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He lunged for me, but I rolled to the side, narrowly escaping his knife.
There was no time to get to my feet.
When he lunged at me again, I kicked his legs out from under him, and he hit the floor.
“You’re not wearing body armor on your head, asshole.”
I put two bullets into his masked forehead, and he went limp.
I jumped to my feet. The shed was fully alight. Plants glowed with green and gold embers. The heavy stench of smoldering cannabis filled the room, stinging my eyes and filling my lungs.
Any minute now, the whole place was going to erupt.
More gunfire chipped into the heavy smoke-filled barn. Pop! Pop! Pop! But through the smoke, I caught a glimpse of the two vigilantes retreating to the front of the barn. There was a glimpse of evening light through the darkness and then the sound of the doors slamming shut and the deadbolt closing.
They’d locked us inside.
Through the heavy smoke, I found Jack.
“This whole place is going to go,” he said, coughing. The smoke was thick, the heat searing. Only a few feet away, a smoldering pile of weed erupted into bigger flames. “If the fire reaches the fertilizer, this barn will go off like a bomb.”
“They’ve locked us in. The only way out is to bust our way out.” I scanned the burning building for a weak point. Flames crawled up the walls and across the tall ceiling. Another flare of fire shot into the air as the seedling nook ignited. We only had minutes before the smoke would overpower us. “There!” I pointed to where I had patched the damage caused by the storm. It was our only chance out of the building.
We ran through a rain of flames dripping from the ceiling.
Behind us, the fertilizer drums caught alight.
The Grim Reaper stormed toward us through the flames.
I kicked the wall boards. Jack joined me, the smoke getting thicker and thicker, the flames coming closer.
The timber boards finally gave way, and we broke into the fresh air and ran for the cornfields just as the barn erupted into a fireball.
I turn off the faucet and step out of the shower.
Wrapping the towel around my hips, I leave the bedroom and find Rory curled up on the bed, lost in thought. Moonlight streams in through the window and seems to hold her in a trance, her beautiful face as smooth as porcelain in the silvery light.
“Are you okay?” I ask, breaking the stillness.
She turns her face toward me, and I see she’s been crying. Tears slide down her flawless cheeks.
“Angel,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her in my arms. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m not normally a crier, I swear.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s adorable. “Tonight was frightening.” I bring her to my chest and smooth down her hair. “Even for me.”
She smiles against my bicep. “Liar. You didn’t look frightened.”
I smile, but it fades. I’m used to hiding the chaos taking place inside.
Cradling her in my arms, I slide in behind her and sink my head into the pillow, my inner turmoil soothed by the sweet song of her breath.
We lie in complete silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was frightened. For one terrifying moment when the flames were chasing me and the smoke was too thick to find my way out of the burning field, I honestly thought I was going to die. The reaper was chomping at my heel, ready to bring down his sickle and drag me down to Hades, and I was frightened. Not because I’m afraid to die, I accepted death a long time ago. Hell, I’ve prayed for it, and one time I even searched for it with a homemade shiv in my prison cell.
But not tonight. For the first time in my life, I feel the need to put distance between myself and death.
