Page 96 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“Let’s go!” I grab Lexie and we stumble into the entry room. I nearly trip over Quinn’s lifeless body.

“Quinn!” Lexie cries, crouching down.

“I’ve got him,” I say, squatting down to roll him onto my shoulder. “Run to the chopper!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

I grip Quinn against me and lurch to my feet. He groans. Thank God he’s alive.

I stagger after Lexie. Heat sears at my heels and back and fire crackles in my ears. We burst through the door just as anotherwhoomprips through the air. The door to the core samples storage container bursts open and a wave of heat and toxic fumes blasts us. It’s like being hit with a wall of hot steel. I go down face first, with Quinn on top of me. I taste the muddy earth in my teeth, and blood.

Lexie scrambles to her feet, her eyes wide. “What’s happening?”

Quinn groans and rolls to his side. Blood oozes from his ear and stains his shirt.

“Can you walk?” I shout.

Wincing in agony, he nods. I help him up and Lexie grips his other side. We stagger toward the airstrip.

The superheated air sears my throat and my watering eyes blur my vision. Crossing the muddy ground while fire and toxic fumes engulf us makes the short journey feel like miles. My legs ache and the acrid air burns my lungs. It tastes like ash and metal.

“My locket!” Lexie cries, breaking away.

“Lexie!”

But she’s already racing back to the bunkhouse. “Shit!”

I’m torn between helping Quinn and going after Lexie.

“Go,” Quinn grits out.

I leave him at the edge of the runway and sprint back to the bunkhouse. Flames fill the entryway and thick, black smoke billows in pulses, giving glimpses of the inferno inside. It’s like looking into a tunnel to hell.

“There!” Lexie shouts, and dives to her knees. Sunken into the muddy, rocky ground is the antique locket. She snatches it up as I pull her to her feet.

“Come on!” I shout. We race across the camp and join Quinn limping down the runway. I lock eyes with the pilot and will him to wait. No way can he leave us here.

At the chopper, Lexie and I help Quinn into the backseat. Lexie climbs in next to him and I take the front. I get a glimpse of my legs. Both calves are bright red and blistered, with raw patches of pink skin. With how painful my back feels in the seat, I’m betting I’m wounded there too.

“Hang on,” the pilot barks, then lifts into the sky.

Below us, the survey camp is completely consumed by flames, releasing thick, black smoke into the sky.

The pilot is talking to someone in his headset. If it’s a firefighting crew, there’s not going to be anything left to save.

“I’m taking you to the sheriff,” the pilot says, shaking his head. “Please tell me I’m not going to be arrested for whatever the fuck happened up here.”

Lexie looks out the window, her mother’s locket clutched in her fingers while tears stream down her dirt-stained cheeks.

ChapterTwenty-Five

LEXIE

The roarof the chopper makes conversation impossible. It’s a small mercy, but I’ll take it.

I don’t understand what’s happened.

If Dawson and Quinn are behind the mine contract, why did they show up at the survey camp?

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