Her Billionaires(130)

Kicking in his second door in less than thirty seconds, his heard the splintering of the threshold, bent down again and shouted “Laura!”

No answer. Some memory gnawed away at him, how horrified she’d been (but had tried to hide it) when he’d mentioned fire safety in her building on that first date. Her unease, a pained look in her eyes. Fear? A victim?

Bullhorn. Dylan couldn’t make out the words he heard outside, but he knew the crew worked to remove everyone from the building. He guessed six units, but it could have been more. As he crawled through the tiny apartment he felt a wave of adrenaline, then gratitude, that she lived in such a small place. Finding her would be easy.

But what if you find her dead? a voice crept in. He shoved it away and felt, hand by hand on the wall, along the perimeter of her place. Living room, kitchen, no dining room, a bathroom, and then—bedroom.

“Laura!” The smoke was rising up through vents in the floor, especially near the forced hot water heaters against each wall. As he moved, eyes closed, he cursed himself for not grabbing a mask. Stupid stupid stupid, violating ten years of careful work. Emotions put people in jeopardy, Joe had taught them, and now he was caught in his own emotional turmoil, the blaze endangering them both.

Mike would kill him if he couldn’t save Laura. He half blamed Dylan for Jill’s death anyway, irrational as it was. If something happened to Laura...

Something brushed against him, too small to be human. Cat? She had three cats, right? In the darkness he coughed, then shouted her name again, the cat long gone. “Laura! It’s Dylan!”

“Dylan?” a little voice cried out. Left. It was to his left. Moving away from the wall, he violated what he’d been taught, disorienting himself. The bed, thankfully, was close. Instinct surged within him as she came into view, huddled under the covers, two cats guarding her.#p#分页标题#e#

“Get off the bed now, Laura,” he ordered, steel in his voice. The cats scattered. She was trembling and likely half in shock.

“I can’t,” she mewled. How could a grown woman’s voice be so tiny? Something was off, but this wasn’t the time for psychology. He stood, grabbed her, and pulled her off the bed roughly. No time to be kind. Her body fell in a funny way, more awkward and bulkier than he expected.

“You can and you will,” he said gruffly. The smoke was thicker now above, and he could feel the heat from below. They had a minute here, maybe two.

“Stanwyck!” someone shouted. Murphy. “You in there?”

“Back bedroom. One female. Still conscious. I got her.” His arms were on her shoulders and she was struggling to stand.

“Don’t stand. We have to crawl out now. The smoke is too thick.”

Murphy shined a bright flashlight in the room, illuminating what little could be seen in the two feet above the floor. “This way out!” he shouted. “Two minutes, max!”

“The cats! And grandma and grandpa!” Laura cried, trying to stand and walk toward Murphy. He could see her shins and knees and then nothing—grey.

Yanking her hand, hard, he made her fall. “The cats are probably outside by now. Don’t stand!” he warned, nearly growling. “Follow me!” Fear made him a lousy leader. And what did she mean by “grandma” and “grandpa”?

“Are your grandparents here, Laura?”

“No!” she wailed. “They diiiiied.” Her voice took on a keening tone and she began to rock. Oh, shit. No time for this.

“Crawl!” he ordered. Murphy started toward them on all fours, the line of light bobbing and weaving in his hand.

“I can’t! The baby!” She sat on her ass and began what looked like an agonizing crab walk, her ass dragging.

Baby? Baby?

Murphy’s flashlight ray landed on her belly in that instant, illuminating a very obvious mound. She was pregnant? A zing of every emotion he’d ever felt, from joy to agony, flashed through him.

Grabbing the covers off the bed, he thew them on the ground and spread them out. “Get on,” he barked. Somehow, her addled state cleared enough for her to comply.

“Murphy! Help!” he begged. Crawling, he dragged Laura a few feet using one hand. The hardwood floors were a godsend right now. “Clear the way—remove the area rugs!”

“Done!” the gruff man shouted.

Two more pulls and Dylan barely had her in the living room. He was doing this wrong. Murphy came in and planted himself in front of Laura.

“I’ll pull, you push,” Murph suggested. Within seconds they had it figured out, blind and coughing, freeing her into the hallway which was blessedly more clear. Dylan stood, slid his arms under her, and ran out into the fresh air, hefting Laura delicately.