Page 48 of Edge of Danger

The smell of gasoline and burning carpet filled her nose. A dancing, flickering light reflected off the walls.

Fire.

Chapter Eighteen

Fire was spreading in the living room, catching the throw rug, the curtains. Brax caught sight of a terrified Tessa holding a screaming Walker.

The smell of gasoline almost overwhelmed them. It must have been a Molotov cocktail that had smashed through the window. Common sense told him to get out of the house, but his gut told him somebody was outside. Waiting. Planning to do more harm than the fire.

Acting purely on instinct, he steered Tessa and the baby back into the kitchen. “Stay in here.” He shoved them into the pantry. It was safer in there: no windows, no way for anybody to get to them from outside.

But also no way to escape if the fire raged out of control.

“The fire!” Tessa clung to Walker as he squalled.

“I’ll handle it. Stay in here.” He closed the door and ran into the living room. Grabbing a pillow off the couch, he flailed at the fire on the rug and the bits of curtain that had fallen to the floor.

The room was smoky, but the fire hadn’t spread. Whoever had thrown the bottle hadn’t tossed it hard enough for the glass to shatter when it hit the floor.

Lucky break. Literally.

Once he was sure the fire was out, he moved to his safe, took out his gun and slid his back along the wall to a window. The soft light from the kitchen glowed behind him as he peered out into the moonless night.

“Where are you?” he muttered to himself. No one would go to the trouble of sending a message like this without sticking around to see if the message had been received.

Through one of the front windows, he caught the outline of a car sitting on the road leading away from the house. Far enough away that they’d be safe from the fire, but not so far that they couldn’t pick him off if he’d bolted from his burning home.

Hugging the wall again, he made his way back to the kitchen for the one phone he knew he could always find: his landline. He punched the speed dial button for Chance.

“Can’t talk long,” he barked. “Somebody threw a Molotov cocktail through my living room window. It’s not terrible, but I need you to call the fire department and the cops and get them out here. You guys too. I think whoever did this is hanging out waiting for me.”

Chance let out a string of curses before asking, “What’s your next move?”

“I have to get Tessa and Walker out of here.” He coughed on thickening smoke. He must have missed a smoldering ember. “Make the call. I have to get out.”

“Be careful.”

Brax returned to the living room. The curtains had reignited and the wall behind them had started to blacken. He fought through the building fear and focused on the only thing—the only people—who mattered right now: Tessa and Walker.

Why was Walker so quiet? Had someone gotten to them?

Forgetting about the flames that threatened to burn his home to the ground, Brax raced to the kitchen and flung open the pantry door. Tessa, sitting cross-legged on the floor, fed Walker the bottle she’d been warming before the chaos had erupted. Even in the middle of a blazing hellscape, her first concern had been for her son.

And somebody wanted to hurt them. His rage alone could’ve set the house on fire all by itself.

“Come on. We have to get out of here,” he whispered through clenched teeth, careful not to scare the baby again.

“What are we going to do?” Tessa’s eyes widened with terror.

That was a good question. “We’ll go out the back. There’s someone waiting in a car in the front.”

He reached down to help her up and hurried toward the kitchen door. Before rushing outside, he paused to check the backyard. It was clear. So far. “Keep him as quiet as you can and follow me. Don’t say a word.”

Even though everything looked quiet behind the house, he constantly scanned the area and listened hard, but he didn’t pick up the slightest hint of an intruder. Riviera’s men were either lazy or stupid.

No surprise. Not that Brax was in any position to complain.

He took Tessa’s arm and led her away from the house as he continued to survey the grounds. Every crunch, every footstep rang out like a gong.

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