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A fireman grabbed her by the waist. “It’s not safe.”
Gus growled and barked.
Megan shoved at the fireman. “Let me go. Nash,” she screamed. She couldn’t even look at the fireman to see who it was. Panic overtook her, a cold fright sliding straight down to her bones. No. No. No.
Another explosion cracked through the air, sending more of the barn crashing to the ground. Like the pits of hell opening up and swallowing her happiness.
She struggled against the fireman. “There’s too much smoke,” she bellowed. “He’s got no way out.”
“You can’t go in there,” the fireman snapped. “Let us do our job.”
He suddenly released her, and without his support, she dropped to her knees with Gus barking next to her. “Nash,” she breathed.
Chapter 8
The explosion shook the ground beneath Nash’s feet. Hot swirling flames licked the wooden beams above him. He crawled through the barn, unable to escape the blistering heat. Right as he’d entered the burning barn, Nash had questioned his sanity, rescuing kittens he’d never wanted. He still questioned his sanity now. And yet, he only knew he needed to get them out.
The roar of the fire was deafening as he crawled along the floor beneath the thick layer of smoke above him. The front barn doors were engulfed in flames. In fact, there wasn’t much of a barn left after the last explosion. He moved along, hoping to hell the kittens were where his mother had left them. Nash couldn’t recall a time when fear had crippled him. Fear had been something that always motivated him before. Fear woke him up and made him feel alive. When he felt that surge of anxiety, he knew he was pushing himself hard enough. In the PBR, he absorbed that intensity and used the ripe energy to win. Though now, crawling through the barn in flames, heat and smoke above him, he wasn’t only thinking of himself anymore. He was thinking about Megan, about his child, and about the kittens that desperately needed him.
Get in. Get out. Fast.
A piercing yowl had him turning to the right into the first stall. He crawled along the wooden shavings then spotted the kittens in the hay pile. He coughed against the thick air, yanking his shirt over his head then placing the kittens inside. Christ. How little and fragile they were.
Another explosion rippled through the barn. He held his breath, waiting and hoping to hell the barn didn’t crash down around him. When the crackling wood beams held, and with the kittens safely in the shirt against his chest, he crawled out of the stall, noticing the back doors were now engulfed in flames. His lungs screamed for fresh air. Thoughts of Megan blasted through his mind, telling him he needed to act now.
Straight ahead of him, the black smoke was a low, thick cloud over the top of his head. There was no going out the front or back. There was only one way out now. He crawled as fast as he could with the wrapped-up kittens in one arm toward the tack room, the one door not engulfed in flames.
When he got inside, the window had flames licking up the curtains. Nash placed the kittens down for a moment and wrapped his hand in the T-shirt then punched at the glass until it shattered. “Here,” he yelled.
“Nash!” a disembodied voice said.
“Get me the fuck out of here.” Nash reached for the kittens, ensuring he had all three.
On the other side of the window, a fireman appeared, wearing a mask. He used his axe to break out the remaining shards of window, then he grabbed onto Nash by one arm and with the other, gripped the side of his jeans. A second later, Nash was yanked from the window, his right shoulder burning in agony as he landed on top of the fireman.
“We gotta move.” The fireman yanked Nash up, dragging him away.
Another explosion rocked the ground as the fireman released Nash. He dropped to his knees then flopped onto his back, still cradling the kittens in his arms. He coughed and coughed and coughed, desperate for the fresh air he could taste but couldn’t seem to get into his lungs.
“Nash!” his mother screamed.
He stared at the thick black smoke billowing in the air until he spotted his mother’s worried eyes. “I’m okay,” he told her, during a fit of coughing.
“That was stupid,” his mother chided. “You could have killed yourself.”
“Still here,” he muttered, and coughed again.
Nash blinked once, then a beauty filled his vision. Megan stood next to his mother, her hands trembling over her mouth. Her face was blotchy, and tears flooded her face.
Ma pressed her hand to Nash’s forehead. “You’re really okay?”
“Truly.” He offered her the kittens. “They need water.”
“Yes,” Ma said, rising. “Yes, I’ll do that.” She strode away with the kittens, murmuring, “Poor, poor babies.”
Megan slowly came down to her knees as Nash sat up, continuing to cough. When the last bit of gunk cleared from his lungs, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Are those tears in your eyes for me, Freckles?”
She grabbed his face. “You are stupid. Seriously stupid. What in the hell were you thinking?”
