Page 12 of Heston
Taking a full step back, Tom nodded reluctantly, then tugged his son in front of him. “We’ll be here in the morning if you need anything. That camper over there is ours. The red, white, and blue one. Can’t miss it. All you have to do is ask.”
“Me and Mommy will say a prayer for you and your wife tonight, Mister,” Jackie chirped.
Alex looked down at the little guy who could’ve passed for Lexie’s twin. “Thank you, Jackie. I’d like that. Will you also promise to take good care of your mom for the rest of your life?”
“You betcha!” Jackie squealed, as if Alex had asked if he’d wanted a bag full of candy instead of the responsibility he’d so cheerfully accepted. Which good mothers were, weren’t they? The best sort of candy? The perfect blessings. Sweetness and honey wrapped inside kind hands and warm hugs. And now he was waxing poetic?WTF?
Stoically, Alex turned away from the friendship radiating from these two unlikely, shaggy-haired strangers—a man and a boy. Who just might be angels sent from heaven. Alex knew better than to discount miracles. Especially when he needed one so badly.
He faced the wall of pines looming around and over the campground, as dark as the powers of Hell that lurked over good and honest families the world over. Alex didn’t usually drop F-bombs, but tonight was different. Because of the gentle father and son who’d helped him when another had walked away, he didn’t speak it. But he thought it.Hell had better get the fuck out of my way.
First task? Search the campground. Whoever had Kelsey might just be hiding her under Alex’s nose. That was what he’d do. Hiding her nearby made the most sense in this weather. How else could the Irish bastard have gotten away so quickly?
Alex headed for the circular gravel road that branched off into four separate campsite loops, but went the opposite direction of Tom and his son. Rows of skinny alpine firs blocked the views between campsites and campfires. Cedar shavings covered the pathways. Some hikers had tents. A couple had campers. One had a tear-drop trailer, the damned small things he couldn’t abide.
He was well into the second loop when he thought of Murphy and Mark. Son of a bitch! He should’ve called them. He had a phone now. He should’ve remembered! Shit, he’d never been this slow-witted before. Lifting Tom’s phone out of his pocket, he first made sure it wasn’t the Irishman’s burner, raised it up to his face to read the damned numbers, and—
An orange glow glittered from far in the shadows at his right. What the hell? Some idiot had backed a small trailer into the trees, not into a numbered campsite. The orange glow flickered brightly from inside its dark windows. Alex’s heart stopped. Therig was on fire. Too bad! He didn’t have time to care about someone else’s nightmare. Not now. He had to find Kelsey, not waste precious time saving someone else’s piece-of-trash trailer.
His mind replied with something that sounded like what Kelsey would say if she were there.There might be kids inside. Or a dog or someone who can’t save themselves. Maybe someone’s grandmother.
That did it. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, Alex cursed a blue streak and aimed for the trailer. God, those things were nothing but toxic, gas-filled tinderboxes on wheels, and if there were kids or dogs inside, they’d be helpless. Might already be overcome by fumes.
But Kelsey would want him to help. So would Lexie and baby Bradley and… and Tommy and Jackie and…
“Son of a bitch!” Alex hissed when the trailer’s hot-as-hell door handle fell into his gloved hand. He flung the cheap chunk of metal behind him, then charged inside to rescue—
His heart stopped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Kelsey?” he asked like a dolt.
It was her. On her back. Inside someone else’s burning trailer. On a blanket, not under the damned thing. Her coat was gone. So were her boots. She was dressed in someone else’s jeans, t-shirt, and socks. Except for her wet hair that someone had spread out on the floor around her head, she was dry. The same asshat had folded her arms across her chest, like… like she was dead.
Anguish that she was, that he’d arrived too late, swamped Alex. He dropped to his knees beside her, afraid to hope, so damned sick at heart that he was too late. Sticking a gloved finger between his teeth, he jerked his glove off, then rested his bare fingers against her neck.
Poor thing was as cold as ice and pale, no coloring at all. Even the dark brown hair she’d twisted into a braid this morning, soshe could stow it inside her woolen cap, seemed faded, fanned out like it was.
But there it was, thank God, there. Right there. Alex found her pulse. Barely registering. Thready at best, but her pulse, damn it. She was alive.
He shot a quick, discerning glance around the one-room trailer. The fire had been deliberately set in the sink below the front window. From there, it had spread to the countertops made of particle board, engineered from wood chips and highly flammable synthetic resin to bind it, then pressed into cheap lumber that would burn hot and quick, given the chance.
As if agreeing with his condemnation, the countertop bubbled, popped, and hissed. Flames licked their way up the copper backsplash to the walls, then—
Alex didn’t think twice. Just reached as gently as he could beneath his wife’s neck and under her knees, and lifted to his feet. He leaned back on his heels until her head tipped against his chest. There wasn’t time to calculate the damage moving her might cause. Saving her life came first.
By the time he was upright, fire was skittering up the walls like tiny blue-flamed aliens. Alex curled his head and shoulders over Kelsey, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open. As expected, oxygen rushed in and fed the flame behind him. Growling like a beast, he squared both shoulders against the door frame. Just in time. With a great, roaring breath, the son of a bitchin’ trailer tried to blow him out through its narrow doorway. Alex refused the fury at his back, jolting Kelsey just to save himself. It was only a two-foot drop, but—
He would not hurt her!
Chapter Seven
Heston caught sight of a tiny orange glow up ahead just as it exploded into a bright yellow fireball. “Straight ahead, guys. Run! Faster! People might still be in there!”
“Cripes!” London yelled. “That’s the old trailer I wanted you guys to see. Looked abandoned. No, no, no! This can’t be happening!”
Heston and Asher ran, but light-footed London beat them to the scene, where a small, old-style trailer was fully engulfed. Flames shot out all three windows that Heston could see. Heavy black smoke curled overhead into already smoking branches, poking at the pine like fingers looking for something to grab.
London disappeared around one side of the trailer. Asher ran the other way. Heston whipped out his sat phone and reported the disaster to Bates. The woman who’d answered before answered again. He told her what he knew. Just as quickly, she confirmed the location, told him help was on the way, and advised him to stay clear of the fire.
