Shattered (LOST #3)(32)

More video cameras. Hidden so that you wouldn’t see them on the first glance, or the second. You had to search to find them positioned so carefully. Positioned to watch the back of the house.

“Wade, no!” Sarah yelled.

“Sarah?” Jax demanded. “What’s happening? Wait for my men! Wait—”

She ran toward Wade. He was pulling open the door. “No!” she screamed at him. Because I think Jax is right. I think this scene is a trap—and we’re walking straight into it!

Wade turned toward her, his face showing his confusion. She grabbed his arm and hauled him toward her.

“Sarah, what the hell—” he began.

She started running, pulling him with her, hauling and yanking at him with all her strength.

And then the building exploded. The force of the explosion picked Sarah up and hurtled her through the air.

“SARAH?” JAX SHOUTED. “Sarah!” He’d heard her scream. Scream even as something had seemed to explode in the background.

Now the line was dead. And fear clawed at his guts.

“What’s happening?” his lawyer, Ty Keith, demanded. The guy cast a nervous glance Jax’s way. His hold tightened on the steering wheel.

“Floor the fucking gas,” Jax snarled at him. “Get us to Bourbon Street, now.”

“B-But what’s on Bourbon?”

From the sounds he’d heard . . . “Look for the smoke.” Smoke that the firefighters would need to battle hell hard.

Sarah—be alive.

If she wasn’t, then Jax would wreak some serious fury on that city. They drove faster, faster, and rule-following Ty was sure racing through those streets.

Jax leaned forward, peering through the windshield. He dialed Carlos. His friend answered on the first ring. “Tell me you’re close to her,” Jax demanded. He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. This was Sarah. Sarah . . . mattered to him.

There was a pause. “Boss, I see the flames.”

And that was when Jax saw the smoke billowing up into the sky.

Sarah!

HE SMILED AS he stared at the monitor. Fire was shooting out of the old building. Bursting from the windows that had shattered moments before.

“Boom,” he whispered as he leaned forward and touched that screen. Oh, but it had been so easy. He’d tossed a few bread crumbs, and Sarah had followed them so quickly.

The image turned to static. The explosion and the fire had finally knocked out his feeds. But he’d seen enough.

Sarah had been running toward the building. She’d been shouting, probably so sure that she was there to save the day.

But you were like a moth, coming to the flame. A moth that had burned and turned to ash.

He couldn’t wait for her dear old dad to find out that his daughter was dust. If only he could see the expression on the bastard’s face. Not so smug now, are you, Murphy? Now you know what it’s like to have no power. To have nothing—

But fear and rage.





Chapter 7

GET HIM OUT OF THERE!”

Sarah coughed.

“Bring the bastard—the fire is spreading too much!”

She cracked open her eyes. She was . . . moving? Yes, and she was upside down. Slung over someone’s shoulder. Smoke was all around her and Sarah coughed, choking.

“It’s okay, Doc,” a man told her. He was the one carrying her like she was a sack of potatoes and running fast—so fast through that smoke. “We’re taking care of you.”

Another coughing fit racked her body, and Sarah realized that she hurt. Her body ached in about a dozen different places because . . .

Her memory came flooding back. “F-Fire!”

They burst out of the alley. She could hear the sound of fire trucks, and when she turned her head, she saw the flash of their lights. The firefighters always responded so fast in this city—because a fire could spread too easily on these streets. The buildings were positioned right next to each other and a fire could jump from one location to another—this fire was already spreading!

She pushed against the guy’s back, trying to see more.

“Easy, easy . . .” he told her, and then Sarah’s world spun as he lifted her up and sat her down on the sidewalk—the sidewalk across the street from that blaze. “Let me check you out.”

She looked up and found herself staring into the dark gaze of a man who had a long, slashing scar over his left eye. Carlos.

“Don’t be scared,” he said. Carlos was huge—a giant and currently covered in ash, just like she was. “Jax sent me to take care of you.”

She heard a groan and turned her head to the left. Two other men were there—big guys with lots of tats who’d just lowered Wade onto the sidewalk.

A fire truck roared up the street. Another followed close behind. The wail of those sirens was so loud that her ears ached. She wanted to lift her hands and slap them over her ears, but Sarah found she could hardly move at all.

Then those men—all three of them, closed in around her. Sarah stared up at them, a tendril of fear snaking through her. What was happening?

Carlos smiled at her. “Don’t you worry. No one is gonna hurt you again.”

They were . . . guarding her. And Wade.

“Jax,” she said, her voice coming out like a croak. Probably because of all the smoke. She coughed, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Jax—he sent you?”