Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(60)

“Oh God, baby girl,” he said, his voice shaking.

“I’m tied to the shelves,” she said, relief and panic and tears and more emotions she couldn’t name making her voice tremble. “If you push it upright you can untie me.”

“I’m going to lift it slowly, okay?”

Before she could answer, glass crashed from somewhere else in the building.

And then the shelves were moving, and she was scrambling to get her mostly-numb feet underneath her, and he was there, untying her, tears streaming down his face as he worked as fast and as gently as he could.

And then she was in his arms, and they were both sobbing openly.

“We’ve got to go,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. “The smallest spark could send this place up like a warhead.”

Spark. Oh, God.

“The detonator!” She turned, nearly falling as the pins-and-needles in her feet reminded her that her circulation wasn’t finished returning. She picked it up from its position in front of the dryer. “This thing, it’s a remote something. He left it here.”

“Give that to me.” Drake grabbed the thing and left the room at a dead run, cradling the device against his chest.

Heart in her throat, Everly braced her palm on the wall and started after him. One foot in front of the other. It was slow, so, so slow. But the feeling was coming back into her limbs, and all the animals needed her.

They weren’t out of danger yet.

Sirens were audible in the distance, and as Everly entered the hallway, she nearly cried out in relief.

Drake was coming back to her, only a slight limp reminding her that he’d been injured not that long ago. And beyond him, Jesse and Hunter were leashing up dogs and getting them out of the kennels.

They were going to make it.

“Come here, baby girl,” Drake said, and he swept her into his arms.

“You’re hurt,” Everly protested, winding her arms around his neck and cuddling close to his chest.

“I’ve got you. I’ll never hurt again.”



There were more flashing vehicles there than Drake had seen collected in one place since—well, the hotel fire the night before. Damn, Dallas had had a rough few weeks. First that wackadoodle that had stolen Jesse’s explosives, then a freak accident downtown, and now this?

He’d be glad when shit went back to being boring.

Firehouse Three was out in full force, along with EMS, and the cops. News crews were as close as they could get, which was the neighboring parking lots. The gas company had already been and gone.

He and Everly sat on the back bumper of Spencer’s ambulance, her with a big old patch of gauze above her right eye, and an ice pack on her left knee, which had apparently been wrenched when she and the shelving had fallen over.

The frenzy of activity was dying down. Several other local shelters had stepped up to temporarily house the animals until the building was cleared for occupancy and the windows they’d broken could be replaced.

He’d argue with Everly about paying for her windows later. For now?

He leaned over and pressed what had to be the thousandth kiss atop her head.

“What was that for?” She gave him a small smile.

“Just glad you’re here. And safe.”

“Me, too,” she said, leaning against him as he gathered her close.

“Can—can I talk to you?”

Drake shut his eyes and counted to five. That voice. Why the hell had someone let her past the police tape?

“What the hell is it, Belinda?”

“Not you,” Belinda said, shaking her head. Her face was pale, her eyes red, as if she’d been crying. “Everly.”

“What do you need?” Everly answered.

Drake’s hands curled into fists, but he stayed still.

“I’m sorry.” Belinda’s voice broke, and for a moment, all she could do was cry. “I never meant—I mean, I didn’t know he would go this far. Daddy’s always given me whatever I wanted. And I guess, when he couldn’t, he just kind of… broke. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to let you know that I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to ruin you so Drake would leave you, but I didn’t want you to—”

Everly turned her face into Drake’s side, and the wet patch that grew there told him she was crying, too.

Neither of them could speak for a while. Drake rubbed Everly’s back while he stared at the rescue, empty now of all the animals that had nearly lost their lives today. They’d all been examined, and a couple of the older ones were given oxygen. There were all expected to make it.

But things could so easily have gone the other way.

Once Chief Pearce had seen him and Hunter breaking into the rescue, he’d driven straight to the police station and turned himself in. He’d confessed to the whole thing. It seemed that as he’d sat there in his vehicle, waiting for the time to set off the explosion, his conscience had gotten the best of him.

He wasn’t an evil man; he was just guilty of losing his head. But it had nearly cost Everly—and by extension, Drake—everything.

Drake hoped they put Chief Pearce away for a long, long time.

“I know you didn’t put him up to this,” Everly said when she could talk again. “I can’t say that I forgive you for what you did to me, though. I hope you understand.”