Page 88 of Hiss and Make Up
She reached for the knob again, so he grabbed her by both arms and yanked her away from the stove. With his heart and brain both racing, he dragged her back, out of arms reach of that stove.
He made sure she was looking at him and said, “Gas.”
“Gas? Seriously? You want me to smell—”
She caught a whiff of the same thing he did. Her eyes widened with panic. He held her until the reality of what almost happened set in.
He nodded. “We need to get out of here.”
21
“Wait, Puck.” Sierra lunged for the back door, refusing to leave another animal to a death sentence.
Marc grabbed her arm before she could take more than a step. “We’ll get him from the gate. I know I said I’m not saving you anymore but this is different. Outside. Now.”
She couldn’t even muster annoyance that he was herding her through the front door. Once outside, she called Puck to the gate, scooped him into her arms, and grabbed a leash from her trunk.
They stood together at the edge of the street, far away from that death trap of a house, while Marc called 911. Sierra kissed Puck’s head and wondered how the hell the gas got turned on.
She hadn’t turned that knob. Not yet. That she was certain of. And Marc hadn’t touched it either. They’d been…occupied. Possibly the best occupation of her life, if she were keeping track. Which she wasn’t. Because this was it. There was no one before, as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else after that. Sex with Marc had ruined her for anything else.
So, yeah, they’d been a little busy, and neither one of them had gone anywhere near that stove all afternoon. She was sure of it.
If Marc had left it on earlier that morning, they would have smelled gas the second they walked in the house.
So what happened? That knob sure as hell didn’t turn itself on.
I warned you.
That email. The last warning. It wasn’t referring to the fire. It was referring tothis. The first email had warned Marc to leave, and he didn’t.
Only this mystery woman wasn’t scaring anyone away anymore. She’d tried to kill him. More accurately, she’d broken into the house and tried to kill both of them.
Sierra looked down at the dog in her arms, content to be held like a baby, and remembered how frantic he’d been a few minutes ago.
They’d left the back door unlocked. Puck had jumped until he'd opened it enough to squeeze through. And this woman—whoever she was—must have walked right in.
It wasn’t Chloe. Sierra was almost positive of that. And it didn’t look like Adrien had a female roommate. Maybe a girlfriend with a key? Then again, Adrien didn’t seem like he could score a girlfriend who wore power heels.
A moving truck drove past them to the end of the cul-de-sac. It passed the Millers’ house, then beeped as it backed into the driveway. A “for sale” sign still stood in the front yard.
Power heels.
Marc couldn’t think of a reason the woman would come after them, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a reason. She sure as hell had the perfect opportunity living right there on this very street. And she would know Denise’s schedule.
Marc was still on the phone. Sierra waved her arms, but he swatted her away while he gave the operator his information. She put Puck on the ground, the leash was still wrapped around her wrist. She could wait for Marc to finish his call, but he’d try to convince her to wait for the police.
If falling hopelessly for Marc Dugas had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want to wait around any more.
With Puck trotting beside her, Sierra marched down the street to get some answers.
* * *
Marc stayed on the phone with the operator, while he waited for the fire department. Again. It wasn’t long before he realized he was short one smart-mouthed, tattooed, irresistible girlfriend.
After a moment of panic, he found her and the dog walking down the street. The little bundle of energy wouldn’t sit still for long. He guessed he would have to start calling it Puck soon.
Could the dog have smelled the gas? Was that a thing dogs did?
