Page 85 of Dark Horse

But then I feel it—the slightest rumble under my feetbefore the searing blast of hot air. A fraction of a second and my whole world is ripped apart.

When I come to,I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. The room is spinning, and it’s hot. So fucking hot I can barely get a breath in. I blink once, twice. Trying to sit up and get my bearings. I’m trying to remember where I am. How I got here. Everything fucking hurts from my skull down to my ankles, and I realize I’ve landed against the bar, knocking bar stools over and hitting my head on the wooden wall beneath it. I groan as I try to get to my knees. If I can just get some momentum, I can stand up.

Everything comes rushing back to me, and my head snaps to the bottom of the stairs where I’d been standing. She’d been at the top of it. Except I have no idea where the blast came from and if she was closer to it than me. If it’s blown the whole second story off the building or taken out that entire side.

“Fuuuuck,” I roar as I push myself up, trying and failing to ignore the pain ripping through my body.

I’m running on adrenaline now, taking in the devastation around me as I make my way to her. There’s fire burning heavy and thick with smoke. A crater in the ground just a few feet away where more flames lick their way up from the basement. It’s an inferno down there. All the bottles of liquor and beer fueling it into a whirlwind of flames that’s being fed by the wind blowing in from the shattered windows. It looks like hell has opened up under our feet, and we don’t have much time until we go up in flames with it. I have to find her.

I get to the bottom of the stairs, and I can see her. She’s collapsed halfway down the steps, a pile of limp limbs, her eyes closed and blood running from the top of her head and hair,dripping its way down her arm to where her hand dangles over the last step. My heart folds in on itself, and I race to her side, shouting her name over and over again.

“Dakota! Dakota!” I cough and sputter, covering my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt as I rush to her. She doesn’t answer, and I drop to my knees on the step when I get to her side. She has to be okay. She has to be breathing. I hold my hand over her mouth and nostrils, and I can still feel air. I stare at her for a moment and see her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths.

My mind floods with an overwhelming sense of guilt. She’s here because of me. If she dies, it’ll be my fault. My own greed and selfishness for wanting to have her for myself has gotten us here. If I hadn’t stayed the night, she would be at the hotel safe and sound tucked into the sheets and ready for the wedding today.

Fucking hell.I can’t do this now. Right now, I have to act.

“Dakota. I need you to wake up, sweetheart. We have to get out of here.” I plead with her gently, running my hand over her arm and shaking her harder when she doesn’t respond. I bend down further and yell her name into her ear as I shake her again. “Dakota!”

There’s a soft groan from her, followed by a racking cough as her eyes open. She blinks hard and then moves to sit up quickly, crying out in pain in the process. But she’s moving, and she’s awake. I could cry I’m so fucking happy to see her coughing like this because it means she’s breathing.

“We’ve got to get out of here. There’s a bad fire, and the smoke is gonna choke us out. Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?” I ask.

She moves to stand and falters. I put my arms underneath her shoulder to help give her some support.

“I got you. Just lean on me, and we’ll get you out of here,” I promise her. The door to the back lot isn’t far, only aboutfifteen feet from here. She halts suddenly, though, and looks back at the stairs and then to me. She opens her mouth to speak and sputters again, pointing up the stairs as tears form in her eyes, and then I realize what she wants.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me get you to the door, and I’ll go get Vendetta.”

“No. She might not… for you…” She coughs again, the words fading on her lips. I know she’s warning me that Vendetta might not come for me, but I’m not about to take her up with me.

“You’re in no shape to get up those stairs. You’ll get hurt worse, and I need you safe. Please,” I beg her, but she shakes her head.

“I’ll stay here. I’ll wait then,” she insists.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Okay. Fine. Fine. Here.” I rip part of my shirt off and tear the fabric in two, giving her a piece of it. “Cover your mouth. Try not to breathe in too much smoke. Get lower to the ground. If it gets bad, promise me you’ll crawl outside.”

She nods her agreement, and I cover my mouth and lumber up the steps as fast as I can, doing my best to shut out the pain. The smoke is already getting thicker up here, and given where the explosion happened and the way it blew out the windows, I don’t have high hopes for finding Vendetta. But I can’t let her down. She loves that cat to pieces, and she’s had her since she was a kid. I wiggle the handle but it’s locked. Or maybe just wedged shut. I kick at the door, thankful for once that she has one of those old-school doors that’s made of MDF. It only takes three swift kicks before it collapses, and I’m inside.

“Vendetta!” I call out, searching the room with my eyes as I hurry from the living room to her bedroom. I check the bathroom and the small spare bedroom she has, but she’s nowhereto be found. The cat is skittish on a good day, and I can’t imagine an explosion has helped.

I run back to her room, pulling up the skirt and looking under the bed. Vendetta always used to hide under her bed at the ranch. It’s worth a shot.

She has a dozen shoe boxes under here and a big box with photos and a photo album. One of them I know has most of her family photos in it. I yank it out and toss it up on the bed. I can at least save that for her.

“Vendetta!” I call for the cat again, choking on the thickening gray plume as I inhale too much smoke with that breath.

Fuck it. I’m going to have to try the one thing I haven’t yet. I let out a desperate meow, one that sounds as tortured as I feel right now. I can’t go down there and tell her I don’t have her cat. She’ll come up here and try to find her herself, and we’ll all die here together. If I drag her out without the cat that’s been by her side for more than a decade, she’ll never forgive me. A racked and frustrated groan leaves my chest and then, like fucking magic, I see two bright green eyes at the far side of the bed watching me. I could scream for joy that I’ve at least found her alive, but it doesn’t mean I’ll get her to come with me.

“Vendetta, you come here you little fucking brat before you get us all fucking killed,” I grumble under my breath. She does the opposite, though, pulling her paws back from my reach and curling up against the wall.

“Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” I glare at her through the smoke and shadows.

I pull the album back down to the floor, and then I flip the mattress, moving fast to snatch her up while she’s disoriented by the movement. She screams, hissing and swatting and biting as I pull her from the dusty rubble under the bed. She draws blood, marking my whole forearm as she struggles. But I have her.

I take a deep breath and look around for something to put her in. I’m too scared she’ll jump out of my arms, and I can’t carry her and the album and Dakota. I see a gym bag. The kind that has vents on the sides.

“You’re gonna have to forgive me for this.” I stuff Vendetta inside along with the album and zip it shut. A screeching meow echoes against the walls, and her green eyes look neon as she glares at me through the vent. I sling the bag over my shoulder, and I take off, racing down the stairs.

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