Lance wanted to keep looking. Haley and Sharp were still inside, but he had to get Eric outside first. He dragged the big man by the armpits down the hallway and out the front door. Behind him, the fire crackled, the smoke thickened, and the heat intensified as he stumbled through the opening and into the cool night air.
Esposito rushed to Lance and grabbed Eric’s feet. Together, they carried the bodyguard across the grass to a safe spot away from the house.
Eliza was on her hands and knees, coughing and choking, definitely alive. Morgan rolled the bodyguard to his back.
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.”
The clean air in his lungs—and the hope that at least Haley would live—gave Sharp a small charge of energy. Unable to get to his feet, he crawled through the dry grass to the back of the yard, an inch at a time, trying to reach a place where the worst of the burning embers and flying bits of fire couldn’t reach.
Probably only a couple of minutes had passed, but it felt like hours to Sharp. Each movement sent another gush of blood from his wound.
Finally, Haley knelt and tugged off her sweatshirt. She pressed it to his wound and leaned on it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting through the sooty grime. “The wood came out.”
Sharp couldn’t believe they were alive. Haley hadn’t given up on him. As the night air rushed into his lungs, feeling returned to his body.
And pain. Loads of it.
He put a hand to his middle. The belt had come loose during his slide out the window. The wood in his side had been knocked free, and blood was flowing. The rags she’d used to stabilize the wood impaling him were gone.
Sharp lifted his hands. They were coated with blood. Haley’s horrified eyes took it in.
Sirens approached.
She clutched his hand. “They’re almost here. Please don’t die.”
“I’ll try,” he croaked and stared up at the sky. A thick cloud of smoke blew across the stars. The sight was deadly but beautiful. Would it be the last thing Sharp saw?
“I’ll get help.” Haley stood and turned toward the house. She’d have to give it a wide berth to get to the front of the property, where the fire trucks would arrive.
Even if he didn’t make it, Haley was going to survive. He hadn’t failed her. He hadn’t failed Ted.
She turned away from him. Sharp let his eyes close. He’d rest until she came back. The darkness pulled at him.
“You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” a voice said.
Sharp forced his eyelids open. A figure approached, silhouetted against the fire. He pulled a gun and pointed it at Haley.
“No!” she sobbed, her body wavering, her legs shaking.
“Stop,” the man shouted. The firelight played over a thin face that Sharp recognized from the photos on the whiteboard.
Isaac McGee.
Shocked, Sharp reached for his weapon, but his hand slapped nothing but his bloody hip. His gun had fallen from his belt in the basement.