Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I claw my way to my feet, flailing and splashing. Choking.
I lift the pipe over my head, smashing it against the window as hard as I can.
It glances off the glass, leaving nothing but a tiny chip behind.
I sob in frustration and smack it again, harder this time.
The force of the blow reverberates up my arm, and I nearly drop the pipe. But the window cracks.
"Please, please," I gasp, aiming the pipe to hit it again. My head swims, my lungs burning with the need to breathe. My eyes sting and burn.
I swing the pipe again anyway, screaming in fury.
"Don't!" Someone grabs my arm, yanking me backward.
I squeal in shock…and promptly lose my footing, landing on my ass in the water with a splash. And I don't go alone. The man who grabbed me slips too, falling halfway over the tub in full firefighter gear.
Our eyes meet through his mask and the thick smoke, and I inhale a sharp breath. He has the clearest jade green eyes I've ever seen.
"Fire moves faster with air."
"What?" I choke out.
"Breaking the window will feed the fire," he says, and then his brows furrow. "Were you taking a fucking bath?"
"I…what?" I blink at him, my mind hazy. He's not making any sense. Maybe I've inhaled too much smoke? Probably. God, it hurts to breathe.
"Never mind. We gotta get the fuck out of here."
Yes. Good plan. I like this plan.
Naturally, even in full gear, he manages to rise to his feet gracefully. All I manage to do is choke and gasp. Dying hurts. It hurts a lot.
The firefighter mutters something I can't make out and hauls me to my feet, his thick black gloves ridiculously large against my waist.
Everything about him is ridiculously large, actually. Standing up, he towers over me. And I don't think it's his turnouts that has him looking like a freaking burly giant. I'm pretty sure that's just him.
"Put this on." He works quickly, slipping a little mask on my face while I sway on my feet at his side, trying to stay upright. Spots swim in my field of vision…and then a blast of oxygen hits me in the face.
I greedily inhale it, grabbing the little tank thing he hands me. And promptly choke on the oxygen.
"Slow, baby," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble. "Take slow, deep breaths. You've inhaled a lot of smoke."
I nod, letting him know I hear him. Not entirely sure I plan to obey because it's the first fresh air I've had in what feels like centuries. But I hear him.
"My crew has us a path out of here," he says. "I'm going to pick you up, and, then we're going to run like hell. I want you to keep using that to breathe and keep your eyes closed."
"Why?" I gasp.
"Because I don't want you freaking the hell out on me when you see what we're running through."
Well…that's fair enough, I guess.
"Can't carry me," I mumble, inhaling another big gulp of oxygen. "Too heavy."
He snorts, one dark brow climbing. He is freaking gorgeous. Or maybe I'm delirious? "I could carry you all day, Red." He chuckles at me. "You'll be the sweetest thing I've ever carried out of a fire."
Yep…he's definitely gorgeous. Especially with that wicked laugh and those jade eyes. I thought they only made firefighters like him in movies. In real life, they're not supposed to be nearly as sexy as this man. I thought they were mostly middle-aged volunteers. From what I can tell, he's maybe thirty, and I don't think he's a volunteer-anything.
"You got enough air not to pass out on me?" he asks as I stare up at him, dazed.
I nod silently.
"Good girl."
He's been in the room with me for maybe ninety seconds—way too long given the situation but not nearly long enough for my stomach to be fluttering the way it is.
A second later, he hauls me into his arms, lifting me like I don't weigh nearly as much as my arch-nemesis, the scale, says I do.
"Here. Cover your face with this and close your eyes." He scoops up one of the wet towels with a gloved hand and drapes it over the mask he placed over my nose and mouth. "Keep your mask on."
My heart pounds like a drum against my ribcage. I think I'm more afraid now than I've been at any point since I saw flames. We have to go out there—into the freaking fire. And I highly doubt it's gotten better in the last ten minutes. If it was hell then, it's probably whatever comes after hell now.
If I survive, I may kill my brother.
"Your name," I say, grasping the firefighter's arm. If I'm going to die, I'd really like to know who I'm taking with me to the other side. I'll haunt Nate for him, too.