Silk In A Firesuit

By B.B. Irvine

Silk In A Firesuit is an uncoventional romance set in modern times between two intelligent, action oriented young women. Opposites may not only attract, but also complement each half, and having their own dreams and pursuits keeps both halves interesting as a whole.
Add in car racing (in Europe, and in American stock cars), and the action and situations cannot stay in one place for too long!

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.B. Irvine
• Release date: Feb 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465967855

B.B. Irvine

B.B. Irvine was born in New York City in 1959. He graduated from the High School of Music and Art N.Y. (1976 music), New York State University at Stony Brook (1980 B.A. liberal arts), and in 1982 received a certificate as a Physician Assistant from the Bowman Gray School of Medicine in North Carolina. He has worked in settings including emergency medicine, AIDS research, and addiction treatment in New York City where he lives. In 1994 he earned a second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do from Grandmaster Richard Chun. His novels and screenplays evidence his knowledge of people and frequently weave medicine, science, history, romance, and martial arts into the action.

Book preview

Silk in a Firesuit

by B. B. Irvine

Copyright 2018 B. B. Irvine

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 01 – Deputy Shea – Sat, 12 September

Deputy Caitlin Shea engaged the cruiser’s parking brake while calling in the crash, and location – at least twenty minutes over twisty roads from Mill Hollow. Then she opened her door and dropped onto the gravel shoulder of the embankment, walking to the rear of the cruiser for her gear packs.

There was no smoke or steam visible from the car below and she did not smell gasoline. She was supposed to wait for back-up, since an unsecured wreck was dangerous to approach, but back-up was at least twenty minutes away; any injured survivors down there might need her help right now. She had been an EMT and then a paramedic before becoming a deputy and knew that simply opening an airway or stopping bleeding could sometimes be enough to save a life long enough to get real help in place.

And lives can be lost very quickly without effective intervention.

She entered the license tag into the unit and sent it, then went to the back and got out her climbing gear bag, feeling the coiled line within it.

Caitlin made sure her line was secured to the front underframe of her cruiser and used it to help her get down the steep grade. She had been a rockclimber since junior high school and moved easily despite the loose soil, her straight, ear length honey blonde hair secured firmly under the baseball cap she had put on.

The car below had telescoped slightly when it hit two very thick tree trunks growing close together, and now, closer in, Caitlin could smell gas from the smashed engine – or was it a leaking gas line? The car was tilted nose first downhill, so the gas tank might be draining out by the second, and there might be hot engine parts that were about to flare it up.

She gulped – she’d been to three burn calls so far, and never wanted to have to go to the next one. She was carrying a fire rescue pry bar tool slung over her shoulder and had to prevent it from hitting anything that might make sparks, or any sparking lines, and had to avoid causing a static spark – you just never knew.

She had to be quick but careful for about thirty seconds or so, just to get a look into the car for survivors. If there were none, she’d retreat and wait up on the road.

Then she was close enough at last to see the driver.

Caitlin had seen head trauma in many ways over her years as an EMT, then as a paramedic, and then as deputy sheriff. Except for images, she had never seen an actual decapitation before.

The car’s driver had kept going after the car stopped moving, but only partly so – he had not believed in the wisdom of seatbelts, so his body was thrown over the wheel, punching his head through the front windshield. Between the airbag inflating into his lap and other forces, his body had then been jerked hard enough for the safety glass to shear right through his neck, cutting short any need for lengthy rehabilitation from head or brain injuries.

His body was dressed casually in tee shirt and jeans, but he filled them like someone who really worked out. His head was resting in a dent in the front hood where the tree trunk had stopped the car. He must have hit the windshield with the top of his head, because his face was intact; he looked dumbfounded – Who? Me? He was in his thirties.

Caitlin debated trying to get into the car to retrieve his wallet for a fast and easy I.D., and then she heard a muffled moan.

Caitlin was startled, then spooked, looking at his neck stump for a second, then his face, then she caught herself.

The rear seats had appeared empty because of the way the two front seats had bent backward and rear seat had folded down when the car frame buckled on impact. But if someone had been stretched out across the back seat, taking a nap, for example...

It would be hard to get to them.

The very wide rear windshield had fully broken out on impact, and the way the car had bent and seats were folded meant she could crawl in easily that way, but could not gain access through the seat.

Her best hope was one of the car doors.

Caitlin had a fire rescue claw-pry bar tool, but the rear left door was clearly telescoped in around the edges, jamming it tight. She would check the other side, and if it wasn’t open, power tools she did not have with her would be needed.

Using her line, she quickly pulled herself back upslope and then carefully moved around the car’s rear end – there was less gasoline smell here, at least, so the tank itself might not be leaking...

Caitlin actually half smiled when she saw the right side rear door – it was intact, with no obvious telescoping, but it was still jammed too tightly to merely reach through the broken window, unlock it, and pull it open. She had to use the claw tool end to pry pop it open, and then she saw two feet in sneakers and heard muffled shouts: I don’t want to burn! I don’t want to burn! Get me out!

It was a female, who had been lying across the rear seat and rolled forward at impact, then was caught between the front seat, now bent backward, and the rear seat, folded forward.

Are you hurt, m’am? Caitlin slung the pry tool back over her shoulder.

I can smell gas! I don’t want to burn! Get me out! Get me out!

Look, are you belted in or caught up? Talk to me, help me help you m’am!

Caitlin heard the woman gasp, then she sounded merely shaky: I’m wedged and I can’t really push off with my hands to get started, but I don’t think I’m caught up. I’m just wedged too tight to go anywhere. She sounded calmer now, although the words quavered. Please hurry, I can smell gas. Then she started panting. "I’m okay. Just hurry."

I will. Gas is draining out the front, but I think the tank’s intact. Caitlin peered at the seats and the woman’s legs. She was wearing jeans, which should provide some handholds. I’m going to wrap my arms around your legs and pull. I’ve got a line around my waist – it’s quite a slope – so grab onto me if you start to slide. Can you push off at all, m’am?

With my left hand, maybe. She had now matched Caitlin’s calm tone exactly.

Okay, I count down and when I say ‘go,’ you push, and I’ll pull. Let me know if anything starts to hurt or you are caught up. Okay?

I’m ready.

Three, two, one – go! Caitlin pulled, the woman twisted slightly, then she started wriggling and working her way free.

As Caitlin reached up to the woman’s beltloops for another grip, she felt torn seat metal slice into her right arm, and she cursed softly. Then she had her arms full with a wriggling, frightened, black haired young woman about Caitlin’s age, who finally slid her shoulders free of the car seats and stood up.

She had a fiberglass cast over her right hand and lower forearm, a few fresh bruises and scrapes – and blood all over her jeans from Caitlin’s cut.

Although the smell of gasoline was stronger now, the dark haired young woman calmed completely the moment she was out of the car.

Caitlin let her grab the line with her left hand, put an arm around her shoulders, and semi-guided her up the slope. It was easy because she was quite fit, even athletic, and climbed easily.

Once they were on top of the embankment itself, the woman walked to the rear of the cruiser, sat down on the gravel shoulder there, and leaned back against the tire.

Wow, she mumbled.

There had been a crash at the end last night’s Southernview Circuit stock car race in Richmond, and morning newspaper cover photos of a driver leaning against her upside down car wreck.

This woman was doing the same thing –

Caitlin suddenly realized who this woman was, and she squatted down next to her. You okay, Miss Korsova? Any pains or trouble breathing? Hit your head?

Anna Korsova looked over at Caitlin and shrugged. No, I mean, I think I’m okay. So far, I think. She sighed. What about Wally?

Caitlin shook her head.

Anna Korsova rolled her green eyes and shook her head. He was on his cell phone again, and he just said, ‘I better get off before she hears me, babe. Keep it hot for when I see you soon.’ Then he says, ‘what, oh, yeah, try me,’ then I heard the wheels squeal, and then the crash. She sighed again, shaking her head. Dope, she said quietly.

Caitlin had to hide her grin. Fatalistic? Cynical? She sounded like a cop, rolling up on a scene of motor mayhem: perhaps a whole family wiped out by a tree, because Dad was on his cell phone, talking about golf. It was a tragedy on many levels, but it was not what cops could call an accident, because it was really a crash caused by the driver’s inattention to the greatest risk in the moment, and not cutting down on the number of distractions from it.

Anna Korsova wasn’t really angry, or grief stricken, but also not forgiving; she was unhappy about what had just happened and sad Wally had lost his life by making such a stupid decision.

That approach fit – this is Anna Korsova, professional race car driver, after all. And while amused, Caitlin was also impressed – Anna Korsova was clearly no diva and had calmed down amazingly fast.

She was now looking at Caitlin’s arm. You have any kind of a medical kit for that, Deputy – Shea?

Caitlin felt the other woman’s cool green eyes brush across her left breast while reading the nametag on it, and shivered. Yeah, sure.

Caitlin stood up (using her shoulder against the cruiser to casually steady herself without being obvious) and took a deep breath. That shiver – I have to be careful about shock. I think I’m okay, but still – take your time, be sure to drink some water, right Cait? Right.

That was quite a crash, she said, looking down the steep embankment while buying another few seconds to make sure she wasn’t dizzy.

Anna Korsova looked up scowling, then saw the woman’s line of sight, the look on her face, and the blood still running down her right arm.

Anna looked away, abruptly feeling it all herself. Shea’s hurt, and she’s not being snotty – she means this crash, not the one yesterday. Yeah, they always are, aren’t they? she said, rather mildly.

Caitlin looked down at Anna Korsova and realized what she meant. Caitlin just shrugged. Yeah. You want a bottled water, m’am?

Anna Korsova nodded. "Thanks, m’am."

She just couldn’t resist. Neither of them was quite the famous, dreaded thirty you weren’t supposed to trust anyone over the age of, but if Deputy Shea was just "doing her job, m’am," then so could Anna – who closed her eyes, feeling it all hit her again, and took a nice, deep breath.

Caitlin was feeling a lot better now, steady on her feet and able to walk the two steps to the rear hatch and unlock it, take out the medical kit and get two bottles of water from the chillbox six pack, and then carefully take the two steps back.

She sat down crosslegged on the ground, feeling Anna Korsova’s lovely green eyes now watching her with some concern.

Caitlin still felt much better, but it was just sensible to sit (especially since she would have gotten dizzy again after another two or three minutes standing up). She handed Anna a cold bottled water, then cracked her own open and drank half.

Then she opened up the medical kit, humming softly to herself.

Chapter 02 – Anastasia Korsova

Anastasia Korsova, you – well, Anna couldn’t quite decide if she was angry with life or angry with herself. Or disappointed, maybe.

Even if drinking some nice cool water while leaning against this tire in the sun, safe and warm, was so... wonderful.

Anna Korsova wanted to be angry, she supposed, but she wasn’t sure why yet.

She wasn’t angry with the humming Deputy Shea, not at all... no, it was just being so scared before, when she thought she was trapped and would burn alive.

No, Deputy Shea was great, she was... well, then, maybe it was Wally, you idiot!

Anna wondered whether his girlfriend had even heard the crash, or had kept on talking dirty to his celfone. She was irritated at Wally, but he had paid an ultimate price for driving distracted – with Wally now dead, she couldn’t be too angry with him.

No, she was mad at her damned hand again: just two bones broken, and she was wearing a fiberglas cast and was off driving status for the Southernview Circuit.

She would see the docs in six weeks, but it would be at least eight – two weeks of rehab after the cast came off, and then they’d test her. So it was eight weeks out – even ten. Or twelve! That was the rest of the season.

Yeah, that’s most likely it. But damn Wally for not paying attention while driving on a twisty mountain side road!

Anna drank some more water, then turned and watched, very impressed, as Deputy Shea fixed up the cut on her own arm.

Shea would nearly nibble her lip every time she was lost in the task, then finish the step and move on. Her warm brown eyes were steady and calm, despite seeing her own blood welling up as she did a fast field rinse before putting on the dressing, and she had straight honey blonde hair that was cut just below her ear lobes, befitting a deputy, but definitely longer than short.

Deputy Shea looked away from her medic work now and then to check on the wreck below, and on Anna nearby, making sure neither had deteriorated. She looked quite comfortable with how things were going, and she even gave Anna a reassuring smile at one point – nice teeth and a slightly shy smile, and then back to work on taping ends down.

Anna imagined the immensely calm Deputy Shea doing anything from field dressing a deer for food in case help never came, to fixing the smashed car below with only some of the tools on her cop-stuff belt, and that slightly wicked looking pry bar tool still slung over her shoulder.

Rather than being a larger framed agent of law enforcement (a job that a big, strong woman taking advantage of her natural size and strength might choose to do), Deputy Shea was sort of a rangy and panther powerful young woman, and she was very much the classroom schooled professional type. She was proper in all things, without any Good Old Boy bonhomie swagger still found in some of the professional law officers in the South (anywhere in America, really).

That made her seem shy, reserved, certainly thoughtful.

Deputy Shea would be the strong, silently suffering type, a genuine caretaker, probably kind of a quirky woman. The nurturing ability could be from motherhood, but there were no rings on her fingers at the moment. She might even be gay, but if so, there was no visible clue in approach or attitude – except perhaps a centered confidence that was deep and strong enough to suggest Deputy Shea didn’t need a man for anything.

In fact, she might not actually need anyone else for anything at all.

Ever.

Or she might be happily involved, and just so centered in the moment that she was fully present – just not giving anything away.

When she moved over to Anna and started on the three small cuts she had, Anna had no qualms about letting her. It was neatly done, and the dutiful Deputy Shea was completely professional, skilled – and cute. She couldn’t help it.

Anna looked away and closed her eyes. Stop that, Anastasia, it’s naughty and uncalled for, and not fair to Deputy Shea. Besides, I’m not... well, the way Shea’s worried brown eyes had sparkled in relief as Anna finally got free of the car was more than enough if Anna daydreamed later.

As she most likely would...

Whoa, not that I’m, uhh... Well, no, that was lying to herself. In the wake of fear came relief, exhilaration, a desire to live life completely. She was aroused by her survival of a deadly situation, aroused to be free after being trapped, no longer as worried about a few bones broken in her right hand – she was alive, and loving it.

Alive! Anna’s smile widened.

Deputy Shea had beautiful brown eyes, at first hard and worried under a brow creased by stress, then had suddenly warmed and softened when she had caught Anna and set her good hand on the line up to safety, and as they climbed up together, her strong right arm circling Anna’s shoulders.

And the look of concern as she squatted down to make sure Anna was still okay was... well, it was professional, of course, but Deputy Shea really was concerned, about Anna as a person needing help. It reminded her of Chad, checking up on his