Chapter 31
Emerson pulled into the underground parking lot and slid his vehicle beside Harrison’s.
He checked his watch. He was early. What was Harrison doing in the office already?
After snagging his coffee and goodie bag, he slipped into the elevator, absently whistling.
As the doors closed, he heard a yelled, “Hold the elevator!”
Kicking a foot out, Emerson forced the doors back open. Oakley the lab rat ran into the elevator, sighing with relief. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled at Emerson.
“Thanks.
“Don’t mention it,” Emerson murmured.
“This antique is so slow.”
“That it is,” Emerson replied.
Oakley leaned against the back of the car as far from Emerson as he could be and soon began tapping his foot along with the instrumental oldie playing in the elevator. The omega always seemed to give him a wide berth and he wasn’t sure why.
“Not used to seeing you here this early,” Emerson said in an attempt to make small talk.
“It’s my day off,” Oakley replied.
“Kiss-ass,” Emerson whispered, grinning.
Oakley gave him the finger, fighting a smile. “I’m hoping to catch up on some of our backlog. Doubt I’ll put much of a dent in it, though.”
“They need to hire another lab rat.”
“If only we had the budget. Dad’s been begging for more help for years.”
“I couldn’t imagine working for my father,” Emerson said.
Oakley chuckled. “Ummm… you do work for your father.”
Emerson scoffed. “I don’t share a workspace with mine. We’d likely kill one another if we did.” He eyed the omega beside him and a realization came to him. “Your last name’s Keller, right?”
Oakley nodded. “Yep.”
“Any relation to Dashiell Keller?”
“He’s my older brother,” Oakley said with a bright smile. “You know Dash?”
Emerson froze for a few seconds. “Ahh… yeah. I do. I didn’t realize he was your brother.”
“Well, it’s not like we see him often,” Oakley muttered.
“Why not?”
“My brother’s a workaholic.”
Emerson smiled to himself.
“How’d you two meet?” Oakley asked.
“Quinn McCreary hired his firm to protect Harry, Cass, and Raimy while the arsonist was still on the loose. I met him then.”
“Ah,” Oakley said. “Good old cousin Quinn.”
Emerson startled for a second. “I forgot Dash was Quinn’s cousin.” He was mating a McCreary? Fuuuuuuuck.
“I guess that makes us family,” Oakley said.
“Excuse me?” Emerson growled, gaze whipping to Oakley’s.
Oakley looked a bit taken back. “Tanner McCreary mated your brother Fitz. He’s our cousin and your brother-in-law. So, we’re related by their mating.”
Emerson snickered. Oakley relaxed, smiling.
“I guess we are,” Emerson said, eyeing Oakley. They were related even closer than Oakley realized. The omega would be his brother-in-law if Dash and he could legally mate.
“How are you related to Quinn and Tanner?”
“Their grandfather, Tolliver, was my papa’s uncle. But we didn’t grow up around them.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a long, long story.” The doors pinged and opened on Oakley’s floor. He stepped out and smiled at Emerson. “Have a good one!”
“You, too,” Emerson said as the doors slid closed.
His interest piqued, Emerson wondered if he could get that story out of Dash. He knew little about his mate’s family and wanted to know everything. Another McCreary was entering the Walker family.
A few more stories up, Emerson walked out of the elevator and into the Fire Investigations office. Pausing outside Harrison’s office, he found his brother looking dapper, wearing a suit, and standing behind his desk.
“Who’s getting married?”
Harrison looked up from whatever he’d been reading. “I’ve got court today, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Emerson said, walking down the hall to his own office. He yelled over his shoulder, “Better you than me.”
Before he entered his office, the sound of an explosion went off not too far away. The entire building shook, one of the panes of glass in his windows splintering. Emerson set his items down and rushed to the window. A raging fireball had been shot into the sky.
Following it to the base, he realized the general area it had come from and his body went cold.
“What the fuck was that?” Harrison roared, his voice growing louder as he neared.
Emerson swept over to the old emergency radio in his office and flipped it on. Nothing. He reminded himself it would take a minute or two for calls to come in through the emergency line and the operators to notify dispatch.
Harrison walked deeper into his office, staring out the window. “Oh, fuck…” He reached into his sportscoat and retrieved his phone. “I need to get out of court.”
As Harrison stepped out into the hall, a squawk came over the radio.
“Attention all units, stand by for emergency traffic.”
A pause came. Emerson stared at the radio, his stomach in knots.
Come on, come on, come on…
“Reported explosion in the east sector of Downtown. 4236 Milsap Avenue. Multiple calls reported an explosion and fire at an office building at that location. Dispatching Engine 1, Engine 3, Engine 6, Ladder 1, Rescue 2, Battalion 1, and Medic units 3, 4, and 5. All units respond, code 3. Be advised of possible structural collapse, fire involvement, and multiple casualties. Law enforcement and utility services have been notified. All responding units switch to Tactical Channel 3 upon arrival. Stage as directed and use caution for possible secondary explosions. Dispatch clear.”
Emerson spun for the door. Harrison stood in the middle of it, listening to the radio.
“Move!” Emerson roared as he ran towards the hall.
As he raced for the emergency stairs, he heard his brother’s footfalls behind him. He’d never made it down a set of stairs faster than he had in that moment. Lungs burning, he didn’t stop until he reached the side of his truck.
As he dug for his keys, Harrison raced up, panting. “What is it?”
“It’s Dash’s office building!” Emerson snapped as he yanked open his door and climbed inside.
Flipping on the siren, he didn’t wait for his brother to get in.
Harrison had a vehicle and seconds ticked by.
He peeled out and floored it, racing back across town.
Hordes of distant sirens filled the air, black smoke rising from where he’d seen the fire erupt.
Emerson careened around the first corner before flooring it again.
After giving his cellphone verbal commands to call Dash, the number popped up on the truck’s navigation screen.
A ring tone sounded once over the speakers before cutting out to a beeping sound.
He tried three more times on the way, never getting past one ring.
After hopping several curbs, driving on a length of sidewalk, and zigzagging through morning traffic, he came to a skid as close as he could without taking up valuable logistic space and leapt out of his vehicle.
The first ambulance pulled into the lot as he was getting out.
He scanned the perimeter, assessing the scene.
The parking lot was barely half full—it was still early, which was a bonus.
Fewer bodies were inside. Only one of those bodies meant everything to him.
A growing group of onlookers stood on the sidewalk across from the building, some of them filming the fire with their phones.
A couple of others hovered over someone lying on a grassy median in the parking lot.
He strode that way to see if someone needed medical assistance.
The person looked familiar. The guy slowly sat up with the aid of someone beside him, coughing and holding his head. His wide-eyed gaze landed on Emerson’s.
“Randall?”
Randall shook his head, appearing muddled.
Emerson knelt beside his brother. “Rand, are you okay?”
“I… I think so.”
“Where’s Dash?” Emerson asked.
“I…” Randall coughed, clearing his lungs. His body and face was covered in black soot. Tiny pieces of glass littered his hair. Minor burns appeared on his arms and the side of his face. “I don’t know. There was an explosion… and then I woke up out here.”
After checking Randall’s pulse, Emerson rose to his full height and scanned the area again.
A few more disheveled survivors sat on car hoods or medians, looking dazed and confused.
One wept, another comforting him. There were a few men stumbling out of the building, coughing and covered in soot, who appeared to have minor to mild injuries.
But no signs of Dash or any of the others who might’ve been in the office. He mentally listed those he’d seen in the conference room. Four, not counting Randall.
Three young-looking EMTs raced over to Emerson, only one of them carrying their gear.
They all eyed him before one spoke. “Should we set up a triage tent, sir?”
Emerson wasn’t in the headspace to manage the situation, but neither station had arrived on-scene yet.
Someone had to direct the trio of green first responders until someone else took charge.
“You two set up in the back of the parking lot, between the two entrances. Leave plenty of room for emergency traffic flow and get the Guard to block it off from pedestrians along the sidewalk when they arrive. We’ve got one injured here and more walking out.
” He pointed to the EMT carrying their bag and then to Randall.
“Assess him first but keep your eye on the injured coming out of the building for any critical cases. Once the other buses arrive, have most work triage with a couple more working through the walking injured to assess.”
“Yes, sir,” the EMTs all said in unison and moved into action.
Engine 1 finally arrived, pulling into the parking lot. The other sirens were getting louder, but they weren’t nearly close enough for Emerson’s liking. After racing back to his truck, he pulled his turnout gear from the back.
Harrison and his father arrived within seconds of one another. Emerson stepped into his boots and pulled up the protective pants by the suspenders, watching as his father thankfully took control of the scene.