Racing towards a fire, Haustin squinted his eyes against yet another blinding headache. His withdrawal symptoms were lessening. No more bouts in front of the toilet, but the aches and pains remained. His heart fluttered from time to time, skipping beats and causing him to pause and catch his breath. What scared him most was wondering if it was pill-related or Ground Zero related. Wouldn't it be just his luck? At a great place in his life only to be hit with cancer?

"Do we need to bring anything tomorrow night?" he asked Abel, replacing his morbid worries.

"Are you a 'we' again already?" Abel asked with a grin. He was having a barbecue the next night, and somehow, Lindsey had agreed to go with Haustin. It'd be their first public appearance together. Other than the make-out session they had at Bill's party.

"Lindsey and I are working on things. We're on the road to being a 'we'."

"Good for you, man." Abel paused. "Would it be tacky to ask Yael to bake me some goodies? I mean, I don't have to choose sides in the break-up, do I?"

"There are no sides. Yael and I are going to stay friends. Go ahead and give her a call. I'm sure she'd love to do it."

Alex looked pointedly at Abel's stomach. "Not sure you need to be indulging in that many treats."

"This," he patted his pouch, "is all muscle. You're just jealous, meathead."

"The only muscle you have is in your ass," Haustin tossed out. "And you do know her stuff is vegan and organic, right?"

Abel's smirk fell. "What do you mean? Vegan, as in vegetable? But her cupcakes have frosting."

"As in healthy and without eggs, gluten, processed chemicals, or any animal by-products," Alex told him.

For a few seconds, Abel regarded Haustin and Alex, giving them a thorough stare. Then he burst into a raucous laugh. "Nice try. You guys almost had me. Nothing good for you tastes that delicious."

Haustin shared a shrug with Alex.

"Shit," Captain Welch swore from the front seat of the rig.

"What's up, Cap?" Abel called out.

The older man turned with a grim look, the gaze landing squarely on Haustin. "We're headed to a vacant building owned by Malkah Enterprises Enterprises."

"Damn," Alex swore. "Probably that damn arsonist again."

"Hopefully, we catch the bastard," Abel added.

Haustin didn't contribute. He turned his attention to the neighborhood. No way. They were only two blocks from Yael's building, the one she was opening her shop in. As far as he knew, it was the only Malkah Enterprises property in Midtown. A hard rock settled in his gut, knowing how fiercely protective she was of the structure and how many dreams she had of her place. His heart broke for her.

Especially when the rig slammed to a halt out front.

The building was a goner. Fire attacked the heart of it, and the structural integrity wouldn't hold out much longer. One of their main priorities had to be protecting the surrounding structures and clean up.

The hair on the back of his neck pricked as he exited the truck. Rarely did he consider a fire personal, but this one was. For Yael. Damn shame, too. Haustin recognized the potential here, like she did, the cute bakery that might have been.

A commotion to his right caught his attention to where the police were questioning a frantic man. Curiosity drew him over as the rest of the crew prepared. The guy, a kid with droopy pants who looked like he belonged in a rap video, noticed Haustin.

"It's about damn time. I been tellin' these idiots there are people inside!"

Haustin shot a glance at the nearest officer. "Has this been confirmed?"

"There's no one in the window he claims to have seen her in, but the glass does appear to have been broken from the inside."

Ice invaded every part of Haustin's body. "Her?"

"Yeah, man," the witness answered. "Some hottie. Found this on the sidewalk."

A shattered phone with a pink case entered his line of sight, and everything around him spun. Yael.

Never before had he felt such terror when running into a burning building. He went straight for the stairs, encountering a heavy cloud of smoke. Not bothering with his mask or helmet, which he then realized was still on the rig, he pushed on. The only thing his mind focused on was Yael; her smile, her eyes, the precious life beating in her chest. All of it was threatened. They might not be together anymore, but that didn't erase the fact he cared for her.

The second floor was an inferno. A thick, boiling orange wall of flame blocked the hallway. He held up an arm to shield his face from the intense heat. Already the walls were blackened and destroyed.

"Yael!" he shouted.

His words were cut off by coughs as the smoke poured into his lungs and held on tight. Haustin cursed himself for being rash and not grabbing his oxygen tank. She might need it. He cursed loudly. There wasn't time to search for her where she wasn't.

"Yael!"

Nothing came back but the deafening roar of the fire. The voices of his crew squawked through his radio, but he ignored them. He wasn't leaving.

Then a single phrase poked through his determination.

"Macauley, get your ass out now. The entire building is unstable," the captain ordered.

Impatient, he jabbed the receiver. "Not until I find her."

"We've been trying to tell you. She's on the top floor, rear apartment. That's where she was last seen. Abel and the guys are coming."

He almost told Welch to not let the men come, but they wouldn't listen. Yael was his or had been, which meant she was family. His mind ran through worse-case scenarios as he returned to the staircase. In just a few minutes he'd been away, the fire escalated there as well. He was wasting too much damn time.

Leaping through the growing flames, he fought against despair as hot, angry arms reached out for him. His boot crashed through a weakened step, and he yanked it free in time to duck as a large piece of debris crashed down, nearly trapping him. The stairs were not going to be there on the way back. He jumped on the radio.

"Stairs aren't going to last. Get a ladder and bucket up to the windows of the back apartment, as close as you can. They said a window had been broken out."

"Already on it," came Alex's terse reply. "Ladder just arrived."

As soon as his feet hit the third-floor landing, his heart fell. Almost worse up here, as if the fire originated in this hall. A clump of burning wood blocked his path, and something caught his eye. A body.

"No!"

Ignoring the chaos around him, he began flinging boards away, sobbing and praying incoherently. A foot came into view. A foot encased in a heavy work boot. His precious breath released in a huff. It wasn't her.

Pushing to his feet, more ceiling beams rained down on him, knocking him to his knees. It wasn't a big impact, but enough to stun him. His helmet flew in the opposite direction, and heat seared his ear. He landed funny, and his ankle screamed in protest as he again struggled to a standing position. Coughing and spitting out soot, he glanced around.

Next to him, a gaping hole offered access into the rear apartment. This had to be where she was. Covering his head and face, he leapt through the hole and scanned the room.

The smoke was too thick. He couldn't see anything. A coughing fit seized him, and he bent over retching. Dropping into a crawl, he saw it was only a matter of seconds before the fire engulfed him. Desperation sped up his heart to a dangerous beat, and his breathing came out in short gasps. A clock in his head ticked off each passing moment.

He scuttled across the room, calling her name whenever he managed a decent lungful of air. In the last bedroom, farthest from the approaching nightmare, he found her slumped over another body. Blood caked the floor under the man, and the color of his hair chilled Haustin even further. Casey.

"Yael," he cried as he shook her. One hand immediately checked for a pulse, and joy chased away his fear as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Haustin." She couldn't say more, overcome with hacking coughs. Once she recovered, she clutched his bunker jacket. "Casey! He fell, and his legs are burned. He won't wake up!"

"I'll check him." He took her hands in his gloved ones, flinching at her blisters. "It'll be okay."

Turning his attention to Casey, he checked his pulse, but it was slow and weak. Not good. The wounds on his legs were pretty bad, but it was his lungs, and his head Haustin worried about. Casey needed medical attention now. How in the hell was he going to get them both out of there? His uncharacteristic panic reared its ugly head when he heard a reverberating crash from the hall.

"Stairs just went. How's it coming with the ladder?" he called into the radio, moving for the windows.

"Bucket is up, but we're about five feet shy. Pieces of the old fire escape are blocking us. The roof's no good either. Already sagging."

"Shit. Our room is the only one not fully engulfed. We'll make the window work."

He scrambled over to the window and peered over the edge. Right below, about five feet out of reach was their only way to safety.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. Abel climbed the ladder to help Carl, already in the bucket.

He nodded to himself. This was how it had to be. Longways to jump, especially with all the other factors. They were short of breath, weak from lack of oxygen, and frightened. His ankle hurt like hell. Casey was no better than a rag doll. Do or die time.

"I need a rope, a hose, something to tie around an unconscious body," he called to Carl.

Abel's face fell, losing its color. "Yael?"

"Casey."

It took a couple tries, but Carl managed to swing over a section of unwound hose. Haustin tested it, rapidly tying test knots. He didn't like it, but there was no other choice.

Running back to help Yael, he saw exactly what he'd been afraid of—tendrils of flame snaking into their room. The fire was starving for something dry to latch onto.

"Haustin," Yael gasped, her watery gaze locked on the threat.

"I see it. We have to get to the window. It's our only shot. Help me tie this around Casey's chest."

They wound the hose under Casey's arms twice, looping it over his shoulders and tying it as best they could. Once it was secure, Haustin dragged him to the window.

"Stay low!" he told Yael.

She nodded, and he felt her hand grip his boot. Hurrying now, he crawled to the window, pulling her up beside him.

"Oh god," she said after taking a look. Coughs overwhelmed her, and she sank back down. "Piece of cake."

"It'll be okay."

"Haustin," Abel called out. "I'm tossing up another rope someone found. Tie it around Yael."

In case she falls, Haustin added silently.

He caught the rope and tied it securely under her arms. If she slipped, it would hurt, but she'd live. It was all that mattered to him.

"No. Casey first," she argued.

"He'd never forgive me if I didn't get you out before him."

Something popped and crashed behind them. Yael screamed as Haustin felt the heat on his back. The corner Yael and Casey had hunkered in ignited.

"I know you're tired, and it's hard to breathe, but you have to jump." She nodded. "Put your feet on the ledge and push out. Abel and Carl will catch you. We're right behind you."

Yet another piece of the ceiling fell, and he had to yell to be heard. An ember landed on her hair, and he patted it out, then lifted her onto the sill.

She looked at him, their gazes locking and, shocking the hell out of him, she chuckled.

"You're always saving me."

The angry fire behind them pushed and crowded, snarling and morphing into a memory of a day that was still trying to drag him down. He felt it now, a cold dark hole opening underneath him, telling him he didn't do enough, but he ignored it, knowing he held in his arms proof he'd done what he could.

Flashing her a quick grin, he said, "Honey, we saved each other more than once. This one's on the house."

They had minutes, if that, so he returned to the task of not breaking his concentration. He placed a hand on her lower back, helping her to balance on the wood.

"You can do it. Go!"

Yael looked over her shoulder. "Thank you, Haustin."

She jumped.

He held his breath, and another chunk of wood slammed to the floor to his right. She landed hard on the rim of the bucket, almost slipping. As her hands grasped for a hold, Abel reached out and took her wrists.

Haustin sagged in relief, already struggling to prop Casey upright. They had minutes if that. Instead of waiting, he peeked over the window sill to make sure Yael was clear. Pushing to wobbly legs, he slung Casey over his shoulder and climbed into the cramped window. Ignoring the voices shouting at him, he pushed off and leapt into the air.

Well, we are at the end, folks. Just an epilogue left and we're done here.