Page 62 of The Oath We Take

The coughing comes first.

Then the fear. “What? Atom. Why?” Her face is screwed up as she looks around her. Then she hears the crackle and hiss of the fire and looks toward her apartment. “Oh my God.”

I pull her into me, but she tries to fight her way free. “My bar. My laptop and phone. My plants.”

“I got your laptop and phone, I think.”

She attempts to scramble to find her feet, but I hold her down.

“You can’t go back in there. You could have died before I got you out. They’re just things, sweetheart.”

“But…my…” Her words sputter to a halt, and she starts to cry.

This time, when I tug her to me, she lets me. I smooth a hand over her hair. “Thought I lost you for a second.”

I apply kisses over her hair as she clings to me, trying to crawl closer as she grips my cut and pours her hurt into the leather.

“What happened?” she splutters.

I look over at the two dead bodies she hasn’t noticed yet. “Someone set fire to your bar, sweetheart.”

She looks up at me, her cheeks tear-stained. “It was deliberate?”

“Definitely. And we’ll figure out who the fuck did it,” I say. “Whatever happens, we rebuild. You’ll live and work here again, I promise. We’ll call your insurance in the morning and?—”

A siren cuts me off. The town only got its own fire station nineteen months ago after decades of volunteer service. As the small town grows, so does the need.

“I’m gonna need to go talk to them. Let’s get a few more clothes on you.”

I grab the hoodie from the bag and help her get into it. Her eyes are red. Her nose is a mess. She’s got soot on her cheeks. And she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

I brush my lips across hers. “I’ll be back for you, honey, yeah?”

But she doesn’t nod like I expected her to. Instead, she wraps herself around my arm and won’t let me go.

So, I wait for them to come to me.

First to find me is that asshole sheriff, Tanner Radcliffe. He’s in jeans, not his uniform, but he’s here.

But he doesn’t say a word; instead, he steps out to wave to what I assume is the fire crew.

“Addams,” he says, his lip curled a little in disgust. “What happened?”

“Was driving here when?—”

“Little late for a drive, wasn’t it?”

I take in a deep breath and resist the urge to get up and clock the man, because me getting arrested wouldn’t help Ember one bit. “Not remotely relevant. Was riding and saw black smoke rumble out onto the road. Drove closer and realized it was Whiskey Fever. Called 911, then broke in to get to Ember. Some fucker planned this. The front doors were open, and the covers for the smoke alarms were dropped by the door. Her sprinkler system isn’t operating either. This was deliberate.”

Radcliffe takes out his notebook and makes some notes. “Bit early to say it’s deliberate. Could be a kitchen fire?”

“You are so fucking obtuse. There are two dead men right there. You look like a fucking ass standing there trying to make up reasons to make us look bad.” I huff. “Like the smoke detectors removed themselves. This isn’t the kind of thing you can brush under the floorboards.”

I see the twitch of his jaw at the reference. He’s never been able to prove who buried him in his own home, but it’s public knowledge that it happened.

“Look, I know you hate us, but do your fucking job, Radcliffe. Because this kind of posturing just makes you a fucking fool.”

Behind us, the fire crew gets busy. Hoses are connected to the trucks, and the whoosh of water is a reassuring sound. Once the fire is under control and it’s safe enough, Ember might be able to go in and retrieve some of her belongings from upstairs.

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