Orange County, California, Present day

They were called the devil winds. Fire Captain Joe Romero thought it an apt description of the dry winds that blew down from the desert, funneled through mountains that acted as a chimney, and pushed back the normal Southern California ocean breeze. More often than not, the Santa Anas brought out the arsonists.
    A trickle of sweat ran down his neck, adding to the wetness already gluing his shirt to his back under his turnout gear. He rolled his aching shoulders as best he could while holding the hose. The smoke and embers blowing in his face didn’t help. He pulled his shroud higher over his nose to block the smell of a campfire gone wrong.
    Focus. Fatigue was as big of an enemy as the fire. Scanning the area, he forced himself to be aware of his surroundings and his team. Probationary Firefighter Zach Akino manned the hose with him. “See this expensively landscaped yard we’re yanking our hose through?”
    The rookie nodded, his eyes widening.
    “It won’t mean anything if we don’t save this house. I know it’s our third day on the fire, and we’re not going home any time soon. But keep focused and be aware. You can’t let your guard down.” Joe adjusted the hose on his shoulder. The wind swirled, lifting dust, ash, and smoke in a vortex. The fire made its own weather, the heat sucking the flames skyward into a wall of red-and-black heat.
    Joe blinked his eyes to ease the grittiness caused by the smoke, heat, and lack of sleep. Wouldn’t be able to put in any study time on his classes that would enable him to move up the fire department ranks. The testing dates moved for no man or woman. Looked like he would miss this round of promotions. A hard ball formed in his stomach at the thought, but he shoved it from his head. No point in dwelling on what he couldn’t control.
    A crashing noise ended in a metallic clang. A boulder banged into the wrought-iron fence. He swiveled around, looking for more. He closed the nozzle and dropped the hose. Grabbing Akino’s shoulder, Joe yanked him back as a chunk of granite shattered where his boot had been. Fragments pelted their turnout gear. A chill raced over his sweat-slicked skin.
    Akino gave him a wobbly grin. “Thanks.”
    Joe snatched up the line again. “With all the noise from the fire, wind, and support aircraft, you won’t hear a rock coming until it’s usually too late to get out of the way. And there are a lot of big rocks in these foothills that can easily work themselves loose as the fire burns away their support.” They needed every man to hold this line. They couldn’t do that if any of their thinly-stretched crew got injured.
    The Global SuperTanker roared overhead, slightly louder than the fire and the wind. Nineteen thousand gallons of red slurry dropped from the tanker’s belly, temporarily pushing back the wall of flames.
    Joe nodded at Akino, then braced himself and opened the nozzle. The stream of water knocked down the flames flaring up between the house and the line made by the tanker-dropped fire retardant. Firefighters Jeff McCoy and Andrew Hardin covered the other edge of the house.
    More snapping brush. Joe scanned for another rock, but a small deer broke through the chaparral and slammed into the fence. It tried to scramble over. Snakes, rabbits, and mice had been running across the lawn all day. Poor thing. It could see safety, but it just kept pawing at the metal bars, panicked.
    “Air Fire 3, coming in for a second pass closer to the line. All personnel be advised.” The call came over Joe’s radio. He closed the nozzle. “Akino, this one’ll be closer. Move back from the drop zone.” Jeff and Andy already loped across the lawn, closer to the house, taking cover under the wide patio.
    Joe glanced back at the deer. Wait, it wasn’t a deer. It was a dog with dirty, singed fur. If he could get it to follow the fence line around the corner, the dog could escape down the greenbelt.
    He ran toward the dog, waving his arms. “Go on. Shoo!”
    The dog sat and whined, tail thumping.
    “Joe! The drop!” Jeff’s voice rose above the crackle of the flames and the roar of the approaching plane.
    He waved off Jeff and sneaked a quick glance at the sky. He had time. Hopefully.
    The dog pawed harder at the fence, eyes wide, ears flat.
    He didn’t want to spook the animal into hurting itself. “It’s okay, boy. Come on.” He patted his leg and moved down the fence, hoping the dog would follow. “You can get out of here.”
    “Joe!”
    He ignored Jeff’s voice. The guys were always teasing him for having a soft heart. He liked saving people. And animals. So sue him.
    They say smell is the sense most closely related to memory, but Joe always thought it was the adrenaline rush, the split-second decision making, that so often brought back the memory of a steering wheel buried in a young mother’s chest and a red-faced toddler screaming in the back seat. Images of his first rescue flashed across his brain at every scene.
    He planted his boot on the fence and levered himself halfway over, reaching down. “Come here, boy. Up!”
    Someone grabbed his legs. Jeff. “I got you. Get the dumb dog, and let’s get out of here.”
    He grabbed the scruff of the dog’s neck and heaved himself back, taking the dog with him over the fence. And toppling over on top of Jeff.
    Scrambling to his feet, someone grabbed his collar, yanking him up. Akino.
    The roar of the SuperTanker announced its arrival. They ran, ducking under the covering of the house’s wide patio as the heavy, red rain fell.
    He leaned against the wall, catching his breath. “Thanks, rookie. But obey orders next time.” He grinned and looked over at Jeff. Blood ran down his face. “What happened to you?”
    “Your boot. You kicked me in the face when you grabbed that stupid dog.” Jeff dabbed at his nose with his shroud.
    “Aw man, I’m sorry. Do you want—?”
    “Nope.” 
    Joe studied Jeff a moment. Deciding there wasn’t anything to be done—the bleeding had stopped—he unscrewed the lid on his water bottle, taking a long drink of water nearly as hot as coffee, washing the taste of cinders from his mouth. “Where’s the dog?”
    Akino gestured to the patio table. “Under there.”
    “Probably a good move. That drop could have killed him.” Joe squatted down and let the shepherd-collie mix sniff his hand. The dog licked it, and Joe scratched its neck, the fur thick with ash and crispy where it was singed. No collar. Why did people let their dogs out if they didn’t have a collar? At a time like this, they’d be lucky to see the mutt again. He was somebody’s pet, most likely. He hoped some little kid wasn’t going to be heartbroken.
    Battalion Commander Dan O’Grady strode around the corner. “Everything under control? Jeff, what happened to your face?”
    Jeff tilted his head in Joe’s direction. “Oh, you know. Joe was helping. Again.”
    O’Grady raised his eyebrows and focused on Joe a moment. “Okay. That last drop bought us some time. Gather around.” He waited until Andrew Hardin pushed off the wall and joined them. “The heavy winter rains have made these foothills bloom and thickened the growth of the chaparral brush. The winds are sucking the moisture out of every living thing. It’s all tinder dry and ready to burn. Wind-driven embers are bursting into spot fires the minute they land. We’re making our stand here. If this house goes, the whole neighborhood goes. With tile roofs and a wide greenbelt, these are defensible. Everything north of here is on fire, and the winds aren’t forecasted to abate anytime soon. You are the center of our containment line.”
    He studied each man’s face then his gaze drifted beyond. He frowned. “Hey, you know whose house this is?”
    Jeff shook his head. Hardin and Akino shrugged.
    Joe glanced around. Should he? “The negative edge pool, the outdoor kitchen complete with top-of-the-line stainless steel Weber grill and a fireplace is standard for this neighborhood. So, nope.”
    “Tony DiMarco, that big land developer.” O’Grady tapped the granite countertop he leaned against.
    “Really? How do you know?” Joe pulled off his helmet and ran his hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
    “My wife dragged me to that charity home tour last Christmas. This was one of them. It’d be ironic if it burned.”
    What was Joe missing? No one else seemed to get it either. “Oh?”
    “Don’t you remember? His company was investigated for arson and insurance fraud last year on that empty business park.” O’Grady slapped Joe’s back then pointed at Hardin and McCoy. “Keep those hot spots down and hold here. Romero, don’t give Jeff any more injuries helping. Rookie, listen to your elders. I’ll be back with an update.” Lifting his radio, he moved off.
    “Half the county’s burning, and you guys are kicking back. About what I expected.” Detective Kyle Taylor appeared around the corner of the house. He wore jeans, boots, and had a bandana around his neck. His Laguna Vista PD badge was clipped to his waistband and his gun visibly holstered.
    “Hey, Kyle. Figures you’d bring a gun to a fire. You didn’t happen to bring us anything along with your attitude, did you?” Joe stepped forward and fist-bumped his best friend.
    “Never go anywhere without it.” Kyle handed each of them a cold bottle of water out of the backpack he wore.
    Joe drained his without coming up for air. Nothing tasted so good. He capped the empty and tossed it to Kyle. “What brings you up here? Other than your gift of water.”
    “Checking the neighborhood to make sure everyone’s out and nobody’s trying to sneak back in. And I don’t have to tell you about the pressure from the city council to keep looters out of this neighborhood in particular.” Kyle leaned against the wall. His radio squawked, and he turned it down slightly. “So, talked to Sarah?”
    “Sarah?” Heat flashed through Joe. No, he hadn’t talked to her. Only thought of her nearly every waking moment.
    “Sarah?” Kyle echoed. “You know. Sarah, the one you spent all your spare time with last month, the one you can’t stop talking about, the one—”
    “Been a little busy. Hate when work interferes with my love life.” Joe glared, gesturing to the glowing hills in front of them.
    “Wait.” Jeff turned. “You have a love life? Since when?”
    Hardin snickered. Akino, for once, didn’t look terrified.
    The tanker overhead, the traffic on the radio, and smelling smoke made for a weird background while discussing his life. They were talking like it was a normal day, like they were shooting hoops or something, instead of protecting people’s homes.
    Jeff stepped forward. “I’ve been trying to set you up with my sister. She’s a former cheerleader. Perky and happy all the time. She might even appreciate your ‘helping.’” He made air quotes.
    This wasn’t awkward at all. He needed to change the subject quick. “Hey, we need to get after a couple of those hot spots. Akino, grab the hose. Thanks for the water, Kyle.”
    “No problem. Want me to tell Sarah you said hi?” Kyle grinned, enjoying this too much.
    Joe shoved his shoulder. Something exploded off in the distance. The smoke obscured all but a slight brightening to the west.
    Hardin peered off in the distance. “Sounds like the fire just hit that grove of eucs off Via de los Arboles.”
    Joe reached for his radio. “Who’s over there?”
    “Station 42.”
    Akino looked from Hardin to Joe. “Eucs?”
    “Eucalyptus trees. The volatile oils in their leaves and other desert-adapted plants make them particularly vulnerable to fire. They’re basically time bombs, dangerous to anyone or anything around them. Hardin, you and McCoy go check it out. The rookie and I will hold down the fort here.”
    Joe started to follow Jeff off the patio. Something brushed his leg, and he looked down. The dog stared up at him, whining. Great. Now he had a shadow. Maybe Kyle could take him. No, Kyle had left. Ah well. Joe gave the dog a final pat then joined Akino at the hose. They searched for hot spots and flare ups. Every time he looked back, the dog was still there, watching him.
    “Looks like he knows you saved his life,” Akino shouted over the roar of water and fire. “You’ve got a dog for life.”
    He didn’t want a dog. All he really wanted was a hot meal, a shower, and a long nap. And to call Sarah and see if she would have dinner with him. Yeah, that’s what he wanted. But he wasn’t going to get it until this fire was contained.

***

Sarah Brockman dumped her saddle-leather tote purse on her office chair. Coffee. She needed coffee. She slipped her computer out of its sleeve, snapped it into the dock, and booted it up. Twisting open her blinds, she gazed out over her second-story view of tree tops, but she’d take that over a parking lot. Today, billowing smoke filled the skyline as the foothills in the distance burned. Joe must be out there. Lord, keep him and the other firefighters safe. Maybe Heather would have an update from Kyle, who was also probably working the fire.
    The Pandora app opened, and her playlist of soothing music started, which made her office feel more like a spa on a tropical island than an architectural firm. It pulled her mind away from the fires and onto work. While AutoCAD booted, she mentally went down the project list. Final drawings would be due—
    Mark Rankin, her boss and mentor, knocked on the doorjamb of her office. “Come see me?”
    “Sure. Just let me get some coffee, and I’ll be over.”
    Mark disappeared. He was a great guy, not old enough to be her father, more like a quite-a-bit-older brother. But he was a good boss, and his profit-sharing plan allowed her to make her own hours and do quite well the last couple of years.
    She grabbed her mug and headed for the break room and kitchen area. Popping in her favorite hazelnut pod, she waited for the machine to fill her cup. What did Mark want? It wasn’t unusual for him to ask to see her, but never first thing. Which could mean what? Her mind whirled at the possibilities. An unhappy client? Or coworker? A new project? The possibilities were endless.
    The machine sputtered out the last of the coffee. She popped the top, pulled out the pod and tossed it, then heavily dosed her coffee with cream. Fortified, she headed to Mark’s office.
    He gestured to the chair.
    She sank into the buttery leather and took a sip. “What’s up?”
    Mark toyed with a pen. Not a good sign. “Before you say anything, hear me out.”
    Oookayy.
    “You know I’ve been talking about retiring—”
    “But not for a few more years. Your five-year plan, right?”
    He tilted his head side to side. “There’s been a change. I’m pushing it up.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. “Just let me finish. Then you can ask questions.”
    She nodded, gripped her mug tighter.
    “Martha’s been diagnosed with dementia. It’s still early stages, but there are some things we want to do—travel, see the grandkids, things like that—before it gets worse and we can’t.”
    A small gasp escaped Sarah’s lips. “Mark, I’m so sorry.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. Tears pooled in her eyes. “What do you need me to do? I’ll do anything I can to help.” She could pick up more of the workload, handle clients, mentor some of the younger architects—
    “Become managing partner.”
    Her heart stopped. Pressure filled her chest. She sat back in her chair, pulling her hands into her lap. She hadn’t expected that. But she hadn’t expected Martha to be diagnosed with dementia. If her heart was heavy, Mark must be devastated.
    “Sarah, I know how you feel about this. But trust me. I’ve watched you over the years. I know what you’re capable of. Do you think I’d offer you the job if I didn’t think you could handle it?”
    He didn’t need to be worrying about the firm. That was something she could give him. “Of course, I’ll take it. If that’s what you really want. Are you sure there’s no one else you’d rather have?”
    “I know you can do this.” He leaned back. “But if you decide not to, I’ll ask Eric. But you’re still my first choice.”
    She nodded. “Thanks for thinking that I could do it. That means a lot, your confidence in me.” She leaned forward. “Please don’t worry about the office. We’ll make it work here. I’ll be praying for you and Martha, so please let me know if there’s anything I can do. Or anything the team can do.”
    Mark cleared his throat and swallowed. “Thanks.”
    Recognizing his emotion and not wanting to cause him embarrassment, Sarah stood. “Need anything else?”
    He shook his head. “Close the door behind you.”
    She gave him a soft smile and left, giving him his privacy to grieve. Back in her office, she eased into her chair and opened up her task list for the day. But she couldn’t focus on the words. What had she gotten herself into? Managing partner. Sure, Mark had been hinting for a while, but she thought he’d be around to show her the ropes, answer her questions, ease her into the job, and help her recover from her mistakes. But now, she had to take that load off of him. He didn’t need to worry about the firm when he needed to be focused on Martha.
    But she could go to Eric and talk to him about it. Maybe there would be a way for the two of them to divvy up the responsibilities. One that kept him away from dealing with the office staff.
    Eric Garrity. Why on earth would Mark consider him? Yes, he could handle the financial aspect of the job, but he had no people skills. She could think of two people who would quit the moment they learned Eric was in charge. And they wouldn’t be the last once Eric bullied his way through the staff like they were the opposing football team. So maybe that wasn’t the best option.
    What did she want? She didn’t really know. She was happy doing just what she was doing. But that wasn’t an option. And did it really matter what she wanted? She had to help Mark.
    Her peaceful music wasn’t helping. Between worrying about Joe and Kyle, and now Mark and Martha, her brain wouldn’t settle into work mode. Normally, some fresh air and sunshine would help, but there was none to be found under the smoke-saturated skies. She opened the Bible app on her phone and began to pray through the Psalms.
    But her mind wandered. She couldn’t wrap her brain around Mark’s news. Mark was her mentor. He knew her and had guided her career, giving her advice and opportunity. He was more than her boss. Her heart broke at what he and Martha were facing. She didn’t want to add to his problems. But she’d never seen herself as managing partner.
    However, if she didn’t take the job, Eric Garrity would. Creating another set of problems. There was no good solution.