Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(78)

“Since I’m the guy who would be abducting her and taking her to the Bahamas, that’s off the table,” he joked.

Reagan smiled soothingly. “I’ll check.”

“No, I’ll check,” Graham said. “If the uniforms are there, I’ll take them back to the locker room with me.”

“They’re not in here,” Marianne said, finishing up the tape and slapping a hand on Simpson’s back. “Off you go, big boy. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Cook.” He slid his feet back into his untied running shoes and headed out.

“I’ll check here for the uniforms,” Reagan said, “and you look in the storage room with Kara.”

“She’s got my key, so if she’s not in there and the door is locked, search the stands or call her cell,” Marianne added. “But I don’t have the uniforms.”

“I’ll check,” Reagan said again, pushing Graham out of the door. “She’s stressed,” she whispered. “Her intern turned into a huge flop down here. Let’s not put more on her plate than necessary.”

“Got it.” He turned and jogged across the gym to where the storage rooms were. He’d helped Brad carry in Marianne’s supplies the first day when she’d been setting up shop and knew which one it was.

But as he neared the storage room—door closed—he noticed a thin tendril of smoke coming from the door. Not wanting to panic anyone if it was as simple as someone smoking in there—though the odds were low—he tried the door handle. Locked. He looked around for someone and grabbed the nearest person who looked like they worked there. “Do you have a master key?”

They stared at him, bewildered. “No, that would be Al.”

“Get Al over here. Now!” he barked when the employee just stared at him. He pointed at the door, and the man hurried to call on the walkie talkie for Al to come over ASAP.

He felt the door handle more closely now—warm, but not hot—and listened. Then he heard it. Something rustled inside. Someone was in there. “Hey.” He banged on the door. “Hey! Open up!”

He heard more scrambling, scurrying, and another noise that could have been the shriek of metal across a floor. Or a woman crying. It was impossible to tell. He tried the handle again, but it hadn’t magically unlocked. “Where the f*ck is Al?” he yelled, then tried to shoulder the door open. But there was no busting it down. The door was thick, and designed to open out, which meant it would be impossible to break in without a battering ram.

Al, the paunchy middle-aged site supervisor, hustled over, breathing like he’d run a marathon instead of just across the gym floor. “Let’s not panic,” he started to suggest, but Graham shoved him at the door.

“Open it. Open it now, God damn it. Someone’s in there.” And he had the worst feeling possible it might be Kara.





CHAPTER


24

Graham’s entire body quivered with unreleased anxiety and the need to do something, without being able to. “You,” he said, pointing at the employee who had radioed to Al. “Go get a fire extinguisher. Get two. Bring help. Don’t start screaming about a fire, just get help. Go!” he yelled, shoving the employee in the back when they simply stood, frozen. He scurried off, looking terrified enough to piss his pants.

God knew if he’d actually do it. Graham focused on waiting for Al to find the right key, then heard something slap up against the door. It sounded like knocking from the inside. “Jesus, get the door open. Get it open.”

“I’m trying as fast . . .” Understanding the severity now, as more smoke made its way through the opening around the door, Al’s hands shook as he tried to push the key in. Finally, Graham shoved him aside and unlocked it, throwing the door open simultaneously. He felt as if he could rip the whole thing from the door hinges.

Smoke poured out in a wave, gray and thin but choking nonetheless. He bent over, sucked in a breath, then ran in.

And found Levi on top of Kara, pulling at her arms and tangling his legs with hers. A cardboard box lay over them, more scattered on the floor. And in the corner, a fire burned. His main focus became Kara. He rushed Levi, bulldozing him like a linebacker so the kid flew off his woman and several feet back, smacking into the back wall of the closet.

Graham crouched between Levi and Kara, shielding her with his back. “Baby, can you stand? Can you walk?”

She looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and coughed.

That was enough for him. He bent down and scooped her up. He made it two steps toward Al, toward the open air of the gym when he felt something hit the center of his back. He stumbled forward, balance thrown off with Kara in his arms, and went to his knees. One cracked hard against the floor as he twisted to keep from landing directly on Kara.

Levi beat against his back, kicking and punching and scratching while screaming something incoherent in a raspy, hoarse voice. Kara curled into a ball, sheltered by his arms and back, and tried to crawl toward the gym.

He heard shouting, yells, saw light and felt relief as he waited for Kara to make her way to safety. And then, he saw red. Turning, he pushed Levi off, then swung out with a fist hard enough to send him flying back. He stumbled, tripped over one of the boxes, and landed ass-first into the fire.

Graham hesitated—and for the rest of his life he would hate himself for it—then reached back in and pulled the man out, rolling him to extinguish the flames that ate at his shirt and pants. His own hands burned with the effort, and something scorched his calf. When that wasn’t enough, Graham ripped his shirt off and used it to beat down on the remaining sparks until the man only smoked.