Page 46 of Through the Fire
“If you continue to visit the area around the tower,” he said, hoping she would indeed keep visiting him, “then yes. That’s not an unlikely scenario.”
Despite his words, she was smiling at him again. “I like how you talk.”
The simple, straightforward compliment completely knocked the wind out of him. Before he could even start to think of how to respond, Wes raised his head, inhaling deeply. There was a smoke smell that didn’t fit with the others in the viner—acrid and unfamiliar. “Something’s burning.”
Kit looked toward the kitchen. “Did someone neglect the toast?”
“No. It’s not food.” He inhaled again, but he still couldn’t identify it. “It’s—”
A low beeping from a fire alarm interrupted him, and thick, black smoke immediately started pouring out of the kitchen. The sharp-featured woman ran out of the restroom toward the kitchen door, and Wes stood, peripherally noticing that Kit got up at the same time.
“Don’t go in there,” Kit called across the diner, but the woman ignored her. As she pushed through the door, a billow of black smoke escaped into the dining area, and the cries of alarm turned into coughs. The waitress started hurrying toward the kitchen as well, but Kit stopped her. “Jules, get everyone outside and call Fire.”
Jules, her face pale and anxious, switched directions and started herding customers toward the front entry. Wes stayed next to Kit, who moved quickly through the dining area to the kitchen door, pausing only to grab the fire extinguisher from its spot hanging on the wall. He entered the kitchen, his eyes instantly tearing from the smoke. It wasn’t the pleasant burn of woodsmoke, but the chemical harshness of melting plastic. He paused, taking in the scene, but it was hard to see more than a few feet in the haze.
From the little he could see, the kitchen appeared to be empty, but that couldn’t be true. They’d watched Elena and the other woman enter, so they had to be here somewhere. “Elena!” he called, and the smoke immediately scratched at his lungs, forcing him to cough. That just made it feel worse, though, so he stopped coughing and called again. “Anyone else in here! You need to get out now!”
Kit passed him, moving quickly. “Flames this way.”
He followed, continuing to scan the space for the two women. The dark shapes of equipment and counters looked alien in the thick smoke, and his eyes watered, creating a distorting lens that made it even harder to see. The haze thickened as they got closer to the flames leaping against the back wall, growing even worse as Kit sprayed the fire with the fire-extinguisher foam.
A dark, human-sized form darted across the room. There! Wes moved toward it. “This way! Come this way, and we’ll get you out!” Yelling tore at his lungs, and he started to cough again, feeling like every heave just pulled in more smoke. Wiping at his watering eyes, he peered through the gloom. The figure wasn’t moving toward them, and Wes wondered if they were disoriented by the smoke or panicked. Pressing his arm against his nose and mouth to try to filter some of the smoke, he moved toward where he’d seen the movement. The haze was thicker, and his urge to cough was almost too strong to resist.
Squinting, he peered across through the smoky room, hoping that Kit was okay. He tried to reassure himself that she was trained to deal with emergencies like this, but he still wanted to get her to safety.
There! He saw someone in the gloom, just as the back door was yanked open.
Light flooded the room as the flames behind him leapt higher. He heard Kit curse, and he turned to check on her, his heart accelerating with concern. Seemingly unhurt, she was still working on putting out the flames, and she’d been joined by someone else with a second fire extinguisher.
“Help! Let me go! Someone, help!” A woman’s screams made him whip around, just before the outside door slammed shut, cutting off the sunlight and her cries. Wes’s brain tried to make sense of the situation. What’d just happened? Had someone just been dragged outside against their will?
“Kit!” he yelled, trying to be heard over the noise of the flames and the fire extinguishers and the shouts from Vicki and Kit. He managed somehow, and Kit turned toward him. “It sounded like someone was dragged out through that door!” His voice was rough, but Kit seemed to have understood, immediately rushing toward him. “Through there,” he said, the words rough from smoke inhalation as he pointed toward the back exit. She ran past him toward the door.
Wes followed Kit, catching up to her as she yanked open the door. The cold daylight flooded in, making his lungs and eyes sting even more, and he coughed and blinked, trying to clear his vision.
A loud crack split the air. Kit shoved Wes back into the viner, even before his brain identified the sound as a gunshot. Shocked by the familiar yet unexpected noise, he allowed her to push him back into the smoky haze, resisting the urge to protect her by putting his body between her and the shooter. The logical part of his brain reminded him that she was a cop and knew what she was doing, but the rest of him simply wanted to do whatever he needed to in order to keep her safe.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Another three loud shots were fired in quick succession. He crouched automatically, reaching out to tug Kit with him, but she was already down and was drawing her gun.
“Are you okay?” he rasped. “Are you hit?”
“Code four,” she clipped, her attention locked on the alley behind the viner.
He tried to translate that, but his brain spun uselessly, not finding the answer he needed. “What?”
“Sorry.” She gave him a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her focus to what was happening outside. “Cop speak. I’m fine. You?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.” He couldn’t miss the wealth of relief in her voice. Despite the bullets and the flood of adrenaline and the smoky confusion, her concern warmed him. She shifted forward, cautiously peering around the doorframe. Wes tensed, but the alley outside was silent. The shooter had stopped…for now. “I’m moving to the side of that Dumpster,” she said, her words hushed but authoritative. “Wait here until I give you the all clear.”
The urge to go with her, to protect her, filled him, but he shoved it down. He needed to help her by following her orders. If he let his instinct to keep her safe at all costs take over, he’d just get in her way—and that might get both of them killed. “Got it.”
Tensed for another round of gunshots, he held his breath as she darted into the alley, her gun at the ready. All of the sounds around him—the still-crackling flames, the swearing of the woman trying to put out the fire, the hiss of the fire extinguisher—were drowned out by his heart beating in his ears. Every one of his muscles was clenched with fear as he watched Kit speed across the alley. She was only exposed for seconds, but it felt like an eternity. One shot could’ve taken her out, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Kit dove behind the green metal bin, and Wes let out a hard breath. Now that she was somewhat protected from the shooter, he relaxed slightly and shifted into the doorway to get a better view.
She checked the area and then darted down the alley, staying to one side, close to the buildings. Wes chased after her, his gaze moving from side to side, trying to check all the possible sniper locations at once. He hated that Kit was so exposed, that the shooter could be anywhere—right around the corner, hiding in the doorway, ready to take aim at her as soon as she ran by.
