Ethan found his two friends in the kitchen. Tony was putting the coffee on so that A shift would have a fresh pot when they arrived.
“Hey, the conquering hero,” Tony said. “Wish I coulda been inside with you guys, instead of on paramedic duty.”
“I can’t believe you saved two people,” Pris said in a whisper.
The woman and the girl. Memories of them rushed back into Ethan’s mind, along with the crazy sensations he’d felt during the rescue—pride in doing his job, along with fear that he’d do something wrong. “McCrae was there, too, don’t forget,” he said. “Have you heard if they’re okay? I looked for them when I came out, but they were gone.”
He’d heard nothing about fatalities, however, so he was hopeful they’d both survived.
“I transported them to Methodist,” Tony said. “The mom was okay. The little girl was struggling a bit with her asthma, but I think she’ll be fine.”
Oh, good. Ethan wasn’t sure how he would have handled it, if his first rescue had ended badly.
“Which reminds me…” Tony said. “I have something to show you.”
Tony walked over to a gym bag that was sitting on the floor, picked it up gingerly and set it on the table, unzipping it in front of Ethan. Inside was the most pathetic-looking kitten Ethan had ever seen, its ears singed, its fur so black with soot that its true color was impossible to tell. Resting on a bed of clean socks, it mewed weakly.
“Can you save it, d’you think?” Tony asked.
Ethan quickly closed the bag. “Are you crazy? If McCrae sees this, he’ll pitch a fit.”
“I couldn’t leave it in the street. You, of all people, should appreciate that.” He turned to Priscilla. “When Ethan and I were kids, he was always dragging home half-dead animals, begging his mom to help save their lives.”
Ethan grinned. True, usually he was the softhearted one who took in strays—animals and people. Tony had been a stray, just one of seven skinny kids in a family with too many mouths to feed. After that first fight, Ethan had taken Tony home, where his mom fussed over both of them, treating their injuries. She insisted Tony stay for dinner—Gloria Basque was even more tenderhearted than Ethan.
Tony had made the Basque house his second home, crashing there whenever things got too intense in his less-than-stable home environment. Sometimes, he’d have a couple of little sisters in tow, and somehow Ethan’s mom stretched her dinner to feed them. She was still taking care of strays, and so was Ethan. He’d learned from the best.
The alarm sounded again. Not a fire this time, but a medical emergency. Tony looked at his watch as he headed out the door. “Another fifteen minutes, and I’d have been out of here.” With his paramedic background, he was much more sanguine about alarms than Ethan and Priscilla were.
Priscilla went to fold up her bedding and stow it in her locker. Ethan hadn’t even made up a bed for that night. Because of the strange environment, the lumpy mattress and a case of nerves, he had a hard time sleeping at the fire station. And frequently, when he did sleep, alarms woke him up—sending adrenaline coursing through his body, even when the call wasn’t for Station 59. He figured he’d get used to it eventually.
Ethan peeked into the gym bag. Clearly, the kitten was scared to death. He stroked its head and it immediately responded. “I’ll take care of you until we can return you to your mom,” he whispered in a voice he never would have used in front of another guy. He smiled, as he realized he now had the perfect excuse to track down the woman and child he’d rescued.
He just wanted to check on the little girl and see whether she’d recovered. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But it was the woman who really intrigued him. Her desperation to save her daughter, the plea in her brown eyes, had gotten under his skin.
* * *
“I’D LIKE TO KEEP Samantha under observation for a few more hours.”
Kathryn Holiday nodded at the resident who was treating her and her seven-year-old daughter for smoke inhalation and she tried to hold it together. Was something wrong with her baby? She seemed okay. Samantha had received two breathing treatments with a nebulizer, which had eased her asthma symptoms considerably. She’d also been treated for some cat scratches on her arms, but they weren’t serious. It was a testament to Samantha’s grit and