Page 160 of Mess With Me

I want to laugh. Or cry—I’m not sure which. “That’s Griffin’s family’s hotel,” I say, my voice breaking.

Griffin. Oh Griffin, what I wouldn’t do for you to burst in here in a firefighter’s turnout gear. My hero.

“My husband’s hotel,” I say, my voice wobbly with tears. “I love him. Did you know that? No, how could you? I haven’t even said it to him yet.”

I smile, tears on my cheeks. “I haven’t said it to myself. But I love that man. I love his broody grumpiness. I love the way he pays attention to everything and pretends he doesn’t. I love his inner nerd and his workshop.” I choke out a sob. “It was this guy who burned down Griffin’s cabin, wasn’t it?”

“Was he inside?” Sam’s voice is choked.

I shake my head. “No, he’s…”

My mind flickers back to where it was a moment ago. The workshop.

I glance down at Sam’s ankles, leaning forward as far as my bound hands will allow. “Those are plastic ties,” I say, my skin tingling.

“What?”

“Around our legs. And our hands.” I laugh deliriously, my mind suddenly filled with something new.

Hope.

“Sam,” I say, my voice suddenly filled with tight urgency. “Can you get over here?”

“What?”

“On your chair! Can you come close, and…turn around so our hands line up?”

“I think—why?”

“Because I know a little party trick that might just save our lives. That and my ridiculous manicure.”

Then, from outside, there’s the distinct sound of gravel popping under tires.

Sam looks to the door. “He’s back.”

“Then we have to hurry.”

CHAPTER44

Griffin

My first stop in Quince Valley is my house, which is no longer a house.

It’s also swarmed by firefighters. I storm through the crowd of them, shoving them out of my way, ready to run right into the wet, still-smoldering structure.

But the chief runs out in front of me, his hands spread wide. He catches me on the chest.

“Is she inside?” I shout, pushing forward. “Is my wife inside?”

“We don’t know—”

I shoulder-check him out of my way and run.

I almost make it there, too. But three giant firefighters tackle me to the ground. “You can’t go in there,” one of them shouts at me. Even in my tortured state, I can hear he’s not being an asshole. I know, somewhere, that it’s incredibly unwise to go into a burned-out building, especially since parts of it are still glowing orange.

But all I can see is Sasha. All I can hear is her crying my name.

“Get off me!” I yell. I manage to send one of them flying before two new ones jump on me.

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