Chapter Eighteen
Lia looked around for the most flammable part of the kitchen.
There was a door, presumably out to the backyard, that was all splintered wood.
Would it be dry enough to go up in flames if she got the lighter in the right spot?
Probably not, but what about something more sustained than just the lighter?
She glanced back at the living room where Bruiser currently had one of the fighters in what seemed to be a good-natured headlock, while a couple people cheered.
Perfect. In quick, efficient moves, Lia grabbed a dirty old dishrag from the sink.
It was crusty and dry. Would alcohol help it start on fire?
She wasn’t sure, so she didn’t go that route.
She just grabbed the lighter and moved to the door.
She leaned against it, trying to look casual—the lighter and rag hidden behind the chair that was in front of her.
She looked out at the living room. The headlock was over, but Bruiser hadn’t made his way to her yet. He was messing with Sammy now.
Lia resisted the urge to run interference. Distraction first. Trying to look as casual as possible, she flicked the lighter on and tried to light the dirty rag. It took a while to catch fire, then immediately went out when she tried to drop it by the door.
She went through the process again, always keeping an eye on Bruiser. He was making the rounds, talking to people. He touched every single woman in the room in some familiar way—a hand down their hair, their arm, a squeeze on the knee, or even a few times very affectionate hugs.
Most of the women seemed to be using more than interested, but they were all outnumbered by the men who clearly looked at Bruiser as the leader.
The second time Lia managed to get the rag on fire, she carefully crouched and placed it next to the splintered door. She watched it try to catch on the door.
Please. Please. Please.
She glanced up and Bruiser was back with Sammy. Lia had to fight against the lick of scalding fury that erupted inside of her at his hand on the back of Sammy’s neck.
They were running out of time. She needed this fire to catch.
To do what it needed to do. Lia moved back over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a bottle of vodka.
Then she carefully poured a few dribbles into the flames, causing them to shoot higher.
She splashed a little more across the wood of the door, hoping it would accelerate the fire.
Once satisfied with that, she put the vodka back on the counter. She didn’t look back at the fire now. She moved closer to the living room for some plausible deniability.
She knew she shouldn’t watch Bruiser and Sammy intently, but she couldn’t help it. His mouth was at her ear, clearly saying something to her, but it was all getting a little too close.
When he accidentally—as in, not at all accidentally—spilled his drink down Sammy’s shirtfront, causing Sammy to yelp in surprise, Lia couldn’t wait for the fire to catch any bigger.
She had to act.
“There’s a fire!” Lia shouted, stumbling out of the kitchen. She wished it would catch more, but this was enough of a distraction.
She hoped.
Someone screamed, while a couple of the guys rushed forward—including Bruiser. Lia carefully moved out of the way, but didn’t escape the kitchen. She wanted Sammy out first.
More people crowded around, but Lia craned her neck to see around them. Sammy was still sitting on the table, and their gazes caught.
Lia gave the girl a nod. Inwardly, she urged her to move. Go. While everyone was distracted. When Sammy just stood there, Lia mouthed the words.
Go. Now.
Finally Sammy stood, then took a step toward the door, then another. Her hands were still tied, so when she got to the door, she backed toward it, having to open it behind her back. But she pulled it open.
No one noticed. Everyone was shouting things to do about the fire. Everyone’s focus was on the kitchen.
Sammy gave Lia one last pleading look, there in the door opening, but Lia shook her head. Go.
Lia held her breath until Sammy disappeared into the dark. Then she let it out in a slow, careful exhale. Now she just needed to get herself out.
She stepped away from the crowd, turned her back to them. Slowly. Casually. She didn’t look at anyone. She kept her chin high, so it looked like she knew what she was doing and like she should be doing it.
She was nearly at the door, had even reached out to grab the knob.
But then something caught her from behind and jerked her back. An arm came around her throat.
“I’m going to kill you, Eddy,” she heard Bruiser seethe as the pressure on her windpipe increased and she struggled to breathe.
But he didn’t go after Sammy or send anyone else after her, so it was okay.
No matter what happened, it was okay, because she’d gotten Sammy out.
Royal parked his truck in the ditch closer to the driveway than Gard had originally been. With the partying going on, Gard didn’t think it was too much of a risk to drive this close, and it got them back to the house quicker.
He hopped out, already moving forward as Royal and Zeke trailed behind.
“I don’t know how many weapons they’ve got,” he told them.
“Drugs are a certainty, and many of them are probably high, which makes them volatile and unpredictable. We know Sammy is in that house. Lia should be waiting for us outside, but we don’t know if any other people are being held against their will, so we have to be careful. ”
Three armed men against an unknown number of highly erratic targets. Not exactly the best situation. But it didn’t have to be a full-on fight. If he could get Sammy out of that house with stealth, all the better.
They walked up the drive, the house in sight. Gard studied the dark shadows of the yard where he’d left Lia but didn’t see anything that looked like it might be a person. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in a text.
Where are you?
He waited for an answer, but none came. Frustrated and worried, he considered the house. The situation. Surely she hadn’t gone in there alone before she’d gotten a text from Royal… Surely she hadn’t broken her promise.
But he had a sinking suspicion that’s just what she’d done.
He shook it away. Sammy was in there, or Lia would have gotten a message to him. So that meant he had to get in there. And if Lia was in there too… Well, they’d deal with that.
Maybe it hadn’t been the deal, but… Lia knew what she was doing. He had to trust that she knew what she was getting herself into. If there was something to be mad about, he’d save that anger for when they were all safe.
“There are two entrances,” he told Zeke and Royal. “Here in the front, and then in the back. When I was here a few weeks ago, the back door was grown over with vines, so I’m not sure it’s a viable entrance point.”
“If we can get through the vines without anyone noticing, could be a surprise entrance point,” Zeke said. “And with that music playing, I think you could probably cut through enough to get a door open without anyone noticing.”
“If it’s not locked,” Royal offered.
“Clearly they’re not too worried about being snuck up on,” Zeke replied. “Even if it’s locked, it’d be easy enough to pick and get in there. Probably without anyone noticing. Whatever they’re up to right now, they’re not worried about being caught.”
Zeke wasn’t wrong, though it was still a risk and dangerous because drugs made people unpredictable. But they had to get in there. “You two go around back and see what you can accomplish.”
“What are you going to do? Walk in the front?” Royal demanded.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Because I’ve had the same training you have, Gard.
Training you gave me, if you’ll recall. I get that it’s different because your niece is inside, but that training is to keep everyone as safe as possible.
No training we’ve ever gone through says Hey, walk in the front door of a volatile situation alone. ”
Maybe Royal was right, but Gard didn’t have to like it. “I can keep an eye on things through the window. You guys see what you can do in the back. I’ll only go in if I have to.”
Royal clearly didn’t love that answer, but Gard needed them to go. “If we have a way out back, we can sneak Sammy and Lia out that way. Get it open. I’ll make sure no one comes out the front. Come on. Move.”
Royal finally relented and he and Zeke moved away from Gard, melting into the shadows.
Gard put them out of his mind as he studied the house. He couldn’t waltz in the front, no. But he could get a better view of what was going on inside. A head count. He could make a visual on Sammy, on Lia if she was in there. Formulate a plan.
Maybe he could even create some kind of diversion. If he could get all these people pouring out of the house, maybe in the chaos he could get to Sammy and Lia. Get them away from this without any confrontation Sammy had to witness.
But he needed more information first, which meant getting closer. Careful to stay in the shadows, he started to move. Listening to the sounds of the party, paying attention to the world around him.
He frowned a little as an odd smell filled the air. He couldn’t quite pick it out while his mind focused on getting to Sammy. On where Lia might be.
A few yards from the porch, his phone buzzed in his pocket, momentarily distracting him from his target. Laurel’s name was on the screen when he pulled it out, so he answered, hoping for news on the warrant.
“Fairhurst,” he answered in a quiet voice, not taking his eyes off the shadows moving inside the house, making sure no one took interest in what was going on outside in the frigid cold.
“We’ve got a search warrant for the house,” Laurel said without preamble. “Still working on the property beyond the house. They’re owned by two different people.”
“I got Dani. I sent her with Walker Daniels to the hospital. She told me they’re keeping people in a cellar under a barn. You have an eyewitness. Get the warrant. And get a team out here.”
Laurel was quiet for a few seconds—but he could hear the hum of voices. Like she’d covered her receiver and was barking out orders.
“Beckett is on his way to Dry Road. He’ll be waiting for the search warrant to come through with some deputies. I’ll call again about it, then head to the hospital to talk to Dani.”
“She might not be up for it,” Gard said, hoping it wasn’t true but needing to prepare Laurel for the possibility.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do with it. Please tell me you haven’t pulled in any civilians besides Walker Daniels.”
But Gard could not tell her that. Though technically Royal wasn’t a civilian, and Zeke didn’t seem like a civilian.
Laurel sighed heavily. “How many, Fairhurst? Just so I can tell Beckett and he doesn’t try to arrest your civilian help.”
Wincing, Gard realized he had to give over the names. “Royal Campbell and Zeke Daniels. They aren’t doing anything. They’re just…backup.”
“Sure,” Laurel replied. “Listen. We’ve got movement. We’ll have people on standby, ready to move the second we can. Just sit tight.”
Sit tight? No, he didn’t think so.
Gard looked at the house and since he wasn’t thinking so damn hard about what was going on in there, it finally dawned on him what the odd smell stinging his nostrils was.
Smoke. And from somewhere behind the house, he saw a flicker of light…flame. Fire.
So no, he couldn’t sit tight. The house was on fire.
“Call the fire department, Laurel,” he barked into the phone, then shoved it into his pocket.
And ran.