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“Huh?”
“Your fuckin’ key, babe,” he growls against my lips. I want to tell him to bust the door down. He’s big enough, and it’ll be faster.
I fumble to get my key out of my purse when Tate’s phone rings in his front pocket, right against my clit. “Oh god…”
“Fuck.” He puts me down in front of my door and pulls out his phone, looking at the screen. “Fuck, hold on—this is Tate.”
He turns his back to me, spitting out mumbo jumbo. I don’t pay attention because I’m too busy jamming my key into my lock. I finally get the door open and hurry inside, tossing my purse and kicking off my shoes. I pull my shirt over my head, getting right to it, when a thin line of resistance stops me. I pull my shirt back down, inspecting the thin, translucent wire. “What the—?”
I barely blink before flames erupt from my kitchen, the air pressure throwing me sideways and slamming me into the couch. My vision blurs, and I howl in pain as something sharp stabs into my leg. My eyes burn from the smoke. My scream echoes along the whizzing of fire. The heat scorches my skin, and I scream out. I hear Tate’s voice, but the ringing in my ears muffles it.
“Tate!” I cry out when two arms scoop me from the ground.
“I’ve got you,” he says, lifting me. Another wave of heat erupts. Tate hisses, running through the smoke for the open door. “Hold on.” He hurries down the stairs to the first floor and shoves his shoulder into the door, thrusting it open to rush outside. Tate sets me down and skims his hands over my body. He pulls out his phone and starts yelling for an ambulance, spitting out my address. “Mindy, are you hurt? Talk to me.”
“My leg.” His fingers graze down, and I wince.
“Fuck, There’s a piece of glass. I’m going to pull it out—”
“No! Please. It’s going to hurt more.”
His hands are back at my face. “Ambulance is on the way. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Wha—What happened?” I blink, trying to focus. Pain, anger, and regret shine in his eyes.
“A bomb went off in your kitchen.”
“A bomb? Like someone tried tokillme?” My stomach twists. I’m going to be sick.
“I fucked up. I should’ve gone in before you—”
“No, Tate, no.” I shake my head. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t—”
“You should have never been in there. This is on me.”
“Tate—”
Siren’s blare, and he stands, flagging them down. Blue and red lights bounce off the building as police flood the area. A paramedic runs toward us. “She’s hurt. Glass in her leg. Possible smoke inhalation. I don’t see any visible burns.”
“Let’s get her on the gurney.”
Tate lifts me, and I gasp at the movement. “I’ve got you, babe,” he murmurs in my ear.
“My shoulder. I hit the couch pretty hard.” The medic pulls back my shirt.
“It’s not dislocated, but there’s a gnarly bruise already forming. I’m going to give you something for the pain. When we get to the hospital, they can take a better look at your leg.” I nod and look up at Tate.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“Are you—what are you doing?”
“I need to take care of this. I’ll be right behind you.” I call his name, but he’s already in beast mode, yelling at cops. I lift my head from the gurney, and panic floods my system as I watch him go back into the apartment building. “Tate!”
“I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay?”
“I don’t need anything,” I say as he injects the needle into my arm. “He shouldn’t go back in there. You need to go…get…him…” The doors to the ambulance close, and so do my eyes.
Chapter ten
