24. Twenty-Four

Bowie lowered his cell from his ear and shook his head. I wrung my hands and nervously glanced at the sky where the sun was quickly sinking toward the horizon.

Each of them had a single spare tire, which wasn't enough to get us back on the road. Bowie and Church had been trying to call back to their junkyard to arrange a delivery of more tires, but neither could get through.

"Still no signal?" I asked, bouncing my leg nervously.

"No, and there should be." Bowie hooked his thumbs in his belt and scanned the trees.

Church closed his laptop, sliding it into his backpack. "The internet's out, too."

Bowie shook his head. "Then we're out of options. One of us is going for a hike."

"Bad idea," I said. "Whoever slashed your tires is still out there, and armed with something sharp enough to do it. If one of you goes out there alone…"

"Don't have a choice." Bowie walked over to the back of his pickup and pulled down the tailgate. "We've got to get a message out so we aren't stranded out here without backup, and even the best signal blockers on the civilian market only have a range of about five hundred meters. Should be able to get a signal out if I take the dirt bike up onto the ridge." He started unbuckling the bike from where he had it strapped down, but paused. "God dammit! That fucker got the dirt bike tires, too. Looks like I'm walking."

Church and I exchanged a worried look before he stood and went over to Bowie. "I don't like this."

"I ain't a fan either, but what choice do we have?" He grabbed a worn black backpack and started loading it with random supplies he pulled out of the truck. "Look, if I go now, there's a chance someone can get here by sundown. Now, you and me both know once it gets dark, it's only going to get more dangerous. The only other option is that all three of us go up there, and I'll move faster on my own without your giant ass mowing through the underbrush. Besides, I can handle myself against one idiot with a machete." He pulled out a bowie knife and turned it over, letting it catch the sun. "His might be bigger, but size ain't everything." He winked and attached the blade and its holster to his belt.

Church gave Bowie's shoulder a slap. "Be safe out there, brother."

Bowie shrugged on the backpack and looked over at me. "I'll be back in an hour," he said, and then he started walking.

Church opened the back of the Tahoe and grabbed a bag before coming back up onto the porch.

"What's the plan?" I asked, jumping up to follow.

"Hopefully, Bowie's able to get a call out and someone comes down to pick us up." He pulled open the front door and held it. "Then we'll get you secured, and someone can come out to get our vehicles tomorrow. "

"I meant what if he can't call out or if…" I trailed off, turning to scan the trees around the cabin. I didn't want to think about anyone getting hurt because of me, but that was a real possibility. Oscar was out there, and armed with something sharp enough to slice through truck tires. Nobody had said it was him yet, but we all knew it was.

"Bowie's going to get through," Church promised and went inside.

I followed, waiting until he'd closed the door and locked it before asking, "Yes, but what if he doesn't? Or what if Oscar shows up here?"

Church tossed his duffel bag onto the sofa before going from window to window to verify they were locked. One by one, he closed the blinds and pulled the curtains closed. "If he attempts to enter the premises, I'll stop him using any means necessary, up to and including deadly force." He opened his suit jacket to reveal a black handgun strapped to his hip that I hadn't noticed before. "You're safe with me."

"Maybe we should go upstairs where it's more defensible," I suggested with a wink.

Church snorted. "You just want to go upstairs to shag again."

"I can't help it. All this macho bodyguard stuff really turns me on. Can you say that with a possessive growl? Maybe add you're mine at the end? I'm into possessive bottoms."

"Not now. I'm working." He checked the back door a second time, rattling it in its frame. "You are right about the loft, though. It's the safest place for you."

I sighed and followed him up to the empty loft, waiting by the ladder as he checked the window, and then moved the dresser over to block it, just in case. This whole thing was ridiculous. I knew every big artist had their crazy fans, but I'd never heard of someone this persistent. What was it Oscar wanted from me? Why me ?

A picture frame fell over on the desk with a loud crack, and I flinched. Dammit, I was so jumpy! If only I could have a little something to help me relax. I wouldn't need much. Just a little sip, just enough to take the edge off. I wouldn't even have to get drunk. I could just…

Church cupped my cheek and bent down to kiss me, sending a flutter of lust through me that turned out to be the perfect distraction. "It'll be okay," he promised.

"I know." I sighed and let my head fall against his chest. "I just want it to be over so I can go back to dealing with my real problem. I should be helping you instead of standing over here thinking about having a drink."

"That wouldn't help."

"I know." I swallowed and lifted my head to look up at him. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting it. I've been drinking my coping skills for years. Learning something else…It's going to take a while."

"Well then, how about some chamomile tea instead?" he offered.

"Sounds perfect." I gave Church's ass a light slap and stared at it as he walked away. Judging by the way he added a little swagger to his walk, he knew I was watching. That's right, kitten. That's all mine.

I fell on the bed with a happy sigh and smiled up at the ceiling. Despite this hiccup with our exit, things were going way better than I'd ever expected them to when I left L.A. I couldn't wait to put all this behind us.

Once my thirty days were up, Church was going to have to take a few vacation days to join me in L.A. before the tour kicked off. There was this little vintage tea shop downtown I wanted to take him to. It was expensive as hell, but they let you create custom blends from the best leaves from all over the world. Whatever the cost, it would be worth it to see him smile.

Maybe I could talk him into coming with us on the UK and Western Europe leg of the trip. I bet he'd love the chance to go back to London without the pressure to visit his family, and there were two whole days between that show and the one up in Glasgow. We could do some sightseeing in one of those double-decker busses, hit up a pub for some authentic food that wouldn't be as good as what he made…

And I knew he had issues with his parents, but I was dying to meet them just so I could tell them how amazing their son was. I wanted to kiss and hug and cuddle in front of them and watch them squirm, and then to leave dramatically. Hopefully, the press would catch some of it. Maybe I could make a few calls and embarrass the hell out of them. I didn't know if Church would go for it, but homophobic jackasses deserved to be publicly flogged by the media. I didn't care how rich or British they were.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, my eyes snapped open at the sound of a loud bang. I inhaled and coughed. Gray clouds hovered above and all around me, but why were there clouds inside?

Not clouds, idiot. Smoke! And where there's smoke… I rolled out of bed and hit the floor, still coughing. Where was Church? And why weren't the fire alarms going off? There was no time to worry about the second part of that. I had to find Church.

"Church!" I shouted between coughs, crawling toward the ladder. There was so much smoke that I could barely see anything. Tears ran down my cheeks from my stinging eyes, but I started down the ladder, pulling my shirt up over my mouth and nose. "Church, where are you?"

Something wasn't right. He should've been dragging me out of the house by my ear. Instead, he was nowhere to be found.

The kitchen was a wall of red-hot fire and smoke that was quickly chewing through the place. Fire roiled along the ceiling, clawing towards the loft. If he was in the kitchen, he was dead. The thought made the tears flow faster down my cheeks. I wanted to stay and search for him because he had to be somewhere, but it felt like my lungs were about to explode.

I stumbled, coughing, through the front door and tripped right over Church. I went down, catching myself with my hands on the porch. Splinters of wood bit into my skin, and I rolled away, hissing in pain.

It was only then that I realized Church wasn't moving.

"Church!" Ignoring the pain in my hands and knees, I grabbed him and rolled him onto his back. He groaned. That was a good sign, right? At least I knew he was breathing. "Hold on, Christian. We're going to get you out of this."

I moved my hands down his chest and paused. There were two white coiled wires coming out of his stomach. What the hell?

"Don't."

I lifted my head and locked eyes with Oscar, who held a gun in one shaky hand pointed straight at me. His other hand was clamped over his bicep while blood dripped around his fingers.

The bang that woke me up…It must have been a gunshot. I followed the coiled white wires over to where a bright yellow gun lay on the porch. A taser. Oscar must've tasered Church and taken his gun after Church shot him.

"Get away from him," Oscar demanded, waving the gun.

I slowly lifted my arms in surrender. "Easy. You're not going to shoot me."

His jaw trembled, and he pointed the gun at Church. "No, but I could shoot him with a real gun this time."

I threw myself on top of Church, glaring up at Oscar. "Then you'll have to shoot me, too. "

He stomped over and yanked on my shirt. "I said get away from him!"

I thought about grabbing for the gun, but the chance that it might go off and hit Church was too high. Instead, I hunched over, putting up my hands. "At least let me move him away from the fire! Let me make sure he doesn't die and then I'll do anything you want!"

He froze, studying me. "Anything?"

"Anything you want. I won't fight as long as he's safe."

He clenched his jaw, considering, then took a step back. "You can bring him off the porch, but that's it."

"Thank you." My mind was racing as I put Church's arm around my shoulder. For the first time, I found myself irritated by his giant size. Dragging him down the stairs left my back aching in places I didn't know I had. I propped him up near the post.

He groaned, his head rolling back and forth. "Dante?"

"I'm okay," I said, taking his face in my hands. I planted a quick kiss on his lips and whispered, "I love you."

Maybe it was the worst time to say it, but I was worried I might not get another chance before Oscar took me off into the woods and killed me.

"That's enough!" Oscar yanked me away from him by my collar and shoved me toward the woods. "Walk."

"Please don't do this," I pleaded.

"Stop stalling! You promised to do what I wanted, so do it! Or do I need to show you how serious I really am?" He pointed the gun at Church's head.

"No!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "No, I'm going! Look, I'm going! Just don't hurt him!"

Turning around and walking away was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. It meant leaving Church there alone, defenseless. Anything could happen, especially with the fire raging. I told myself that eventually someone would see the smoke and call the fire department. They'd find him and give him any medical care he needed. But the nearest neighbors were miles away. It could be hours before help arrived.

I threw a longing look up at the distant ridge Bowie was supposed to be headed towards. Please hurry, Bowie.