“We need to go, Ollie,” Jimmy called out. “We need to go now, man.”
“I know, I know,” I called back.
I sped up as much as I could and that's when I heard the thunderous crash of the roof as it caved in behind me. The ceiling was coming down around us, and if I wasn't careful and didn't get us out of harm's way soon, it was going crush us. Or trap us.
Either one would mean certain death for her and likely death for us as well. I hurried toward the exit – or what I hoped and prayed was the exit.
I stumbled over something in the darkness. Looking down, I realized I'd nearly tripped over the hose being used to extinguish the fire further inside the building. Which meant I was close. I tightened my grip on her and barreled forward, confident that Jimmy was right behind me. I followed the hose until we burst through the screen of smoke and we found ourselves outside. I tore off my mask and breathed deep, relishing the feel of the cool night air in my lungs as the lights of the crowd of emergency vehicles bathed us in flashes of red and blue.
Jimmy peeled off to find the Captain as I looked down at the girl in my arms and rushed toward the lights with her in my arms, calling out for the EMT's who were gathered about, waiting for something to do.
“She's alive but she won't be for long if she doesn't get help,” I called. “She needs oxygen.”
They took her from my arms and gently placed her on the ground. An older man stepped forward and began administering CPR as a woman put a bag over her mouth and started giving her oxygen. I took a step back, feeling myself begin to swoon. I was in a daze as I looked down at her face, lovely even covered in soot.
The woman coughed and opened her eyes, briefly. They looked unfocused and dazed at first. Not uncommon nor unexpected given what she'd just been through. I looked down into the two white and blue orbs in the middle of that gray and black stained face. She looked up at me, and I realized I knew those eyes.
I knew that face.
I noticed one other thing as well – both her hands and feet were bound. She'd been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and left there to roast. Which meant this wasn't an accident. This wasn't a case of someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
This was attempted murder and Madison Haywood was lucky as hell to be alive.
CHAPTER TWO
MADISON
The last thing I remembered was being hit over the head. I felt a sharp, ringing pain and a moment after that, my whole world went black. After that, everything in my head was scrambled. But, I distinctly remembered taking a shot to the back of the head. I recalled the feeling of heat on my skin and the smell of smoke – that was what woke me up. And when I opened my eyes and saw the flames erupting all around me, I started screaming.
I screamed until my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I sobbed, knowing that it was futile, that nobody was going to hear me. Nobody was going to save me. I couldn't get up and run. Couldn't even move. My hands and feet were bound and I'd been left in the middle of a burning building – in the middle of a raging inferno – in the middle of the night.
I screamed again – mostly out of frustration and anger, rather than out of a belief that it would help. Who would hear me? I didn't think anyone would, but I kept screaming until my voice gave out.
Tears rolled down my face as I realized this was how I was going to die. It felt like the smoke and fire were searing my lungs and I was having a hard time breathing. The sinking realization that this was it had settled over me and I'd just about given up when the firefighter found me. As soon as I w
as in his arms, it was like my body said, “It's time to let go,” and I blacked out again. This time, from lack of oxygen, rather than a blow to the head.
The next thing I knew, my eyes were open and I was staring up at him. The last thought that crossed my mind before I found myself strapped down and wheeled into an ambulance was, “He looks familiar.”
It was all a blur though. I was so in and out of it that I couldn't recall much of what happened. And it wasn't until the next morning, when I awoke to the sounds of beeps and buzzing from the hospital, that the weight of everything that happened fully hit me. Hit me like a runaway train and left me breathless and scared.
I'd almost died. Scratch that, no, not died. I'd almost been murdered.
The weight of those words – I'd almost been murdered – pressed down on me like a ten thousand pound millstone. Knowing somebody wanted to kill me, to see me dead – the sense of dread it inspired in me was as deep as it was dark.
I cleared my still sore throat and looked around at my surroundings. I knew I was in a hospital because everything was so white and pristine. Sterile, really. The sounds echoing softly in the room around me were almost comforting, in a way. Mostly because at least I knew that since I was hearing them, I was alive and I was safe. A cop was sitting in the chair next to me, staring up at the television, a blank expression on his face.
“Excuse me?” My throat burned when I spoke, and I ended up coughing more than talking, but it got his attention.
The officer jumped, clearly surprised that I was awake. He was an older man with almost no hair, and the soft fringe he did have was snow white. I assumed he was there to protect me, but from the rounded gut and his age, I wasn't sure he'd be doing much in the way of protecting. Other than calling somebody for help.
I glanced toward the door and saw that another man was sitting in a chair just outside. I could only see his back, though, but I assumed he was another cop.
“Do you need a nurse?” the officer asked.
His shirt said his name was Officer Fellows. What a friendly name, I thought, hazily.
“I – I don't know,” I replied.