by Jayne Rylon
And that’s when she saw it.
A wisp of smoke snaked through the gap beneath the door and rose in beautiful yet deadly formations.
“Oh my God.” She almost tumbled backward. Forcing herself to stay calm, she scurried down the stairs, dropped the box at her feet and hauled her cell from her pocket. Only to see the glaring red X of her no-signal symbol. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
A dull roar above her turned into a pop then a whoosh. Dry, old timbers of the floor overhead were clearly visible from her position. They would do a hell of a lot poorer job than the asbestos ceiling tiles Ben’s house had contained to prevent the fire from eating through to her hideout.
She raced to the other window, hoping for something different than she’d found earlier. No such luck. Scanning the room, she latched on to the pile of decorations for the front lawn. She dismissed the Christmas tree and the bunny costume but landed on the pitchfork next to the cornucopia and inflatable turkey. That could work.
Kyana grabbed the tool and lunged toward the window. She didn’t hesitate to jab the rusted metal at the tiny pane of glass. It surprised her when her first blow glanced off the surface. Exertion combined with thickening smoke to induce a coughing fit. She ignored it.
The next swing cracked the glass and a third busted out several large chunks. A few more had fresh air pouring in. Thank God. Still she couldn’t see a way to get past the bars. Who had thought that was a good idea? She supposed Town Hall had made their own personal fire code. Probably to keep bored kids at bay in their ho-hum town. Petty mischief, like putting the town’s Christmas lights up in March, was common when there wasn’t much other entertainment to keep teenagers occupied.
She yanked her tank top upward to cover her mouth. Hell, she was practically an expert at this now. Abandoning her war with the grate, she crossed to the other window and smashed it to smithereens too. Climbing on top of the chair, she stretched her neck, placing her face as close as she could to the outside without risking cutting herself on the wreckage.
“Help!” She screamed as loud as she could manage, over and over, until her throat was raw. The building sat far away from the street and the small shops that lined the block near the town’s only stoplight. In the distance, she could see the glowing sign of the pizza parlor and, ironically, the back of the firehouse. No one was around.
The temperature had risen substantially. Sweat began to pour down her back. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see flames eat a hole in the rafters. Embers plummeted to the floor of the basement and ignited a box of files.
“No!” She dashed toward the blaze, stomping out what she could. For every spark she squashed, another three lit up the dimness with angry red spots.
Fury washed over her. She’d just found Logan again and she hadn’t even gotten to fully enjoy the man. She was not about to let some asshole steal the experience of a lifetime from her. No way was she going down without a fight.
Smashing the pitchfork into the grate only cracked the wooden handle, and left her arms vibrating from the impact. She jumped up and grabbed on to the metal, letting her whole body hang from the bars. They creaked. Bouncing up and down, she cheered when one bolt stripped out of the concrete around it.
By placing both her feet on the wall, she gained some leverage. A yank seemed to loosen another corner. Not enough to give her much hope. The fire crept closer, faster than she could ever have imagined, fed by the boxes of old, dried paper.
“Help!” She knew it was pointless, but she screamed again when the heat began to feel intense enough to blister her skin. It wouldn’t be long now. Maybe she should breathe in the smoke after all. Passing out would save her from experiencing the horror of burning alive.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she dropped from the bars.
“Kyana?”
It was then she knew she was doomed. She was hallucinating. Dreaming of being rescued by the one man who really mattered. “Logan?”
“What the hell is going on? Where are you? In the basement?”
Her eyes snapped wide open. Just in time to see scuffed work boots come to rest outside her prison. “Yes! Yes! Down here. Fire. Stuck. Can’t get out. Bars.”
“Holy shit.” He didn’t waste any time. “Step back.”
There wasn’t much room to move as the flames crept closer, so she ducked. He must have kicked the metal. It rang with the reverberation of his impact. Still, when she peeked up, there were at least three bolts hanging on. Crumbling gray mortar got in her eyes. She blamed that for the moisture dripping from her chin.
The crackle of blossoming flames grew so loud she wasn’t sure he could hear her as he hammered the bars again and again with diminishing success.
“Logan. None of this was your fault. You did your best. I’m glad you’re here with me now.”
“Stop. Talking.” A loud bang punctuated each word of his command. “I’m getting you out of here. It’s loosening. I can feel it.”
“Not enough time.” She didn’t want him to wonder ever about how she’d felt. “Logan. I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. No one has ever replaced you in my heart. No one has ever lived up to the standard you set. I’m glad we had this time together again at the end.”
“No!” His roar would have terrified her if it’d been aimed at her. The next clang seemed ten times as loud. Especially when the bars dislodged and crashed to the floor.
She popped up and stared into his wide-open eyes. Level with her, he’d flattened himself on the lawn.
“I love you too.” He swore as he extended his hand and reached toward her.
“Wait. This first.” She swung the box of files into his grasp. Before he could argue she shoved. He pulled, tearing some things and spilling others when the box distorted to squeeze through the window. Barely. She figured it served another purpose as shards of glass rained from the opening.
And not at all too soon, Logan’s strong hand was back. This time she took it. And held on tight. His other arm reached in and she grasped that one too, locking their fingers around each other’s wrists. She didn’t have time to warn him about the jagged surface before he hauled her out.
Even if she had, the heat and smoke wouldn’t have allowed them to take their time.
A low, keening wail ripped from her throat when a remnant of the window sliced her shoulder on one side. She cringed, but no more pain followed. She writhed, helping Logan thread her through the small egress.
“Almost there, Ky. Hang on. I’ve got you.”
In the distance, men shouted. Several dashed up the hill from the firehouse while others ran back for the truck, equipped with all their gear.
Her feet cleared the window and Logan hauled her the rest of the way up into his arms. She couldn’t tell if it was her or him trembling. The world around her jittered as he ran away from the building, onto the lawn. When they’d gone far enough to ensure their safety, he dropped to his knees, cradling her against his chest.
“Are you okay?” He rocked them both, back and forth, until the motion took the edge off her terror. His smell and closeness helped more than she could say.
“I think so.” She nuzzled her face into his neck so he wouldn’t see the tears she couldn’t stop. “Because of you.”
“Thank God.” His fingers buried in her hair, holding her tight against him. He rained kisses over her head, neck and the side of her face. “What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to explain. “Someone locked the door to the basement. Laura Gittleson went home earlier. I was searching for the petition.”
“Who the fuck did this to you?” Logan had rarely resorted to anger.
Before she could reassure him, a familiar man approached. The fireman who’d carried her across Ben’s yard stood to their side, arms crossed over his chest. “We have to stop meeting like this. If you want my number, all you have to do is ask. I’d be glad to share.”
Logan growled. “I don’t think so, buddy. Don�
�t you have a fucking fire to fight?”
“So it’s like that is it? I see, I see.” The fireman laughed, his palms held outward as he retreated a few steps.
“Could you do me a favor?” she asked.
Logan stiffened until she clarified. “Please grab that box of files by the window before it gets soaked, or catches on fire or everything blows away.”
“You got it.” He’d jogged over, claimed the records and delivered them to her before she could help Logan come down from his adrenaline high. “Glad to see you’re mostly unharmed again. See ya. Duty calls.”
Kyana raised a hand when her new friend paired up with another fireman then dashed into the burning building.
“What the hell did he mean by that?” Logan glared at her.
“He was just teasing, Logan. You know, it’s not every day I tell a man I love him. I wasn’t kidding. And it wasn’t something I blurted just because I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Same goes. But I was talking about the ‘mostly unharmed’ part. Where are you hurt?”
She peered down at herself, taking stock of the various aches and pains the glow in her heart had masked.
At the same time, Logan ran his hands over her. He paused when he touched her shoulder. She squeaked at the stabbing pain that raced down her arm. When he pulled his hand away, it was red. “Shit. You’re bleeding. A lot.”
He separated their torsos long enough to strip his shirt off. She was glad for the visual anesthetic when he wrapped the cotton around her. Tight. As more and more people joined the crowd, drawn to the black smoke rising—thick and dark—into the evening sky, Logan waved his hand and shouted.
None other than Daryl Thick answered his call.
“You!” Logan glared. “What are you doing here?”
“I passed Myrtle Jansen coming back from the post office. She told me there was a fire. So I came to see if I could help.” He lifted a small plastic kit. “I’m trained in first aid from the Army, you know?”
“Fine.” Logan didn’t make her wait for someone else’s assistance. He wanted to get the hell out of there before the news crew showed up and questions started. “Could you take a look at Ky’s arm? She must have sliced it on the window. Sorry baby, I didn’t realize when I pulled you out…”
“There wasn’t time, Logan.” She kissed his frown until it melted away. “You rescued me. If you hadn’t shown up—”
They both shuddered.
“I saved myself too,” he murmured despite Daryl’s presence. “You’re everything to me.”
They shared another kiss. This one slower and gentler than the last. Kyana nestled deeper into his arms.
“Okay, kids. Enough canoodling until I get her patched up.” Daryl flipped open the lid of his case, snapped on a glove and unwound Logan’s ruined shirt. “Damn, you might need a couple stitches. You want to go to the hospital, or should I sew you up here?”
Kyana peered at Logan. “I’d rather stay with you. Do you mind? Will it gross you out?”
“Hardly.” He laid his forehead on hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Ky. Not now. Not ever.”
“Me either.” She beamed up at him.
Daryl’s quick administration of local anesthetic and his deft handiwork didn’t seem so awful. Especially with Logan to distract her. Before she knew it, the tough stuff was over, reports were logged, the arson investigators took their information for later and they were heading home.
Together.
Chapter Six
Kyana nibbled the corner of her lip as she stared into her glass. She swirled the remnants of her dessert wine around the bottom of the vessel, entranced by the pattern as she thought back to earlier in the night.
She’d been sitting at Rose’s dining room table, the box of files spread out before her, when Ben came into the room. He’d whistled then said, “You look great, girly. Extra girly. You’re gonna give my kid a heart attack. Now enough of this nonsense. Go out and have a good time tonight.”
He’d waved his hands at the documents she tried to show him, uncaring that she’d finally found the petition. How could he brush off the only clue they might have to the fires?
“I know I’m probably not supposed to talk about the johns at any dinner table, and especially one as fancy as this—” Logan returned from the bathroom, sliding into their corner booth on the same side as her. “But damn. There were a lot of high-quality materials in there. Marble everywhere, a fancy vessel sink and I think the faucet and hardware were even gold-plated. You might want to check it out. Maybe someday I’ll get Nowak Construction to the level where I get jobs like those.”
“I know you will.” She took his hand and smiled at his enthusiasm, but he was getting to know her pretty damn well. Better than the couple guys she’d dated for close to a year.
“What’s wrong, Ky? Am I fucking this up?” His brows drew together. “I’m sure I used the wrong fork, but I didn’t think you’d care. That rack of lamb was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Well, until dessert anyway. My stomach is full enough to bust. At least it’ll go happy.”
She couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss the last dot of chocolate from the corner of his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil your fun. It’s nothing you did. I guess I’m just having a hard time pretending like everything is fine when someone tried to kill Ben. And me. I just don’t understand what’s going on. And…”
“Yeah?” He stroked her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Don’t stop now. I’m listening.”
“I didn’t want to ruin our dinner, so I didn’t tell you that I found the petition this afternoon.”
“You did?” He sat up straighter. “That’s great. What’d it tell you? Who was on it?”
“That’s the thing.” She slumped against his side when he slung his arm around her shoulder. The comfort he infused her with was welcome. “It was pointless. All of that was for nothing. The names were mostly the new people to the neighborhood. You know about the Gittlesons, and a bunch of the other couples that commute to the city. Myrtle Jansen and Daryl Thick and a couple of the crankier residents. Still, nothing that surprised me.”
“Were you hoping the bad guy’s name would be written in invisible ink on the paper like in a movie?” He knew just what to say to cheer her up.
She laughed, then socked him in the side. “Shut up.”
“Ugh. That’s not a good idea. I’m already trying to digest faster if I’m going to have my dessert.”
“Logan-kun, you already ate yours plus half of mine.” She grinned. Watching him scarf the confection had lightened her heart.
“That’s not the kind of treat I’m talking about.” He leaned in close and nibbled the lobe of her ear before whispering, “We have the house to ourselves tonight. Ben’s staying at game night.”
“What?” She whipped around to look at him so fast they almost bumped noses. “He is?”
Logan nodded. “Yup. Myrtle said she’d take care of him. Hell, she seemed pretty excited about it. Maybe he’ll get lucky too.”
Kyana’s hand shot up as a waiter neared their table. “Check please.”
Logan’s laughter, and the squeeze of his fingers on her thigh, had her forgetting all about her worries. With him, she was safe. And she’d let things she couldn’t control any more than gravity keep her from enjoying herself for too long.
Logan reminded himself for the five thousandth time that he wanted to take things slow. And yet he found himself making out with Ky in his truck in the driveway like they were still adolescents. He’d hauled her across the bench seat and pressed her to his side as they drove. The instant he’d parked, they’d fused together as completely as his fingers had the time he’d gotten epoxy on them as an apprentice. Only this was a hell of a lot more enjoyable.
He searched for any long-lost scrap of propriety he might have in his genetic makeup. Nothing meant more to him than ensuring their first time was special. This was the g
irl of his dreams. The woman of his future…if his luck held. And he wanted to do this right.
With a groan, he retracted his tongue from her mouth, which tasted pleasantly of the wine they’d shared. She didn’t make it any easier on him when she chased him with licks and kisses of her own.
The dazed stare she leveled at him had him sure he was making the right decision. They had to take this party inside before they ended up half-dressed, mashed against the steering wheel. The last thing they needed was the neighborhood watch bearing down on them when someone’s elbow tooted the truck’s horn by accident.
“I know where there’s a nice comfy bed inside. No rotten old boards or the cab of my truck tonight. Fancy sheets and puffy pillows all the way.” He held his hand out to her when he stepped down. She allowed him to lift her and set her beside him. The pleated skirt of her filmy layered dress floated into place around her knees. “Only the best for someone as amazing as you. I wish I could have taken you to a swanky hotel or someplace crazy like Paris.”
“Been there, done that. I like where I am right now better. As long as we’re together, that’s where I want to be.” She raised their joined hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Though the thought of getting horizontal somewhere soft and warm sounds pretty fine right about now.”
She shrieked when he scooped her into his arms and loped up the hill. He let them in through the back door off the deck then took the stairs two at a time. “That I can do.”
They laughed as he spun her around a few times before depositing her on their bed. He couldn’t do more than stare when she rose onto her knees. Gazing into his eyes, she hoisted her hem a little bit at a time. Along the way she revealed classic black, lace-top thigh highs held in place by some strappy contraption he couldn’t wait to reverse engineer.
An expanse of pale, creamy skin stretched over her belly to the matching bra that cupped her to perfection. And before he could share how absolutely gorgeous he thought she was, she’d abandoned her dress and crawled toward him, her onyx hair cascading off her shoulders onto the bed beside her as she stalked closer.
