He wheeled in to the curb a short distance away, parked the bike, hung his helmet on the handle, and got off running.

A crowd was already gathering, and the police had formed a barricade to keep back the onlookers. He was frantically searching the faces of the people pouring out of every exit when he saw Birdie come staggering out of a side door and stumble to her knees.

He jumped past the barricade and ran toward her. She was coughing and choking from the smoke and trying to get up when Hunt reached her and pulled her back up to her feet.

She looked up. “Hunt?”

“I’ve got you, honey,” Hunt said. He picked her up in his arms and carried her away from the smoke and the flames.

Two ambulances were already on scene, treating people for smoke inhalation, and as soon as Hunt got her there, they began giving her oxygen and checking her vitals.

“Call Emma,” Birdie begged, and Hunt reached for his phone.

Emma answered abruptly, almost as if she’d been waiting for the call.

“Hello? Hunt?”

“Yes, it’s me. Truesdale’s is on fire. Birdie is out and safe, but she got a lot of smoke. They’re giving her oxygen on scene, and she wanted me to call you.”

“Oh my God! I heard the sirens. I saw the smoke. And she didn’t answer her phone. Tell her I’ll be right there.”

Hunt caught Birdie’s eye and gave her a thumbs-up, then settled down near her to wait.

Emma arrived minutes later, horrified by what was happening, and gave Birdie a quick hug, then sat down beside Hunt and stared at the fire.

“This is so awful. Is she okay?”

“Some smoke inhalation. The oxygen will help. She can’t get to her car and is in no shape to drive it anyway. And I’m not putting her on the Harley. When they let her go, will you take her home?”

“Of course,” Emma said.

Hunt watched the firemen in action, and within the hour, they had the main part of the fire knocked down.

Hunt and Emma were still waiting with Birdie when her boss, Dub Truesdale, approached.

“Hey, Birdie, I have everyone accounted for but Arnold. By any chance, did he go to lunch late or go home early?”

Birdie glanced toward the burned end of the building and then moaned.

“No. Arnold was moving that new shipment of cattle cubes. He said the forklift was leaking fluid, and he was going to do it by hand.”

Dub paled. “Oh hell. Are you serious? Why didn’t he let me know?”

Birdie’s eyes welled. “The last couple of days he’s been kind of down. He said his boys got arrested, and he and Donna were thinking of moving home to West Virginia. He said a man needed to stay busy to stay out of trouble.”