Betrayed

Betrayed

  An Angels of Affection Novel

  Book 1

  By Carly Fall

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014

  By

  Westward Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design: IDrewDesign

  Edited by: Allison Itterly

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my son, Riddick, my own living and breathing angel.

  I love more than you will ever understand. Thank you for being your super-wonderful self and blessing each of my days with your presence, your smile and your humor.

  Chapter 1 - Five Years Ago

  Liam jumped onto the back of the red pickup truck and knocked on the window. He took off his breathing mask and yelled, “Move, John!” to the driver, as he watched the flames approach.

  The truck lurched forward, and Liam wiped the sweat from his eyes. He was hot, tired, cranky, and angry as hell at this brushfire he and his fellow firefighters had been battling for three days. If they didn’t get it under control, it seemed like the whole continent of Australia would go up in flames.

  “We’re going to get the upper-hand on this bastard, Liam,” Pete, his friend and captain, said. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  Liam nodded, although he wasn’t feeling too confident. The fire had already destroyed twenty houses and killed six people who had tried to fend off the flames themselves instead of evacuating. “This thing is a fucker,” he said.

  “You got that right.”

  They sped down the dirt road to the south of fire, hoping to get a containment line dug in there. The wind shifted every few minutes, making it difficult and dangerous.

  They rode in silence as Liam surveyed the landscape. Charred tree trunks looked like sawed-off fingers as they protruded from the ground. The once-lush forest now looked like the gateway to Hell. Smoke blocked the sun, giving the sky an eerie brownish-orange color. Liam’s eyes watered.

  They bounced away from the flames on the rough terrain.

  “When we’re done, I’m going to get absolutely pissed,” Pete said.

  “I’m with you,” Liam agreed, his mouth watering just thinking about sucking down a beer. “And I’m going to get laid.”

  Peter threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you are, Liam. If you weren’t on the prowl, we’d all wonder what the hell is wrong with you.”

  Liam smiled. Yeah, when he was off duty, he loved to party it up. Nothing made him happier than slamming down some beers and finding a pretty lady to rub up against.

  He ran his hand through his dark hair damp with sweat. He turned to the front to see how things looked ahead of them and caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. Black streaks of ash covered his face, his green eyes were hidden with sunglasses. At twenty-seven years of age and standing six foot one, he never had any trouble attracting the ladies.

  The truck stopped, and Liam hopped off the back. He looked up at the wall of flames moving to the north where they had just come from. It looked as though they would be able to dig the containment line and maybe even get a little back burning done on some of the undergrowth, the main fuel for the flames. If the bastard didn’t have any gas, it eventually had to give out.

  He pulled out the shovel and listened to Pete outline where the containment line was to be dug. A chopper flew overhead with a long cord and a large bucket attached to it. Liam did a mental calculation and realized it had just come from a lake a few miles away to fill up the bucket. As it headed toward the flames, Liam hoped the water bomb it was going to drop hit the target dead-on.

  “All right, let’s get to it, boys,” Pete yelled.

  Liam walked over to the area Pete had pointed to and pushed the shovel into the ground. His body screamed in protest, every muscle exhausted from the physical exertion of digging, lifting, and scrambling up and down hillsides for the past eleven hours. The air was thick with smoke, and the heat from the fire and the sun bore down on them. What Liam really wanted was a shower, a bed, and some food.

  After a few minutes, he looked over his shoulder and saw Pete holding the radio up to his ear, as if he were having trouble hearing it. John continued to dig, and Tom, the other member of their four-man team, was starting on the back burning.

  “What’s going on, Pete?” Liam called. A sudden gust of wind blew in from the north, and he turned toward the flames. Which way were they going to dance?

  Pete shook his radio and swore, then yelled into the mouthpiece, “I didn’t copy that! You’re breaking up!”

  Liam knew that Pete was trying to get in touch with the spotter, the guy who kept an eye on all the crews to let them know if the fire was shifting in their direction. They had abandoned the line to the north and traveled down to the south of the flames thanks to the spotter’s warnings.

  Liam turned and started digging again. “We can do some back burning over here, John!” he called. John gave him a thumbs-up.

  A moment later, Pete screamed, “Get out! We need to get out! Now!”

  Liam turned and ran for the truck, threw the shovel in, and hopped on the tailgate. When everyone was in, the truck took off. Liam held on to the side as it bounced and slammed around, and then the truck came to an abrupt halt. Wrenching his neck around, he found what was the cause of the stop: another wall of flames.

  “Head west!” Pete yelled as he shook his radio and held it up to his ear.

  The truck lurched to the right, and John gunned it. Liam held on to the side for dear life, thinking that John was about to push the gas pedal through the floor. Suddenly, the truck stopped again, forcing Liam to lurch forward. When he turned around, a massive wall of flames raged toward them.

  He glanced over at Pete, who stared at the wall of orange and red. Liam quickly came to the conclusion that they were very, very fucked. They were surrounded. There simply wasn’t another way out. The fire crept closer on all sides, and for the second time in his life, Liam was scared.

  “Fire shelters!” Pete screamed, and all four men immediately pulled the foil packets out of their packs.

  “Away from the truck!” Pete yelled, pointing to a spot about two hundred yards away. “Heads in the center, boys, just like we’ve practiced!”

  Liam fell to the ground and pulled the fire shelter around him, feeling like a baked potato wrapped in tin foil. Time slowed as he awaited his fate. Either the shelter would work or it wouldn’t. He heard the sound of the wind, then the crackle of the fire as it approached. Smoke drifted up his nose, and he coughed, cursing himself for taking off his breathing mask. His lungs felt like lead, and the temperature within the shelter began to rise.

  As the heat became almost unbearable, anger swirled through him. He’d only lived twenty-seven years, damn it, and he had so much more living to do. He always imagined he’d leave this world skydiving, riding his motorcycle, or his heart would give out while he was screwing a beautiful woman.

  But no, he was going to die in a fire.

  John screamed, and Liam smelled the scent of burning flesh, which gave him the dry heaves. The heavy smoke made it impossible for him to open his eyes, and his breathing came in short spurts.

  The heat was insufferable, and Liam’s screams intermingled with John’s. His skin felt as though it was melting off his bones, blistering and boiling. He thought of the worst burn he had ever had—one from the barbie when he was grilling garlic bread. He’d had a few too many and reached into the hot grill while trying to talk to someone. The top of his hand had connected with the upper plate and seemed to stick there. Even t
hough it happened two years ago, he still had scars that looked like three small railways running over the top of his hand.

  If he survived this, his body would have many more scars than that simple burn. He screamed again, the pain creeping up his legs beyond anything he could have imagined. He took one last ragged breath as tears of agony rolled down his face.

  There was nothing else.