Blame it on Texas: Lightning in a Bottle (Kindle Worlds)

by Gina Ardito

  She grinned. “Nope. I’ve got my own wheels now, remember? Go on home. Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.” He cocked his head, staring at her as if he wanted to read her mind, until she waved her hands in a whooshing motion. “Go. I’m fine. Really. I just want a few minutes to mess around with my flavor profiles.”

  His tight expression eased. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

  “I…umm…think I’m taking the day off.”

  “Yeah? Well, good for you.” Whistling, he left the brewery.

  After locking the door behind him, she wandered the floors, beaming with pride at the brew house she’d built from scratch. For so long, this place had only existed in her imagination. To finally experience the reality of all her dreams was a wild rollercoaster ride, and she never wanted to get off. If she thought she could get away with it without hours of lectures from her half-dozen guardians, she’d set up a cot in her office and sleep in the brewery every night.

  As she scaled the staircase to her office, her fingers caressed the oaken handrail with bliss, her feet danced on every step, and her gaze delighted in the view from her heightened vantage point. Each detail, no matter how miniscule, had been planned and reconsidered, designed and discussed, before being executed to perfection. She loved every inch of the results.

  Inside her office, she slid open the top drawer and smiled at the surprise she’d picked up earlier tonight for Drew. She stuck it in her pocket so she wouldn’t forget to bring it with her tomorrow. With luck, during the drive to Austin, she’d figure out the perfect words to go with the gift.

  In the meantime, she powered up her computer and accessed her flavor schematic spreadsheet. She promised herself she’d only stay about fifteen minutes or so, but of course, lost track of time while she worked. When she finally looked up, the clock on her desk read 1:43 am. Wow! She’d been engrossed for nearly ninety minutes. She flung her arms wide and stretched the muscles she’d let go lax. Probably time to pack up and head home before Quinn sent a search party for her. In fact, to stem that tide, she picked up her cell and sent him a quick text.

  Sorry. Working on new flavors and didn’t realize how late it was. Be home in 20.

  There. That oughta buy her about thirty more minutes before Quinn started to panic.

  Beeeeep! Beeeeep! Beeeeep! Beeeeep! Alarms blared from the brewery floor, jolting Bo into action. Shit! Now what?

  She raced from her office, thundered down the stairs, and bolted into the rear of the building. The acrid smell assailed her first, followed by heat. Fire! The sprinkler systems rained, streaming down her hair and clothes. The spray hitting the flames created wet smoke that filled her mouth and throat. Her feet sloshed through deep puddles of water, with plenty splashing upward to soak her all the way to her calves. Her favorite suede boots were now casualties. If she could get the blaze under control before the brewery suffered too much damage, though, she’d consider their loss a valiant sacrifice.

  Despite the decreasing visibility, she scanned the space to check her equipment. The stainless tanks were wet, but serviceable. On the other side of the floor, a ring of flames licked their way closer to her pallets of grain, out of the sprinklers’ reach.

  “Shit!” She hurried toward the far corner to grab the fire extinguisher from the wall. On contact, searing heat burned her palm, and she yanked back. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  She whipped off her wet flannel shirt, wrung it out, and wrapped the damp fabric around her hand, allowing the excess to dangle. Using the makeshift tail of her makeshift bandage like a potholder, she removed the extinguisher. With her meager protection in place, she pulled the pin and aimed the hose directly at the floor where the fire threatened the stacks of plastic-wrapped fifty-pound-bags. She squeezed the handle. The airy foam spewed out with so much force the hose leaped out of her hand to snake crazily around the apparatus. She regained control and sprayed the white stuff back and forth, side-to-side, striding around the wall of pallets, ensuring she covered every flicker.

  Her lungs burned and her throat ached, but she double-backed and hit the floor with the foam again, coughing with the exertion. Wet hair fell over her face and into her stinging eyes, blocking what little she could see. She sloshed to the rear of the building, checking for additional damage, not the least surprised to find the blackened door that indicated where the fire had, no doubt, started.

  Someone must have set the blaze deliberately. Her saboteur had upped the ante. And where the hell was the local fire department? They should have been here by now. Maybe they were, but she couldn’t hear them over the din of the fire alarm screaming inside.

  Assured there was no active flame left on the brewery floor, she put down the extinguisher and used the dangling shirt remnant to jerk open the burnt back door, hoping to clear the smoke and find out why not one fireman had bothered to show up yet.

  Outside the safer haven of the brewery, hell roared toward her. Against the flashing red lights of a dozen firetrucks, flames and water danced their sinister performance from the blown-out windows of the building behind hers. Men shouted amid the chaos, hoses spewing gallons of water on not only the restaurant supply company, but the wholesale party favors outlet to the left and the automotive shop on the right. The entire complex seemed to be engulfed in flames!

  On a muffled scream, she slammed the door. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Her breathing grew labored. Meanwhile, her mind scrambled for a logical plan of action. She couldn’t stay here—but she couldn’t exactly walk out the door and ride off into the sunset, either. Clearly, no one knew she was in this building. She had to let someone know. Hell, everyone was probably asleep. But if she didn’t find a way out of here soon, she’d be sleeping permanently.

  Her cell phone. She needed her cell. She fled the brewery floor, raced up the steps to her office and reached her desk at the exact moment the lights flickered. A resounding boom followed, and the place went pitch black.

  Blinded by the sudden darkness, she fumbled around the room until she found her phone. She pressed a side button, illuminating the screen along with a small square of space. She punched in 911 and waited, gasping, for someone to answer.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “Umm…hi. My name is Bo McKenzie.” She was amazed she managed to give the woman on the other end a concise report: Trapped in the building with all the emergency personnel outside fighting the blaze, no one knew she was here, what should she do?

  “Hang tight,” the operator replied. “I’ll alert them you’re in there, and someone will get you out. Can you get to someplace safe?”

  “Yes. The fire’s been contained where I am, I think.”

  “Okay. Stay on the line with me while I talk to the fire department. It’s going to be quiet on your end for a minute. Don’t hang up, Bo, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Sure enough, her side of the line became a muffled silence. Standing alone in the dark, Bo could do nothing but listen to the alarms still ringing downstairs and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Breathe, she told herself. You’re safe. It’ll all be over soon. One way or the other.

  “Bo, you still there?”

  Oh, thank God! “Yes! I’m here.”

  “Okay, I want you to get to the back door of your building. Can you do that?”

  “Uh-huh. I was just there.” Stupid thing to say. Oh, I was just there. Like she was talking about the supermarket or some trendy boutique.

  “Good. Make sure it’s unlocked. Someone will come get you within the next minute or two. Stay on the phone with me until he arrives, okay?”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “That’s good, Bo.”

  A long pause ensued while she waited for further instructions from the operator.

  “Go now.”

  “Oh, right.” Duh. She pulled the phone away, prepared to disconnect, then remembered, and set it to speaker instead. “Right. Heading there now.”

  Using the flashlight on her phone
to illuminate the way, she fumbled downstairs again, through the deluge of falling water and thickening smoke while the operator cheered her on. “That’s terrific. Keep going. You’re doing great, Bo.”

  “Uh-huh.” She passed the tasting room, but couldn’t see the gleaming taps in the dark. God, how much would she lose tonight?

  “Try not to think about that,” the woman said. “Let’s just get you safely out of there, okay?”

  Damn. She hadn’t realized she’d said anything out loud and bit her tongue, determined to say nothing more until she got out of the inferno. Faces flashed in her mind, a slideshow of everyone she loved: her dad, her brothers, Mitch, Uncle Ian and Aunt Connie, Drew. What if she never saw any of them again? What if she never got another chance to talk to Drew?

  No. She’d make it out of here if it killed her—figuratively speaking.

  “How you doing, Bo?”

  “Good. Almost there.”

  “Perfect. Chief Perez is at the door now. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Well, no, not really fine. My throat hurts.” She swallowed and pulled the door handle, allowing the night and the dark figure of a man on the other side of the door to come inside. “And…now that I think of it…I’m feeling…kinda…woozy…”

  She swayed as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. Her vision faded, and she felt rather than saw something wrap around her waist.

  From the hastening darkness, a voice said, “Gotcha.”

  Lights out.

  ****

  Floating in that Neverland between wake and sleep, Bo tried to roll over, but something snagged her arm. Damn sheet must’ve become twisted during the night. She yanked harder, and pain sizzled through her elbow.

  “Easy now,” a soft voice drawled from above her. “Don’t pull out that IV. Just relax. We’ll be done here soon.”

  Here? Where? Fully awake now, she tried to sit up, but an unseen pressure pushed her down again. “Lie still, please.”

  Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, her throat ached, and her head spun. What the hell? She struggled against whatever restrained her, and the voice came back harsher. “I said, ‘Lie still, please.’”

  Never one to do what she was told, Bo managed to rise on her elbows, but this time, when the hand tried to push her down, she stiffened her spine to steel and refused to back down.

  “Okay, fine,” the voice relented, and the force on her shoulder disappeared. “Sit up if you like. Just try not to move.”

  With that minor battle won, Bo forced her eyes open to face down the woman who owned the voice. She was garbed in a white lab coat over pink scrubs splashed with quarter-sized purple daisies. Her features were sharp but in an appealing way, and she looked younger than the command in her voice let on. A nurse. A nurse, in fact, with rainbow-colored hair cut in short, spiky layers, a round face, and denim-blue eyes.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “Nice to see you awake and alert. Now, sit still and don’t give me any more trouble, okay?”

  Bo’s dry lips formed one word, which came out a grating whisper. “Where?”

  The woman checked the tube running from the inside of her elbow to a bag of clear liquid dangling from a hook overhead. “You’re in the hospital.”

  Hospital? Oh, hell, no. She’d spent time in that hell once before. Not again. Never again. “No hospital,” she rasped. “Go home.”

  “You’re a take-charge kinda lady.” The nurse unwound a stethoscope from her neck. “I like that.” Satisfied, Bo nodded, until the woman added, “Too bad you’re not in charge here. I am. So, you’ll stay in the hospital a while longer.”

  Bo would have sputtered if she didn’t ache so much all over. Instead, she slammed a fist against the mattress.

  “Hey! I warned you about the IV. You pull out that line, and I will take great delight in reinserting it very slowly, using the biggest, sharpest needle I can find and then binding your entire forearm in enough tape to wrap King Tut twice over. You got that?”

  “Now, why didn’t I ever think of that?” another voice—this one male—remarked from the corner. He followed up the quip with a chortle.

  “Shut up, Quinn,” she growled.

  “Quiet, please, Miss McKenzie,” the woman admonished.

  Bo shot daggers from her eyes at her brother. How come she was the one getting in trouble? Quinn started it. This nurse’s bedside manner needed some major improvement.

  “I’m going to listen to your lungs, if that’s okay.” The woman placed the flat end of the stethoscope against Bo’s chest. On instinct, Bo took a deep inhale. Pain zinged like a pinball around her ribcage, and she winced. “Breathe normally, please.”

  While the nurse leaned over her on the left, focused on whatever her lungs sounded like, Quinn wandered closer on her right, and Bo got a good look at the dark circles under his eyes. She pointed at him. “Look like crap.” Her throat burned with every word she spoke so she kept speech to a minimum.

  “Want me to get you a mirror?”

  Any fear she had about her condition disappeared at his retort. If her brother could insult her, she wasn’t dying. Which meant she didn’t have to stay here. “Home,” she repeated.

  “Not happening,” he told her with a grimace. “You could’ve died.” He didn’t add the word, “again,” but it hung between them, nonetheless.

  “Didn’t,” she insisted.

  “But you could have.”

  The nurse sighed and replaced the stethoscope around her neck. “If I’d known you’d antagonize her, I would’ve made you wait in the hall until I finished here.”

  “Tell her, Doc,” he replied. “Tell her how close she came to dying this time.”

  Doc? A flush of shame heated her cheeks. She, of all people, knew better than to assume a person’s career based on their gender. In assuming the woman fussing over her was a nurse, she’d failed her own litmus test.

  “What difference does it make?” the doctor said. “She did the right thing. She called 911 and alerted emergency personnel to her situation. She pretty much saved her own life.”

  With each word the doctor spoke, the memories flooded her brain. The alarm. The smoke. The sprinklers. The fire. Oh, God. The fire. “The brewery?”

  “Fine,” Quinn said. “Some water damage and the back door has to be replaced. You were smart to protect the grain. Mitch is on the details to get you up and running again. There’s plenty of time for you to relax and recuperate. You can’t reopen until the arson squad finishes their investigation, but—”

  “Arson?”

  The doctor muttered, “Oh, for God’s sake…”

  Quinn gave the woman a helpless look and shrugged. “She’s gonna find out eventually.” He returned his gaze to Bo. “Yeah, umm…someone set fire to five buildings down there. Yours was one of them.”

  “The others?”

  “Most of them are in way worse shape. The auto body shop is a blackened shell, what with all the paints and chemicals they store there. Place went up like a torch. Ditto the party supply place ‘cuz of all the paper. You were one of the lucky businesses. If you hadn’t been there when it happened, you probably would’ve lost a lot more. The cops requested your security tapes, by the way, to see if your cameras might have caught something or someone lurking around the area. Mitch turned them over. You okay with that?”

  She nodded. “Did anybody…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

  “A couple of the firefighters are being treated for smoke inhalation. They’re in stable condition.”

  “Okay, enough.” The doctor clapped at Quinn. “She’s awake, you got to see her and talk to her. Back you go to the waiting room while I finish the rest of my exam. Tell the rest of your crew out there she’s okay and send them home. We need our waiting room back.”

  The rest of the crew? Oh, Jeez. Who was out there? And what kind of damage had they wrought? Bo really didn’t want to know.

  For his part, Quinn heeded the doctor’s order. He kissed his
sister’s forehead. “Glad you’re okay, Bo. You gotta stop scaring us like this.”

  She nodded again and offered a tremulous smile to tell him she was fine. At the door, he paused one last time to look over his shoulder then crept out into the hall.

  Once they were alone, the doctor poured water from a pitcher into a plastic cup, added a straw, and handed it to her. “Here. Sip. Slowly.”

  Bo took the cup and pulled a tentative bit of water into her desert-dry mouth. God! That tasted better than her finest brew right now.

  “Okay, let’s start over. I’m Dr. Hackett, pulmonologist. You were brought in early this morning via ambulance. At that time, you were unconscious, soaking wet, with a minor burn on your palm and an upper airway restriction. We intubated you, gave you oxygen, and performed a bronchoscopy. If your throat hurts, that’s why. I’m happy to report the damage was minimal. You were lucky.”

  “I know.”

  “And judging by the crowd outside, they know it, too.”

  She flushed again. “Sorry about them.”

  “Don’t be. They obviously care about you. They camped out in our waiting room and claimed they weren’t leaving ‘til they knew you were okay. Not because some big-shot doctor told them so, but because they saw it with their own eyes.”

  Big-shot doctor. She stifled a groan of embarrassment. “They’re not usually so…” She searched for an appropriate term. “…insensitive.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re a lousy liar?”

  She groaned. “Oh, God. What else did they say?”

  The doctor laughed. “Relax. I didn’t take offense at anything they said or did. I understood their concern. I only allowed your brother to join me when I checked on you because they were scaring some of our other patients and their families. I figured if I let one of them in to see for themselves that you were being well taken care of, he could relay the information to your father, your brothers, your employees—”

  “Good God, how many of them are out there?”