Page 123 of Finding His Redemption

“Nessie!” He burst through the doorway to find her in the living room, Oliver clutched against her chest, both of them staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Echo paced between them and the door, her hackles raised.

“Fire,” he gasped, then coughed hard enough to taste copper. “We need to get out. Now.”

Nessie’s face went white. “The stairs?”

“Blocked. Smoke’s too thick.” He moved to the window, cranking it open and leaning out to assess their options. They were two stories up, and there was nothing below but concrete and the dumpster. Too high to jump, especially with Oliver.

Think. There had to be another way.

The fire escape. Every building this old had to have one, and he remembered seeing the rusted iron relic clinging to the side of the building when he and Nessie walked by the other day.

“Oliver’s room,” he said, grabbing Oliver from Nessie’s arms. The kid was trembling but stayed quiet, trusting him completely. “There should be access to a fire escape.”

They rushed down the short hallway and burst into the room. And, there, outside the window, was the black metal framework of an external fire escape.

“Thank God,” Nessie breathed.

Jax set Oliver down and wrestled with the window. It was old, painted shut, and wouldn’t budge. The fire downstairs roared, and the air in the apartment grew hazy with smoke.

“Jax.” Nessie’s voice was tight with fear.

“I got it.” He braced his shoulder against the window frame and shoved. Something gave with a screech of protest, and cool morning air rushed in.

“You first,” he told Nessie, helping her climb through. She dropped onto the fire escape platform, the metal clanging under her weight.

“Oliver, come on, buddy.” He lifted the boy, who wrapped his arms around his neck in a death grip.

“What about Echo?” Oliver whispered against his ear.

Christ. The dog. She must be absolutely terrified. He turned to look for her, but she was right there at his side, staring up at him with absolute trust. He pointed at the window. “Echo, through.”

Without hesitation, she hopped onto the windowsill and leaped through the opening, landing on the platform beside Nessie.

His brave girl.

Both of his brave girls.

He handed Oliver to Nessie, then climbed through the window himself. The fire escape shuddered under their combined weight but held. He had to fight to lower the ladder, but it finally crashed down toward the sidewalk with a resounding clang.

“Piggyback ride,” he said to Oliver, and turned his back to the kid. He waited until small arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, then turned back to Nessie, giving her a quick kiss. “Go. We’re right behind you.”

The metal steps were slick with morning dew, treacherous, but they moved as fast as they dared.

Sirens blasted through the quiet stillness of the morning air, but not just fire trucks. Police sirens, too. Multiple vehicles, coming fast.

And then Jax saw them—three sheriff’s department cruisers screaming down Main Street, light bars flashing. They skidded to a stop in front of the bakery, and Jax watched Sheriff Goodwin climb out of the lead vehicle, his face grim with satisfaction.

The bastard was here too fast. Way too fast for a fire call.

Had he been expecting this?

“Jax.” Nessie had seen them, too. “What’s happening?”

He knew exactly what was happening. Someone had set the fire to flush them out, and Goodwin was here to arrest him for it. The perfect frame job—ex-con with a history of violence, caught fleeing the scene of an arson that could have killed a woman and child.

They reached the bottom of the fire escape, and Jax’s mind raced through their options. The alley opened onto Main Street,where half the sheriff’s department was waiting. He could hear Goodwin barking orders, other deputies responding. The fire trucks had also arrived, their diesel engines rumbling as they set up to fight the blaze.

“Those are Quints,” Oliver whispered, wide-eyed.

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