Page 6 of Dust to Dust

And then came a deafening roar.

Before I could pinpoint its origin, heat consumed the right side of my body. It singed my clothes along with my exposed skin. As a scream of pain tore from my lips, a force sucked me backwards and propelled me into the air, twisting my body around like I was a weightless rag doll. I slammed against something hard that sent a crackling through my joints.

The world around me silenced as my eyes fought to focus. Blinking repeatedly, I stared up at the blurry onyx sky. When at last I could see through the fog, I turned my head toward the car.

A fireball raged where it had once been.

“RIAN!” I screamed, but the words only came out as a croak. When I tried pulling myself to my feet, my legs gave out, sending me sprawling back onto the ground. Digging my elbows into the grass, I began army crawling to the car.

Men started pouring in the area. Their arms gesticulated wildly while their mouths opened wide in shouts and screams that I couldn’t hear. All I could make out was a high pitched whine like that of a gnat. Ignoring the chaos, I continued crawling to the car. Rian was my brother. I had to save him.

The closer I got to the car, the more intense the heat became. One side of my face felt like wax melting down a candle. Narrowing my eyes, I tried focusing on the car. The door had been blown off in the blast. Engulfed in flames, Rian’s body lay half in and half out of the car. The smell of burnt flesh entered my nose, causing my stomach to lurch.

I reached a hand out to him, but then my entire body was snatched up and away by strong arms. “No! Rian!” I groaned.

When I peered up to the face of who had me, Callum stared down at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. For a moment, my gaze only focused on the moisture streaking down his agonized face. When was the last time I’d seen him cry?

His mouth moved as his chest heaved with sobs, but I could still only hear a ringing in my ears. Someone barreled into Callum, sending us reeling. When I tore my gaze from him, my chest clenched as my Uncle Seamus sank to his knees in front of the car. Even though I couldn’t hear his tormented screams, they wracked my body like lashes from a whip.

Rian was dead.

And it was all my fault.

Chapter One: Isla

“This is fucking torture!”

As I spun upside down on the pole, I eyed my younger sister’s red, scrunched face. With a glare at the offending floor to ceiling metal before her, she crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. Brooke always had a dramatic flair when things irritated her.

After pulling myself upright and sliding down onto my feet, I walked over to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, I gave her my best reassuring smile. “No one said you have to master it the first time. I certainly didn’t.”

She blew an errant strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You know I suck at shit like this.”

“Says the girl with a college volleyball scholarship,” I tossed back.

Wrinkling her nose, she countered, “It’s not the same thing.”

“Pole dancing is about athleticism. Unlike me, you don’t have a non-athletic bone in your body.”

“But you’re the dancer.”

Considering I’d toddled out onto the stage for my first recital at two, she was right about that. I’d taken every dance class known to man from classical ballet to tap and jazz to hip hop. In elementary school, I’d transitioned into competitive dance. Thankfully, my experience was a lot less traumatic than what you saw on an old episode of Dance Moms.

I’d stopped competing when I entered MIT. I now parlayed my former dance background to teach dance classes at a local studio. I’d been chosen to be the lead instructor for the studio’s new pole dance classes. Even though it worked well with my course schedule, it didn’t pay enough for tuition and books.

“It’s not that I can’t get the hang of it.” Brooke’s hand came to cup her breasts. “The pole bangs the hell out of these.”

I glanced down at my own chest that was stretching the limits of my latest sports bra. “I have to agree that Triple D’s aren’t entirely pole friendly.”

“Try having engorged ones filled with milk,” Brooke lamented with a wince.

As if on cue, an agitated shriek came from the carrier in the corner. I held up my hand. “I’ve got him.”

She snorted. “Good luck considering you don’t have what he wants.”

With a laugh, I hustled across the black and white checkered studio floor. By the time I reached him, my nephew’s howls had ratcheted up a few decibels. “Easy, Little Man,” I cooed as I unbuckled him from his carrier.

Like Brooke had anticipated, Henry rooted around on me for a few seconds before realizing I was not his milk bearer. His tiny brows scrunched up while hiccupped snorts of rage erupted from him. “I’m so sorry, Little Man. I’ll get you to mommy.”

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