Chapter 3

Backdraft

Inspecting the door frame, I search along the old, worn boards for weak spots. My hands scour over the rough edges, lodging sharp splinters into the tips of my fingers. Kicking at the boards, dirt flies into the air but gives way to a hole just big enough for my hand. Reaching inside, I pry the boards apart. Working them back and forth until the rusty nails start to pop. The rotting wood snaps in my hands and slivers of wood break away opening the hole wider.

Through the newly formed gap, a pair of white flip-flops catch my attention. At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me from the intense heat. But then, I see them again. A pair of white flip-flops, delicate soft feet with pink polish on the toes are standing on the other side of the wall, a mere inch from my fingertips. I blink rapidly, trying to determine if it's a real person or a hallucination when something hard wedges between the door and the frame, knocking me off balance. I stumble back on my heels and that's when I notice a thin wire, almost invisible to the naked eye glinting in the light and sneaking in through the newly made crevices. The wire is cleverly twisted around the door hinges and runs along the floorboard, blending in with the dark wood. I carefully grasp the wire in my hand following its trail back to the bomb. My heart is racing in my chest when the wire draws taunt in my hand. The pestilent click of the timer echoes through the space, reverberating off the walls in rapid-fire tics. The sound, a warning of impending danger, sends a shiver down my spine. The moment the door flies open, my instincts roar to life and my body reacts before I have time to think about it.

"Don't move," I shout, propelling myself through the door, hoisting the woman over my shoulders as I bolt into a clearing just as the bomb detonates.

A deafening explosion reverberates through the air, shaking the ground beneath my feet. A wave of searing heat and flames erupt, launching me forward with a violent force. The ringing in my ears is disorienting and I stumble over my big feet landing us both on the ground with a hard smack. Covering her with my body, I shield her from the shards of wood and debris raining down around us. The heat from the blast warms my skin in a familiar way. For a split second, I am blinded by the bright orange light that engulfs everything. I blink my eyes and clear my focus.

The moment I open my eyes, she appears below me like a mirage. Soot smears across the delicate fabric of her long white sundress, creating a stark contrast against her pale features. Her eyes, a mesmerizing gold that reflects the dancing yellow and orange flames around us, hold a haunting beauty. Ashes drift down from above, cascading around her like snowflakes caressing the skin of a porcelain angel and darkening the loose golden strands of her hair. The thick smoke has me in a choke hold as I take in the surreal sight before me. Her full lips are slightly parted and her eyes wide with shock as we stand up and take it all in. Instead of looking at me, her eyes ping-pong at the destruction around us. She's taking in the chaos and I can't tell if she's fearful or in awe of the beauty in the destruction. Most people compartmentalize the world into the good, the bad, and the ugly. Choosing to live only in the good space where they can hide their eyes and pretend the rest doesn't exist. That's where they feel safe, maybe even bored, but the same people cram their necks to watch as tragedy unfolds. Then they quickly file it away, hidden under prayers and well wishes. They fail to see that even destruction holds beauty. Chaos is a high, one that once you get a taste of it, it's hard to ignore.

I watch her take it all in and wonder what it is she sees. For a minute there's a flash in her eyes that makes me wonder if she sees it like I do. When her eyes finally draw to mine, she swallows hard. I watch as the lump slowly works its way down her throat and my mind wanders to a place it has no business going.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice as hypnotic as the rest of her features.

The way the sound filters through my ears sends a shooting sensation straight to my dick. I store it in my memory for later. Now is not the time to see how far into my world I can drag this angel before it burns her alive. I have a job to do.

Sometimes, tracking a target takes skill honed over years. Other times, like this one, fate intercedes. I don't know how or why she ended up in the path of the blast meant to kill me, but she's within reach and now I have to get her out of here.

"I'll explain later, Zoey. We have to go now." As soon as her name pours out of my mouth, she stumbles backward. Confusion draws her sweet face tight. There's no time to tell her what I know or why I'm here. We're about to have company.

I look out over her shoulder and see several figures moving closer. It's only a matter of time until they realize I cleared the blast and it won't take them much longer to figure out I have her.

She opens her mouth and a scream rips from her throat when a bullet zips past us. I tug her down as another shot rips over our heads.

Her hands, so soft and small, smack against my chest. "Get away from me."

Her voice rises as she continues to scream, drawing even more unwanted attention our way. I press my hand over her mouth, muffling her scream, "Shh. I'm trying to help you."

Zoey struggles under my hold, sinking her teeth into my skin. I jerk my hand away from her mouth and she screams again. "Help me? I've been near you for less than five minutes and I've already been blown up and now I'm being shot at by my own family. I don't need help this bad."

I can't stop the smirk from spreading across my face, which only seems to make her angrier. She may seem docile at first glance, but given the right circumstances she could be dangerous, and that has my blood pumping.

My nonchalant demeanor is quickly replaced with a hard stare, "I don't recall offering you a choice."

Rising voices, rushed movements, and more gunfire aimed in our direction drown out any response she might have. I scan our surroundings and assess what's left in the debris. There's not much to work with. The blast took out anything that would provide cover nearby. That's when I remember my ace in the hole, assuming it's still within range. Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I grimace at the damage. Cracks spider web across the screen from landing on it in the wake of the explosion. I unlock the screen and locate the programmed number that will trigger the remote charge in the cap bomb. The screen flickers intermittently, displaying fractured lines of text but despite the damage it connects. Seconds later, ripple detonations erupt from somewhere off in the distance. Followed by an unexpectedly larger blast with a visceral force that shakes the tops of the trees in the distance. The impromptu distraction divides the men heading in our direction, giving me a fighting chance.