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“No, no, no,” he moaned. “Please, no.”
Finn parked the Prius haphazardly and leaped out, not bothering to shut the door before racing down the alley.
As he got nearer, he could see the goldNectar & Ambrosialettering on the heavy door that stood ajar at the top of a concrete loading ramp. Fuck, the firewasin the bakery.
“Gary!” he shouted, vaulting over the ramp’s metal rail, earning a lungful of smoke for his trouble. Coughing, he pulled the neck of his T-shirt up over his mouth. The smoke was so thick he could barely see. He dropped to his hands and knees, hoping the air would be clearer near the floor, and crept through the door.
Through the haze, he could see the metal legs of the prep tables, the toe kick under the cabinets, and the base of some hefty appliance, but nobody’sfeet and—thank the gods—no crumpled bodies. He didn’t see any flames, however, only smoke.
“Gary,” he called again, although his throat closed on the word, making it more of a croak. “Gary, are you in here? Are you all right?”
“Finn!”
Finn’s arms shook, elbows almost buckling from sheer relief. “Gary? Where are you?”
“I’m outside. For the love of the gods, get out of there!”
Steadying his arms, Finn choked and hacked his way back across the kitchen. The instant he breached the doorway, he sucked in a huge lungful of air, only to cough helplessly because the smoke followed him out, nearly as dense as it was inside.
Then a hand appeared through the haze and caught his arm, pulling him stumbling down the concrete ramp and into Gary’s arms.
“You okay?” Finn wheezed.
Gary didn’t answer, his full lips pressed in a tight line as he led Finn away and out of the alley. Tears were leaking down his cheeks, but since Finn’s eyes were watering too, he wasn’t sure whether it was smoke-related, or, you know,smoke-related.
The pavement in front of the bakery was empty, although the sidewalk directly across the street was crowded with milling people, some clutching Nectar & Ambrosia cups, and others just gawking at the spectacle of the dense black cloud hovering over the bakery like its own personal murderous mood.
“What happened?” Finn croaked, his throat burning and his nose stinging like he’d inhaled a handful of nettles. “And where’s the fucking fire department?”
“They’re on their way,” Gary said, a catch in his own voice.
“They should be here now! The whole block could burn down!”
Gary laid his palm against Finn’s heaving chest. “It’s only been two minutes.”
Finn blinked, eyebrows lifting. “Two minutes? But the smoke—”
“Yeah, I know. It started billowing out of the oven and set off the alarm. Melina got all the customers out safely, thank the Fates. I sent Peyton out right away to make the 9-1-1 call, but by the time I left, I hadn’t seen any flames. Just smoke.
Gary’s face crumpled, and Finn pulled him in against his chest.
“I’m so sorry, Gary.”
“My bakery,” Gary said, his voice muffled against Finn’s shirt. “This was my dream, Finn.”
“I know.”
He kissed the top of Gary’s head, the inky curls smelling like the acrid smoke—unless that was just Finn’s nose.Fucking werewolf senses. He probably wouldn’t be able to smell anythingbutsmoke for a week.
“I’d been having trouble with inconsistent bakes this morning,” Gary said with a sniffle, “but I never thought the oven was homicidal.”
Sirens wailed from down the street, getting nearer, and a moment later, the red hook and ladder truck pulled up in front of the bakery, an ambulance and a police patrol car right behind it.
The police officers immediately started herding the onlookers farther away.
“For your own safety, if you’ll move along?” one officer said to Finn and Gary.
“Please,” Gary said. “That’s my bakery. I need to tell the firefighters what I know.”
