Page 86 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year

“You’d need my help,” she filled in.

“No. I knew I’d needyou.” He inched closer because hecouldn’t stay away. “I’m better when I’m with you, Maggie. Everything is better when I’m with you.”

She was wavering, teetering. And he wanted nothing more than to kiss her tears and kill her demons. He’d kill every last one if she’d only let him.

“Is this the part where you say I should trust you?” Her voice broke, and Ethan shook his head.

“No. It’s the part where I say you should trust yourself.”

The trowel clanged to the floor and her eyes closed. It was like someone had just taken a thousand pounds off her shoulders and she was going to stumble because she’d gotten so used to the weight.

“I’m not crazy.” Her voice was faint and frail and breaking.

“I know.” And then she was in his arms and all Ethan wanted to do was hold her, but—

A streak of light caught his eye—another flashlight and a dim silhouette beyond the frosty glass, and he knew. He knew but he rushed for the door anyway, pressing and cursing when it didn’t move.

“Maggie, watch—”

A shatter cut off the words. Glass rained down as the smell of gasoline filled the air. Gasoline. And fire.

Flames leapt across the floor and up the tables, but the sprinklers overhead did nothing. Maybe they’d been tampered with. Or maybe they just didn’t work when the power was out. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Maggie, who stood between Ethan and the flames that were spreading across the tables, racing toward the cold, dead plants.

“Ethan!”

Do you know what happens when poisonous plants burn?

They turn into poisonous smoke.

Ethan forgot about the door and dove, crawling to the place where Maggie was already clawing at the floor, pulling up the trapdoor, and disappearing into the dark.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Maggie

Maggie’s eyes were blurry and her head was throbbing. Her legs hurt from the short fall and hard stop, but the thing she was most aware of was the dense, heavy weight on top of her, pressing her down and not letting her move.

Ethan.

“Get off me,” she said just as aboomechoed overhead and there was nothing but heat and the sound of shattering glass. And Ethan. Pressing himself against her as the trapdoor rattled and dirt rained down. Covering her. Protecting her.

And, so help her, when he pulled back and muttered, “Chemicals,” it was the sweetest thing any man had ever said, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure where the heat was coming from, the fire or the man on top of her, worry and fear all over his face.

Sweat beaded on his brow, sliding over hot skin. “We have to get out of here. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

“I... I’m fine.” As she climbed to her feet, she felt steady enough, but the beam of her flashlight was shaking, vibrating in the dark, and once they were far away from the fire, she felt him stop and turn her.

“Let me look at you.” He directed the light in her direction.

“I’m okay.” But his hands were in her hair—which usually felt really good, but he touched a place that felt reallynotgood, and she couldn’t help but wince. “Ow.”

She watched Ethan go cold. “I’m going to kill someone.”

He sounded like a man making a to-do list.Buy light bulbs. Gas up car. Slay your enemies and salt their fields.It wasn’t a threat or a promise or a dare. It wasan inevitability, and for the life of her, Maggie couldn’t bring herself to argue.

So she took his face in her hands and met his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“You were gone.” His forehead pressed against hers, and his breath was a whisper on her lips. “You hated me and you were gone.”