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)
She didn’t argue. She swiveled around and dropped behind the bar like she’d done it a thousand times. Her eyes tracked him the whole way.
Dutch came up like a freight train, boots pounding. His nostrils flared at the smoke as he leaned down and grabbed the red fire extinguisher. “Let me go first.”
“I’ll get the girl, you take the fire.” Christian shoved open the kitchen door, bracing against the wave of heat and thick black smoke that poured out. The stench was of fire, scorched oil, and melted plastic. Heat pressed against him like a solid force. Breathing hurt.
“Nixi!” he roared into the chaos, eyes already watering.
A faint cough answered, thin and desperate.
He dropped low and entered. Muscle memory took over. Breathe through the shirt. Stay under the smoke line. Count your steps.
The kitchen was wrecked. Fire danced along the stainless steel counters, eating through a stack of takeout boxes. Grease sizzled in a broken fryer. Light fixtures popped and flickered. Visibility was trash. The heat had teeth. Glass crunched beneath his boots. He kept his head down, sweeping the floor with one hand. The coughing came again. Closer now.
He found her against the industrial fridge, curled in on herself, face smeared with soot and blood. One of her arms was pinned awkwardly behind her. Her flannel shirt had burn marks on one sleeve, and her lips were cracked.
“I’ve got you,” he said, scooping her up in a controlled lift, careful with her neck. She didn’t weigh much.
Her lips moved, barely audible. Her eyelids fluttered open, unfocused.
Dutch stormed in behind him, fire extinguisher blasting foam, cutting through the flames. The sound was deafening in the tight space. White mist overtook red.
Christian turned and carried Nixi back through the smoke, past the boiling metal, and into the main bar. He laid her on the floor behind the bar, away from the worst of the heat. The fire wasn’t spreading, but they’d need to evacuate into the cold soon. “May?”
The doctor was already vaulting a stool, hair messy, face pale but focused. “Clear space,” she ordered, dropping to her knees. “I need a towel. Water.”
Amka shoved both into her hands seconds later. Her own shook, but her grip didn’t falter. Her gaze never left Nixi’s face.
Nixi coughed again, lungs rattling. Her eyes shot open, frantic, lost. She gasped and reached for Christian’s sleeve. “Пожар. Всё горит. Он сказал не подходить…”
Amka leaned over. “Is that Russian?”
Christian gripped Nixi’s shoulder gently, his thumb finding the warm skin at her collarbone. “Yeah,” he murmured, the translation automatic. He’d learned the language in the service, buried it, but it came roaring back. “She’s saying everything’s burning. That the fire’s coming closer.”
May’s face darkened. “She’s inhaled something. Possibly concussed. We need to get her out of here. Now.”
Christian lifted her again. Nixi whimpered, coughed, but didn’t resist.
Amka stood, shaken but solid. “Take her. I’ll wait for Lucas and the fire truck.”
“No. You’re with us,” Christian ordered.
Dutch came out of the kitchen, extinguisher hissing in his grip, his face streaked with soot. “Fire’s down,” he said. “Decent explosion. I’ll call Brock and the troopers, and I’ll close the place down.”
“Thanks.” Christian carried Nixi outside and toward the doctor’s truck with May and Amka running beside him. Cold air hit them as they moved. The contrast slapped the sweat from his skin and cleared the smoke from his throat.
Nixi’s fingers curled into his jacket, just barely. She coughed once more, then her eyes opened a sliver. “Не оставляй меня,” she whispered.
Don’t leave me. Christian interpreted her words instantly. “I’m right here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She rasped out one more word, her voice thinner than air. “Damian.”
Then she went completely limp in his arms and her eyelids fluttered shut.
Chapter 33
Christian stood in the hallway, arms braced on either side of the doorframe, staring into the clinic room like he could will the machines to do their damn jobs when too often they’d failed in his life. In clinics and hospitals a million miles away from this one, in dirt and sand, blood and eventual death. But he was here now. Home in Alaska.
Nixi remained unconscious, a pale figure swallowed by hospital sheets and shadows. Oxygen cannula in place. Bandages on her arm. A burn on her neck just starting to blister. The monitor beeped steadily, showing normal vitals, but quiet. Too quiet.
He hated that sound. It was a false comfort. Machines could lie. He’d seen them do it before—steady vitals until they flatlined in the middle of a breath.
Amka sat outside the exam room, blanket draped around her shoulders like armor. One knee bounced. She appeared calm but a tear tipped over onto her face.
Christian’s jaw locked.
Someone had just tried to kill her. Again.
He clenched his fists and exhaled through his nose. He wanted names. Faces. A reason. But mostly, he wanted blood. Whoever had planted that device, whoever had set that fire—they hadn't missed by much. If Amka hadn’t shut the door from the kitchen when she went into the bar, she’d be dead.