What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(91)

Lance’s lungs revolted, spewing soot and smoke, as he climbed to his feet and turned back toward the inferno.

Was Sharp dead? Haley?

Lance couldn’t stop. Sharp and Haley were still inside. He turned back, his legs wobbling as he forced them to move toward the fire.

A hand snatched at his arm.

Esposito. His face was covered with black grime, his eyes bloodshot. “You can’t go in there!”

Lance shook off the hand and ran through the front door.

“Sharp! Haley!” he shouted, but the fire drowned out his voice.

The inside of the house was filled with black smoke. The heat sucked the air from Lance’s lungs as he stumbled farther inside.

Where were they?





Chapter Forty-One

Pain jolted through Sharp like a bolt of lightning. It flooded every inch of his body until he could feel nothing but agony. He opened his eyes but couldn’t see through the smoke and haze and liquid dripping into his eyes. He let them drift closed again, anything to let go of this bulldozer of pain rushing over him.

“No,” a woman cried. “You can’t die.”

He forced his eyes open. Haley. Her tears fell onto his face. On her knees at his side, she clutched his jacket lapels and shook him. The motion of her hands ignited blasts of pain that stole his breath.

She lifted her hands. They came away covered in blood.

Sharp tried to form words with his lips. The effort was ridiculously difficult. “Where are we?”

“The basement,” she said. “The house is on fire.”

The explosion came back to Sharp with a rush of images and sensation. Eric going flying. Sharp falling.

Pain.

They were trapped. The house above them was burning. Over Haley’s head, Sharp could see smoke and flames. The only reason they were still alive was that heat rose and the basement held a pocket of air. But it wouldn’t last. As the fire burned through the house, the floor would give way. It would collapse right on top of them.

Sharp grabbed for her hand. His lungs screamed as he forced the words out. “Go. Get help.”

He added the second part to convince her to leave him. Although he suspected the house would fall down on top of him before she could get back, at least she’d be out.

Shaking her head, she sat back on her heels. “No. I won’t leave you.”

Sharp tightened his grip on her fingers. “You have to.”

“No. You have to come with me. I can’t let you die.” She wiped her bloody hands on her sweatshirt, the gesture defiant and determined. “I can’t. I’m not going without you.”

She stood, grabbed his ankles, and tried to pull him toward the rear of the basement, where two windows looked over the rear yard. But she simply wasn’t strong enough to budge him.

There was no getting around it. Sharp was going to have to move his own ass.

He levered onto an elbow to look at his injury. White-hot agony erupted, splitting him in half. A large chunk of wood protruded from his side. The sight of it sticking out just below his ribs just about made him pass out.

He gritted his teeth. “Tie something around the wood to hold it still. Don’t pull it out. I’ll just bleed more.”

He couldn’t afford to spring any more leaks. He couldn’t let Haley down. He had to get her outside the burning house. Once she was safe, then he could die all he wanted.

Rushing to her paint easel, she gathered some clean rags and brought them back to him. She opened his jacket, the widening of her eyes showing Sharp how badly he was injured.

“Use my belt.” He felt her hands working it from his belt loops and heard his holster and gun hit the concrete with a clunk.

She tightened the belt around his middle, stabilizing the shaft of wood. Pain burst through Sharp, sucking the air from his lungs as much as the smoke and heat were. He blinked to clear his vision. Embers fell from the first floor burning over their heads. A glowing bit of fire landed on Haley’s shoulder. She swatted it away. No time for a pity party. They had to go.

“Help me up.” He held out his hand.

She rose to her feet and grabbed hold. Sharp braced himself for the agony of movement. Haley pulled, and Sharp rolled to his knees.

Light-headed, he sucked hot air into his lungs and gestured toward the window at the back of the room. “Let’s go.”

Haley dragged the workbench under the window. Climbing on it, she flipped the lock and shoved the window open. Cool air poured in. Above them, the fire answered, flames rushing at the fresh oxygen.

“Come on.” She jumped off the bench and hurried back to him.

Sharp crawled to the base of the bench and pulled himself upright. His knees shook as he put one knee onto the wooden table.

Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t feel.

Keep moving.

He focused one inch ahead. No farther. If he looked all the way out the window, he couldn’t possibly see himself making it. But he could crawl one more inch. And then another.

Haley was behind him, pushing, as he dragged himself onto the workbench. Without stopping, he put his arms and shoulders through the open window. With Haley lifting his legs, he went out like a foal being birthed. He hit the ground with a jolt of pain that blanked his vision for a few seconds. Warm liquid gushed down his side.

A thud next to him announced that Haley was out the window too. Then she was at his side dragging him by the arm, her voice breaking with sobs as she cried, “Move. Please.”