The Fire by R.J. Prescott
Series: The Hurricane #4
Publication date: November 5th, 2019
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
FROM GOODREADS DEBUT FINALIST AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE HURRICANE COMES THE FIRE.
Evelyn Danaher lives a quiet, uneventful life. That is until she meets Tommy. The only man who makes her lose control of her temper and her knickers at the same time.
Tattooed Irish firefighter Tommy Riordon found the woman of his dreams, then crashed and burned when a misunderstanding left him on his knees, clutching his balls.
They are wrong for each other in every way. But the very best love stores are the ones that shouldn't work. After all, the fire that doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, offensive language and mature topics. Recommanded for age 18 years and up.
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Excerpt
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"I don't like the look of this boys." Houston's voice said down the radio. "We've got hose reels on you from both sides, but it's not working."
"We think we've hit the staff room. Can you give us a couple of minutes to do a quick sweep before we evac?" I asked. I knew it would gut me later to know that I'd come so close, only to leave someone behind. But you didn't fuck about when the officer in charge sent down an order. It wasn't just my life I'd be risking by staying, it was Hammer's.
"You've got sixty seconds Tommy. Get in and get out," she ordered, curtly. Not wasting a second, I pushed my way through the door, ignoring the flames creeping over the ceiling above me.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" I shouted. The silence was ominous, but I knew from the minute the engine had pulled up outside and we'd seen how bad things were, that there was a good chance that whoever had called this in was dead. Knowing my time was limited, we made a right hand sweep of the room, both of us coming up empty. I was about to exit when my boot knocked against something on the floor. Crouching down I realized it was a hand belonging to a woman who was lying unconscious under the table.
"Fuck," I muttered, praying to God she wasn't already dead.
"You found someone?" Hammer asked.
"Yeah. She's under the table," I responded.
"You wanna get her arms and I'll carry her legs?" he asked. Long gone were the days when firefighters hoisted victims over their back. Breathing sets made that almost as impossible as the Health and Safety guys who worried we'd put our backs out. It was on te tip of my tongue to agree with him, when Houston's voice came shouting down the radio again.
"Evac now boys. Get out as quickly as you can. The roof is going," she ordered.
"Fuck it," I said. Instinctively, and without giving myself a second to think, I yanked the woman forcibly out from under the table, and wedging one arm under her back and the other under her legs, I hoisted her up. As I followed Hammer to the exit, my laboured breathing echoed through my mask. Adrenaline pumped through my body as an unearthly creak sounded above us. The noise was absolutely fucking terrifying.
"Ruuun!" Hammer screamed, panic clouding her voice. The closer we came to the entrance, the faster I moved. At some point in fires like this, the fight or flight mentality kicks in. The instinct for survival, more primal than any other human drive. The creak became an avalanche of crashes as the roof collapsed, taking the suspended ceilings with them. A timber clipped the back of my heel at the doorway, throwing off my center of balance and I stumbled, gripping the girl tighter against my chest as I tried to regain my footing.
"It's okay. We've got her," Mase said once I was free, trying to relieve me of my burden.
"I'm good," I replied. "Just let me get her to an ambulance." Grabbing hold of my elbow, he led me to a waiting gurney. It was only as I laid her down and wrenched off my mask that I realized who she was. Her pale, lily-white skin was blackened from the smoke, but I'd recognize that beautiful, fiery hair anywhere. For a few brief, precious seconds, her eyelids fluttered open.
"We think we've hit the staff room. Can you give us a couple of minutes to do a quick sweep before we evac?" I asked. I knew it would gut me later to know that I'd come so close, only to leave someone behind. But you didn't fuck about when the officer in charge sent down an order. It wasn't just my life I'd be risking by staying, it was Hammer's.
"You've got sixty seconds Tommy. Get in and get out," she ordered, curtly. Not wasting a second, I pushed my way through the door, ignoring the flames creeping over the ceiling above me.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" I shouted. The silence was ominous, but I knew from the minute the engine had pulled up outside and we'd seen how bad things were, that there was a good chance that whoever had called this in was dead. Knowing my time was limited, we made a right hand sweep of the room, both of us coming up empty. I was about to exit when my boot knocked against something on the floor. Crouching down I realized it was a hand belonging to a woman who was lying unconscious under the table.
"Fuck," I muttered, praying to God she wasn't already dead.
"You found someone?" Hammer asked.
"Yeah. She's under the table," I responded.
"You wanna get her arms and I'll carry her legs?" he asked. Long gone were the days when firefighters hoisted victims over their back. Breathing sets made that almost as impossible as the Health and Safety guys who worried we'd put our backs out. It was on te tip of my tongue to agree with him, when Houston's voice came shouting down the radio again.
"Evac now boys. Get out as quickly as you can. The roof is going," she ordered.
"Fuck it," I said. Instinctively, and without giving myself a second to think, I yanked the woman forcibly out from under the table, and wedging one arm under her back and the other under her legs, I hoisted her up. As I followed Hammer to the exit, my laboured breathing echoed through my mask. Adrenaline pumped through my body as an unearthly creak sounded above us. The noise was absolutely fucking terrifying.
"Ruuun!" Hammer screamed, panic clouding her voice. The closer we came to the entrance, the faster I moved. At some point in fires like this, the fight or flight mentality kicks in. The instinct for survival, more primal than any other human drive. The creak became an avalanche of crashes as the roof collapsed, taking the suspended ceilings with them. A timber clipped the back of my heel at the doorway, throwing off my center of balance and I stumbled, gripping the girl tighter against my chest as I tried to regain my footing.
"It's okay. We've got her," Mase said once I was free, trying to relieve me of my burden.
"I'm good," I replied. "Just let me get her to an ambulance." Grabbing hold of my elbow, he led me to a waiting gurney. It was only as I laid her down and wrenched off my mask that I realized who she was. Her pale, lily-white skin was blackened from the smoke, but I'd recognize that beautiful, fiery hair anywhere. For a few brief, precious seconds, her eyelids fluttered open.
About the Author:
USA Today bestselling author R.J. Prescott was born in Cardiff, South Wales, and studied law at the University of Bristol, England. Four weeks before graduation she fell in love, and stayed. Ten years later, she convinced her crazy, wonderful firefighter husband to move back to Cardiff where they now live with their two equally crazy sons. Her debut novel The Hurricane was an international bestseller and finalist in the Goodreads Awards in the category of debut author.
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