Free Slow Burn: A Colorado High Country Novel by Pamela Clare

came the sound of sirens.
    “You’ll have to stay in the truck—no getting out and getting me into trouble. Also, we have to leave right now .”
    Excitement had her on her feet. She followed Eric as he hurried down the steps, calling over her shoulder to Lexi and Austin. “Thanks for supper. It was delicious.”
    “Bring water!” Eric shouted back to her.

Chapter 5
    B y the time Vic had fastened her seatbelt, Eric was backing out of Austin and Lexi’s driveway, chatter coming over his radio, most of which she couldn’t understand.
    He drove the quarter-mile stretch of dirt road down to the highway, stopping to wait for traffic before taking a left. “Hang on.”
    He accelerated onto the road, reaching down to flick a switch on his dashboard.
    Flashes of red, blue, and white light danced on the hood of his truck.
    “Your truck has lights?” She hadn’t seen anything on the roof.
    “They’re hidden behind the rearview mirror. There’s a set on the back window and one on the grill out front.”
    “Clever.” She leaned forward to look behind the mirror, amazed that something so bright could be so small.
    “I’ve got a siren mounted on the grill, and I’ll probably have to use it in town.” He glanced over at her, his serious demeanor disappearing for a moment behind a grin. “You’ve been riding around in a fire truck this entire time, and you didn’t know it.”
    “I’m not going to lie. That’s pretty freaking cool.”
    When they rounded the next curve, she saw it—the glowing orange of flames, black and white smoke rising skyward in a column. “Oh, God.”
    Eric saw it, too. “Damn it, Hank.”
    He turned up the radio, his brow creased as he listened.
    Vic listened, too, but she understood only snatches of the conversation.
    “Scarlet FD on the scene.”
    “It’s fully involved now.”
    “We’ve got an exposure on the Bravo side.”
    “The RP is the homeowner. We’re all clear.”
    Eric let out a relieved breath. “I’m going to kick Hank’s ass.”
    Questions chased one another through Vic’s mind, but she didn’t want to distract Eric, so she kept them to herself. Why did he think the fire was Hank’s fault? How could he help at the scene if he didn’t have gear? How did they know for sure no one was trapped inside?
    They came to the long downhill that led into town.
    “Son of a …”
    A stream of red taillights stretched out ahead of them, vehicles stopped bumper to bumper on the road all the way to the roundabout in the center of town. Some people had abandoned their cars and stood on the shoulder of the road, filming the column of smoke with cell phones.
    “It’s human nature to want to watch shit like this, but why can’t they pull off the road first?” Eric reached down and flicked a switch, the wail of the siren making Vic jump. “God, I hate tourist season. The traffic is terrible, and the crime rate goes up.”
    When people failed to get out of the way, he had no choice but to slow down and eventually stop. Twice he blasted the siren’s horn before drivers began to make way.
    Vic couldn’t believe it. “What is wrong with people?”
    “If I had the answer to that, I’d be filthy rich.”
    Slowly, they made their way to the roundabout at the center of town, but rather than turning right and heading toward the fire, he moved through the roundabout, heading up the hill on the other side and making a left into the firehouse parking lot. Vic recognized it because Lexi, in a moment of pure evil, had arranged for Eric to give her a tour of the place last summer.
    “Keep the doors locked. I’ll be back in a few.”
    “Why lock the doors?”
    He called back over his shoulder. “Tourists.”
    Vic watched him jog inside the building, her gaze shifting to the column of smoke, which seemed thinner now. Did that mean the fire crews had almost put it out? Not even two minutes had gone by when Eric reappeared.
    Oh … wow!
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    He wore full bunker