Heated Strokes (18+)

Chapter One

▬▬▬▬ Nathan's POV ▬▬▬▬

"How're things going over here?!" I called out, jogging over to the wrecked vehicle two of my coworkers were working on, trying to pry the door off so paramedics could get to the men trapped inside. "Need an extra set of hands?"

"Yeah!" Hayes shouted back over the sound of sirens and cars driving by on the other side of the road. "We're gonna have to hurry if we want to give these kids a chance!"

Jason Hayes was the oldest in our crew, the most experienced, and it didn't take him long to read a situation. He'd been a firefighter for almost twenty years, way more than the measly four years under my belt. I could tell by the look on his face that he was worried.

"How'd the other driver make out?" he asked as I gave him a hand with the door.

Looking down at the ground for a second before back at him, I shook my head solemnly.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath. "Well, lets not let these two suffer the same fate, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

Thank God for hydraulic claws, or as we liked to called them, the 'Jaws of Life', since there was no way we'd be able to get these people out their car without the tool. The door was jammed shut, metal dented and crushed so badly the door could hardly be considered that anymore.

"Alright, then let's get this door open, before they bleed out."

It wasn't an easy task—these things rarely were—and the pressure was always insane when someone's life relied on you doing your job. These people mattered to someone, and that was exactly why I didn't give up. Not even when the hood of the car caught flames.

"Shit!" I shouted, stepping back in shock before getting a grip and backing Hayes up again.

The loud groan of the car as the door finally opened sounded like the sweetest music to my desperate ears.

"Alright, let's go! Let's go! Move it people! Move it!" Hayes instructed, waving the EMTs over before turning to our men that were already heading for the hose attached to our firetruck. "I want those flames out, now, boys!"

With a gurney in place, I stepped back and gave the medics space to secure the driver's condition, making sure he was safe to move. No sooner than they had him out of the way, a huge gust of Chicago wind blew at the worst possible moment, enraging the fire that already danced too close to the unconscious guy in the passenger seat, and lighting the whole thing on fire.

Shit, this thing could blow any second.

Cars were unpredictable like that. With the way this car got rammed, sailing across the road until a guard rail stopped it, there was no telling how much fuel or oil had leaked out, but one thing was certain—I couldn't sit back and watch to find out if it would explode sooner rather than later.

Without thinking long on it, I moved.

"Holt! The hell are you doing?!" Hayes yelled at me, and probably rightfully so considering I just rushed, head first, into a burning vehicle, but I had to. "You can't move him until they give the okay! What if his neck is broken?!"

"It won't make much of a difference if we let him burn alive!" I reasoned, knowing I had very limited time to get him out of here before his life wasn't the only one we'd lose if this car decided to become a portal to hell, itself.