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“I didn’t say that,” Nate held out his hand. “Hell, it could have been anyone. We have no fucking clue at this point, so if it’s someone she truly believed wasn’t a threat then maybe she would have. And don’t forget she left her purse. That indicates she was planning on returning.”

“You’re right.” He scrubbed his face with his palms, wishing to hell he could turn back time and make her wait for him at Brian’s. Ethan led the way to the front door and he stopped when he reached the entryway.

His gaze landed on the area rug of mosaic shapes as he tucked his Glock at the small of his back. Something was missing…

Her shoes.

“Her shoes and car are gone, but she left her purse and the front door ajar. She wouldn’t have left the house without her purse, nor would she not have locked up.

” His thumb ran over the pads of his fingers.

Someone must have come to the door. Someone she would have left with, and had let her guard down for.

But who? Who could have sidelined her?

“Maybe she was looking for something. She could have run next door to your place. Let’s go check there.”

Ethan yanked the door open and shut it firmly behind him. Who the hell could have taken her right off her porch? He had to talk to the neighbors, maybe someone had seen something, even a vehicle description would be helpful at this point.

His gaze lingered on the porch and walkway, then over the grass. Not a thing jumped out at him. No clue, no breadcrumb…fuck all.

He dug his keys out of his pants pocket and preceded Nate up the steps. He gripped the handle and shoved the wooden door with his shoulder first—it didn’t budge. Hope deflated in his chest with the force of a popped balloon. He inserted the key and swung the door open.

“Riley!” he called, his voice boomed through the kitchen and to the back of the house. He didn’t bother kicking his shoes off and his feet scuffed across the linoleum. The blinds were drawn tight, blocking out the natural sunlight that normally filled the house.

He never shut the blinds this morning.

His senses prickled and his skin puckered at the back of his neck. He scanned the quarters around him and made his way further into the kitchen.

She had to be here.

Please, god—

The scent of rotten eggs reached his nostrils and he crinkled his nose. What the hell? He extended his hand along the kitchen wall just outside the living room, groping for the light switch.

“Ethan, get back!” Nate gripped his bicep and barreled him to the front door.

His rough hands shoved at his back until he careened down the porch steps.

The hard, unrelenting concrete walkway slammed into his back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

A low ring from the house’s landline on the kitchen counter carried through the open window.

“Jesus, Nate! What the—”

Boom!

The front kitchen windows exploded and glass erupted into the air.

Ethan covered his face with his elbow and got to his feet, pedaling out of harm’s way of the shards leaping out like jagged fangs.

His eyes burned from the smoke and debris that coated his clothes.

He stumbled to the sidewalk with Nate at his heels, pain shot through his shoulder from where Nate had thrown him to the ground.

Flames licked around the frame that used to be a window and through a hole in the roof.

Black smoke billowed out from every orifice.

He gulped in fresh air but it did nothing to stifle the panic rising in his chest.

Nate gripped his elbow. “You can’t go in there man, there’s a fucking gas leak. Didn’t you smell the sulfur?”

Sweat rolled down the side of his neck and collected at his shirt. The wet material turned abrasive.

“She’s not in there,” he continued.

Ethan’s pulse dropped to a low hum. He wanted to take Nate’s word for it, but there was no way he could. “I need to see for myself. Call the fire department while I look in the windows.”

He didn’t wait for Nate to reply as he charged for the side of the house. A thick knot sat between his shoulder blades. If he had turned on the light switch when he’d been in the house, they’d both be dead.

Someone had planned that.

That’s why the blinds had been drawn during the day in the middle of summer—so that he would turn on a light. He shook his head. Fuck, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been too concerned with finding Riley that he hadn’t registered the odor as gas.

Heat radiated off the exterior as he ducked along the house.

He reached the living room and glass and faux wood blinds lay on the grass from the force of the ignition.

He covered his nose and mouth and hefted himself to the windowsill.

Light streamed inside from the now broken windows, but thick smoke made his sightline murky.

His gaze scanned over the vacant couch, and the objects from the walls that now lay on the floor.

He leapt down and circled the back of the house where the only bedroom lay. Pulling himself up to the window again, he took in the ten-by-ten space. Aside from the bed and dresser, the room was vacant. Relief spread through him.

She hadn’t been in the house. The explosion had been intended for him and him only.

Which meant Riley had to be alive… Somewhere.