Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He did as well, running both hands down her arms. “Nothing broken.” Obviously concentrating, he felt along her ribcage and down her hips to both legs, bending to look up. “We’ll have Doc look at the bruises.”
She stared at him, noting a burn on his cheek. “You’re hurt.” Ignoring the concern in his dual-colored eyes, she brushed the slight wound.
He closed his eyes for just a moment before reopening them. One green and one black. Something flashed in them. An expression she couldn’t read but felt deep. “I’m fine.” He stood then, towering over her. “Stay here.” He gave her one hard look and then crossed to the front of the bar, angling his head and then disappearing from sight.
Something about his tone made her stay in place. Until her brain caught up. Wait a minute. Her storage building just blew up, and her bar could be on fire next. Gathering her strength and ignoring the pain in her side, she limped to the front of the building and to her front door, noting the town’s one water tanker screeching to a stop with Lucas Landom, their tanker chief, hopping out. Sheriff Brock Osprey was right behind him in his truck, and he leaped out, running toward Christian and the tanker. The three men worked quickly, yanking out the hose and attaching it to the truck valve to spray at the fire.
The rain was already winning.
Amka hurried to help and stopped cold when Christian turned his gaze on her. “Move back,” he mouthed.
She obeyed.
Why, she’d never understand. Nobody told her what to do.
But she leaned against her door as several other townspeople emerged from buildings and arriving cars to watch the fire being beat. Lucas rapidly unfolded the hose as Brock and Christian moved in. She watched the Osprey brothers. Both tall with dark hair and Inuit features, both ex-Navy, they moved in tandem and won the battle. Christian had a shadow across his rugged jaw and was the picture of raw male muscle as he worked.
He’d probably saved her life.
She wanted to thank him, to make him dinner, to buy him drinks, to just spend more time with him. While he wasn’t a keeper, who also didn’t want to be tied down, he was still her friend. Kind of. She raised a hand to brush soot off her chin, and her engagement ring caught her attention.
For a moment, she’d forgotten her fiancé. Completely. Jarod hadn’t come to the bar today, and she’d forgotten all about him.
Brock rolled up the hose while Christian and Lucas disappeared into the debris.
Enough of this. She didn’t follow orders. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she moved forward as most of the people around her did the same, noting the demolished and still smoldering building. The structures on either side showed damage and some burn marks, but both had remained standing. She reached Christian the same time as Brock.
“The fire moved too fast,” Christian said to his brother, kicking over a couple of smoking boards.
Lucas crouched to look closer at the floor. In his early thirties, he had short brown hair and serious brown eyes. He’d been a smokejumper before moving to the small town to write several novels and had been elected the tanker chief two years previous when he’d missed the annual town meeting. “Way too fast.”
Brock lifted one dark eyebrow. “Accelerant?”
“Affirmative. I could smell it when I kicked open the door.” Christian scrutinized the floor. “The explosion was supposed to start a fire that engulfed this entire building.” His already hard jawline hardened even more as he turned his formidable focus on her. “We need to get you to the doctor. Now.”
She gulped. “Somebody did this on purpose? How?”
“We’ll figure that out later,” Brock said grimly. “Right now, go get checked out.”
She started to shake her head, but Christian picked her up, strode outside, and started moving down the street toward Brock’s truck. She should’ve protested. Should’ve kicked and screamed and reminded him she could walk just fine. But her arm throbbed, her chest ached, and something worse than smoke was clawing at her lungs. So instead, she let herself be carried—cradled like a woman who could somehow be saved—by the man who wasn’t her fiancé.
Behind them, the rubble didn’t crackle anymore. It hissed. As the wreckage faded, a new thought burned hotter than the fire.
Had somebody known she was in there?
Chapter 2
Amka couldn’t let herself get too comfortable as Christian easily balanced her in one arm and opened the door to the older black truck as the rain punished them both. How was he so strong? “We can’t just take Brock’s rig,” she protested rather weakly.
Christian grunted, like that was sufficient, and placed her gently on the seat. The upholstery chilled her butt. She shivered.
He opened the back door, and Tika jumped in, stretching out and yawning.