Playing With Fire

by Alison Bliss

  “Sweetheart, his brother died. I don’t think he’s going to give a damn what hour it is when I call—”

  A high-pitched alarm rang out, and my body jolted.

  Cowboy unraveled his naked body from mine and sat upright, grabbing his pager from the nightstand and turning it off. He lifted his cell phone, read the screen, and quietly cursed under his breath. With the sheet still covering my waist, I sat up and leaned into his shirtless back. “What is it?”

  “There’s a structure fire on the south side of town.”

  “Oh,” I said solemnly. An involuntary shiver ran through me at the thought of him leaving me here alone.

  He must’ve felt it because he said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going.”

  I didn’t know which was worse: him putting off work commitments to make sure I was all right or me needing him to so I could breathe normally. I sighed. “You can’t not go. You have a job to do.”

  “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I promised.

  He groaned. “Then I’ll get Jake to come over here and keep an eye on things until I get back.”

  “No, they have a new baby. I don’t want you to wake up Emily and Lily by calling him in the middle of the night. Just go. I’ll be all right. If nothing else, I’ll stay awake until you get back.”

  “You sure?”

  Though my heart raced and my thoughts ran wild, I managed to provide a convincing smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I may be a coward, but I can’t keep you from helping other people. Now go. The sooner you leave, the faster you’ll get to come back.”

  Cowboy slid off the bed and yanked on his jeans. He grabbed his shirt and hat and started to walk away, but then turned and came back. He clamped one brawny arm around my waist and lifted me high enough so that his mouth secured itself over mine. After a long, searing kiss, he pulled back and gave me a reassuring smile. “Well, I think you’re brave. Especially since, if you’d turned me down one more time yesterday, I was planning to wring your pretty little neck.” He winked at me, kissed the tip of my nose, and headed for the door. “When I get back, we’ll talk about your sleeping disorder.”

  I hopped out of bed and raced into the living room, not bothering to turn on any lights. Didn’t matter, though. The glow from the computer screen in the other room gave off enough light to see Cowboy tearing off the top sheet of the notepad on my desk.

  “I don’t have a sleeping disorder.”

  He glared at me. “Darlin’, I’d love nothing more than to stand here and argue with you, but I have to go. We’ll argue when I get back. That way we can make up,” he said, shrugging his brows. Cowboy pecked me on the cheek and held up the piece of paper with Ned Swanson’s phone number written on it. “Thanks for this. I’ll call him on the way to the fire.” Cowboy headed for the door and called out, “I’ll be back soon. Lock the door behind me.”

  The moment he walked out, I shut the front door behind him and flipped the deadbolt to the lock position. I walked toward the couch to grab the remote, planning to watch some TV until he returned.

  But as I reached for it, the floor creaked behind me and fireworks exploded behind my eyes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My eyes flickered open.

  I blinked a few times to clear my blurry vision, until I finally made out a faint glow of light. My head pounded, but when I tried to reach up and touch it, I realized I couldn’t. My arms seemed somehow stuck behind my back. At first I thought I was paralyzed, but as I wriggled around, I felt the scratchy rope binding me twist painfully tighter.

  Someone tied me up?

  That knowledge sent a surge of fear running through me. I glanced around, searching for my captor, but all I could determine was that I was lying in a musty, hay-filled stall of an old, dilapidated barn, and there was no one in sight. As far as I could tell, I was completely alone.

  That was, until someone banged loudly on something and a man’s gruff, stale voice rang out. “Fucking idiot.”

  It sounded a little familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before.

  Though the loud banging persisted, I couldn’t see the man. Only heard him swear occasionally under his breath. Quietly, I tried to maneuver into a sitting position, but couldn’t because my feet were bound, as well. Since I couldn’t see my captor, I hoped like hell he couldn’t see me—

  Oh my God! I did recognize that voice. Dan, the not-exactly-homeless bum? But…why? What did he want with me?

  Dread filled me, and my adrenaline kicked into high gear. Panicking, I rocked back and forth to gain enough momentum to allow me to sit up. But as I did, I knocked something over behind me in the process. The clanging noise echoed through the barn.

  “Who’s there?” Dan called out.

  Who’s there? Was he as deaf as he was blind? Or had he only pretended to be blind all along?

  I shifted to see what made the noise, hoping to use the metal object as a weapon, but instead I gasped. An oil lantern sitting nearby had tipped over and leaked onto the ground, catching the musty hay on fire right next to me. Without shoes, I couldn’t stomp it out, but I managed to scoot away from it. Unfortunately, that frantic move only ended up shoving more moldy hay into the flames. The fire grew larger.

  I rolled to my side, twisting and pulling my arms to try and loosen the rope binding me, but it only tightened. Luckily, I managed to bend my arms back just enough to get the rope past my rear, where I tucked my knees to my chest and maneuvered my bound hands over my tied feet.

  The fire was rapidly spreading and had already started working its way up the interior wall of the stall. I couldn’t reach the tight knots between my wrists with my teeth, so I reached down and untied the knots at my feet.

  I’d barely gotten the rope off my ankles and scrambled to my feet when Dan came into view outside the doorless stall. I backed away, watching him feel idly along the wall close to the entrance, as if he were looking for something, though there was nothing there to find. He didn’t even flinch when he turned his head and looked right at me. Almost as if…he couldn’t see me. Guess he’s blind, after all. Which meant…

  “Dan…?”

  He nearly fell over from the shock. “Jesus fucking Christ! Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you want with me?” He’d had no clue I’d been there all along.

  “Dan, it’s me, Anna…Cowboy’s friend.”

  “Who gives a fuck? All I wanna know is why you locked me in here. If you’re here to rob me, you can forget it. The wife kicked me out again and I don’t have no money.”

  “I…I didn’t lock you in here.” I considered having Dan try to untie my wrists, but then I took in the flames and gathered we only had a few short minutes to get out of the barn before the smoke overwhelmed us. With him unable to see the knots, it would take entirely too long. “Dan, we have to get out of here. The barn’s on fire.”

  I hurried past him out of the stall and looked for the nearest exit. The fire had spread to the wall and door, which meant almost a quarter of the barn was already engulfed in flames.

  “No shit, Sherlock. Just because I can’t see the flames, doesn’t mean I can’t smell smoke. But I’ve been trying to get out ever since someone locked the goddamn door. No fucking use. It must be barred from the outside.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” I yelled over my shoulder, hearing the panic in my voice. To keep from burning my hands, I picked up an old piece of rotting wood and hit it repeatedly against the barn door. The door wouldn’t budge. “Damn it. We’re locked in.”

  “Told you that already,” Dan said calmly, obviously not understanding the condition of the barn and the ferocity of the fire.

  Toxic smoke filled the room, burning my eyes as I choked up. “No, please! I don’t want to die!” I stood there frozen, shaking my head in disbelief. “This can’t be happening. Not again. It’s just a bad dream. Any minute now, you’re going to wake up.” Damn it, Anna, wake up!

  Before I lost contr
ol, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sounds of the fire roaring in my ears. But embers popped all around me, and my eyes opened to take in my surroundings. Sinister flames bowed the dry wood, and the old barn creaked, as if it were seconds away from caving in. I almost wished it would because I couldn’t think of a worse death than being burned alive.

  Until Dan coughed and gasped for breath.

  I stared at him as he continued running his hands along the burning walls, searching for a way out. He was blind and doing everything in his power to get out, while the only person in the barn who could actually see stood there frozen, too terrified to do anything to help. His death would be my fault.

  It was bad enough my mother died because of me. I couldn’t let anyone else go through what she did.

  I searched for a way out and spotted a large gaping hole in the wall of the hayloft. We’d have to jump to the safety of the ground outside, but a broken neck or back somehow seemed more comforting than burning alive inside a building. It was our only chance. I was our only chance.

  You can do this, Anna. Just breathe.

  “D-Dan, over here,” I shouted, gasping for a breath as I ran to the broken ladder leading to the hayloft. “Follow the sound of my voice.” As he moved toward me, I encouraged his progress. “That’s it, straight ahead.” When he reached me, I took his hand and put it high up on the ladder. “Start climbing. When you get to the top, go to the right about ten feet. There’s a large opening to the outside, though, so be careful. We’ll have to jump. It’s the only way out.”

  He frowned. “You should go first. You’re the woman.”

  But I wouldn’t be able to pull myself up easily with my hands tied together. “And you’re blind,” I said, desperately trying to loosen the knots again with my teeth as the flames worsened and blazed closer. The stifling heat etched its way under my skin.

  “You sure love to point that out, don’t ya? You know that makes you sound like a fucking asshole every time—”

  “Dan, just go! I’m right behind you.”

  As he started to climb, I continued trying to free myself though I was coughing nonstop. The rope was too tight and I couldn’t get a good grip, much less see what I was doing. It was taking entirely too long. If I didn’t do something fast, I wasn’t going to make it out.

  Frustrated, I looked for something to cut them off, but the barn had obviously not been used for some time and there were no tools lying around. Just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted a rusty panel of roofing tin leaning against the far wall.

  I covered my mouth with the inside of my elbow and stayed low as I made my way through the hazy gray smog in the room. Lining my wrists up on either side of the tin, I moved them back and forth in a sawing motion, allowing the rope to rub against the jagged tin as I held my breath.

  Smoke burned my tear-filled eyes and heat from the hot tin seared into my skin. One faulty move had the rust slicing into my arm, and I let out a sharp yelp. Blood trickled down my wrist as I continued to use the jagged edge as a knife to cut through the binding.

  The moment the rope gave, I stumbled back through the thick fog, groping for the rotting ladder that would lead me to safety. Once my hands found it, I climbed, hoping the shaky ladder wouldn’t suddenly break and my slippery blood-soaked hands would hold me and keep me from falling back down into the fiery abyss.

  A cry tore from my throat as pieces of the burning barn fell down around me. With every sure-footed step and every capable handhold I pulled myself up with, my chest burned more and more. I breathed deeper as I climbed, only ingesting more of the toxic air.

  At the top, I crawled over the ledge and landed on my back, gasping for air. I wheezed, my achy lungs threatening to collapse with each breath. I grabbed the railing and pulled myself to my feet, turning toward the large window in the wall of the hayloft. Orange tendrils surrounded the opening.

  I wasn’t sure how far of a jump it was and had no clue how Dan managed it on his own, but he hollered from outside. He’d made it. Yet I stood transfixed by the fire, trapped on the upper floor of the barn, mentally preparing myself to jump through a burning ring of flames like a circus tiger.

  I’d always had this chronic fear of being burned alive. Now, with the fire crackling around me, it was my worst nightmare come true. A self-fulfilled prophecy. But if I had any chance of getting out, I’d have to do it. Only one thought kept me from moving my feet.

  Had my mother felt the same panic and desperation when she died?

  Residual memories of my mother’s smile and laughter washed over me. So vivacious and beautiful. Yet, my father snuffed out her light and crushed my soul. Cut all of our lives short by his callousness. His ruthlessness. His need to burn everything around him to the ground. Even the intense heat searing into my skin couldn’t thaw that frozen image in my mind.

  If he couldn’t have me, then he’d burn us all to hell.

  Taking a shallow, smoke-filled breath, I sputtered and gasped for clean air. Weakened by the lack of oxygen, I collapsed onto the wooden floor as the surrounding hayloft spun sideways. A knot formed in my sore throat, keeping me from swallowing. I wanted to cry, but my dry eyes seemed incapable of producing tears. There was no energy left in my body to get me to the opening, and as the lights in my eyes dimmed, I thought of the one person who mattered the most.

  Cowboy.

  The image of his face replayed over and over in my head like a looped recording, torturing me with his glittering green eyes and taunting me with his cocky grin. Pain seared through me at the devastating thought of never seeing him again.

  No! I can’t lose him now.

  I blinked my stinging eyes to sharpen my focus and made out the blurry hayloft opening surrounded by fire. Only ten damn feet away. Even though the notion of moving an inch exhausted me, I had to make it out. For him. For us.

  Using the only reserves I could muster, I lifted my body up and crawled toward the opening in the wall. My hands and knees skimmed the old wooden floor, collecting splinters from the desiccated planks as the breaths wheezed in and out of my chest.

  As soon as I made it to the hayloft doors, I hung my head over the edge and gulped in huge breaths of fresh air as smoke billowed out above my head. My eyes focused on the ground, measuring the distance of my jump to safety, and nausea rolled through me. Oh God. The second story was much higher than I’d anticipated.

  I started to shove myself back from the edge when my right hand pushed against something that moved. Peering back over the ledge, a sense of relief washed over me and I nearly cried. A small wooden ladder hung from the side of the hayloft doors, leading toward the ground.

  Upon closer examination, though, my heart sank and my distress returned. Half of the decaying ladder dangled loosely to the trim by only one rusted nail, while the bottom half—the most important half—was missing altogether. I’d still have to jump.

  But it wasn’t like I had a choice.

  Swinging my legs over the edge, I eased out onto the ladder while holding onto the building for dear life. If the shoddy ladder broke beneath my weight, I didn’t want to go down with it. At least not right away. The rotting wood held, so I released my hand from the trim around the hayloft doors and grabbed onto the wooden pegs of the ladder. It wobbled a little, and I tightened my grasp.

  I climbed down, executing a slow, careful descent, but it didn’t matter. About a quarter of the way down, an eerily familiar voice yelled out my name. I faltered and my foot slipped. The wooden step broke beneath my weight, and I plummeted at least fifteen feet to the ground.

  The sudden impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and an intense pain rocketed through my shoulder, radiating down my outstretched limb. I tried to cry out, but no air passed my lips. In silent agony, I cradled my injured shoulder to steady it and gasped for oxygen while the excruciating pain echoed through my arm. I couldn’t move it.

  But no matter how significant the blinding pain shooting through my system was, it didn’t have
anything on the crazy tricks it played on my fading consciousness. While I lay there on the ground, unable to move, a hazy figure came into view and hovered over me like an ominous dark cloud.

  And I caught a glimpse of his face. “D-Dad?”

  Then I swirled into darkness.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Choking and gasping, I awoke to something digging painfully into my stomach, expelling what little fresh air I managed to gulp in. My memory flashed back to the burning barn, but the searing pain in my left shoulder fast forwarded to the part where I fell off the ladder.

  Then my head lolled, swinging back and forth in the air freely like a pendulum as something moved beneath me. Correction: as someone carried me. My eyes shot open to see the back of a man’s legs as his work boots kicked up dust with every step. Realizing I was upside down, my head spun and my stomach churned.

  Each step he took sent a spike of pain into my throbbing arm. A man had thrown me over his shoulder and carried me away from the blazing building. But why? Where was he taking me? And who was this—no, I knew who he was.

  My father, Stuart Nelson.

  I struggled against him. I wasn’t sure if that had anything to do with why he suddenly stopped in his tracks, but he bent and laid me down in the middle of a dirt driveway. He didn’t hesitate to grab my incapacitated arm and flex my elbow out further. I cried out from the extreme amount of white-hot pain that shot through me.

  My eyes glazed with tears and short breaths wheezed from my lungs, but I wasn’t capable of fighting him off. Thankfully, as he rotated my arm and applied some pressure behind it, something in my shoulder popped back into place. The lingering pain was nothing compared to the immediate relief I found.

  “Anna…? Baby girl, can you hear me?”

  That voice… It had to be a hallucination. I couldn’t fathom that the man who killed my mother was referring to me in terms of endearment. As if he hadn’t ripped my heart out of my chest twenty-two years ago when he burned my mother alive and left me to live with the mental and physical scars his actions had caused.