“Outside, Daisy,” Ian ordered.
The panic surged again. “No,” she tried to say, but her lungs weren’t working, so only her mouth moved.
“Yes.” His expression behind his face shield and mask was sympathetic, but his hold on her arm was firm. “Med’s on their way, and a paramedic can give you a sedative, but you have to get out of this house until we can clear out this gas.”
She couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I opened the windows.” When he glanced through the arched doorway at the still-closed kitchen window and then back at her, she clarified, “Upstairs. The downstairs ones don’t open.”
Pressing his free hand on the top of his helmet, he groaned. “Jesus, Daisy. You’ve trapped yourself in this place. What if there’d been a fire?”
“I have extinguishers!” Her voice was getting too high-pitched, and she couldn’t seem to breathe.
“Doesn’t matter right now. I’m getting you out.” His mouth tightened as he took a step closer, shifting into position to put her over his shoulder. Daisy knew she’d be helpless once he picked her up, helpless as he carried her through the doors, helpless as he took her outside. She couldn’t let it get to that point or else she’d die of fear once he dragged her out of the house.
Pivoting into position, she raised her knee, connecting with the side of his thigh, right where the peroneal bundle of nerves was located. The heavy material of his pants absorbed some of the blow’s force, but the hit was sufficient to loosen his grip enough for her to break free.
Daisy scrambled back, putting a few feet of space between them. Her training told her to land a couple of kicks, to disable her opponent so she could escape, but it was Ian. Even in her frantic state, she knew he was trying to help her, to save her. He didn’t realize that taking her outside would end her just as quickly as an explosion.
Instead of continuing to fight, she whirled and ran. She heard him behind her, too close behind her. Afraid that he would catch her if she took the stairs, she sprinted to the training room, slamming the door just before his bulk connected with a thud. Twisting the dead bolt, she thanked her paranoia that had made her add locks to every door, even the interior ones.
It wasn’t enough, though. Ian was a firefighter, and they had ways of getting into locked rooms, she was sure. It was dark, but she knew the gym so well that she made her way to one of the weight racks without crashing into any of the other equipment. Once her hands closed on the rack, she knocked it over, letting the weights hit the floor. Just the rack alone was too heavy for her to lift, but she managed to drag it in front of the door.
“Daisy!” Ian yelled. “You need to get out of here! It’s not safe!”
She knew it wasn’t safe. The house was filling with gas. The smallest spark could ignite an explosion that would destroy the entire neighborhood—and anyone in it. The thought was so frightening that her entire body shook. It was still not as terrifying as going outside.
Running to where she’d dumped the rack, her breath catching with every inhale, she got down on her hands and knees to feel for the abandoned weights. With sweating, trembling hands, she piled the ones she found onto a mat, using it as a sled to slide the weights over to the door. As she returned them to the rack, her tremors making them knock loudly against the metal, Ian continued yelling.
Soon, though, he went quiet. That was scarier than his shouts. Had he been overcome by the gas? Had he left her to be blown to bits, alone in death as she’d been so much of her life?
When she heard the muffled sound of his voice, relief poured over her, quickly followed by guilt. He shouldn’t be in here. He shouldn’t have to die because of Daisy’s mixed-up mind. His unclear words continued, and she assumed he was talking on the radio. When even that stopped, she drew in a shaky breath.
“Ian?” she called through the door, his name cracking in the middle. “I’m sorry for the knee strike.”
“It’s okay, Daisy.” His voice was still loud enough to reach her, but he’d quit shouting. “You really need to leave.”
“I can’t.” With all the weights she found back on the rack, she sat heavily on the mat. The air around her felt weighted, thick with anticipation, ready to explode at any second. “I’m sorry.”
“C’mon, Daisy,” he coaxed. “I like you. Even Rory likes you, and she has a very limited number of people she can tolerate. We don’t want you to be blown to bits.”
His words reminded her that she wasn’t the only one in danger, that she’d be responsible for this brave, beautiful man’s death. Because she was a coward, Ian could die. That seemed so wrong. “Please go, Ian. I don’t want you to be in bits, either.”