Page 71 of Diagnosis Attraction

He looked up to see a woman at the top of the stairs. It was Elizabeth, and she’d apparently done what Matt couldn’t—zapped Southwell.

Matt yanked the gun from the thug’s limp hand and bashed him on the head with it, then bashed again. Shoving himself up, he staggered toward the steps.

He and Elizabeth met in the middle, clasping each other tightly.

“Thank God you’re all right,” they both said at the same time.

Matt forced himself to ease away. “We’ve got to get out of here. And get the women out.”

“You’re hurt,” Elizabeth breathed as he wavered on his feet.

“I’m mobile,” he answered because he had to be.

Clasping each other, they made it to the kitchen. Just as they stepped onto the tile floor, water started gushing down from the ceiling.

“The sprinkler system kicked in,” Matt said. “Maybe it will extinguish the fire, but the place is still full of smoke.”

“The girls are upstairs,” Elizabeth told him.

“We can’t leave them here,” he answered. When he started up the back stairs, Elizabeth followed. There was no water on the stairs, but as soon as they got to the upper hall, water started pouring down on them again.

“They met you already. Tell them the situation,” Matt said.

“Lang’s dead,” Elizabeth called when she reached the upper floor. “And the house is on fire. We have to get out of here.”

For long seconds, nothing happened.

As Matt started down the hall, a door opened and one of the women stepped out, water pouring down on her and a lamp base in her raised hand. It was clear she intended to use it as a weapon. When she saw Matt’s battered face, she drew in a quick breath.

“The house is on fire. We have to get out of here,” Elizabeth repeated, sending that message to the woman in the doorway and hoping it was reaching the others who must be there.

The door opened wider, and more faces peeked out.

“Come on,” Elizabeth shouted. “Your friends who were up here are already out of the house. They’re safe.”

As she spoke, she heard a roaring noise behind her and saw flames shooting up the back stairs where there were no sprinklers.

Matt turned and saw the fire. “We have to get out the front door,” he said.

Women soaked to the skin hurried out of the room, and Elizabeth ushered them to the stairs. At the bottom, they stopped to stare at the bodies on the living room floor.

“The bad man,” one of the girls confirmed.

“And one of those evil guards,” another added.

Matt brought up the rear, herding the women away from the bodies and to the front door. Then, from outside, Elizabeth heard the sound of gunfire and knew that the guards were out there—determined to keep everyone in the burning house.

Behind her, she heard Matt issuing hasty instructions.

“No,” she gasped as she looked from him to the line of three men who were about thirty yards away, all facing the door with weapons drawn.

“Can you think of anything else?” he asked, his voice grim.

Nothing came to her, but she still protested. “You’re in no shape to do anything like that.”

“I am if you help me.”

Behind them, water poured down and smoke billowed, making everyone cough. They might all die of smoke inhalation if they didn’t get out.

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