Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(85)

His leg brushed against the gas container at his feet. He was counting on Lauren saving her marshal.

Lauren was always trying to save the world.

It was time for her to watch the world burn away.

Then he heard it. The faint creak of the wooden floor. Then the dark bulk of a body, trying to move from the room.

Fabric whispered. Another soft creak.

He stood there in the darkness. Waiting. Needing the marshal to come just a bit closer.

Light. Fucking light.

The marshal had a flashlight in his hand, and he was shining it right at him.

Fuck.

He fired. The bullet missed the marshal, hitting right above him on the wall, but it made the marshal duck back.

He fired again. Again.

He heard the thud of his bullets and—was that Ross’s groan?

Hurry, have to hurry.

He grabbed the gas can. Poured it down the hallway. Tossed the can toward Lauren’s room.

He jumped back, trying to put distance between himself and the fire that was about to come.

His smile stretched as he grabbed for the matches and lit the whole damn place up.

Only…gasoline was on him, too, on his fingers, and he screamed when his hand caught fire.

The whoosh of sound that came from the sudden eruption of flames—the giant whoosh that rocked the house and sent him flying back—drowned out his cry.



Blood dripped down Anthony’s arm as he grabbed Lauren and pulled her into the bedroom. The flames were white-hot, scorching and destructive as they moved toward him.

He and Lauren hit the floor. The fire was in the doorway, blocking them, burning red and gold as it lit up the room.

The bastard had followed them to the house, and he was trying to make sure they never got out again.

Think again, *.

Smoke was filling the room fast. The flames spreading too rapidly. Gasoline. He’d caught the scent of gasoline just in time to jerk Lauren to safety.

Gasoline would burn fast, especially when the freak had used a whole damn can to drench the place.

“The window!” he barked. There was no way they were getting through those flames. They wouldn’t get to the killer that way, but at least they could escape.

Lauren pulled away from him. She ran not to the window, but to the closet.

“Lauren!”

The smoke was getting too thick. They needed fresh air.

He raced to the window. Shoved the curtains out of his way and realized—

I’m a perfect target. Standing there, silhouetted by the flames, he would be easy to take out. The killer had made it so they only had one way to freedom. If he was waiting out there now, he could make sure both Anthony and Lauren died.

No choice.

Anthony yanked on the window. Only it didn’t open. He yanked again, harder.

Then his fingers found the nails.

The killer had nailed the window shut.

Screw that. There was still an easy way to get that window open.

He used his gun to break the glass. It rained down on him, the ground, and sweet, clean air drifted inside.

Anthony glanced back, but didn’t see Lauren. “Lauren!”

The closet door was still open. He hurried to the door and found Lauren on her hands and knees, searching through the wreckage.

“No, baby, we don’t have time for this.” The fire was spreading too quickly. “We have to get out! Come on!”

She wasn’t listening to him. She was shoving clothes and boxes out of her way. “It’s here!” Lauren said. “I know it is!”

The fire was there. It was the thing they needed to worry about. If she wasn’t coming willingly, then he’d have to carry her out. He locked his hands around her hips.

“I’ve got it!”

She scrambled around to face him. Her hands were clutching a small, black box. She jerked open the box.

It was empty.

“Where’s the necklace?” she said. It was hard to hear her over the crackle of the flames. “Where is it?”

The killer had taken it, just like he was trying to take their lives.

Anthony lifted Lauren into his arms and rushed toward the window.

Smoke billowed around them as he shoved away the rest of the broken glass.

The killer could be out there.

If they stayed inside, they were definitely dead.

“Stay low, and run as fast as you can toward the SUV.” He pushed her through the window and followed right behind her, trying to use his body as a shield for her.

But no gunfire erupted. No bullets tore into him.

He heard a siren in the distance. The wail was long and mournful.

“Over here!” a woman’s voice called. Anthony’s head jerked up, and he saw an older woman and man, both wearing robes and slippers, hurrying toward them. The man had a blanket in his hands.

“My neighbors,” Lauren managed to gasp. “Jim and Suzy Baker…”

When Jim and Suzy Baker got a good look at Anthony and the gun clutched in his hands, they stopped rushing to the rescue.

They both froze, and Suzy looked like she might pass out.

“I’m a marshal,” he called out. He was not putting that gun away. “There’s a killer here. He was in the house.”

“We saw a man run…” Jim pointed to the right. “That way. He was in a Jeep, and we yelled for him to stop.”