Page 10 of The Blame Game

Someone stirred next to him and it all came flooding back.

The sex with Sawyer, the nap, the back spasm, the dinner, and then the massage that had made him pass out a second time.

A waft of something acrid and bitter hit Dom’s nostrils and he wrinkled his nose, realizing what the horrible smell was. Shit, smoke!

Coughing, he shoved at Sawyer’s hip. “Hey. Get up!” Dom shouted to be heard over the blaring alarm. “I think there’s a fire somewhere.”

Sawyer startled, jolting upright. “Fuck!”

“Get your clothes on,” Dom yelled, scrambling to pull on his own.

He was dressed before Sawyer and he hesitated but Sawyer waved him off. “Go! I’ll be right behind you.”

Dom grimaced but walked toward the open door, covering his mouth with his arm to block out some of the noxious fumes. The smoke was heavier now and he could see the lick of flames coming from the kitchen area.

“Hurry!” he shouted at Sawyer. “I think the fire might have started in the kitchen.”

“Fuck! I must have left a burner on.” Sawyer coughed, tugging on his trousers. “Be there in a sec but don’t wait for me.”

“I don’t want to leave you here,” Dom said, torn between the urge to get the fuck out of a dangerous situation and his worry about Sawyer.

“Jesus Christ, Dom. Do you want to get caught coming out of an apartment together in the middle of the night?” Shea shouted. “GO! I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

Guilt settled low in Dom’s gut as he carefully edged out of the bedroom, grateful the fire wasn’t blocking the exit.

He shoved shoes on and was out the door before he could second guess himself.

Sawyer was right. If they left together, and someone recognized him, it might be suspicious.

The air was clearer in the building corridor, and he gulped in several deep breaths.

A man ran by, pounding on doors and hollering for people to get out.

Dom took off, doing the same on the other side of the hall, then opened the stairwell door at the end. There were people there too but no one paid him any attention, too focused on leaving the building to care who was around.

Dom followed, jogging down the stairs, the sound of his heavy footfalls muffled by the shrieking alarm and a scared child crying in its parent’s arms a floor or two below.

Dom threw a glance over his shoulder several times, peering up, hoping for a glimpse of Sawyer, but there was no sight of him when he reached the ground floor.

Dom burst through the doors into the cold night air, shivering as the wind hit his exposed skin, wishing he’d remembered to grab his coat.

Bright lights flashed red against the building and Dom realized there were already two fire trucks parked in front.

A moment later, an ambulance slid in behind them, the siren blaring through the night air.

“This way,” a firefighter shouted, urging people away from the building.

There was still no sign of Sawyer. Fuck. What if he wasn’t okay?

A radio crackled to life as another fireman walked by and Dom snagged his arm. “Hey,” he said hoarsely. “I … I think the fire’s up on five. It might have started in 571.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know. Any clue what started it?” the guy asked with a frown.

“Maybe something in the kitchen?” Dom offered, glancing toward the door where people were still streaming out, milling around and staring up at the building. “I’m not sure. I’m worried though. A—a friend is up there. He said he’d be right behind me but he hasn’t come out yet.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sawyer,” Dom said. “Sawyer Barnett.”

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