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“I think it’s blocked,” I yelled over the rush of the flames growing ever closer and the still-blaring fire alarms. “I can’t get the door open.”
She just nodded, an eerily vacant look on her face, like she’d already given up.
No. Fuck no. No giving up. Not now. Not ever.
“Fuck!” Furious, I hauled off and kicked the damned door at hard as I could, but it still didn’t move.
Wisps of black smoke curled down from the ceiling and inched closer to our faces like tentacles. The temperature had to be well over a hundred in there now, and my skin felt sticky and hot and too tight for my body. If we didn’t get out soon, we were both going to die.
NINETEEN
From the wide-eyed terror in Charlotte’s eyes, I knew she was seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. She was already breathing faster and deeper than she should’ve been under the current conditions, and the last thing I wanted was for her to succumb to smoke inhalation.
Spotting a stack of clean towels on the counter near the sink, I ran over and soaked a couple with cool water before handing her one. “Here. Tie this around your face like a mask. It’ll help you breathe easier and will filter out some of the smoke.”
She blinked at me a moment, then took the towel. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but considering we were trapped in a kitchen while her life’s work burned to the ground, I could only imagine what she must be going through.
I got my towel secured, then moved behind Charlotte and brushed aside her shaking fingers to knot hers behind her head as well. Then I took her shoulders and turned her to face me, holding her gaze. Her breathing had gotten even more erratic, and I was afraid she was hyperventilating.
I grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at me. “We’re going to be okay,” I said, slowly and calmly. “I promise you I’ll get you out of here, okay?”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to gather her close and hold her until all her fears went away—but that had to come later. First, I needed to figure out how the fuck I was going to keep my promise.
A loud groan issued from the front of the bar, followed by a huge crash. The whole building shuddered. My pulse kicked into overdrive. The roar of the flames drowned out everything now, even the alarms, and while the sprinkler system had kicked in, the fire was too big to douse at that point. All I could do was pray the fire department would get here soon. I had to keep us alive until then.
Think, dude. Think.
Right. I looked over Charlotte’s shoulder to the window behind the sink. It was small and faced the brick wall on the other side of the alley, but it was better than nothing. It was also reinforced security glass with wires embedded in it, which meant I’d need more than just my fist to smash through it. I squeezed Charlotte’s shoulders a little bit tighter and shouted, “Is there a hammer around here?”
Charlotte began digging around, rifling through all the utensil drawers, searching for something, anything I could use to smash through that glass. My skin felt puckered now from the heat, and there had to be a good foot of smoke hovering near the ceiling. If we didn’t get out of there soon, we’d be cooked alive. At least we were in the kitchen.
I swallowed a bubble of inappropriate laughter down my scratchy throat. Humor was my go-to release when shit got too real. It was kind of an occupational hazard on a SEAL team.
Halfway through another drawer, she found a steel meat-tenderizing mallet and held it up. “Will this work?”
“Yes!” That would work just fine. I took the mallet from her, then climbed up on the counter, putting all my strength behind my swings. It still took three hits to even crack the glass and another two to finally bust through it. Shattered glass sparkled in the moonlight now streaming in from outside, and the blast of fresh air was the sweetest I’d ever smelled. I couldn’t resist lowering the towel and inhaling deeply before using the hammer to knock out any remaining shards in the window frame and laying another towel across the ledge to keep us from being cut to ribbons as we crawled through.
I got down and took Charlotte’s shoulders again, shaking her slightly to make sure she paid attention to me as I shouted, “I’ve got the window open. We need to crawl through. If I get you up there, can you do that for me?”
Her eyes looked dazed and glassy now, and I worried she’d gone into shock on me, but she had enough wherewithal to nod. Good girl.
“Okay.” I climbed up on the counter, then helped her up as well. “Be careful on your hands. I got the glass off as much as I could, but it might still be sharp.”
Another nod, and I boosted her up to the window. I felt her stiffen as she placed her palms on the window ledge, then saw the telltale spread of crimson on the white towel. Shit. My heart hurt, but it was better than burning to death.
She scrambled through the small opening, wiggling slightly when her hips got stuck, and then she was out. I followed close behind her, cursing up a blue streak when I cut myself too on that damned ledge. But outside I could hear Charlotte coughing and gagging, and I knew we’d be okay. That was all that mattered. After dropping down to the alley, I yanked off the towel over my mouth and rushed to her side, pulling her tight to me and holding her close.
We were alive.
At first, she hugged me back. Then her arms went slack, and I drew back to see that she’d fainted. Fuck. I bent to lay her gently on the ground, then checked her pulse and breathing. Behind me, at the end of the alley, were shouts from the fire department. Soon, large searchlights and sirens filled the air.
Two EMTs rushed forward to check on me and Charlotte, but all I could see was her pale face as she sprawled on the ground, looking for all the world like she was dead. I knew she wasn’t. Had felt her pulse flutter against my fingertips. Had seen the rise and fall of her chest. But in all my years as a SEAL, on all those missions in the worst of the worst parts of the world, fighting the most hellacious battles, I’d never been as shaken as I was at that moment.
* * *
“You can ride along if you want,” one of the EMTs said to me a short time later as I watched Charlotte’s stretcher being loaded into the back of an ambulance. “If you agree to get checked out too.”
“Fine.” I didn’t hesitate, though I felt okay. No broken bones, no permanent damage. Just some cuts and bruises. But I would’ve agreed to walk across a field of spikes barefoot if it meant staying with Charlotte. Of course, the guy looked me over, then declared what I already knew: I was okay. I climbed into the back of the rig and took a seat next to Charlotte’s stretcher while a second paramedic gave her oxygen. I held her hand, grateful for the warmth of her touch.
