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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I’ve pounded my legs to oblivion. Have no idea how far I’ve gone. I could run for days. It feels so fucking good. The fresh air. The clouds sliding by overhead. The palms swaying along the sidewalk. The cars rolling by with music drifting out.

No fences. No guards. No gangs. Nothing but freedom.

Tears of gratitude sting at my throat as I round the corner toward the apartment. You never know how good life is until you lose it. The simple shit. Like soft sheets. The soap you prefer. The feel of a cold beer sliding down your throat.

Avery took care of everything. She made a welcoming home for me.

I shouldn’t be so hard on her. She’s been through the fucking ringer too. All I’ve ever wanted for her was happiness. That’s all that ever mattered. Our father was shitty to her from the very first memories I have. My mission in life was to make sure she had what she needed and wanted.

I just can’t believe now that’s life with Brock Mitchell. Of all the fucking men in the world.

He and I never clicked. Of course, I didn’t click with anyone in the fire academy. But he was always in my face. Neck in neck in every fucking competition, on every test. Calling my shit out. Like he was some drill sergeant. I had enough bullshit in my life without him making it harder.

Shaking my head, I slow to a walk, letting my legs cool down over the last quarter mile.

That’s when I see a runner coming toward me from the opposite end of the road. He’s big. His gait is long. He looks too fucking familiar.

Shit. Not Brock.

I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with him yet. It’s not even eight o’clock in the morning.

As I get closer, the truth is undeniable. Brock Mitchell in the flesh.

If I’m right, we’ll meet head on in front of the building he owns. The building where I have a bed, a comfortable fucking bed, if I’m man enough to accept it.

His pace slows too when he sees me. His face is hard. I wonder if he’s as unhappy to see me as I am him.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens wail. Brock’s head whips to the side, toward his building, and I watch as his mouth opens in a roar .

In the next instant, he’s sprinting toward the apartment like he’s been shot out of a cannon.

That’s when the smell of smoke hits me.

By the time we reach the lot behind the building, I’m on his heels. Flames are licking at the outside of the detached garage.

We both see it at the same time—The door to the upstairs apartment is standing open. He bellows, “Avery!”

“She’ll try to fight the fire.”

Growling a fierce sound out, he shoves at the garage door. “Fuck, why is this thing hung up? It’s wedged by something. The lock is busted, but something is holding it.”

Together, we throw our weight against it. The wood groans as the air thickens with smoke. Finally, after two more hits, the door moves.

Something hits my ankle. For a second I can’t believe what I’m seeing. A cat and two kittens scramble over my feet and across the yard.

Covering my face with my shirt, I duck into the smoke. “Avery!”

“Avery! Where the hell are you?” Brock yells behind me.

I throw out my arm to stop him.

Oh fuck.

My sister’s across the garage bay. She’s got her hands up. “Please, don’t,” she begs a shadowy figure who’s advancing on her.

Her eyes flick to me through the smoky air, but I’m not sure the guy has seen me. I want to keep it that way. I want the advantage.

Before I can move, she hurls the fire extinguisher at him. It slams into his shoulder, knocking him sideways. Brock jumps past me. Like a lion jumping on prey, he slams the attacker to the floor.

Avery sags to her knees. I’m on her the next instant and scoop her up off the floor. She tries her best to fight me, but I don’t let go. “You can’t leave Brock!”

She’s screaming as I run for the door with her in my arms. “Gunnar, no! Wait!”

“I’ll go back. You’re getting the hell away from here. You’ve already inhaled too much smoke. Do you hear the firetrucks? They’re coming.”

Deep coughs wrack her body. I’m furious and terrified. What the hell was she thinking? I lower her to the curb with a warning. “Don’t move.”

As I sprint back toward the garage, Brock bursts through the doorway dragging an unconscious kid with him like a sack of potatoes. Relief knocks me to my knees.

Thank god, he got out.

It would have destroyed Avery if something happened to him.

Brock yells, “His gas can is in there, I don't know if it's empty, but we need to get the hell away. Get Avery out of here.”

“Roger that.”

We’re safely away from the structure by the time the trucks pull into the alley and surround the garage. The LCFD works quickly to douse the fire and save the building.

The arsonist is bound with belts offered by bystanders. He’s screaming, spitting, completely unhinged.

Avery won’t take her eyes off Brock as he talks to Detective Martin and a female police officer.

“You okay, Pip?”

She rubs her temples and rocks back and forth. “I can’t believe this happened. How did someone know I lived here so quickly?”

“It’s a small town. Probably wasn’t too hard to spot you or follow you. If he’s your arsonist, he may have been watching you while you were investigating."

Avery shudders. “That’s so creepy.” She suddenly covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god. I just remembered something. I have to talk to the detective.” I offer her a hand and pull her up from the curb. When she hurries off to talk with Brock and the police officers, I realize there’s a woman looking at me.

She’s clutching a phone in one hand. A cluster of tattered looking flowers in the other.

Her eyes skate away, almost shyly, but not before I see that they are full of emotion. Clutching a cluster of flowers, she talks—or more like yells in rapid-fire Spanish as she watches the firefighters loading their gear.

I’m totally oblivious to the commotion around me. I can’t peel my eyes off of her. Dark hair brushes her shoulder in a long braid. Her dark brown eyes are wide and lustrous in the morning light. There’s a vibrance about her that makes it impossible for me to look away.

A pink work apron of some kind hugs her curves and tucks in at her waist.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m in motion.

She jumps when I stop next to her. “Madre de dios!”

Extending my hand, I say, “You must be Elena of Elena’s Bouquets.”

She glances at the flowers crushed in her hand. “I guess these were a dead giveaway.”

I nod toward the embroidered apron over her very full and very appealing breasts. “And that. I live upstairs by the way. ”

Her friendly expression instantly morphs into a glare. “You!”

I tilt my head, “Me, what?”

Stomping her sneaker on the pavement, she lights up with barely restrained fury. I’m surprised she doesn’t leap on me. “Feet like an elephant! You scared away my customers. They could not relax. My flower shop is supposed to be relaxing! How can people pick out beautiful bouquets for their wedding when an elephant is clamoring around over your head? No! They cannot!”

I chuckle. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I just?—”

Her eyes drop down to my feet accusingly. “Ahem,” she says and pins me with a look of snapping conviction.

From across the road, a firefighter yells, “All clear, you can go back in the building now.”

“About time!” Without a backward glance, she storms off, a string of Spanish curses in her wake.

When I look over, Brock’s looking at me with a shit eating grin on his face. He raises a brow and I shake my head. Hell no . That’s the kind of trouble I don’t need, right there.