AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I need five minutes,” Tyler said. “The fire will help—”
“If you think we have five minutes, you are out of your head.”
Tyler winced. The fire spread. “Just run, Merrick. I’ll be okay.”
“Would you shut up and try?” Michael got Tyler’s arm across his shoulder, and fought to drag him to his feet. “We need to run. Now.”
Cold steel touched the back of his neck. “No, you need to freeze. Right there.”
Shit. Michael froze. The voice sounded familiar, but—
“Hands on your head. Turn and face me.”
Michael let go of Tyler, who collapsed against a tree, though he managed to get his hands up.
Michael turned, his heart in his throat, certain he was living his last moments right here and now.
But he turned around and found himself face to face with Jack Faulkner. Hannah’s father.
“Are you not speaking to me now?” asked Irish.
Hannah glanced across the short space between them. Outside the fire truck, trees raced by and the sirens screamed the path to their next destination, but in here, it had been dead quiet until he’d spoken.
She hadn’t realized Irish had been reading the silence as tension.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not speaking to you?”
He looked at her like he wasn’t sure if she was yanking his chain. “Yeah. Because I stopped you from working the building collapse.”
So much had happened since the restaurant bombing that until now, she hadn’t even thought about how he’d told the chief to make her stay in the truck.
She probably owed him a thank-you, considering that she never would have seen Michael’s texts if she’d been actively working the scene.
“I’m just tired,” she said.
“Just tired? I’m pretty sure that’s the girl equivalent of ‘still pissed.’ ”
hysical labor helped ease some of his rage. His thoughts funneled down to each whack of the hammer. He slammed every nail into the plywood with enough force to crack the window frame behind it. Tyler matched him, nail for nail—though without the rage.
It was funny, but Michael had always thought of Tyler as a do-nothing slacker, but the guy kept pace and worked hard beside him.
Once the windows were covered, Michael picked up another piece of plywood and held it against the door frame. He brushed sweat from his forehead and placed another nail.
“Wait.” Tyler grabbed his arm before he could swing the hammer.
“What?”
“Just wait.”
Michael glanced over, but Tyler was already yanking the plywood out of Michael’s hands and dropping it to the porch.
“What are you—”
“Your house.” Tyler shoved past him, through the door. “It’s on fire.”
CHAPTER 20
The front of the house was dark and untouched, but Michael could smell the smoke as soon as they were through the door. He followed Tyler, who strode through the dining room with clear purpose, stopping short as soon as he entered the kitchen.
