Her dark lashes fan across her cheeks, fluttering as she stirs awake. “Archer?”
“Jo, wake up.” I glance around for my clothes. My jeans are slung over a nearby nightstand. My t-shirt is wadded in a ball beside an old toolbox. “We have to get out of here. There’s a fire.”
“A fire?” She sits up, abruptly awake. Her hair falls around her shoulders in messy waves. She holds the blanket against her bare chest, staring at me with worry. “What do you mean, a fire?”
“Don’t you smell that?”
She inhales deeply. I watch her eyes widen. “Oh, god. Wait— listen!”
I pause, jeans frozen halfway up my hips. My ears strain for a moment before I hear it. There’s a dull roar in the air. The searing, steady crackle of a massive flame.
It’s close.
Very close.
Fear grips me as I meet Jo’s eyes. I see the same terror reflected back at me.
“Hurry,” I order, tossing over her pajamas and sweater. “Put these on. We’ll go see what’s happening.”
We dress in haste, then scramble down the ladder as quickly as possible. When we emerge from the boathouse, into the daylight, the sight that greets us is so shocking, we both stop short.
Cormorant House is engulfed in fire.
Flames lick at the windows, dance across the roof shingles. The whole structure is ablaze, from the terrace all the way to the upper turrets. It’s hard to believe a fire could spread so fast, could burn so hot. I’ve never seen anything like it. Even here, halfway down the lawn, it’s hot as a furnace. Heat billows at us, like standing in front of a thousand-degree oven.
“Oh my god,” Jo whispers. “Oh my god.”
I grab her hand and interlock our fingers together. “It’s okay,” I tell her, though the statement feels laughably far from the truth. “You’re okay. There’s no one inside, right?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Thank God I went to the boathouse…”
We glance at one another, then at her bedroom window. The glass pane has shattered. Her curtains are burning. Inside, the inferno rages visibly, spreading across her bed, up the wall panels.
If she’d been inside…
She’d be dead.
No one could survive that.
No one.
Jo’s eyes never shift from her bedroom window. I know she’s thinking the same thoughts.
“Here,” I say to distract her, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my cellphone. I press it into her palm. “We’ll call 911. They’ll send over the fire department. Maybe something can be salvaged…”
It’s a lie. We both know it’s a lie. Even if the fire department manages to subdue this blaze, there will be nothing left but waterlogged wreckage when they’re finished. But Jo curls her fingers around the phone anyway and begins to dial.
“Drop the phone,” a disembodied voice says from our left. “Now.”
We both whip toward the sound, just in time to watch Jaxon step from the tree-line. He reeks of gasoline — my first indication that this inferno was no electrical fluke. His fingers are black with ash… and curled around a handgun.
He lifts it, aiming straight for Jo.
My heart stops.
“I said,” Jax mutters lowly. “Drop the fucking cellphone.”
She lets it tumble from her fingers, landing in the grass with a dull thump. I step in front of her, so she’s shielded by my body. Jaxon watches me with unmasked amusement. He can see clearly that I’m scared. He’s enjoying it.
“What are you doing here, Jaxon?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He laughs. There’s an unhinged edge to it — the sound of a man at the end of his rope, watching it fray a bit more with each passing moment. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, brother. I told you what would happen if you betrayed me. I told you I’d come after her.”
“This has nothing to do with her. This is about you and me.”
“This stopped being about you and me when you brought in the fucking DEA. After all I did for you — all I offered you. You chose to turn your back on me. For what? For her?” He spits on the ground. “She’s not worth it.”
“So what are you going to do, Jax? You’re going to kill me? Shoot me dead, right here?”
“Maybe.” He cocks the gun higher, so it’s pointed straight at my chest. “It’s no more than you deserve. Maybe I’ll kill the both of you. If the bitch had been in her bed, like she was supposed to, she’d already be a pile of ash.”
I nearly lunge for him — only the gun aimed at my chest keeps my knees locked and my feet still. My self-control is dangling by a thread. Rage flares through me, deadly as the fire raging only feet away.
Behind me, I can feel Jo shaking violently. Her hands press against the upper planes of my back, her forehead digs into my spine. I wish there was something I could do to comfort her. Mostly, I wish there was some way to get her out of here — away from the fire, away from Jaxon. Somewhere safe, where he can’t touch her.
If the DEA had only listened to me last night, we wouldn’t be in this fucking predicament. They’re off searching the harbor for Jaxon, running around in circles like chickens with their heads cut off.
Useless.
Again.
My mind whirls, making calculations, weighing pros and cons rapid-fire. If I can retreat a few steps, get close enough to the boathouse door… maybe I can distract him long enough for Jo to make a run for it.
She could get to safety.
And I…
I don’t think too hard about what will happen to me.
“You think killing me is going to fix this mess you’ve made, Jax?” I step backward, making sure to shield Jo as I do. She moves with me, shuffling backward across the grass. “You think getting revenge on me is somehow going to erase everything you’ve done?”
He glares at me, his jaw clenched tight.
“You hear those sirens?” I ask. They’re still distant, but coming closer. Someone — maybe a neighbor — must’ve called the fire department. “You’d better make up your mind, Jax. Kill me if you want. But let Josephine go.”
“No!” she cries, her voice muffled by my t-shirt.
“I don’t think you want to kill me,” I tell him bluntly, taking another step backward. “I think you just want to make me as miserable as you are. Your insides are so toxic, so full of poison, the only way to feel better is by spreading it to everyone around you.”
“Shut up!” he snarls.
“You think Ma and Pa will understand? That they’ll forgive you?” I shake my head, laughing. Taking another careful step. Jo’s fingertips dig into my shoulder blades, trying to send me some kind of message through the fabric. “They’ll disown you. You’ll be dead to them, along with me. They’ll lose both sons. Is that what you want?”
“They’ve already disowned me!”
“That’s not true. Our parents love you, Jax.” Another step. Under my feet, I feel stone instead of grass. I don’t dare look, but I know we’re only a handful of feet from the door. “Even now, after everything, they’ll find a way to forgive you. To love you. But if you kill me? If you kill Jo? What do you think will happen?”