Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)

o free herself in vain, she’d watched in horror as he set his plan in motion. Lights in an upstairs room went out, then the Beast started bringing over the gallons of gasoline he’d lugged from the truck, which was parked half a mile away on a back road.

She’d tried to warn someone.

Screamed long and hard until her throat was raw.

Because of the damned gag no one had heard her and though a few of the dogs had barked, no one had paid any attention.

Until he’d set the fire and come back for her. To use her as damned bait!

She’d seen her father and the woman running across the parking lot, going into the buildings that the Beast had booby-trapped.

“No! No! No!” she’d yelled as he’d positioned her near the horse barn. Dani had cried and stomped her feet, but the creep had held her fast. Until her father, in the barn that was burning, had seen her. He’d tried to reach her, but couldn’t.

Terror had filled her. The Beast had killed her father. He couldn’t have survived.

But the pervert hadn’t been finished. He’d brought her back to this small clearing and staked her where she would be visible from the parking lot. Animals had begun streaming from the buildings. Then the explosions had begun.

Desperately she’d kicked and fought, tried to pull away.

Now she lunged forward and ended up falling flat on her face, her eyes only inches from flames that were crawling closer, eating the dry twigs and leaves and grass that surrounded her. Dust and soot filled her nostrils and every muscle in her body ached. But she couldn’t give in.

She trembled, scooting backward, knowing she was doomed.

That prick had finally done it. He’d found a way to kill her. Bastard! she thought. Sick, perverted creep!

What could she do?

How could she save herself?

She heard the sound of sirens…Please, please, would they see her in time? She tried to get to her feet again. Only to fall.

The flames were licking closer when she saw movement.

A dark shadow.

Her heart sank. The psycho had come back for her.

“I’ve got you,” a strong male voice said, and pulling a sharp knife from his pocket, he sliced through the tether. Grabbing her, he hauled her from the flames just as the first fire engine, lights flashing, siren screeching, roared into the area.

The truck slid to a stop.

Firefighters poured from the big vehicle as an ambulance arrived.

“Are you okay?” the man holding her asked as he pulled off her gag.

She nodded. “Who are you?”

“Nate Santana. I know your father and…and your birth mother.”

“My dad,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“Shh. He’s okay.” He placed her on the ground and cut her wrists and ankles free. “I got to him first.” He managed a thin smile. “He’s gonna be glad to see you. Come on.”

He nodded toward the house while other trucks arrived. She saw her dad propped up against the porch, gasping for air. At the sight of him, she broke into a run. “Dad!” she cried and before he could climb to his feet she threw herself at him, landing in his arms, clinging to him and sobbing wildly.

“Dani,” he whispered, his voice rough as he held her as if he would never let her go. “Dani.” Tears ran from his soot-streaked face and though he fought it, she felt him begin to sob. “Are you okay? Honey?”

“Yeah.”