Page 107 of Extracted

Dallas closed in on the men and whacked Shane over the head with the flashlight. The lighter landed with a clink to the cement. The guy staggered forward and let out a grunt as he fell to his knees.

“What the—?” Silas wheeled around.

Shane scampered away in a crab crawl. The smell of gas hung in a thick cloud, singeing Dallas’s nostrils.

“Dallas!” Gemma’s shrill cry almost made him tear his gaze from his target.

He didn’t take the chance. Seeing Gemma up close and frantic would be his undoing. Lifting his gun, he pointed it at Silas.

Silas’s mouth worked into a grin. He lifted a second lit lighter. “Tsk, tsk. Don’t do anything stupid.” Silas opened his palm, revealing a metal Zippo lighter.

With the lid open, the flame would stay lit. All Silas had to do was throw it.

“Put it out,” Dallas said, his voice hollow.

Silas backed up a few paces toward Gemma.

Warning bells bellowed against his eardrums, but he was stuck. Damned if he attacked and damned if he didn’t.

Silas’s mouth stayed in a slimy smile.

“Not another step.” Dallas trained the gun on Silas’s head.

Silas lifted a shoulder. “You know what? Knowing that bitch will burn is worth it.” He threw the lighter on the ground.

Fire burst from the trail of gasoline. Gemma’s huge, terror-filled eyes found his.

“No!” The scream ripped from his chest as he dove through the air.

* * *

Flames shot up from the ground, and the path of fire spread in a straight line, heading right for her. Gemma coiled her body into a ball and struggled against the restraints, but it was no use.

A wall of heat charged at her.

She ducked her face close to her shoulder, screams tearing from her raw throat as violently as the angry mob of fire coming for her flesh.

Smack

Something hard collided into her, sending her chair back and into the ground. Her body slammed against the concrete, jolting her. Dallas was on top of her. “Hang on!” He seized the chair and rolled them away from the blaze, but it wasn’t enough.

The flames licked at her ankles, the sensation like hot teeth eating her skin. She kicked and flailed as Dallas’s arms closed around her and the chair.

A flurry of movement charged forward. “Look out!” she cried to Dallas.

Something covered her body, blocking out the heat. Her brain worked rapidly to figure out what had happened. Someone had thrown the fire-retardant blanket on her.

Dallas’s hands patted her down. She heard a fire extinguisher crackling over the flames, and the scent of smoke dissipated. She shook her head free from the material, her body still secured to the chair. Dallas’s face found hers, his features contorted with angst, his face red. His shirt was marred with black streaks. White foam coated the ground, blanket, and Dallas.

Disbelief sank into her consciousness. She was alive. Dallas was here.

How?

Her tongue couldn’t carry the weight of the question. Her feet throbbed, but she didn’t have the strength to look down at the burns.

“Gemma.” Dallas ran his hands over her face and hair. His lips pressed against her forehead and cheeks. The touch of his warm, comforting flesh was almost too much. She’d been milliseconds away from burning alive. She’d never shake the image of flames racing toward her. Never wash away the reeking odor of fuel.

She might as well have been branded.

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