Sirens in her Heart

Natalie Peck

Copyright 2015, The Electric Scroll

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Thanks and Dedication

About the Author

Books by Natalie Peck

Connect with me online

- 1 -

The noise of the gong penetrated her sleep-deprived brain. Rebecca struggled to sit up even as her hands groped to pull on her short boots. A groan came from the next cot as Roger rolled over and followed suit.

Geez; Thursdays are usually quiet. Is the world going crazy tonight?

Rebecca flashed him a tight half-smile over her shoulder, reaching for the dispatch phone.

Yeah, Tom, what've we got? She grimaced as she jotted down the address and other information on their call. Roger finished tucking in his shirt for the fifteenth time tonight and reached for his clip-on tie.

That's all you've got? She listened and expelled her pent-up breath. Okay, we're gone.

She set the receiver back on its cradle and grabbed her own tie. She ripped her note from the scratch pad, snapping the scrap of paper to the top of her clipboard.

As they hurried to the ambulance, Rebecca told Roger the address, then said, I think you're right; the world's nuts. This one's a hostage situation.

Roger's mutters were lost in the sound of the siren. She knew as they entered the street, he was fully awake and planning the best route to the scene.

She wondered what to expect on the upcoming call. She automatically looked for traffic on her side of the unit, and mentally prepared herself.

When she caught herself preparing, she chided herself for it. The need was no longer there, but it didn't change things much; it was now her habit.

When she'd been in training, her knowledge was new, as were women in the emergency medical field. She'd fought hard in her small hometown for the chance to show women could be a viable and valuable asset on an ambulance.

No matter what she found at the scene, Rebecca couldn't show any weakness. The city fathers were waiting for her failure. They wanted to hold her up as a bad example, jerk her from duty and reassign her to a desk. It seemed a hundred years ago, not just ten.

Rebecca had devised a safety plan; a game, really. If the dispatcher said it was a traffic accident, she'd picture the bloodiest scene, add the messiest complications and make a mental picture in 3-D with HD color and stereo sound.

Then she'd decide how to react to that situation; what she'd do first, then second and third; she did this all the way to the scene. Reality had never been as bad as her imagination, and she'd never been at a loss in the actual situation.

Rebecca gave herself a mental shake and transcribed her notes to the pad on her clipboard. She took a deep breath. The days of trial were over.

So was her marriage to Simon and her life in Garfield. She'd moved after the divorce. She now lived several hundred miles away and worked for one of the top ambulance companies in the city.

She went over her mental list again. She'd never been on a call like this before. Also, this was an unfamiliar section of town. She and Roger had traded stations with David and Larry. David's wife had been due with their first child two days ago; he wanted to be close if Cheryl went into labor while he was working.

As they pulled up to the scene Rebecca picked up the mike, radioed their arrival time to Tom and wrote it on the run sheet where she'd entered the other information enroute.

Roger brought the ambulance unit to a halt where a police officer indicated. They both stepped from the van, going to the officer for an update.

Rebecca checked the street and houses with somber gray eyes. She listened intently to the officer explain the situation. It was similar to stories she'd seen on the news from time to time but with a definite difference.

Husband and wife quarrel; husband slams out of the house, gets a gun and comes back. He threatens to blow away her and their kid and then himself. This time, though, it was worse. The child was a special case; she was on life-support.

At home? How did they arrange that? Rebecca asked.

The wife is a Critical Care nurse. She quit her job to care for her daughter at home. He shook his head. I don't know what set the husband off, but he sounds desperate; like it's his only option.

How old is he? Roger asked.

"Early forties; the neighbors we questioned said the couple had been childless forever, then had this one girl. They were the ideal little family; very close.

About a year ago, a drunken kid on a Harley lost control and the bike went onto the sidewalk. Ran over the daughter. She made it, but barely. What a mess. Stupid fool kids; I wish they'd learn booze and driving don't go together.

A firefighter walked up to where they were standing.

Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?

Rebecca looked up at him and suddenly felt her mouth go dry. 'Good looking' didn't even come close to describing the ruggedly handsome man asking to join them. She tried to swallow, but there was nothing there and it came out a gulp.

Say, Chief, he spoke to the police officer, although his eyes were on hers. Your boss wants you on the horn.

His emerald eyes sparkled as though lit with a green fire from deep inside him. His blonde hair picked up the reflections from the safety lights blinking all around them. It shone like a polished gold helmet. He was tall; over six feet, she judged. A smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to reach out and touch it with her fingertips.

Watching him, Rebecca discovered she was having trouble breathing normally. It felt as if a tight band was squeezing her chest. Suddenly feeling dwarfed, she straightened and stood as tall as her scant three inches over her five feet allowed.

Her motion caused him to look from her feet to her head as he boldly assessed her. She felt heat flooding into her face and wondered if her blush was visible to the world in the scant light. His evaluation had been so thorough, she wondered if he'd even counted her freckles.

His gaze moved to take in her short black curls. Had she run a comb through them since tumbling out of her bunk this last time? She hoped so.

Still keeping his eyes on her, he said, Say, Roger; long time, no see. You got a new partner since I saw you last. I bet you appreciate the scenery. Ralph wasn't nearly such an eyeful.

Rebecca felt her face grow hotter and her mind went blank; she couldn't think of one bantering word. That was unusual. She often found guys teasing Roger about her; she'd usually come up with a witty quip to make them laugh.

She'd enjoyed the camaraderie between the ambulance and fire crews. When they sometimes went to breakfast after a particularly rough shift, she liked the kinship they provided.

This time she was having trouble just breathing. Any joking words were lost in the desert of her dry throat, but her gaze was riveted to his green eyes. No one had moved but the officer who went to answer his call, yet she felt as though she was standing closer to him.

Rebecca realized Roger had introduced her, but she'd no idea what he'd said. Her feelings were in an uproar.

Again, the man's glance slid across her body. She felt a tingling along her nerves where his eyes stroked her, touching her body with a fire wand. He was dangerous. She couldn't afford passionate entanglements; she had to keep all men at arms' length so she could succeed at work ...and at life, now that her divorce was behind her.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Conversation abruptly halted, and for a split second, nobody moved. Then there was motion everywhere.

The first thing Rebecca knew, she was flying across the sidewalk. She landed with a thump in the grass. A moment later, the air whooshed out of her lungs as a body landed on top of her. She couldn't move. She tried to get up, but couldn't budge the bulk above her. She had no breath to cry out, but she started to struggle.

Stay still, you fool. A harsh male voice grated in her ear. The resulting spurt of anger gave her back her breath.

What do you think you're doing? Get off me.

No chance, Spitfire. Not until the bullets stop singing.

I can take care of myself; get off me, you stupid oaf.

A terrifying sensation came to her as she looked up at this man, overriding the anger and causing fear to engulf her. More fear even than the now-ancient fear of failing the challenge of her job. It was the insidious fear of her purely physical reaction to this man.

The new fear shuddered through her body. He felt her shake and turned his deep green eyes on her. An unspoken question was there. She watched him and felt he could read what was going through her. She was humiliated.

Don't fight it, Sweetheart, he said softly but with a wicked grin. I can take care of you. He moved his hands, gently sliding them from her shoulders down her arms.

Anger flooded her again. She thought how he had the audacity to tackle her like a football player. Then, making light of the feelings streaking through her, he said he was only trying to protect her. Rebecca glared at him.

Get your hands off me! She spit the words out as she shoved against his chest. Her gasping breath was not from exertion, but from her shockingly physical reaction. She desperately looked around for Roger. There he was, coming towards her from the police barricade.

Roger! Her eyes fastened on him like a lifeline, imploring him to rescue her. Humiliating tears stung her eyes and she felt more vulnerable than at any other time of her life.

Roger helped her up as the firefighter eased off her. Roger must have realized she was trembling. He softly asked, Are you okay?

Numbly, she just nodded.

She took a deep breath as she tried to pull herself together. She blinked hard to rid her eyes of tears without actually wiping them; she didn't want others to see her weakness. She fought to regain her focus.

Hey, Roger, the firefighter's voice intruded. She's also a nice armful.

Her anger at his words steadied her. It restored her sense of balance and her sharp wit at once. She spoke to Roger. Tell your friend Tarzan he'd better keep his hands to himself if he wants to keep breathing air. She turned her back on them and headed toward her unit, picking up her scattered papers and her clipboard on the way.

She reached the van and stowed the clipboard beside her seat. She heard the rasp of the radio. Suddenly, she realized she'd not even thought about the events happening inside the house.

She turned, searching for Roger again. He was walking her way. She was glad because her legs felt shaky and she didn't think she could walk right now.

What's the matter with me? I've never felt turmoil from a simple touch before. Simple touch? Yeah, right.

She was relieved Roger was alone. She looked past him. The firefighter still stood, hands on his hips, watching her. Even at this distance, he had power to make her heart speed up; her breath come in little gasps. She thought once more how emotionally dangerous he was to her. She