Chapter 12
Pressure pulsed in Hudson’s chest as he wrapped his arms around Tessa and dropped her to the ground. Twisting, he hit the dewy grass with a thud. Shock jackhammered through his ribs as he rolled on top of her.
The explosion sucked the air from his lungs as he wrenched his head to the source of the blast. A car alarm shattered the silence. Dark plumes of smoke rose from the duplex down the street.
He sprang to a crouch. The gun fell from his waistband and hit the ground. “Are you okay?”
“What the—” She shot to a sitting position and spun her head to the smoke. “Lia and Malcolm are in there.”
“Stay here and secure that gun.” He coiled his muscles and tore down the street. As his feet hit the pavement, his mind clicked into mission mode.
Heat pressed against his face as he raced toward the house. Tessa’s pleas to help their friends chased him down the street. He shouted at her to stay back as he stopped short in front of the walkway.
An orange glow pulsed behind the darkness blanketing the living room beyond the intact bay window. Thick smoke poured through a hole in the back of the house on Tessa’s side. The fire hadn’t reached the front of the house—yet.
He sprinted up the steps. An image of the burning shack he’d pulled Chris from wavered in his vision like a warning. Wrapping his hand under the hem of his sweatshirt, he cracked open the door.
A thin stream of smoke sailed out. The heat intensified, but not by much. Good. The fire was still contained in the back of the house, but crackling and pops signaled imminent structural damage.
And the roof would come down and—
Not on my watch.
Covering his face with his sweatshirt, he ran in.
“Malcolm.” The shout clawed up Hudson’s throat. “Lia.”
Smoke blurred his vision. Squinting, he pushed into the murk, his shouts intensifying as the coffee table morphed into the burning desk from the shack.
The team leader’s voice blared in his brain.
Get in and get out.
The memory wrenched his focus back with sickening precision. The ceiling whined. Drywall swirled down like glowing confetti. Twisting, he dodged the red-hot debris and spotted Tessa wavering in the orange haze, not like a specter, but a direct threat to his mission.
“Get out.” He swung his arm toward the door, his voice as sharp as his fear.
“Where are they?”
“Get the hell out. Now.”
He smothered an image of her pinned under burning beams. Yelling one last command to leave, he spun toward the kitchen as Lia stumbled out, blood dripping down her cheeks and tears streaking her face.
He lunged forward and caught her as another creak, louder and from the kitchen, groaned over the flames.
“Malcolm.” She coughed. And coughed again. “I can’t move him.”
“Where is he?”
“By…by the sink.”
A sharp snap cracked from the kitchen doorway. Fissures radiated from the molding across the ceiling as he shoved Lia toward Tessa and barked a command. “Go.”
Spinning, praying Tessa listened, he sucked in a deep breath and lunged over the threshold.