“A window?” she suggested.
“There’s no way we can both get through fast enough,” he replied. “He’ll hear the breaking glass and be there to shoot us as we tumble out.”
But they had to do something. She could already smell wood burning.
Isaac couldn’t believe how quickly smoke was filling the cabin. He’d always known fire would be a very bad thing; he owned an all-wood house. The forest was in danger, too, but at the moment the trees he loved seemed like a lesser concern.
“I’m going to get this bastard if it’s the last thing I do,” he yelled, but he wasn’t sure Claire even heard him. The flames crackled and popped, the noise far louder than he’d ever dreamed it could be, and she seemed entranced by the shifting light reflecting off the windows as the flames licked higher and higher.
Isaac smelled gasoline, knew it must’ve been poured all around the foundation for the fire to turn into such an all-consuming blaze almost instantly.
After shoving the gun in his waistband, he grabbed two towels, thrust them in the bathroom sink and soaked them both. Then he gave one to Claire to wrap around her head and did the same as he pulled her to the ground and began to guide her to his bedroom. For all he knew, the flames were as bad or worse in there, but they had to choose a window before they died of smoke inhalation, and his bedroom was closest to where he’d parked his truck. He didn’t have time to get his keys, but he kept a Hide-a-Key attached to the undercarriage. If they could get to that, they might survive…?.
Claire didn’t argue or try to resist. He’d told her they could be shot while coming out of a window, but she seemed perfectly willing to take her chances against a bullet if it meant avoiding death by fire, and he felt the same.
As they crawled through the smoke filling the house, he remembered thinking, when the first light had been shot out, that someone was trying to send them a message. Back off. Leave the past alone. The person who’d followed her to the cabin hadn’t meant her any harm, or she wouldn’t be alive today. Considering the destruction of her personal property, the person who’d ransacked her house—whether it was the same person or a different one—seemed more aggressive, but even then Isaac got the impression that he was more interested in recovering the files than anything else.
This, however, went well beyond a mere message. Whoever had set the fire wanted them dead.
Claire coughed as she hurried to keep up. His lungs burned, making it difficult to breathe, but he was fairly certain they’d have enough air to reach the window. Whether they could get out was the bigger question. If the arsonist was smart, he’d be out there, waiting…?.
But you couldn’t set a fire like that and assume it would go unnoticed, even in the mountains. From the outside, it had to look like an inferno. The speed with which the cabin had gone up had probably surprised even him.
Hopefully, fear of discovery had sent the son of a bitch running for his vehicle.
Picturing attorney Les Weaver losing his practiced calm as he barreled down the mountain, Isaac breathed too deeply and had to cough, but he urged Claire on. Either way, they were taking the chance that their assailant had left—because that was the only chance they had.
Claire’s skin felt as if it would melt off. The tremendous heat drove her back, made it all but impossible to continue advancing toward the flames. If Isaac wasn’t so damn insistent, wasn’t half dragging her, she would’ve faltered, doubted herself and searched for another way out, even though logic said this was their best bet. Considering how fast the cabin was turning to cinders, they’d probably have only one chance, and even that would depend on whether the surrounding trees had already caught fire. They couldn’t bear the heat or the smoke much longer…?.
Flames leaped as high as the window. She could see the flickering orange and gold through the glass, a wall of fire. Again, she wanted to find a safer exit, but Isaac yelled that the other walls were the same. They were hemmed in, surrounded, and the person who’d set this fire meant it to be that way. He’d left them no escape.
Claire wasn’t sure how Isaac planned to break the window. He yelled at her to keep her head down, as close to the floor as possible. Then he let go of her for the first time since they’d found the back screen hammered shut.
Panic slithered down her spine as he disappeared into the smoke. She’d felt a sense of purpose as long as he was with her, but now she had the terrifying thought that she might never see him again. She lifted her head to keep track of him, if she could, and paid for it with a lung-searing intake of smoke.
“Head down! Head down!”
There was the sound of breaking glass, then Isaac grabbed hold of her arm. Dimly, she wondered if he’d been cut. He didn’t act as though he’d been injured, but if his adrenaline was pumping like hers she doubted he would. As soon as he pulled her to her feet, he swung her into his arms and tossed her through the jagged hole he’d created in the window as if she was no heavier than a sack of potatoes.
She sailed toward the flames, thought she might land in the middle of them, but she didn’t. She hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that rattled her teeth, even stunned her for a few seconds. She lay there, blinking as the cabin continued to burn, distantly marveling at the blinding brightness—until the cool air brought her to her senses and she realized Isaac hadn’t come out yet.
She sat up, waiting for him to leap through the window. He should’ve been right behind her…?.
But he wasn’t. She couldn’t see him anywhere.
The sharp pain she’d felt when she’d first tried to move seemed to disappear as fear for his well-being overcame everything else. Shaking her head to clear it, she got to her feet and staggered closer to the building. If she was pregnant, this couldn’t be good for the baby. The heat threatened to singe off her eyelashes and eyebrows, but she didn’t care. Where was he? Why hadn’t he made it out? Had he succumbed to smoke inhalation? Her lungs felt bloody and raw, and she wasn’t the one who’d been doing the real work.
Tears streamed down her face as she imagined him crumpled on the floor inside. Was he still alive? Even if he was, how would she get him to safety?
“Isaac!” If the man who’d set this fire heard her screaming, she was a dead woman. But that didn’t matter, either. All she cared about was seeing the man she loved.
The jagged rocks, pinecones and bristles that made the forest floor so unfriendly to bare feet cut into her soles as she ran to the right, then to the left, looking for some way to get back into the house. She was pretty sure their arsonist was gone. She didn’t see anyone. But she wasn’t looking into the forest; she was looking for Isaac. Her eyes remained fixed on the inferno in front of her as she tried to figure out how to rescue him.