Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (41 page)

"What kind of errand? Can't it wait until we get back?" I knew she still worried about the diner and checked in periodically to go over the schedule and check deliveries, but Teach was doing well enough to handle those things himself.

"No, I have to go now. There's something I want to bring with us for Gran, and I forgot to get it yesterday."

"What is it?" She had my curiosity peaked.

She smiled and shook her head. "Uh uh. Not telling. There might be something for you as well, so just go get ready and I'll be back in a few."

I shot her a look of annoyance and kissed her on my way to the bedroom. "Fine," I grumbled.

I heard her giggling as I closed the door behind me. Little sneak.

NEARLY AN HOUR
later, I sat at the kitchen table with Spencer, drumming my fingers and staring at the wall clock. Where the hell was she? Spencer could see I was getting worried and tried to make small talk to distract me, but I didn't bite. I couldn't focus on anything except the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I'd tried to call Ali to see what was taking so long, groaning in frustration when the sound of her phone ringing echoed from the bedroom. I went in and retrieved it, shaking my head as I placed it on the table between me and Spencer. Fuck. I couldn't believe she'd walked out without it

I ran my hands through my hair and blew out a breath. "What the fuck could be taking so long? What did she have to go to Charlottesville to get whatever the hell it is? Did she have to make the shit herself?" I stopped, brows rising as it hit me. She'd been hiding her paintings from me the last few weeks, covering them whenever I came to the lake to check on her. That was what she'd gone to do. She went to get the paintings.

I snatched my keys off the counter as I relayed my theory to Spencer, who kept right on my heels as I shot down the stairs and out the door. Something was off. She should have been back by now.

An icy cold feeling of dread snaked its way up my spine and clenched my galloping heart.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Spencer insisted on driving, and I didn't even bother to argue. I tossed him my keys and climbed into the passenger side, mind reeling and wondering what the hell could have happened in such a short amount of time. I snatched my phone out of my pocket and called the diner. When Lauren answered, I glanced at the clock on the dash, realizing just how late it had gotten. "Lauren, this is Clay. Is Ali there?"

"No. Ali doesn't work here anymore. Shouldn't her boyfriend know that?" For once she sounded more confused than snide, which threw me off.

"She went to run an errand, and I haven't seen her since. If she comes in, have her call me, okay? I know you aren't fond of either of us but now isn't the time, so please just tell her to call me."

Lauren sounded genuinely concerned as she said, "Okay, I will. I promise."

We turned onto the road that led to the house, and as soon as the open gate was visible, I knew I'd been right. I tried to relax, knowing that this was our safe place, the place we came when we needed to regroup. Maybe Ali was sitting by the lake gearing up for our trip and lost track of time. Maybe this was all in my head.

All the rationalizations in the world weren't going to untie the knot in my stomach. Only having her in my arms would do that.

We emerged from the tree-lined driveway, and my attention was immediately drawn to the blue Jeep parked beside the house. My eyes darted to the lake path, wondering if I'd find her standing at her easel putting finishing touches on a painting. Would she laugh at my concern?

I glanced over at Spencer and saw him squinting through the windshield as we drew closer to the house. Following his gaze, I tried to decipher what had grabbed his attention. My eyes narrowed when I saw that someone had left the fucking backhoe parked right up against the house, blocking the basement door and sitting on a recently poured slab of concrete. Someone was going to pay for that. The weight of that thing was going to buckle the concrete.

I started to turn to Spencer when a flicker of light caught my attention. I frowned as I searched the front of the house for the source, finally locking in on the living room window. I squinted and stared as Spencer steered the truck off the gravel and onto the grass in front of the house, picking up speed. The flicker came again, faint behind the large cloth the crew had used to block the blinding sun from the room.

Was that candlelight?

Oh, God! No no no! It wasn't the light from any fucking candle. The house was on fire!

I snatched my door open and leaped from the still-rolling truck, Spencer yelling at my back. I didn't slow to see if he was behind me. I raced up the stairs and reached for the knob, twisting it furiously before jerking my hand back with a hiss. Fuck! The knob was too hot to touch.

I looked around in a blind panic for something to throw through the window, as Spencer bounded up the steps and yelled. "The whole room is filled with flames, we have to find another way!" Not waiting for me, he jumped off the porch and ran toward the side of the house. Rounding the corner behind him, I nearly ran into his back. He was stopped just beside the backhoe, cursing as he checked for the keys.

He pulled back, empty-handed and stared at me blankly. I was just about to tell him to check the barn for the keys when I heard it. The faint sound of someone yelling was coming from the other side of the basement door. I went to the egress window, but there was a film of soot that kept me from seeing in. The window, I remembered, was reinforced like all the others. The only way to open it was from the inside. I crouched down and yelled, "Ali! Come over to the window and I'll get you out. If you can get it open, I'll pull you out, baby. Okay?"

I tilted my head to one side, straining to hear. I couldn't make out much of what she said but the words 'my leg' were crystal clear. She couldn't stand, and if she couldn't stand, she couldn't reach the window. Goddamnit!

I pressed as close to the window as I could, telling her, "It's okay, Alison. I'm going to get you out. Cover your mouth and nose with your shirt and I'll find a way to get to you. I swear I will."

I didn't wait for a reply. I sprinted to the back of the house and prayed the fire hadn't spread to the kitchen.

I jumped onto the back deck and leveled my gaze on the monstrous oak door. I tried the knob, cautiously this time and found it cool to the touch but locked tight. My terror doubled when I realized how high on the frame the deadbolt was. No well-placed kick was going to pop that door open. The solid, oak door.

With Ali's muffled cries ringing in my ears, I clenched my jaw and charged the door, throwing all my weight, anger, and fear into the blow. Stepping back, I braced myself and rammed my shoulder into it again. And again. And again. On the fourth strike, I heard a pop and my whole arm felt like it had been thrown into the flames.

Son of a bitch!

Spencer's voice rang out from behind me. "I have the keys but there are ten on the Goddamn ring, and I don't know which one it is or if the backhoe key is even fucking on here."

I took a deep breath, gathering my resolve and ignoring the pain in my arm as I shouted. "Don't you dare give up!" Though, whether I was talking to him, or Ali, or myself was anyone's guess. "I don't care if you have to ram that fucking thing with my truck, you get it out of my way. I may not be able to get back out once I'm down there. Now GO!"

I stepped back to the edge of the porch and charged the door again.

Holy motherfucking shit!

My arm hanging uselessly at my side, I backed up and rammed the door again. This time I was rewarded with the cracking sound of splintering wood. I stepped back and narrowed my gaze on the door, locating the weak spot and refocusing my efforts.

Adjusting my aim a few inches to the left, I hit it again. Crack! I could see the light from the fire through the slim opening.

Again.

Crack!

Again.

Crack!

The whole door split, and a blast of smoky air hit me in the face. Turning my head and taking a deep breath, I kicked my way through and shouted for Alison. I snatched off my shirt, sending buttons flying in my haste. I wadded it up, covering my mouth and nose. Why the hell wasn't the fire alarm going off?

I turned to my left and strode across the kitchen toward the flame-filled hallway that separated the kitchen from the living room. The door to the basement was a few feet down the hall on the left, directly across from the living room, which was also filled with flames. I watched in horror as the fire edged closer to the door, slowly cutting off any possibility of getting to Alison.

I turned back toward the shredded back door, remembering the extinguisher that had been mounted under the sink. Darting over to the cabinet and triumphantly snatching the canister from its bracket, I rushed back to the hallway entrance and wedged it between my knees so I could pull the pin, sweeping the nozzle in a widening arc as best I could with one mostly useless arm.

I managed to clear an area large enough to allow me access to the basement door before the canister sputtered and died. Tucking it under my injured arm with a grunt of pain, I wrapped my shirt around the knob and turned. The door popped open with a groan, the heat having warped the wood in its frame. I pulled it closed behind me to keep the smoke out and rushed down the stairs into the basement.

Spencer must have turned on the headlights on either the truck or the backhoe because it filtered dimly through the egress window and small glass panels in the door. The smoke was thick at the top of the stairs, stinging my eyes and forcing me to step carefully with tears blinding me. When I reached the bottom, the smoke had thinned somewhat but was still dense. I swept my gaze around the room and froze. Ali lay motionless on the floor below the window, pieces of a broken flashlight scattered all around her. Lungs aching and eyes burning, I blinked several times at her smoky silhouette, brokenly waiting for her to move.

Oh dear God don't let it be too late.

The smoke wasn't as thick down here, but she'd been trapped for so long.

She wasn't moving.

This couldn't be fucking happening.

I couldn't lose her. Not her.

She wasn't breathing.

She couldn't leave me alone.

The crushing weight of grief settled over me as I slumped to my knees, just a few feet from where she lay so small and still. I removed the shirt from my face, no longer caring if the smoke overtook me. I let the extinguisher slip from under my arm, barely registered the sound of the empty canister hitting the concrete floor, the metal ringing out loudly.

Wait!

Did she?

Was that a flinch?

Oh my God, did the sound make her flinch?

I held my breath and stared, staggering to my feet when her fingers flexed. I stumbled over to her, coughing and grinning down at her through the smoke. I crouched down and lifted her into my lap, my right arm screaming out in protest. I stood as slowly as possible, careful not to hurt her but also making sure my injured arm wasn't going to give out and make me drop her.

I stared into her soot-covered face. "Alison, can you hear me? Talk to me, slugger. Let me see those gorgeous green eyes for just a second. Please, baby, look at me." Nothing. I begged again, my voice pitiful and shrill. "Please, Alison, don't you leave me, dammit." I lay my forehead on hers, her faint breath tickling my cheek and giving me the hope words had not.

She stirred a bit in my arms, groaning and coughing softly. "You called me Alison." It was barely a whisper, but it was the most beautiful fucking thing I ever heard. I pulled back to look at her face, and her eyes fluttered open for just a moment before she smiled softly and closed them again. "I guess I was wrong again. I did need you to save me." With that, she went limp, having passed out in my arms.

I pressed a kiss to her lips and whispered, "No, baby. You saved me."

The sound of the backhoe starting drew my attention from her face, and I started making my way to the door. Once I got to the other side of the large basement, I leaned us against the wall for a moment to catch my breath, thankful I'd brought my shirt with me so I could cover Ali's face with it. She needed it more than I did.

A moment later, when I saw the piece of equipment begin to move, I staggered to the door and fumbled with the lock while trying to keep Ali in my arms. It took an excruciatingly long time, but I finally managed it. Spencer stood on the other side with his hand on the knob, jerking the door open as soon as the lock disengaged.

He rushed in and tried to pull Ali from my arms. I all but growled at him, not wanting to let her go but he reminded me that we needed to get her to the hospital as fast as possible, and I was barely able to hold her much less run with her.

I made it out the door before I reluctantly let him take her. I staggered along behind them, the sounds of sirens wailing as an ambulance and firetruck emerged from the tree-lined driveway. The flashing lights irritated the fuck out of my furiously stinging eyes, but I was so glad to see them that the tears running down my face were only partially from the smoke.