Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(116)

“Go up,” Holt roared, running across the room. “I got her. Go. Up.”

Grabbing the girl’s hand, Carson headed up the stairs.

Without slowing, Holt scooped Josie up and took the stairs, two at a time.

The children stood outside a room. Hammering came from inside. The girl—Britney—jiggled the handle, crying and yanking at it. “It’s locked, it’s locked. Timothy!”

“Put me down, Holt,” Josie said. “We have to get that door open.”

He glanced at her. Bleeding—but under control. His Josie was something special.

“Stand back, kids.” He set Josie on her feet and yelled, “Timothy, get away from the door.”

Carson dragged the girl away from the door.

Using the power in his hips and lower back, Holt kicked the door beside the lock. The piece-of-shit door cracked like an icicle and shot open. Holt shooed everyone inside.

With a foomph, the living room ignited. Hell. Shit would burn fast now—he needed to get everyone the hell out.

Josie dropped onto the bed, pulling a trembling Carson into her arms.

Grabbing a T-shirt off the floor, Holt yanked a big shard of glass from Josie’s leg and made a hasty pressure dressing. “You with me, baby?”

“Yeah.” She pressed her hand against the cut on her arm. “Can we get out of here?”

“I think we’d better.” Holt saw the girl moving toward the door. “Stay here, sweetie.”

She stopped, and when Josie held out her hand, edged toward the bed.

Timothy was at the window.

Holt joined him. “Is anyone else in the house?”

“Uh-uh. Just me and Britney.”

Thank fuck. Holt leaned out the window, judging how far down the portico roof was, how far to the ground.

The boy looked up. “Are we stuck?”

“Nah, we can do this.” Holt gripped his shoulder and told everyone, “I’m going to go out, stand on the portico roof, and help you guys out. You with me?”

The kid nodded. Carson nodded. Josie gave him a faint smile and her “Yes, Sir,” pleased the hell out of him. Beside Josie, Britney nodded.

Good enough. “After me, I want you, Josie.”

“But—” she looked at Carson.

No time for explanations. “Trust me.” He held her gaze.

She nodded.

“Then Britney, then Carson.” He ruffled Timothy’s hair. “You help the others out and come last. I’ll be ready to catch you.”

Timothy struggled to contain his fear. “Okay.”

“Good boy.” Holt didn’t wait, but went out the window, feet-first, belly-down. He hung onto the windowsill until he’d calculated his angle, then swung slightly and dropped. The portico roof was almost directly under the window, and he only skidded slightly on landing.

He braced his feet, one on each side of the peaked roof. “Josie, stomach down, hang, and drop like I did. I’ll catch you.”

He could see her reluctance to leave Carson, but damn, she came anyway. A second later, he had her in his arms. He gave her a quick hug and pointed down. “I want you on the ground. I’ll lower each child to you.”

And looking at the concrete below the portico, she understood why she’d come second. “That’ll work.”

“Slide off the roof. I’ll help lower you.”

Without arguing, she turned over, eased herself off the edge, wincing as the gutter grated over the myriad of bloody cuts she’d gotten from the bomb. Holt flattened out, holding her wrists until she was completely off the roof. “You have a few feet of drop. I’m letting go now.”

She fell the last few feet to the sidewalk beside the portico and gave a soft grunt of pain. Then was on her feet. “I’m ready.” No tears, no hysterics.

“Fuck, I love you,” he said.

She gave a tiny laugh. “Such language. There are children present.”

How could she make him smile at a time like this? Holt rose and called up to the window. “Help the girl out, guys. Hang onto her wrists until I tell you to let go.”

The lights were gone. The second floor was dark with smoke billowing out and upward. The children must be half-blinded. But Timothy kept it together and guided his sister’s feet out the window. He and Carson held her wrists as she slid downward.

Britney made panicking sounds as Holt reached up and grabbed her legs.

A siren sounded. About fucking time.

“Let go now,” he directed, and the boys—one on each wrist—released. The girl slid down against him. Securing her, he turned, knelt, and lowered her over the edge of the portico to Josie in one smooth movement.

“Got her,” Josie called.

“Carson. Out. Same way.”

Carson did it on his own, while Timothy kept a hand on his wrist…just in case.

When Carson landed in his arms, Holt gave him a hard hug. “You kept your head better than a lot of adults. I’m very proud of you,” he whispered, before handing him down to Josie. He noticed the little girl clinging to Josie’s waist even as Carson was hugging his mother from the front.

One more. “I’m ready, Timothy. You know how to do it. Don’t let go until I tell you.”

The kid was already squirming out the window. He hung by his hands until Holt had a good grip. At least this one was tall. “Got you. Let go.”