Page 17 of Can She Get Home for Christmas?

She looked up, gasping as she saw a burning board fall into the space behind them. He helped her stand, and she clung to him as they hurried down the passageway. Smoke billowed behind them, and the heat increased.

When they reached a wooden door, he stopped and put his ear against the barrier. Hearing nothing but the wind, he opened the door a few inches. That was all it would move. Something was blocking the exit.

Through the crack, both of them took grateful drafts of the cold night air.

“What happened?” Sam gasped.

“He firebombed the cabin,” Jax answered, speaking in a low voice.

She turned to face him. “And you knew it was going to happen.” she whispered.

“Yeah. But only a few minutes before.”

“How?”

He coughed, as much from his own discomfort as from the smoke. “When I went out to check the area, I felt . . . something. I knew trouble was coming. But the only way I could—see it—was to focus on you, the way I’ve been doing.”

“So you told me you wanted to lie down?”

“Yeah. Because I knew that you’d think I was whacked out if I tried to explain.”

She looked at him with a kind of awe. “You’re right. I didn’t quite believe it before—all that stuff you were telling me.”

He shrugged.

”I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice.

He heard himself ask, “You’ve stopped thinking I’m a nut or a peeping Tom?”

“Don’t put it that way.”

“What way would you put it?”

She coughed from the smoke wafting around them. “That you’ve made a convert to the Decorah Security way of thinking.”

He knew the balance had shifted between them, and he wished he could enjoy the moment—and a lot more moments.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he murmured.

“He doesn’t think we’re dead?”

Jax gave her a direct look. “I don’t know, but we’re not safe with him out there.” he made an angry sound. “In fact, a lot of women aren’t safe.”

She shuddered. “Then what are we going to do?”

Jax gave another massive push at the door and hardly widened the opening.

“Something blocking it,” he muttered, jarred by the unease he’d felt all day. Only now it was like a volcano threatening to erupt.

Trying not to look frantic, he began pulling at the door, then pushing, hoping to get some leverage. He looked back over his shoulder, then to the door again. They couldn’t go back toward the burning building. But Patton could be out there, waiting for them to make a run for it.

He had just given the door another frustrated shove when he heard a noise behind him. Whirling, he saw a white clad figure jump from the ruined cabin to the floor of the tunnel. In one hand was a powerful flashlight—aimed at them.

Jax knew at once what had happened. The killer had planned his moves carefully. He was wearing a fire-protective suit. And while Jax had been focused on prying open the door, Patton had come through the burning house and was attacking where they least expected.

Fear for Sam leaped inside Jax as he pushed her behind him. He got off a couple of shots, but saw the bullets were having no effect.

Patton wasn’t just wearing a fire suit, he also had on body armor.

---