Twelve
For the second time that day, Norah was eyeing a door as if it were about to fall over and smoosh her. It was four minutes after ten, and the alley had developed the eerie shadows and pockets of stalker-hiding darkness that it’d lacked during daylight. Still, her anxiety took precedence over her worry about her personal safety at the moment. Normally, she just walked in, but that was when the gym was officially open. She wasn’t sure whether she should knock, since this was Dash’s home, and she wouldn’t just walk into someone’s house without knocking.
And for the second time that day, the decision was taken away from her when the door jerked open. Dash started to charge through but stopped abruptly before running her over.
“Norah.”
What was the response to that? She went with, “Yes.”
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“You look nice.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual, and she glanced down at herself. She’d showered away the sweaty day and agonized over what to wear until she’d finally asked Molly to pick out something for her, swearing she’d wear whatever her sister chose. Molly had raided Felicity’s closet, deciding on a pretty blue dress and flats. Although it felt strange to wear a dress since her usual uniform was jeans and hoodies, the cut wasn’t revealing enough to make Norah uncomfortable, and she liked how the skirt felt when it flared and swung as she moved.
A little belatedly, she said, “Thank you.”
“Why didn’t you come in?” Stepping back, he waved her inside.
“I was about to knock.”
“Knock?” He gave her a sidelong look. “You don’t need to knock. Just come in next time.”
“But this is your home—upstairs at least. It seemed rude.” She glanced around as he locked the door behind them. The gym looked dim and shadowy with the lights turned off, but it smelled the same as it always did—like sweat and vinyl. There must be something wrong with her, since she was starting to kind of like the stink. It reminded her of her sessions with Dash. “Did you need something outside?”
“What?”
“You were going outside just now, but I blocked your way.”
His usual half shrug looked the tiniest bit sheepish. It always struck her how incongruous any type of hesitation or insecurity looked on him when he was so large and confident. “Just going to check if you were there.”
“It’s only four minutes after ten.” Probably five now , her mind corrected, but she ignored that pedantic voice.
“I know.” He scowled harder, but she was pretty sure it was just to cover that tiny fissure of insecurity in his hard outer crust. “Come upstairs.”
She almost smiled. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one who changed the subject when answers got uncomfortable. Curious to see his home, she followed him through a door and up some stairs. He held open another door at the top, filling the space in the doorway with his large frame so she had to brush against him as she slipped by. Her skin buzzed from the contact, and she mentally shook her head at her reaction. She was so giddy around him. It was ridiculous, really.
She stepped into his living room and immediately approved. The space was lofted but still felt cozy somehow. For some reason, she’d thought it would just be a continuation of the gym, with weight machines and mats as the only furniture, but now she realized how silly that mental picture was. His floors were a pale wood, mostly covered by an area rug. Tall windows with white sills were covered by closed blinds, but she imagined how the place looked during the day when it was filled with sunlight. The overstuffed couch and chairs were a soft-looking dark brown fabric that could only be described as plush. The flat-screen TV mounted on the wall was a completely reasonable size and framed by two packed bookshelves that reached the ceiling.
The kitchen, set on the other side of the open space, was also surprising. The white cabinets reminded her of something she would see in a farmhouse, although the granite island and countertops fit her idea of what a loft would have.
Dash cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been standing there, silently staring at his home for who knew how long. “I like it,” she said.
His grunt sounded satisfied as he put a hand on her lower back as if to usher her farther in. She resisted his light touch long enough to take off her shoes and then let him nudge her to the couch.
“It’s surprising but also not.” She wasn’t sure if that made sense but continued anyway as she sank into the cushy depths of the sofa. “It reminds me of you.”
“Surprising but not?”
“Yes.” She watched as he settled next to her, far enough away that they weren’t touching but close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to make contact if they made the slightest effort. “You’re made up of bits and pieces that shouldn’t fit together, but it all somehow works.”
His brows drew together as he made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “Not sure if that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” she assured him, meaning every word. “I like both you and your home.”
His eyes narrowed and darkened in a fascinating way, so fascinating that she couldn’t look away as he leaned closer. Her heartbeat picked up speed as she tipped toward him. She hadn’t thought they’d get to the making-out part of the evening so quickly, but she didn’t really have any dating experience to pull from, so maybe they were following the usual schedule.
Before their lips could meet, he pulled away, making her frown. Even though she hadn’t expected the kissing part to come so quickly, she definitely wasn’t opposed to it.
He grimaced slightly as he stood. “Forgot to ask. Want a drink? Hungry?”
For a moment, she blinked at him, more taken off guard by the reason he’d moved away from her than his verbal shorthand. She wasn’t thinking about food or drink at the moment. Would it be rude to just ask for more kissing instead? She figured it probably was, or at least it would be awkward. “Um…water?”
With a clipped nod, he moved to the kitchen area. Pulling her feet up and crossing her legs, she turned sideways so she could watch him over the back of the couch. She loved how he moved, so smooth and ninja-like. It was another one of those shouldn’t-fit-but-it-works-for-Dash things, since she’d assumed such a big, muscle-bound guy would make some noise when he walked.
“How’d your thing with Cara go?” he asked, pulling out a water pitcher from the fridge.
“Really well, actually.” She beamed as she thought of how unexpectedly nice Chloe had been and how easy—well, once she got past the awkward part—it’d been to chat with her. “I talked to Chloe. I like her.”
Pausing with two glasses in his hands, he looked over his shoulder as if checking to see if she meant what she said. After a moment, he set the glasses on the counter. “Good. Think she’s wrapped up in Leifsen’s…nonsense?”
As usual, his effort at not swearing was endearing, a part of what made up Dash. His question quickly erased her smile though. “I don’t know.” Drawing up a knee, she rested her chin on it. “I hope not. She’s so much better than him.”
His grunt sounded like agreement as he poured the water and returned the pitcher to the fridge.
“We should probably go see her band play on Saturday just in case he shows up.” Jitters made her nerves feel electrified when she realized she was in the process of asking Dash out on a date. It might have a work element to it, but if being with Dash at Dutch’s could feel like a date, then going to an intimate concert under the stars would certainly qualify.
“Where?” Walking back over, he handed one of the glasses to her before retaking his seat on the couch. It might have been her imagination, but she was fairly sure—at least sixty-five percent sure—that he’d placed himself slightly closer to her. If she moved her left knee even a half inch, they’d be touching. Knowing that made it impossible to move a muscle, but at the same time, she felt like she’d burst out of her skin if she didn’t move.
“Um…” It took some effort to recall the question. “It’s an outdoor show at Saturn Canyon, close to McCann, which is a tiny town with an illogical number of residents.” When Dash looked at her blankly, she hurried to add, “In the mountains west of Denver.”
During the following pause, Norah thought that her heart would stop. If he rejected her, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get up the nerve to ask anyone out ever again.
“I’ll drive us.”
Just like that, her heart started beating again. Their date was planned. Maybe their fourth? She mentally ran over their lunch and then Dutch’s and tonight—but should she count their last training session? There had been kissing after all—
A crash of glass cut her thoughts off abruptly. The heavy blinds covering the left-side window billowed toward them, and something heavy thudded onto the floor right below the sill. Norah stared at the dark shape, her mind trying to process what was happening, but Dash was already up off the couch. He moved so he was standing in front of her, blocking her view of the object and that entire wall of the apartment. The silence after seemed extra loud until Norah couldn’t take not knowing what was happening anymore.
“What is it?” she whispered, wincing at how loud her voice sounded in the echoing quiet.
“Looks like a rock. Stay there.”
A rock? She immediately wanted to ask more questions, but she managed to keep her mouth closed and her seat on the couch as he moved even more soundlessly than usual to the entrance. The room went dark, and Norah’s heart pounded for a few beats of panic before she realized that he’d intentionally shut off the lights. Her brain seemed to be functioning a step behind how it usually worked, and she took a few breaths, frustrated by her inability to figure out what was happening.
Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim ambient light coming through the small kitchen window—the only one without blinds covering it. She saw Dash’s dark form slip over to the window next to the broken one and shift the blinds slightly so he could peer out onto the alley below.
Another slightly more muffled crash came from behind the door next to one of the bookshelves, and Norah jumped in place. She needed to do something rather than just sit there as all of Dash’s windows were broken—probably by one of her stalkers. Why had she come to Dash’s home when she suspected Leifsen or Fridley were following her? She clenched her fists until her short nails dug into her palms. It was her fault Dash had been dragged into all this.
She needed to do something. “Should I call the police?”
Even though she’d barely whispered the words, Dash must’ve managed to hear her. “Go ahead.”
Fumbling to pull her phone out of her dress pocket, she winced at the brightness of the screen as it lit up. Her fingers felt huge and extraordinarily clumsy, but she managed to tap the three numbers and then call .
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” The male dispatcher’s voice sounded too loud, and Norah had to resist the urge to hush him.
“I’m at…” When she realized that she didn’t know the street address, she mentally switched gears. “We’re in the apartment above Porter Sports—the entrance is in the alley behind the building—and someone’s throwing rocks through the windows.”
“Okay, ma’am.” As the dispatcher spoke, she could hear the tapping of keyboard keys in the background. “Someone is throwing rocks at your windows?”
“No, through the windows,” she corrected. “The rocks are breaking the glass and—”
A smash behind her cut her off. Ducking, she turned halfway around to see that the kitchen window was broken.
“Ma’am?” The dispatcher sounded more alert now, making her wonder if he’d heard the crashing noise. “Is anyone injured?”
“No.”
Dash flew to the door, yanking it open, and she mentally qualified her answer. Not yet at least. Once Dash got ahold of Leifsen or whoever was throwing the rocks, someone was about to get pounded.
“Lock this behind me,” he ordered, halfway out the door. “And stay away from the windows. Got it?”
She nodded but realized it might be too dark for him to see, so she said out loud, “Got it.”
The dispatcher was asking her questions, and she tried to focus on answering him as she hurried to lock the door. Just as she’d flipped the dead bolt, a thunk came from the kitchen. Turning, she saw a flicker of light and instinctively turned her back, hunching as something exploded behind her.
She froze in place for several moments after her ears stopped ringing. As she came back to what was happening, she did a quick mental check of all her parts, making sure she was still intact before straightening. A faint voice echoed from somewhere a few feet away, and she realized she’d dropped her phone. The apartment was much brighter than it had been just seconds ago, and she was confused until she turned to see that patches of fire were scattered around the kitchen.
Fire! the panicky portion of her brain screamed even as she moved to grab the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall. Before she could pull the pin, a thunk from the other side of the room made her turn her head. A clear glass liquor bottle rolled toward one of the overstuffed chairs, and the research part of her brain identified it immediately.
Molotov cocktail. Otherwise known as a gasoline bomb or a poor-man’s grenade .
Time slowed down to a crawl. She wondered why she was so calm, but nothing about this situation seemed real. Here she stood in the kitchen of the man she’d just asked on a fourth date, holding a fire extinguisher while one or more of her stalkers hurled bottle bombs through the windows.
Get down, dummy! a voice in her brain shrieked, the panicky voice that usually wasn’t much good for anything. Right now though, it made sense. She ducked behind the counter, crouching in as small a ball as she could manage, just as the bottle exploded with a crash .
This time, she kept her head and stood as soon as the sound had dulled to a quiet roar. Straightening, she swallowed, her dry throat hurting as it convulsed.
Fire was everywhere.
She took an uncertain step toward the living area just as another explosion from the other room made her jump and almost drop the extinguisher. There were too many patches of fire, and it was spreading fast. She watched in horror as it raced across the rug and spread over the couch, whatever accelerant that had been in the bottle egging it on.
That is not how I expected to burn up the couch tonight.
The irreverent thought made her choke on a hysterical laugh, but she fought it back.
Just pick a spot and start extinguishing! Her panicky voice was offering some solid advice tonight. Pulling the pin, she ran over to the couch and sprayed foam over the flame. The chair was next, and then she covered just a quarter of the rug before the extinguisher was empty, spitting air and useless flecks of foam.
The remaining flames were growing faster than ever, licking their way across the floor and up the bookshelves, eating the books that she hadn’t even had a chance to do more than glance at. A pang hit her at the sight of Dash’s cozy apartment being ruined, but smoke crawling into her lungs and making her cough brought her back to her main priority—she needed to leave.
Dropping the empty fire extinguisher, she turned to the door. The apartment was hazy with smoke, making her eyes sting and water and her lungs itch. She tried to hold back her cough, knowing she’d just suck in more smoke on the inhale. Old elementary school lessons about what to do in a fire resurfaced, and she dropped to her hands and knees.
The air did seem easier to breathe down lower, so she stayed on all fours as she crawled toward the door. Despite the light from the flames, the haze and her watering eyes made it hard to see, forcing her to feel her way. Her progress felt infinitely slow. Even though she knew the door wasn’t very far away, it felt like she’d been crawling for blocks before she finally bumped into a vertical surface.
Sliding her hand over the wall, she felt her fingers collide with the molding around the door. She stood, groping the door until her fingers fumbled over the dead bolt. Norah hesitated before flipping the latch, Dash’s command to keep the door locked echoing in her head, until she realized that was stupid.
Unlocking the bolt, she twisted the knob and yanked open the door. Clean, fresh air brushed against her face, and she sucked in a desperate breath. That same influx of air made the fire roar behind her, reminding her that she wasn’t out yet. His apartment might be the only thing on fire at the moment, but that could quickly change. She needed to get out of the building altogether.
Closing the door behind her in the hopes that would slow the spread even a little, she blinked her blurry eyes even as heaving coughs made them water again. The stairway was dark, so she shuffled her feet, taking tiny steps to feel for the drop-off that would indicate the first step. Her hands waved in front of her, groping for the wall or—better yet—the railing.
A hand grasped her wrist, tugging her forward.
“Dash?” she croaked, relief flooding her. He’d come to save her. Of course he had. After all, leaving her in his apartment to die of smoke asphyxiation would be the height of bad manners. Her semihysterical burst of laughter at her mental joke came out in a cough. She blinked rapidly, trying to make out his features, but the dark shape in front of her was…wrong.
This isn’t Dash.
Setting her feet, she pulled back against the hold on her arm, her stomach twisting as she realized the person in front of her, the one who had her in their grip, was much too small and slight to be Dash. The hand tightened, fingers digging into her, painfully grinding the bones of her wrist. Her instinct was to keep pulling back, to try to yank away so she could run…but there was nowhere to go that wasn’t on fire.
The training session with Dash replayed in her brain, and she forced herself to lurch forward, toward the person who held her so cruelly. The darkness made it hard to judge the distance, so her shoulder plowed into them. Norah heard a muffled grunt as their bodies collided, and the pressure on her wrist immediately lightened. Not allowing herself to resume the pulling contest, she immediately sent a palm-heel strike toward their nose—or where she thought their nose might be.
By the hard bone she hit as well as the clack of teeth hitting together, Norah was pretty sure she’d hit a chin rather than a nose, but she still plowed through the motions she’d practiced over and over with Dash. Her stomp landed, but it didn’t seem to cause any damage, and she wished she were wearing boots rather than being uselessly barefoot. Without wasting any more time, she swung her free arm, sending the elbow toward the person’s midsection.
It actually worked. The grip fell from her wrist as not-Dash grunted. From the sound, she’d hit them hard enough to make them instinctively bend at the waist. Reaching out, she grasped the back of the person’s head with both hands, yanking down as she drove her knee up toward their face. This had been her favorite part of this exercise when she’d practiced with Dash, and she realized she was actually smiling fiercely as she felt her kneecap connect with something both hard and squishy and a little bit wet.
The sensation was unexpected and off-putting, and she released her grip as she jumped away. From the groan she heard, her hit had hurt, and Norah was a little shocked at how glad she was about that.
Now run. It was Dash’s rumbly voice in her head, telling her over and over that the whole point was to get away. She’d unconsciously retreated until the heat of the closed door radiated against her back, and she knew she needed to get past the person and down the stairs while they were still incapacitated. If they caught her again, it would be harder to escape, because she’d have lost the element of surprise. Now they’d be expecting her to fight back.
Go. Just go. Taking a deep breath that was tinged with smoke, she forced her feet forward in a rush, staying to the right of the still-groaning form. One heel hit the edge of a step before sliding painfully to the next. The thump as she hit vibrated through her body, but she ignored it as she scrambled down the rest of the stairs.
Her first step on the landing was heavy and hard, since she’d expected more steps, but she recovered quickly, hunting for the next set of stairs with her toes. She located them just as a roar of anger echoed from her attacker, and clattering boot soles thundered down the steps toward her. Not allowing herself to look behind her—since all she would see would be darkness—Norah flew down the rest of the stairs and hit the release bar on the door with both hands.
The door swung open, revealing the gym. Even though just the emergency lights were on, it was much brighter than the smoky apartment or the inky black stairwell. Norah dodged through the equipment, the familiarity of the space weirdly reassuring, allowing her to race confidently toward the door.
Just before she reached it, it swung open, and Norah tried to skid to a halt. She’d been traveling too fast and wasn’t able to stop in time. She crashed full force into the huge shape filling the doorway. Panic snapped through her as strong arms latched around her, holding her tightly. In an instant, however, she recognized Dash, and her terror leaked out of her in a rush, leaving her limp against him.
“Are you hurt?” His hands roamed over her urgently as if checking for injuries.
“I’m okay.” She was pretty sure she was at least, although she imagined that adrenaline plus the reassurance of being held safely in Dash’s arms could mask a whole lot of pain. “There’s someone chasing me though, so we might want to move.” With Dash there, whoever had grabbed her at the top of the stairs didn’t seem like such a threat anymore.
His whole body stiffened as he growled out one word. “Who?”
“Not sure.” She tried to shrug, but he was holding her too tightly against his chest. “It was dark. He was right behind me though.” Despite the strong urge to bury her head in the sand—or Dash’s well-developed pectoral muscles—and pretend no one else existed, she turned as well as she could in his grip and looked behind her.
The gym was empty…or at least it appeared that way.
“Maybe they’re still on the stairs?” she suggested, peering into the shadowy corners. “Or they went into one of the dressing rooms.”
“Or out the stair exit.” Reluctantly releasing her, he moved between her and the rest of the gym. “Come on.”
He gave one last glare around the gym before ushering her outside. The fire above them lit up the building, flickering red, yellow, and orange in a display that was both too bright yet caused deeply dark shadows in the alley around them. She shivered as she glanced around, wondering if someone was lying in wait for them. As much as she believed in Dash’s strength and fighting skill, there were ways he could lose—too many opponents, an ambush, or a gun would bring him down like Goliath.
Headlights lit up the space around them as a squad car turned into the alley, followed closely by several fire trucks. Dash guided her to the far side of the alley across from the neighboring building so they weren’t directly next to the gym.
“How’d they know there was fire involved?” she asked, her voice shaking a little as she spoke loud enough to be heard over the sirens. The last few words echoed in the sudden quiet as the vehicles cut their sirens.
“Someone probably saw the flames and called it in,” Dash said.
“Oh. I did too, but I only got to the broken window part before I dropped my phone. Although the dispatcher might’ve figured it out before my phone burned up.” Norah’s gaze went back to the flickering flames in the broken windows of his apartment, the fire glowing brightly even in the red and white flashes from the emergency vehicles’ overhead lights. “I’m sorry about your home. I tried to put it out, but the fire extinguisher didn’t hold as much foam as I needed.”
His grunt was displeased. “You shouldn’t have even tried. You should’ve left at the first sign of fire.” Before she could respond to that, he continued. “I should’ve brought you with me when I left. I just thought you’d be safer up there.” He looked at the smashed-out windows as his hand ran up and down her arm. He hadn’t stopped touching her since he’d caught her running out the door. Norah didn’t mind. It was reassuring, reminding her that he was right there.
“Did you catch anyone?” she asked, watching as the emergency vehicles parked, the police car pulling closer to where they were standing while the fire trucks stopped on the other side of the building, keeping the space right in front of the gym clear.
“No.” He didn’t sound happy about that. “As soon as I stepped outside, someone clocked me in the back of the head.”
A worried sound escaping her, Norah turned away from the flames to look up at Dash. “You’re hurt? Do you have a concussion?” She reached up toward the back of his head before hesitating. If it still hurt, he wouldn’t want her prodding at it, and if it were bleeding, she would just add her germs to the mix, which wouldn’t be helpful. Lowering her hand back down, she frowned, hating this feeling of helplessness when Dash was hurt.
“It’s fine.” He patted her as if she were the one who needed comfort. “Just dazed me for a minute. Long enough for them to set everything on fire though.”
A random thought occurred to her. “You never mentioned how gross it feels to knee someone in the face.”
He stared at her before grinning. It didn’t last long, but she held on to the memory of that broad smile. “Pants help.”
“Okay. Next time, I’ll wear pants.”
Two uniformed officers approached them, neither looking familiar to her, and Norah held back a groan as she realized something. Being at Dash’s apartment was going to severely mess with their Zach Fridley story.
One crisis at a time , she reminded herself as Dash wrapped his arm around her. She leaned into him, feeling as if she was a hundred times stronger with him at her back. Together, they’d get through this police interview and every other crisis after that.