“Hey, is anyone here an EMT?” he asked.
Heads came up, and almost everyone raised a hand.
“Is something wrong?” Megs asked.
Marc pointed to Darcangelo with a jerk of his thumb. “This guy got second-degree burns on his back when we evacuated some pets earlier today. He’s being stoic about it. I think he needs treatment.”
Darcangelo shot him a look that could kill. “I’m fine.”
Megs stood, hands on her hips. “I’ll be the judge of that. Show me.”
Darcangelo took off his shirt, turned so Megs could see his back, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’re dead, Hunter.”
Marc grinned.
Megs pointed to a chair. “Sit. He’s right. You need medical attention.”
Darcangelo glared at Marc but did as Megs asked.
“Nicole, bring me a burn kit.” Megs looked over the wounds. “Some of these are fairly deep. Many of the blisters have popped, leaving open burns.”
Nicole returned and handed Megs the medical kit.
Megs pulled on a pair of gloves, then took out a tube of gel that she opened and quickly blotted onto the burns, a look of concentration on her face.
The scowl on Darcangelo’s face faded, replaced by relief. “Thanks.”
“You still planning to kill me?” Marc asked.
“Hang around and find out,” Darcangelo muttered.
Creed chuckled. “Yeah, Rossiter says you two bicker all the time.”
Marc pretended to be offended. “Rossiter said that?”
Megs worked on Darcangelo for about ten minutes, covering the burns with sterile gauze. “Unless you’ve had one recently, you should get a tetanus shot.”
“Really?”
“That’s standard these days.” She stripped off her gloves. “You’re done for now, but you’ll still need to see a doctor.”
“Thanks. That feels a lot better.” Darcangelo stood to put on his shirt.
“You’re welcome.” Megs tossed her gloves in the trash.
It was then Marc noticed that Sasha and Nicole were staring at Darcangelo’s chest. They liked what they were seeing, too. When they realized Marc had caught them, they looked at each other and shared a guilty laugh.
Yeah, they didn’t fool him. Women were every bit as horny as men.
It was the sound of voices outside that drew Marc back to the front door.
“Fire crews,” he told the others. “It looks like they’re hosing down the rooftops or something.”
Megs hurried over, peered outside. “That’s exactly what they’re doing. God, someone give them respirators or face masks. It can’t be good for them to be working in such poor air quality.”
Smoke rolled through the streets like fog. The sharp scent of it permeated The Cave and clung to Marc’s clothes, but at least he and the others were indoors. The firefighter crews were out there, doing hard, physical work in the thick of it.
“Some of these guys are volunteers from nearby departments,” Megs said. “I don’t recognize them.”