He breathed her in and felt her heartbeat in time with his.
Their first few days may have been chaotic—no one would describe their introduction on the beach as a meet-cute. But he knew there was more between them than adrenaline-fueled attraction. And when they got back to the States, he fully intended to find out what it was like to spend time with Lena Ashworth when bullets weren't flying and family members weren't missing.
She leaned back and met his eyes, a soft smile on her face. "I think—"
Something crashed against the cottage door.
Nash sprinted through the small space to the door and threw it open. Fire engulfed the front steps and the porch. Flames licked at the door. He slammed it shut to slow the fire's progress into the cottage, but it wouldn't buy them much time. Someone must've used a liberal amount of accelerant.
Breaking glass alerted him to a flaming object hurtling into the cottage through the kitchen window.
Their exit options were dwindling.
He feared a second object would crash through the front window near Lena, but nothing happened.
He scanned the sparse cottage for any means of escape. "Help me with the couch."
Lena started coughing. "What?"
He ran to one side of the upholstered couch and lifted it. "Get the other end. We're going to move it to the window and prop it up on its end. Then we'll push it through the window. It'll be your path out. It'll catch fire in a few seconds, so move quick. Once it goes through the window, crawl across the couch and get free of the fire as soon as you can. Hold your breath."
For a second he was afraid she was going to say he was crazy. But she nodded. "Okay, let's do it."
They heaved the couch to the window and stood it up on its end. Nash tipped it over until it broke through the picture window. The bottom of the couch rocked back and forth over the windowsill like a sofa teeter-totter.
"Go, go, go now! Jump!" he shouted. She only needed to clear two feet of flaming porch to reach the safety of the sand. As long as she didn't hesitate—
Climbing onto the teetering couch gracefully in her party dress wasn't possible, but she didn't care. Escaping the fire was her only goal. The serene beach beyond the flames shimmered like a mirage in the moonlight, promising safety—and breathable air. She scooted across the outdated seating, the itchy upholstery scratching her knees.
Until the back of the couch ignited. Then all she felt was terror. She launched herself forward. The couch seesawed with her weight, landing on the burning porch. Flames licked the air to her right and left. No thinking. Just panic-jumping through the blaze.
She hit the sand, sucking oxygen into her burning lungs. Tears flooded her eyes, fighting against the stingingsmoke. Through her blurred vision, she barely made out a Nash-sized mass land next to her. She heard his coughing more clearly than she saw his face.
"Come on." Nash's voice. Gravelly and insistent.
He pulled her to her feet and guided her away from the burning cottage.
Ear-piercing protests jerked their attention another twenty yards down the beach—where Knox held Delphine firmly pinned to the sand.
Lena's stomach twisted. The woman who'd been so friendly to her . . . had just tried to kill her. And Nash. The fact sickened her. She followed Nash closer to the pair, watching Knox secure Delphine's wrists with handcuffs.
"Is she our arsonist?" Nash asked.
"Yeah. Sorry it took me a minute to get to her. Jason and Allie have everyone else trussed up over there." He jabbed a thumb toward the pier where Chester, Frank, and Manny sat in an angry little row, hands secured behind their backs.
A pop echoed through the night, and the flames on the cottage grew.
"We need to get farther back. Away from the fire," Knox said. "Jason is calling the fire department on his sat phone, but it'll take them forever to get out here. At least thebreeze isn't strong tonight. Hopefully, the fire will stay contained to the cottage."
They marched all four prisoners down a sandy path back to the road. When they reached the cars, Jason pulled out his sat phone again and started talking to important people, arranging logistics.
Squinting in the moonlight, Lena scanned Nash, head to toe, searching for any sign of injury. Or singed body parts.
His warm grin relaxed her anxiety a fraction. "I'm fine, Lena. You okay?"
She tried to take an inventory of herself, but so much adrenaline still surged through her that she wasn't sure she'd feel a broken bone if she had one.
But she was alive. And Nash was alive. And Cassidy was alive.
