. Fuck.”
“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.” One of the paramedics nudged Beau out of the way so that they could load Marty’s gurney.
Beau recognized his mood for what it was, a reaction to the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. The sight of Marty lying so still, the danger that he and his colleagues had been thrown into, the fear that the firebug would not be caught all combined to blacken Beau’s disposition to match the soot on Marty’s skin. He climbed wearily into the vehicle and strapped in. Opposite him, Marty stirred so he leaned forward and grasped his hand. Marty held on tight but didn’t open his eyes.
“I love you, Marty. This isn’t the place I wanted to say it for the first time, but you need to know. Squeeze my hand if you heard me, sweetheart.”
The pressure on his fingers increased. Marty’s eyelids fluttered, then Beau was meeting his gaze.
“Love you back.” The words were little more than a croak but the best Beau had ever heard.
Chapter Nine
Marty languished in Beau’s enormous bed. Oh, he was warm and comfortable, but he was bored. Mind-numbingly bored. When he was home from work, Beau cosseted him like an invalid and only allowed him up to eat and use the bathroom. Even then he hovered like an overprotective mama bear. It had been more than a week since the fire at The Marmalade Factory and Marty had stopped coughing up his guts a while back. He felt fine.
The two days he had been forced to stay at the hospital had driven him round the bend. The doctor had proved to be almost as Dommy as Beau, but he had at least been clear in explaining the symptoms and effects of smoke inhalation and the need for caution. After his rescue, Marty couldn’t even guess at how long he’d been unconscious. He had done everything he could to stay safe. Banging and shouting on the bathroom door had proved hopeless. He’d retreated to the back corner of the bathroom and soaked some paper towels in water. He’d wedged as many as he could under the door in an attempt to reduce the thickening smoke. He’d stayed low to the floor and curled up in a corner but couldn’t remember blacking out, just that it had gotten harder and harder to breathe.
In the casualty department, Marty had displayed all the common symptoms of smoke inhalation, including shortness of breath, hoarseness and a pounding headache. Black particles had clogged his nose and colored his lips. His eyes had been so red he could have been out partying for three nights straight. He’d been subjected to several chest x-rays. A light probe had been attached to his finger to determine the amount of oxygen in his blood, tubes of which were extracted for dozens of tests. Marty was convinced that the doctors had been irritated that they couldn’t find anything really wrong with him. He’d begged Beau to take him home, and Beau had agreed, but set conditions. One of those rules had Marty confined to bed.
“Enough is enough.” Marty checked the bedside clock. He had an hour before Beau was due home. “Plenty of time.” He threw back the covers and trotted to the bathroom. “This may get me in trouble but I’m beyond caring.”