Fighting For Carly

  Fighting For Carly (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha)

  Badge of Honor: Tarpley VFD #2

  Deanndra Hall

  Contents

  Foreword

  Letter From The Authors

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Also by Deanndra Hall

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  Books by Susan Stoker

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

  © 2020 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Cover design: Buoni Amici Press

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Police and Fire: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  Letter From The Authors

  To our amazing readers:

  The Tarpley Volunteer Fire Department books have been a lot of fun for us to write, and we hope you enjoy them. Six talented authors came together to bring you these stories that take place in one small Texas town. With that in mind, please know that, although we tried very hard to consult with each other on details, there will be some minor differences in basic timeline, character portrayals, and storyline from book to book. While we take pride in our craft, it’s almost impossible to have all the details match in six different works by six different authors, and we hope that you’ll enjoy the uniqueness of each story rather than comparing them to each other. We ultimately wanted to bring you stories that you can enjoy, that will take you out of your world for a little while and drop you into another, and we know you'll appreciate them for the entertainment that they're intended to offer. Thanks for your support of us and happy reading!

  ~Silver, Deanndra, Haven, MJ, TL, and Nicole

  This book is a work of fiction and in no way represents the actual Tarpley Volunteer Fire Department. I am not a professional firefighter, first responder, EMT, or law enforcement officer. I do, however, have the utmost respect for those men and women who protect us, so if any of my procedural details are erroneous, I apologize. This was written purely for entertainment, and I hope it is taken as such.

  This book is dedicated to all the brave men and women of the volunteer fire departments in this country who answer the call wherever and whenever for little to no pay and very little thanks. Thank you for caring for our communities. For that, you have my utmost appreciation and respect.

  About the book

  The storm is over. The town is in shambles. And Carly is gone.

  Ross “Dub-step” McEvers has experienced his share of horrors. The woman he loved was killed in an accident. He almost died fighting a fire while working out of his station house in Corbin, Kentucky. Heading to Tarpley, Texas, to stay with his cousin while recovering from his injuries is all that’s on his mind. Meeting the love of his life in Tarpley? That would be about as likely as a typhoon in Nevada.

  But the curvy, gorgeous deputy sheriff who sends him plunging into the icy waters of a dunking booth at a local gathering blows into his life and his bed like a hurricane. Carly Cross’s life is rife with its own horrors. With an ex-husband who’s the county attorney and also best friends with the sheriff, the chances of the deputy ever making detective are slim to none. Worse yet, Carly’s afraid of what Eric Cross might do when he finds out she’s seeing Ross, and she has reason to be.

  The storm of the century devastates Tarpley and, as luck would have it, it’s the perfect opportunity for Eric to make his move. All he has to do is find a way to lure Ross into his trap and Carly will be his forever. When the dark clouds clear and day breaks, Carly’s gone. Even an army of FBI agents from across the country can’t seem to find her. Luckily for Carly, an angry Ross is a force of nature, and he’ll flatten everything in his path until she turns up. He won’t stop. He won’t even rest.

  Tarpley thought that tornado was the biggest thing to ever hit their quiet little town. But they’ve never seen the thunder and lightning of a storm quite like the one that’s about to hit them, courtesy of Dub-step McEvers.

  Chapter 1

  “How many of you read the reports?” Ross McEvers watched as less than half of the members of the Tarpley Volunteer Fire Department raised their hands. He wasn’t surprised. The Gatlinburg fire had taken place in far eastern Tennessee. It was big news in eastern Kentucky where he lived, but it would’ve been surprising if the firefighters he was speaking to in Texas had heard much about it. That certainly wasn’t their usual regional news feed.

  “I remember that it was determined to have been set,” one of the men answered.

  “You’re Tank, right?” The big man nodded. “That’s correct. They charged two kids with setting it up on the mountain. Playing with matches. It was witnessed by a hiker. Then the park officials decided to just let it burn out, but they hadn’t counted on the winds. There was a legal case against the kids, but it couldn’t be proven that the fire in the city was directly related to the one on the mountain, so the case was dismissed. Thing is, under other circumstances, that might not have been a big deal, but all the conditions were right for a disaster. It was fed by a drought and unusually high winds that swept in at breakneck speed. But there were three things we learned during that fire that could’ve made all the difference.”

  Ross turned to the big white board in the conference room. On it, he drew a numeral one and made it a point to put a dot after it, then jotted down three words. “Number one, have good fire roads, and make sure they’re clear and maintained. For a national forest, their fire roads were non-existent, not to mention there were none to speak of in the surrounding area, and it hampered their ability to get into areas where they could’ve worked on a fire break and halted the fire before it spread. Local departments couldn’t have done that because it’s federal land, but they could certainly push for it, and they can certainly maintain them on private land with
the owner’s permission.

  “Number two,” he said as he continued to write, “have a ready, capable volunteer base. They had paid firefighters, but if they’d had three times the community members who’d known what to do, they might’ve been able to quell it a lot faster. Plan regular days for training, a day a month or a day every other month. One day a quarter is better than nothing.” He began to write alphabet letters under the number two. “Train people on how to detect the beginnings of a fire … how to clear areas to act as fire breaks … how to spot trouble spots … how to point out areas of debris and junk that could fuel a fire and encourage residents to clean those up … and how to know when it’s time to get out of an area and save themselves.

  “And number three and most important. Go to your city and county leaders and lobby for a good notification system, like an autodialer for your nine-one-one system or some other kind of alert system. Gatlinburg did not have this, just sirens, and a lot of people didn’t even know what those were used for. Most residents had no idea how close the fire was to them or how fast it was spreading, and too many died. They didn’t know they should’ve been actively evacuating until it was too late. Those systems are absolutely, positively necessary to save lives, and if you’ve already got a good nine-one-one system, there’s no reason why that can’t be used.” Ross stopped and took in the faces of the firefighters. These guys weren’t bored—they were listening intently. “Any questions?”

  Another man raised his hand, and if Ross was remembering correctly, they called him Short Shit. “Were any firefighters lost in the fire?”

  “No. Not a single one. But there were a lot of structural losses, billions of dollars of them, and too many civilian lives. Three young men lost their parents and were themselves severely burned. Another man and his son lost the wife and mother of the family and two girls. Fourteen people in all. Unnecessary. It was all unnecessary. And it was heartbreaking.”

  The next hand that came up was a guy they called Dirty-D, and he was friends with Michael, Ross’s cousin. “Can you tell us how many firefighters actually worked this fire?”

  “More than a thousand. They estimated about a thousand from Tennessee, but there were units who came from Kentucky and North Carolina too, and several other states, so I’m guessing in the neighborhood of thirteen hundred, maybe more. Worst part was, a lot of equipment was dragged in, only to find the hydrants dry. The fire damaged the power supply to the pumping stations, or destroyed the pumping stations altogether, and when the fire swept into the city proper on November twenty-eighth, there was no water. It was horrifying. We were battling a huge wildfire that was gobbling up homes and business, and we were doing it with nothing but shovels and axes. Tankers were filling up and having to drive in, and the roads were closing because of the fire. It was a mess.” Eyes were widening all over the room and heads shaking, and Ross hoped they understood the terror those firefighters had faced when they’d stepped into that situation. The fact that all the men had walked out wasn’t just luck—it was a true miracle.

  Their chief, Pops, rose from his chair. He stepped up beside Ross and clapped a hand onto the younger man’s shoulder. “I hope all of you will make Dub-step here feel at home and welcome. Ross, thanks so much for coming and speaking to us. You’ve given us a lot to think about.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad to be here. If anybody else has any questions, please feel free to ask. I’m going to be around for the next few weeks, and it’s hard for me to just sit!” Ross said and laughed. Please—somebody

  “Food’s here!” somebody called out from the rear of the group and there was a mass exodus toward the dining room. Ross headed that direction. God, he hated that damn crutch! His doctor had insisted on it, but he couldn’t understand why. The bone was just cracked, not broken. Yeah, it was enough to earn him six weeks off, but it wasn’t that bad. He’d only been in Tarpley four days and he was already bored out of his skull.

  A guy everyone called G-man sidled up to Ross in the dining room and pointed at his crutch. “Those damn things make life difficult. Let me get you to a table and fill you a plate so you can hang onto that thing, how ‘bout it,” he said with a smile.

  “I’d really appreciate that. Thanks.” Everyone had been friendly and welcoming, and Ross needed that. He’d fought dozens of fires with the Corbin Fire Department, and yet he couldn’t remember one as harrowing as the last one. When that beam had come down and trapped him, he’d scanned his surroundings and hadn’t seen another soul, even though he knew there were a dozen other responders there. It had knocked out his comm equipment and he couldn’t talk to anyone. He’d spent what seemed like hours but had only been about two minutes trying desperately to get the beam off his leg when it miraculously lifted and two men dragged him up and out of the burning building. Scooby and Big Bird had hauled him into the fresh air and dropped him for the EMTs before they went back into the apartment complex, but watching the broad-shouldered backs of those two men disappear into the inferno again had reminded him of how thankful he was for the brotherhood they shared.

  The pizza was good; the laughter and conversations were better, and in minutes, Ross was pulled out of his head and back into the room with all the firefighters sitting around him. Michael, who’d been dubbed Big Mack by his fellow firefighters, sat down across the table from him with some of the other guys, laughing and talking. It was only a matter of time, Ross knew, before … “Hey, Dub-step! Why don’t you tell everybody how you got that name?” Big Mack yelled at him.

  Ross laughed. “I know you’re itching to, so go ahead. I won’t steal your thunder! Just make sure you don’t lie about me, you hear me?”

  Michael laughed loudly before he started. “Don’t have to—you’re goofy enough without my help! So they were having a training day, setting a structure fire to practice different techniques. The grass was smoldering, and somebody threw a string of firecrackers into it. It went off right behind Ross and he started jumping around, screaming and acting stupid. They said he sounded like a little girl. First time they all went out to a local bar, one of the guys said, ‘Hey, Ross! Want us to put a little dub-step on the jukebox so you can show us your dance moves again?’ And the name stuck. Right, Dub-step?”

  Shaking his head in humiliation, Ross laughed again. “Yeah, that’s about it. My finest hour, immortalized for all eternity!” That set everybody howling with laughter.

  Ah, the camaraderie! He loved it. He needed it. Ross McEvers was alone otherwise, and being in the brotherhood of firefighters meant something to him. No matter where he went, he knew if he could find a firehouse, he’d find friends. If they had the brotherhood of the ax, who needed a home and family?

  Thing was, Ross did, and he knew it. Anything else would’ve been a bald-faced lie.

  Alone there in her cruiser, she muttered under her breath, “You have got to be kidding me.” But no, she really was seeing what she thought she was seeing. She drove on past, pulled into the convenience store parking lot, and then stepped out of her car and over to the shoulder of the road. When he got close, he waved and grinned. “Torvis! Torvis, you stop that thing right now!” He just waved again. “RIGHT NOW or I’ll give you a little electroshock therapy, I swear!”

  The mower’s engine sputtered as it stopped and the toothless old man grinned. “Well, hey there, Deputy Cross! Whatcha doin’ out here?”

  “We got a call that some drunk old fool was riding a garden tractor right up the middle of the highway. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Torvis Murphy glanced around in every direction and, based on the way he was wobbling on the seat, just the action of moving his head made him so dizzy that he damn near fell off the big red machine. “Why, no, ma’am. I don’t see nobody doin’ nuthin’ like that ‘round here.”

  Hand on the stock of her forty-five Ruger, Carly stepped up and put her other hand on the steering wheel of the tractor. “Torvis, I do believe they were calling about you, buddy.”
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  “Me? I ain’t been drankin’!”

  “Oh, so now you’re wearing Old Granddad aftershave? I see. How ‘bout you step off the tractor and come with me.”

  “Nope. Not going. You’ll have to catch me.” He turned the key on the garden tractor three times, but it never started. “Goll dang it! Ever damn time!”

  “Come on, Torvis. I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t keep doing this. I mean it. And then I come out here and you give me a hard time, and I could be catching bank robbers or child abusers or something important. Right? So come on. Tell ya what—on the way to the office I’ll stop and get you one of those cheeseburgers you love so much.”

  “With pickles and onions? ‘Cause I love me some pickles and onions.”

  “Yes. Pickles and onions. We can do that. Come on, now. Let’s go.”

  “Gotta get the key. Don’t want nobody stealin’ my ride while I’m gone to visit downtown,” Torvis said and pulled the key from the ignition on the tractor.

  True to her word, Carly stopped at the burger joint on the way and got Torvis a huge hamburger with everything on it—except lettuce. He had a real hatred of green stuff, apparently. “That mess is what food eats,” he always said. By the time she got him to the jail, he’d eaten half the burger and passed out in the cruiser’s back seat.