Francesca Isabella Forte was hiding out. Not from an evil stalker, an old boyfriend or even a shady loan shark. No, that would be too simple. It was her father. During their last argument, he’d been so furious with her, he’d disowned her. Out-and-out cut her off without a dime. Even worse, he’d threatened to take custody of her child. All because she didn’t want to marry a man he’d chosen for her and she didn’t want to run the Forte Foods empire.
So she’d packed up her belongings and headed straight out of San Francisco’s elite Pacific Heights’ neighborhood to Dallas. Using her middle name, shortened to Bella, and her married name of Reid, to all the world, she was just a young unemployed widow. Her best friend from college, Amelia Gray, had taken her in, no questions asked.
Now, Bella drove along the interstate in her rented Ford Focus, noting how different the flat Texas landscape was from her hilly hometown.
And Bella felt free.
“Hey, Bella,” Amy said. “What did Cinderella say when her photos didn’t show up?”
“Uh...someday my prints will come.”
They giggled at the silliness and then Bella put a shushing finger to her lips. She didn’t want to wake the love of her life, her twenty-two-month-old baby, Sienna, who slept peacefully in the car seat behind her.
Everyone said Sienna was the exact replica of her mommy, with shiny dark hair curling at the tips and pretty meadow-green eyes. Bella ate those compliments up, but always reminded people that Sienna was also bright, and sweet, and kindhearted, and she’d gotten all those traits from her father.
Sienna was the best thing she and Paul had ever done in their lives.
That’s why she’d been so stunned when her father had threatened to sue her for custody of her baby. Marco Forte claimed she was an unfit mother. That she couldn’t provide for her baby. That she’d had a mental breakdown after her husband died.
Marco had the money and influence to start the proceedings. But he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t find her. Her father would never get his hands on her baby. Ever.
They were fifteen miles outside Dallas proper, the road dark, the beam of her headlights the only illumination as they headed to Amy’s brand-new high-rise condo. But just then a cloud of smoke billowing up from the side of the road caught Bella’s eye. She blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly and, sure enough, she wasn’t mistaken. A car was on fire. “Oh, no!”
She braked immediately.
“Bella, what?” Amy asked, looking up from her cell phone. “Oh, wow. You think someone’s in there?”
Bella froze. Her husband’s helicopter crash flashed through her mind. Paul had died on the job, in a fire just like this one, while returning from an aerial excursion in the Bay Area that he gave to tourists. She’d lost her husband; Sienna had lost her father. It had been a year ago and she still couldn’t believe he was gone.
Paul, I’m so sorry.
Popping sounds from the burning car shook her out of her own head. She had no time for self-pity. She needed to do something. She couldn’t just sit there. And finally it all registered.
“Amy, watch Sienna. I’ve got to check it out. Someone might be in that car.”
God, she hoped not.
Amy blinked her eyes as if making up her mind about something. “I’ll go.”
“No. I have to do this myself.” She couldn’t explain it, but a force was driving her on. Something told her she needed to be the one to check out that car. “Please, just watch my baby.”
“Okay, but be careful and don’t worry about Sienna.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said, already out of her seat belt. She could hardly believe this was happening. But she had to go. She couldn’t sit back and wait for help to arrive.
She was the help.
If someone had gotten to Paul in time, maybe he would’ve survived to see his baby take her first steps, to hear her beautiful babble that was beginning to sound like real words.
Bella’s feet tapped the ground lightly as she raced as fast as she could. The car must’ve spun off the road at high speed; it was a good ten yards off the shoulder. By the time she reached it, she was out of breath. The vehicle was overturned and someone was sitting upside down at the wheel. A man. He wasn’t moving.
She whispered a silent prayer. She needed as much help as she could get. “Amy, call 9-1-1,” she shouted.
“Okay!” Amy shouted back. “I’m calling now!”
The fire hadn’t reached the front seat yet; at the moment, the hot flames were still confined to the engine. Was she crazy to think she could pull the man out? Probably, but she had to try. The smoke was thick, burning her nostrils, blurring her eyes. She wiped at them and took the biggest breath she’d ever taken, filling up her lungs.
The door refused to budge no matter how hard she tried. Breaking the window was her only option. She wrestled herself out of her hooded jacket and wrapped it around her fist. She’d seen this done countless times in movies and hoped it really worked. Then she squeezed her eyes closed, hauled her arm back and punched the window with all of her strength. The window shattered and crumbled into tiny pieces, like broken ice crystals. She shook out her hand. It throbbed like crazy. She’d have to deal with that later.
Still praying, she wedged herself into the window and frantically used her fingers to find the button for the seat belt. It was strange working inside the flipped car, but finally she pressed her thumb down hard on the buckle button and the belt released. The man fell onto her like deadweight. God, he was heavy. Too late, she realized the belt had been preventing him from falling and now he was crushing her. A grunt rose from her chest as she strained to grab hold of his arms and pull him rather gracelessly out the window. He was cumbersome and it was awkward, but finally she yanked him free of the car.
Wonder Woman would’ve been proud.
The man’s face was bloodied and bruised, yet even through all that she could tell he was handsome and young. He couldn’t be much older than Paul had been when he’d died.
Only, this man wouldn’t die today. Not if she had anything to say about it.
The heat was unbearable. She had to get him away from the fire. The car could blow at any second. She grabbed his arms and dragged the man closer and closer to the road, falling a few times, scraping her hands and legs over the bumpy terrain. She did her best to keep his head from further injury. Using every ounce of her strength, she finally made it a safe distance away. She gave a quick glance at the car; she could tell the blaze was traveling toward the gas tank. She held her breath and prayed. And then boom! The explosion echoed on the empty road, the blast like a rocket in flight. She sat back on her butt, immobilized as she watched the car go up in smoke.
“Oh, my God,” Amy shouted. “Are you okay, Bella?”
She nodded and yelled back, “I’m not hurt. But he is.”
“Paramedics are on the way!” Amy remained close to the car. Hopefully, baby Sienna was still asleep in the back seat. The little one was a great sleeper.
Bella got a grip then and looked down at the man she’d pulled from those flames. He would’ve died in that fire. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
She heard the faint sound of sirens off in the distance and her shoulders relaxed slightly in relief. But she had more to do. She couldn’t wait. In this case, every second counted. This man wasn’t conscious and she was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing.
She knelt by his side, thankful for the summer lifeguard camp she’d attended as a teen.
I know CPR and I can help.
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