Free Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders by Gina Watson

she would have given him her firstborn child. She cleared her throat and shouted, “We’re in here.”
    He shined the light on her. “How’s everyone?”
    “We’re good.” She was crying so hard, her words came out as a sharp whine.
    “I’m just gonna knock out some of this glass, okay?” His brow rose as he waited for her response. All she could do was nod.
    “Go into the other room and keep out of the water.”
    She did as she was told, climbing up to reclaim her spot the back of the couch. “Ruth, they’ve come for us. You’re going to be okay.” They were both going to be okay.
    They heard the glass break that he warned her about. Then Eve heard what she thought to be him jumping into the water. The sounds of swishing grew closer, and she sat half hopeful, half desperate. She prayed the increased movement and waves were due to the big man wading toward them and not to something else slithering through the water.
    He pushed into the den and shined a spotlight, finding them on their dry perches. She released the breath she’d been holding.
    “I think it’s high time we exchange full names. I’m Clay St. Martin.”
    “I’m Eve Ivey, and this is Ruth Howard.”
    “Very good. Everybody okay?” He shined his flashlight from Ruth to Eve, careful not to blind them.
    “Yes, I think so.” Eve’s voice quivered.
    “Here’s the plan. First, I’m going to take Ruth out to the truck.” He spanned the area with the light and looked through the opening to the kitchen. “Eve, I’m gonna take you to the kitchen. I need you to wait for me on the countertop.”
    She stood and started making her way to the kitchen.
    “Eve! I told you to stay out of the fucking water.”
    Clay dropped the spotlight onto the console table and pulled her forcefully back. Then he threw her over his shoulder caveman style, picked up the light, and strode in the direction of the kitchen. Once inside he set her on the countertop and reached down, pulling a small flashlight from his cargo pants. Twisting the barrel to turn it on, he shined the dim light at her. He placed one firm hand on her shoulder.
    “Listen to me, Eve. I’m going to take Ruth to the ladder. From there it’ll be slow going to get her into the truck. Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more. You should be fine here. Take this flashlight.”
    She nodded at his directives and tears filled her eyes.
    “Look at me.” He put his finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his eyes. “I’m coming back for you, but the storm is picking up again. You can expect more wind and rain, but I will be back.”
    She nodded again, unable to say anything. The intensity in his gaze comforted her. In that moment she thought he would physically dam up the water if that was what he needed to do to get to her. She believed fervently in him, in his honor, and instantly she knew he was an excellent fireman. A man who excelled at everything he did, unwilling to fail.
    She sat on the counter in the kitchen while Clay struggled, grunting a bit, to carry Ruth to the ladder. She felt helpless, but she definitely didn’t want to cause more trouble or have him yelling at her again, so she sat quietly.
    Once he was gone, she shivered in fear. All the anxiety that had been stowed while he was near rushed back. To calm her nerves, she replayed the instructions his rich baritone had delivered. It helped to distract her for a few minutes but when she heard the storm winds burrowing through the eaves and the driving rain kick in again, she knew it was as he said: the storm wasn’t over.
    She sang one song and then started another, but singing didn’t distract her. She tried counting, but stopped near two hundred.
    She shivered, feeling not only alone but abandoned. In the darkness of a strange kitchen in the depths of a hurricane, time seemed to have little meaning. She had no idea how long it had been since Clay had left. Sounds of swirling and swishing in the water beneath her had her imagination