Chapter Sixteen

Joanna’s entire body iced over at the sound of movement at the bottom of the stairs. Her gaze darted to the backseat of the SUV. The headrest was the only thing visible.

Had Ryker woken up? Tried to escape?

Keith took the last several steps two at a time, hopped to the cement, and sprinted to the truck. “This just sucks on so many levels.”

“What is it?” Joanna’s heart raced. She prayed Ryker had managed to escape and was now far from here. But something deep down told her he’d never leave her behind. Even wounded, he’d try to save her.

“Lover boy appears to be on the move. You can’t get far, cop. Show yourself.” Keith moved around the back of the vehicle, stooping down to look underneath. “Don’t be stupid. Even if you do make it outside, you’ll bleed to death before you make it back to the city.”

Nothing but silence answered him.

“Joanna, you better explain to lover boy how this is going down. How you’ve decided to join me.”

She bit her bottom lip. There was no way she was telling Ryker to give himself up. Not so Keith could kill him.

“Tell him, Joanna!”

“Save yourself, Ryker!” She did the only thing she could. Her feet hit the cement floor in a dead run in the opposite direction of the sound, and she prayed Keith would follow.

After kicking over several boxes along the back wall and uttering a string of curses, he did follow. Rage coated his every word. “If you want to see your father alive, you’ll stop this bullshit.”

Realizing her decision would probably cost her dad his life, she swallowed hard. Sorry, Daddy. She tried every door she came to. Yanking, pulling, pounding until her hands hurt. She needed to escape, needed to get help for Ryker. But not one damn door budged.

Keith’s heavy footsteps echoed against the ground behind her. He shoved the furniture out of the way as he went and turned over boxes with little concern to their condition or contents. He’d transformed into another person. One she didn’t recognize.

“Stop. Damn it! I don’t want to tie you up. But I will.” With one hand, he rolled over the dining table between them, clearing his path toward her. His chest rose and fell at an unnatural rate. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Out of breath, she stood with her back plastered to the wall, prepared to face the devil himself. If he thought for one second she was going to give up, he had another thing coming. “I’ll never stop.”

Keith straightened to his full height. “Why do you do this?” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Anger was not his strong suit and had really started to do a number on him. Sweat beaded his brow, his left eye twitching.

“You can’t control people. Get your way all the time.”

“Wrong. I’ve been controlling people all my life, especially you.” He smiled wickedly. “What did you used to call it when I was in middle school? My charismatic personality? My big, sad puppy-dog eyes. You once told me I could talk a dog into eating his own foot.” He laughed, obviously enjoying the shock filtering through her as he stepped toward her like he owned the world.

He was right. He had a knack for talking her into bringing him along, changing her plans to fit his. Hell, he’d even changed her decision about where to start her business. She’d wanted to move far away from Houston, get out from under her father’s realm. Start fresh. But Keith talked her into seeing how beneficial staying close to home would be. How a small town would be easier. At least in the beginning. “You know, to build your clientele. Get established with references,” he’d said.

Her shoulders tightened. His ability to manipulate was frightening.

Ryker’s heart jumped to his throat as he stared at the boxes still rocking in front of him. Close call. Way too close. He’d managed to make it to the vent, but prying the metal cover off was another story. Years of rust and gunk had glued it to the building.

Off in the distance he heard Keith’s gravelly voice. “Let’s find your friend.”

“Wait.” She grunted, as if being pulled along.

Surveying the warehouse through the narrow slits between the boxes, he moved toward Jo Jo’s voice, searching for a way out. That’s when an odd grouping of barrels across the room caught his attention. What the fuck? Red with rust. Sealed up tight. Like waste of some sort. Apprehension over their contents drove him forward.

“Come on out, cop. Show yourself so Joanna can say good-bye.”

“Keith, no. You promised.”

“I did not. I said I would consider it. Well, I’ve considered it, and it’s just not in the cards. As long as he’s alive, we’ll never have our happy ever after.”

Ryker heard what sounded like a match being struck. Then the smell of sulfur filled his nose. He eyed the barrels in the corner. Fuck, no!

“Jo Jo, get out!” Ryker pulled himself out into the open just as Keith started to light up a cigarette.

“But that ends now.” As Keith’s gaze fell on Ryker, he lifted the gun into the air at Ryker’s head and carelessly dropped the match to the floor. “Good bye, lover boy,” he cackled.

“No! Ryker.” Jo Jo ran full force toward Keith, swiping at the gun in his hand.

The match fell into a cardboard box filled with paper goods, which instantly went up in flames.

Ryker gauged the distance the toxic barrels sat from Jo Jo. There was no way to be certain how much damage would be done if his instincts proved right and the fire traveled that far. All he could do was pray she’d be able to take cover in time.

“Dumbass. Get her out!” Ryker leaned forward, trying to make eye contact with Jo Jo. She saw him instantly. Her eyes wide as she noticed the fire spreading across the room. Her gaze drifted to the barrels. Terror froze on her features.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t reach her in time. Balancing all his weight on his right side, he did the only thing he could. Pain speared through him like a fireball from hell, igniting a bolt of momentum so strong he shrieked in distress as he flung his body under an old metal desk.

“Shit.” Keith saw the fire reach the first barrel faster than he could stomp out the flames. “Joanna!”

Jo Jo screamed, turning her body away. From his position under the desk, Ryker saw Keith’s body lunge toward hers seconds before the first explosion rocketed through the warehouse.

Glass shattered from the windows above his head. Beams creaked from the pressure before hurling to the ground. He rolled backward beneath the metal desktop onto his back to avoid being impaled. A series of explosions followed as fire hit one barrel after another, each louder and more powerful than the last. Heat and dark smoke seared his lungs. The fire burned close, smoke billowing up to the stars above.

Wait. What? Where did the roof go?

He inched himself forward on his stomach, trying to put distance between him and the fiery mess.

“Jo Jo! Can you hear me?” Ryker prayed for a miracle.

No answer.

No movement.

Using the table as leverage, he jerked his body upward. Now half standing, half crouching, he searched through the smoky haze. He knew where she’d gone down. Knew Keith was with her.

“Jo Jo, answer me.” He moved forward, coughing, shoving debris out of his way. And then he saw her.

She lay motionless against the base of a large crate, Keith’s body partially covering her legs. Her beautiful face was hidden beneath black ash. Neither moved.

Trying his best not to pass out from the pain and smoke, he drew on his inner strength. Nothing short of miraculous.

He maneuvered Keith’s dead weight off her, kneeling beside her head. Quickly, he surveyed the damage. Safe or not, he had no choice but to move her. Bracing against the pain, he grabbed her arm with his good hand and pulled her body out from beneath the debris. In mere seconds, the entire building would be in flames. Steps shaky, he edged backward toward the exit sign he’d seen earlier.

Sirens blared in the distance. Fire crackled in front of him. The largest beams above them groaned and urged him on, but his full attention remained on her.

“Jo Jo, you hang on. Help is on the way. You hear me?” His voice hoarse, he struggled to swallow and pushed back the ever-growing dread that he wasn’t going to make it.

He glanced over his shoulder. The door, visible through the smoke now, gave him hope. Even though his vision came and went, he kept tugging, kept moving. One foot and then the other. Getting her outside into the fresh air was her only hope of survival.

He felt the warm trickle of liquid on his left shoulder, his skin chilling as it slid down his back. Shit. His wound was bleeding again, his body already shutting down.

Closing his eyes, he used the weight of his backside to press the lever down and forced the door opened. The humid night air hit him like a blow gun. He inhaled a deep breath, the pain so intense now, he almost collapsed. But he dug deep for strength and tugged harder.

Step by jagged step, he limped backward until he reached the soft bed of grass at the far edge of the driveway where he dropped to his butt and gently pulled her to his lap. The fire snapped and popped as if angry he’d stolen its victim.

Jo Jo lay motionless, silent.

“Come on, Jo Jo.” He leaned over to see if she still breathed.

The night sky lit up like a firecracker. Shards of metal and debris bounced off the asphalt drive, missing them by mere inches. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to roll over and completely cover her body with his. And then the darkness consumed everything.