“It’s on fire! Oh my God, the warehouse is on fire!” Fran screams. Flames billow from behind her as she rolls for cover. I can hear Keenan nearby, and Lachlan. Someone’s shouting orders, but it’s hard to hear anything amidst the chaos. I look blindly around for an exit, anything at all, but can’t bloody find one.
“Stay low!” Fran shouts. “Stay low to the ground.”
Islan and I crawl, side by side, looking for a way out, when there’s another explosion nearby and hot flames lick at us, barring our exit.
“Christ!” Fran screams, her voice choked. “There’s no way out!”
Smoke fills the air, my eyes burning from it. I try to draw in breath, but my lungs are constricted, and I can’t seem to move beyond this thick, pungent wall of smoke and flame.
“Get out!” Keenan shouts. “Whole bloody warehouse is going down!”
Figures they’d fight with fire, with a warehouse stocked with books. But who’s behind this?
“This way!” Fran shouts. “Follow me!”
She crawls through a pile of rubble to the left, and Islan and I follow behind her. Then I see it. An open doorway, the door blown straight off its hinges.
“There!” Fran shouts. “Right there!” She turns to face me as another explosion goes off right beside us. Flames leap up around us, and in a split second, I see a large beam from the ceiling engulfed in flames, teetering right above Fran.
“Fran! Watch out.” I dive for her, knocking her to the ground, just as the enormous, flame-riddled beam topples. Fran shrieks, something hits the back of my head, and my world goes dark.
Mumbled words, fingers entwined with mine. A kiss to my cheek and a soft touch.
Dreams, nightmares, devastation, and pain.
A cool cloth. A soft, velvety voice. Fingers in my hair, brushing it off my forehead.
Words from a familiar voice I can’t place. Crying. Islan? Fran.
And then one morning, I wake, my eyes so heavy I can barely open them. They feel as if they’ve been glued in place, and it angers me I can’t do the simplest task of opening my bloody eyes.
Finally, one. The lid feels heavy and sandpapery, my vision blurred. I settle for just one eye open as the other seems too difficult. I see a pretty little lassie bent over my bed, and realize she’s holding my hand.
“Fran?” My voice is rough and ragged, but it gets her attention. Her head whips up, her eyes bright.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “You’re awake.”
I close my eye and release a pained chuckle. “Barely.”
“But I’ll take it. Oh my God, Tate, I’ll take it.”
I lift her fingers to my mouth and give her a weak kiss.
“What happened?”
And she tells me everything, while my eyes are still closed. I nod so she knows I’m listening.
She tells me there was an explosion and a massive fire at the warehouse. I shake my head, still not able to open my eyes.
“Survivors?”
“Nearly everyone,” she says quietly. “Keenan lost one of his newer recruits. The Welsh were taken into Keenan’s custody, but I believe rumor has it they’re presumed dead.” She leans in. “They aren’t dead, but Keenan felt it convenient to allow that rumor to circulate for now.”
I nod. I’d have done the same. I don’t bother to ask her how she knows all this. By now I’ve gathered that she has her methods.
I sigh and shake my head.
“Islan?”
“She’s fine,” she says vehemently. Her voice lowers. “And I know Keenan brought her man in for questioning.”
Her man.
Bloody hell, do I have questions.
“Where am I?”
“Keenan’s private rooms, his private doctor taking care of you.”
I nod. “Sebastian.”
“Aye.”
She squeezes my hand, and her eyes grow moist. “Thought we lost you, Tate. You were hurt so badly.”
I look down at my body, half-expecting to find it mangled and bruised, but all I see is bandages and an IV.
“Was I? How am I now?”
For some reason, that makes her giggle. “You’re bloody perfect now.”
I give her a teasing smile.
“Not sure I’d go that far.”
She leans in. “You saved my life.”
I grin at her. “Guess you owe me dinner, then.”
That makes her laugh, and my heart squeezes at the sight of her beautiful eyes dancing at me.
I close my eyes, suddenly tired and worn. “You still my wife?” I ask, squeezing one eye open to watch the way her face lights up.
“Aye. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She sighs. “I’m still investigating things, Tate. Things I’ll tell you all about when it’s time.”
I nod, tired, so bloody tired, as she fills me in. I can’t speak very well, but I can follow along.
After the ambush, the Welsh set the building on fire. They didn’t even care they had their own men in there, it seems they were only trying to bait us.
“They used the warehouse as a setup,” she says. “Seems they thought they could pin the blame for everything on me, that I was an easy target. But what they don’t know is, I saw beyond what they were doing. Beyond it all.” She gives me a wry smile. “I haven’t spent years researching all of you blokes for bloody nothing.”