Page 49 of Last Chance Christmas

Almost.

It certainly had him considering other things. Like asking her out, if he could pull the words together. Probably not the best timing while protecting her, but he couldn’t deny the hope that welled up inside. Hope that if he did ask, maybe she wouldn’t brush him off.

Back at the almost empty firehouse, they shed their wet jackets and gear and got to work in the small storage room again while waiting for the others to get back. Della measured out wrapping paper and cut while he folded and taped. Their pile grew until she pulled another box out.

“What else happens at this toy drive?” Anthony put a sticky green bow on a LEGO set they’d wrapped.

“We’ll have a big meal for the kids and their caretakers here at the firehouse. Some games and crafts too. Santa is the big finale. After the guests leave, we have our work Christmas party. It’s fun.”

She glanced up at him through her dark lashes, her lips tipping up into a slight smile like she was going to say more—and froze. She swayed, her body listing to one side before she caught herself on the edge of the table.

“Della, are you?—”

She swallowed hard. Closed her eyes. “I just got really dizzy.”

A wave of nausea hit Anthony. How had he not registered the onset of a headache?

His migraines often came on hard and fast, but he usually felt one before it was this bad and took his meds to stave it off. He must’ve been distracted.

The whole room tilted. For a quick moment, he looked up, trying to figure out what was going on. “Up there. What’s that?” He pointed to the barely visible cloud of white gas dropping into the room from a vent.

Della started to look up but then fell to the ground before Anthony could catch her.

“Della!”

Whatever it was coming through that vent, it wasn’t good.

Air. They needed fresh air.

He dragged Della to the door. Collapsed against it. The knob didn’t budge.

Locked in.

His legs refused to work. Anthony dropped down to the ground next to Della. Her eyes didn’t open when he tried to rouse her. She moaned, clutched her head, and curled into a ball.

Thoughts didn’t form. But pure instinct had him pounding on the door. They needed out. Now.

Help. He needed to call for help. Anthony reached for his radio.

Not there. He’d set it on a charger when they came inside.

Phone? His hands felt heavy and clunky as he searched his pockets. His vision blurred, blackness creeping in on the sides. He pounded the door again.

They were trapped, and he was losing consciousness.

Some protector he’d turned out to be.

Eight

As she lay on the floor dying, Della could’ve sworn she heard a laugh. A familiar, evil laugh. She was close enough she kicked at the door. But with everything swirling in and out of focus, maybe it was only a horrible nightmare. The pain sure felt real. Each pound on the door sent a shockwave through her skull. They needed to get out. She couldn’t breathe.

Anthony’s eyes rolled back into his head as he leaned against the thick metal door.

Lord, help. And please don’t let him get away with this.

Because no doubt Jason Vaynes was behind all this.

Footsteps on the other side of the door stopped. The knob jiggled. Anthony fell into the hall. Della tried to move but couldn’t. Strong hands dragged her out of the room.