Without another word, they ran for the rig, going through their checklists by habit and tearing out into the night, siren wailing within minutes.
The Bradford Youth Center was the non-profit center that kept kids off the streets and gave them a place to go when things got shitty at home—as they often did for the kids in that part of the city. Sam and Sara’s dad, David Bradford, had founded the center and it was still run under the supervision of the Bradford siblings and supported by David’s trust, private donations and lots of volunteer hours. Many of those hours were put in by the Bradfords and their friends and spouses.
Sara was the acting Administrator.
“Who’s there right now?” Dooley asked as they all sent their wives text messages.
“Sara’s there,” Mac said, feeling cold seep through his body as he let the reality in.
“Jess was supposed to go over tonight too,” Sam said, his voice tight. “Dani’s at home with the twins.”
Their crew worked the seven p.m. to seven a.m. shift so it was about bath and bedtime at Sam’s house.
“Morgan and Eve?” Mac asked about Dooley and Kevin’s wives. The girls were all friends. It wasn’t uncommon for one or more of them to show up at the Center to help with something or just to hang out.
“Morgan’s at the Bed & Breakfast,” Dooley said. “She had a couple checking in tonight around eight.”
It was seven thirty six.
“Eve’s at home,” Kevin said. “She’s been going to bed really early the last couple of months. The morning sickness is hitting her hard.”
Mac pulled in a relieved breath. At least they weren’t all at the Center.
The pain in his stomach wasn’t any better, but he was glad the others were safe. Sara was at the center. That was a fact. And until he saw her and held her again, he wouldn’t be pain free.
“Sorry, Ma—”
Mac slapped a big hand against Dooley’s chest before the man could get the rest of the words out. “Don’t you fucking be sorry. More than half the girls are safe and Sara and Jess are going to be, so just shut the fuck up.”
Dooley nodded.
“They’ve got procedures,” Kevin said in the calm voice they all depended on at times like this. “They have smoke detectors and emergency exit plans. The girls are smart. It’s going to be fine.”
Mac appreciated the words. They were true. But they didn’t do a thing to make him feel better.
Sam took the next corner sharply and they all hung on.
“Someone should call Ben,” Kevin said, pulling out his phone again. Ben was Sam’s other brother-in-law, married to Jessica. He was also a trauma surgeon at St. Anthony’s. “He working tonight?”
Sam shook his head, gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles turned white. “He might be there too.”
Ben was fond of the Center and spent a lot of time there, as they all did.
But if Ben was there tonight, it meant that their young daughter, Ava would be too.
Fuck. Mac gritted his teeth and gripped the bar on the door by his seat. They had a siren. That was the only way to speed up the trip and Sam was doing everything he could to dodge the cars that were slow to get out of the way.
“I can’t get him,” Kevin said a moment later after dialing Ben’s number.
“Dammit,” Dooley muttered.
Sam and Mac weren’t even able to say that much.
Finally they came to a screeching halt in front of the Center.
There were already three fire trucks on scene and an ambulance.
“Dixon and his crew are here,” Dooley said, bailing out.
Mac took in the details of the scene on autopilot. There were smoke and flames coming from the window on the east end of the building. The end with the kitchen.
A wave of nausea swept over him and he had to stop and force himself to breathe. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest, pulling air in through his nose and then letting it out through his mouth.
The right personnel are already on scene, they’re taking care of things, he told
The Bradford Youth Center was the non-profit center that kept kids off the streets and gave them a place to go when things got shitty at home—as they often did for the kids in that part of the city. Sam and Sara’s dad, David Bradford, had founded the center and it was still run under the supervision of the Bradford siblings and supported by David’s trust, private donations and lots of volunteer hours. Many of those hours were put in by the Bradfords and their friends and spouses.
Sara was the acting Administrator.
“Who’s there right now?” Dooley asked as they all sent their wives text messages.
“Sara’s there,” Mac said, feeling cold seep through his body as he let the reality in.
“Jess was supposed to go over tonight too,” Sam said, his voice tight. “Dani’s at home with the twins.”
Their crew worked the seven p.m. to seven a.m. shift so it was about bath and bedtime at Sam’s house.
“Morgan and Eve?” Mac asked about Dooley and Kevin’s wives. The girls were all friends. It wasn’t uncommon for one or more of them to show up at the Center to help with something or just to hang out.
“Morgan’s at the Bed & Breakfast,” Dooley said. “She had a couple checking in tonight around eight.”
It was seven thirty six.
“Eve’s at home,” Kevin said. “She’s been going to bed really early the last couple of months. The morning sickness is hitting her hard.”
Mac pulled in a relieved breath. At least they weren’t all at the Center.
The pain in his stomach wasn’t any better, but he was glad the others were safe. Sara was at the center. That was a fact. And until he saw her and held her again, he wouldn’t be pain free.
“Sorry, Ma—”
Mac slapped a big hand against Dooley’s chest before the man could get the rest of the words out. “Don’t you fucking be sorry. More than half the girls are safe and Sara and Jess are going to be, so just shut the fuck up.”
Dooley nodded.
“They’ve got procedures,” Kevin said in the calm voice they all depended on at times like this. “They have smoke detectors and emergency exit plans. The girls are smart. It’s going to be fine.”
Mac appreciated the words. They were true. But they didn’t do a thing to make him feel better.
Sam took the next corner sharply and they all hung on.
“Someone should call Ben,” Kevin said, pulling out his phone again. Ben was Sam’s other brother-in-law, married to Jessica. He was also a trauma surgeon at St. Anthony’s. “He working tonight?”
Sam shook his head, gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles turned white. “He might be there too.”
Ben was fond of the Center and spent a lot of time there, as they all did.
But if Ben was there tonight, it meant that their young daughter, Ava would be too.
Fuck. Mac gritted his teeth and gripped the bar on the door by his seat. They had a siren. That was the only way to speed up the trip and Sam was doing everything he could to dodge the cars that were slow to get out of the way.
“I can’t get him,” Kevin said a moment later after dialing Ben’s number.
“Dammit,” Dooley muttered.
Sam and Mac weren’t even able to say that much.
Finally they came to a screeching halt in front of the Center.
There were already three fire trucks on scene and an ambulance.
“Dixon and his crew are here,” Dooley said, bailing out.
Mac took in the details of the scene on autopilot. There were smoke and flames coming from the window on the east end of the building. The end with the kitchen.
A wave of nausea swept over him and he had to stop and force himself to breathe. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest, pulling air in through his nose and then letting it out through his mouth.
The right personnel are already on scene, they’re taking care of things, he told
Similar Books
