Read Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True for Free Online

except to shut off an alarm and take a statement. Max hopped in the side seat of the rig as the bay doors opened. Both rigs emerged slowly into traffic, sirens and lights blaring so loud he could barely hear himself think.
    “Where are we headed?” Max shouted to his second lieutenant.
    “Club Blue Moon.” The deep voice yelled back. “The largest, most-popular fucking club down there.” The lieutenant rolled his blue eyes, and Max saw the concern etched in his rugged face. The many years of disastrous, fatal fires were etched in every crevice.
     
    Wonderful…a thousand people in the middle of the street. Max had never been to the poplar nightclub he saw advertised everywhere in the city, but he’d heard it was super nice. Luna told him it was a gay club, but his brother told him it wasn’t. Max remembered his brother’s comments on the night sensation.
    “Everyone and their grandmother go there, Max. I fucking love it.
    Definitely some of the hottest ass in town can be found in there,” Ryker bragged. His older brother Ryker was gay and out, so Max figured it probably wasn’t a club he would want to frequent.
    Max braced himself on the overhead oh-shit bar when the rig turned right onto the strip and maneuvered around the tourists jaywalking across the street. It was a goddamn headache trying to get around the egotistical motorists that cruised the strip in their freshly shined pussy-mobiles at a whopping fifteen miles per hour.
    Honk, honk, honk…
    Zander leaned on the horn as they slowly made their way to Eighteenth Street. The men could already see the massive crowd gathered behind a row of police cruisers a couple of streets up. Max knew this was not going to be the last time they’d be dispatched to the strip. They were going to be flooded with fake fire alarm calls, alcohol poisoned parties, someone caught in the undercurrents while swimming without lifeguards on duty, jellyfish stings, bar brawls, car accidents, you name it—they were going to see it all this weekend.
    Because it’s the fucking Fourth of July and people love a reason to get out of their stale daily routines, get shit-faced, and live on the edge for a day or two—especial y since most of them had a four day weekend .
    Finally, they made it to the club entrance on Sixteenth Street in a total of twelve minutes. The police officers tried to fend back the large crowd that had no doubt been forced out of the club before they finished getting their groove on. Crowd control was not the fire department’s responsibility and Max couldn’t be happier for that fact right now. He jumped down from his seat and waited for the incident commander to come from the second rig. He quickly dispatched the other fighters to fully gear up with face masks, oxygen tanks, and solid steel pikes. Regardless, if they were told it was a false pull or not, they didn’t take chances. Nine bulky fighters made determined steps into
    the club, completely ignoring the three beefy security guards at the front door. Damn those are some huge fuckers , Max thought.
    “Max, the captain told me that you will be acting Sergeant on this one,”
    his commander informed him. He couldn’t help but smile as his best friend Pierce nudged him in the side—his way of saying congratulations on the promotion. Max nodded in affirmation at the Commander and told Pierce he’d wait for his call before he tried to locate the club owner. Pierce was the second lieutenant and responsible for overseeing the other fighter’s actions while inside, and reported directly to the incident commander when the scene was secured.
    Once that call was made then Max could exercise his new job responsibility of securing a statement of accounts from the owner of the establishment, which apparently the stupid asshole was still inside.
    Approximately two and half minutes later Max heard the high-pitched alarm stop screaming, and the crowd erupted in loud applause.
    “Hell yeah! About damn time…now let