Deadly Heat (Deadly 2)

And she didn’t see anyone outside, but she was pretty sure that Seth could see her.

She had no weapons. No protective gear if a fire broke out—and it would.

Fear grew in her belly, knotting, tightening her insides, and her breath came far too fast. Kenton was in there. He’d damn well better still be alive.

Lora crept toward the porch. There were no cars around. No one on the street or in the nearby yards. No one to help.

Bring the cops, he dies.

When she stepped onto the porch, the acrid scent burned her nostrils, and her hand rose to cover her nose and mouth instinctively.

Gasoline.

She froze as every muscle in her body tensed. He would have set a trap for her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was doing. Same game, fresh bait—Kenton.

I won’t leave him for the flames.

She wouldn’t leave a stranger, so she sure as hell wouldn’t leave someone she cared about.

Screw that—someone she loved.

Forcing her muscles to unlock, she raised her hand and pressed her fingers against the door. No heat. She didn’t smell smoke, just the gasoline. Seth hadn’t started the fire. Not yet. That meant there was still time.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob.

I’m coming, Kenton.

The sheets binding his right hand finally tore, and Kenton snarled as his hand broke free. He lunged up and struggled to free his left hand even as he heard the squeak of a door’s hinges echo through the house.

The front door. Lora. “Get out! Don’t come any farther!” he screamed. “Get the hell out!” She wouldn’t die for him. She damn well would not die for him.

“No, Lora.” Seth’s rumbling voice came from right outside the bedroom. “Come in…”

Then Seth was in the doorway. He stood right there on the threshold, with his body half in the room. Smiling that sick, twisted smile, he rolled a match between his fingers.

The overpowering scent of gasoline choked Kenton. The sheet wouldn’t give. The knots on his left hand were too tight.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Seth! What have you done? Where’s Kenton, you bast—”

“Your lover’s here.” Seth eased back and lit the match on the side of the doorframe. “Now see if you can save him.” Then he tossed the match right into the puddle of gasoline near the door.

Fuck!

Fire blazed up and raced around in that long, perfect trail that Seth had made—the path that ended on the bed.

The flames came for him.

Seth laughed and yanked the door closed.

Lora.

Kenton knew he wasn’t going to see her again.

The soft whoosh of the flames filled her ears as Lora ran up the stairs.

“Burn, burn, burn,” Seth chanted, smiling at her with blood on his lips. He wore that sick freaking grin as he stood in front of her door.

The smell hit her. Smoke. Fire. The scent came from her bedroom. “Kenton!”

“Circle of flames… can’t get him… can only hear him scream…”

But Kenton wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t making a sound. She reached the landing and ran right at Seth, tucking her head low and slamming into his chest.

Her brothers had taught her well.

Seth hit the door, hard, wood broke, and they tumbled inside.

Right into hell.

Lora rolled away from him and narrowly missed the flames. She ripped away the bottom of her shirt. She shoved it over her mouth and nose as she yelled, “Kenton!”

Smoke filled the room. So fast. Those dancing yellow flames were everywhere.

Her gaze flew to her bed. Flames arched from the mattress and rolled toward the ceiling.

Jesus, where was Kenton? Where?

“Go find him, bitch.” Seth slammed his hand into her back, sending her right at the flames. She fell flat on her stomach. Fire raced up her arm. She screamed and slapped out the fire.

Pain. Burning agony that pierces beneath the skin.

“Kenton!”

Seth was running away. She heard the thud of his footsteps as he ran down the stairs.

“Lora…” The call of her name was soft. Tears poured down her face, but those tears weren’t from the heat of the fire. They came from fear.

She crawled on the floor. The flames circled around, in a big loop, confined now, but not for long.

He was there. Kenton. He’d tucked his body low on the floor. “Asshole… poured gas all over my chest, my face…”

Her heart froze. If the fire touched him… “Strip off your shirt! Dammit…” She coughed, choking. “Now!”

She ignored the pain in her arm. Lora didn’t look at the burns—she didn’t want to. Her hands went to his shirt, and she yanked it off. The fabric was wet beneath her fingers. Soaked with gas. Sick bastard. He would pay.

Cover. Kenton needed cover over his bare flesh, but everything was burning. The fire spread rapidly now. Her curtains were melting away, and bubbles formed on the ceiling.

And the smoke was choking her as it filled her lungs and stole her breath. Her eyes stung, and she could barely see.

They had to get out. They were on the second floor. Asphalt was below them—her driveway a bull’s-eye drop below. They could have broken legs or—

Kenton coughed, then leaned in close. “B-bastard b-boarded up… window…”

Dammit! The flames were too hot and too out of control. She grabbed his hand. “Stay with me.”

The broken door waited for them. Seth waited. But facing him was their only option.

She ran for the door, dodging the flames, and kept Kenton’s hand in hers. So much fire.

He cursed behind her, the sound ripe with pain. Lora jumped and twisted through the door. He came behind her, falling, rolling, and she was on him instantly. Lora slapped at the fire on his shoulders and the skin burned and blistered on her fingers.

Her injured hand went to his face. Her fingers curled around his jaw. “I wasn’t l-leaving you.” The smoke was strong here. They had to get down the stairs. She crushed her mouth to his. “Come on… Kent, let’s… get… out of h-h—”

“It’s not that easy.” Seth’s voice drifted up to her, carrying right over the crackle of flames.

She lurched to her feet and didn’t let go of Kenton’s hand. Wouldn’t let go. They were getting out, together. “Down the stairs.” They rounded the banister, took the first few stumbling steps, and she saw him.

Seth stood at the bottom of the staircase, a can of gasoline by his side and a match in his hand.