The door beeped when they slid inside. All of the lights turned on instantly.
“Just give me a minute!” She called over her shoulder as she rushed inside. “I left my bag—”
The lights shut off.
No, no that wasn’t supposed to happen. Trace had hired electricians to fix the circuit breaker.
She spun back around. “Reese!”
Thud.
She stilled.
A groan reached her ears. Her breath choked out. “Reese?”
He didn’t answer her.
She didn’t move. Not a single step.
Then she heard something else. It sounded like—like water being poured out. Water?
“R-Reese?” She called again. The alarm hadn’t sounded anymore. The system had just given that one beep when they’d gone inside.
Did we shut the door? Reese had been behind her. She’d rushed ahead, thinking he would shut the door.
Had he?
The water kept pouring around her. She took a deep, frantic breath and realized that wasn’t water.
The acrid scent told her it was gasoline.
“No!” Skye shouted and ran forward. “Reese!” She tripped over something. Something soft and warm, and Skye careened to the floor. Her left leg twisted, and pain shot through her.
Her hands flew out. She touched a hard shoulder. Hair. “Reese?” Her fingers skimmed over his face and head, and she felt the sticky wetness of blood.
A light flickered in the darkness. A match. “I will be the one.”
That voice chilled her.
The match flew through the air.
Then the fire ignited.
***
Trace slammed his Jag to a stop and jumped from the vehicle. His eyes were on the studio—on the horrifying orange and gold flames filling that studio.
“Skye!” Trace roared her name.
Reese’s car was to the left. Empty. There was no sign of the other man or Skye.
Don’t be in the fire. Don’t.
But then he heard the faint cry of— “Help me!”
Skye’s voice. Coming from the fire.
He ran for the building even as the windows shattered and glass flew out at him.
The main door was open, smoke billowing from it. He rushed inside, heading straight into the smoke.
Flames lit the scene. Skye was on the floor, coughing, and struggling to pull Reese’s unconscious body toward the door.
“Help me,” she cried again as he looked up. Tears streamed down her face. “I-I can’t get him on my own!”
Because Reese was three times her weight. The fire had circled in close to Skye’s skin. Too close. Trace grabbed her around the stomach. Yanked her away from Reese.
Get Skye to safety. Get her out.
She screamed and struggled against him. “No, I have to help Reese!” But Trace just held her tighter. The fire was too close. Trying to scorch across her skin.
He ran outside with her. She was still coughing. She’d been in the smoke and fire too long.
As soon as he put her down, Skye immediately tried to run back for the building.
He grabbed her and yanked her right back. “Don’t move.” The words were torn from him. Fear and rage beat in his blood, a deadly combination.
Her eyes swam with tears. “He’ll die! We have to get him out—”
“I’ll get him,” he swore. “But you have to stay here.” He had to know that she was safe.
Skye nodded.
He ran back to the fire. He rushed inside the building. The fire had spread even more, the greedy bitch that it was. The flames lapped just inches from Reese’s feet.
He grabbed his friend. Pulled him up. Tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. We’re getting out of here.
The breath in his lungs burned. The place was getting too hot. He took a step toward the door.
The ceiling fell down, coming right at him.
***
“No!” Skye yelled when she saw the flames burst through the top of her studio.
Trace hadn’t come back out. He’d gone into the flames to get Reese.
And he just expects me to stay out here? While he faces the fire?
She couldn’t do that. Not for another second. Too much time had already passed. He should have been back.
She leapt forward.
Sirens screamed behind her.
She was at the door, running inside because she was getting to Trace. Only—
He was right in front of her. “Told you…” Trace growled, “stay out of the fire.”
He had Reese thrown over his shoulder. She and Trace ran from the building. Fire trucks streaked toward them.
Trace put Reese on the ground. Trace’s clothes were smoldering as he bent over his friend. “Come on, buddy, don’t do this…”
Reese started coughing.
“Hell, yes,” Trace said.
An EMT jumped from the back of an ambulance and hurried toward them.
Skye glanced over her shoulder. The fire fighters were pulling out their hoses, but there wasn’t much they could do to save the studio.
Fire had engulfed the place.
The EMTs strapped Reese onto a gurney. They pushed him toward the back of the waiting ambulance. One of the EMTs tried to take Skye’s hand.
She pushed him away. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t take her gaze off that fire. The firefighters were trying to contain it so that the blaze didn’t destroy the other nearby businesses. Businesses that—luckily—had been empty at this time of night.
The crackle of the flames filled her ears. Reese could have died in that fire. She’d been pulling him, straining with all of her strength, but she’d only been able to move him a few feet.
The fire had been so hungry. So hot. So wild.
I will be the one.
Reese could have died, because of her.
The ambulance’s back doors slammed closed. The siren screamed once more as it raced away with Reese.
“What in the hell…” Trace began as he closed in on her, “happened here?”
“That’s just what I wanted to know,” Alex Griffin said as the detective stepped right in front of Skye, blocking her view of those terrible flames.
Alex? She hadn’t even seen him arrive. But Skye glanced around the scene and saw that several police cars were there now. It looked like they were setting up some kind of perimeter.
“Ms. Sullivan,” Alex continued, clearing his throat, “wanna tell me what just happened?”