Outlaw's Promise(49)

Mac cursed and ran inside. “Everybody save what you can!” he yelled.

Carrick started forward but then turned and grabbed me. “You stay here.”

I shook my head. “No way. You’ve all done so much for me. Let me help!”

He started to argue so I just dodged around him and ran for the door. Inside, the place was big: rows and rows of shelves all laden with piles of clothes. The fire had started on one side and was spreading fast: more than half the stuff that was on display was gone, but the storeroom at the back was still intact and that was where the Prospects were grabbing stuff from.#p#分页标题#e#

Carrick ran up behind me and grabbed my arm. “Get out of here!”

I pulled my arm out of his grip. “No! Please: let me do this.” I looked up into his eyes. “Please.”

He huffed and I saw that protective need in his eyes, the look that made me warm inside. But there was something else there, too: respect. “Stay right beside me,” he said.

I nodded. We ran to the storeroom and I grabbed a carton of t-shirts. Carrick grabbed one under each arm and we turned, only to almost run into other members coming in the door. We squeezed past and ran outside, dumped the cartons and went back for more, but now we had to wait for people coming out. Everyone was spending all their time running from the door of the warehouse to the storeroom at the very back….

I stopped running and narrowed my eyes. In my head, the army of leather-clad bikers became oil in a too-narrow pipe. Inefficient.

I grabbed Mac as he raced past. “Mac!”

He spun to face me, incredulous. “What? I’m a little busy!”

“We need to make a human chain. It’ll be quicker. We’ll save more of the stock.”

Mac stared at me, eyes blazing with anger. I got why he was pissed: the warehouse was important. But why was he pissed at—

Then I got it. It wasn’t a coincidence that this place had caught fire, the day after Volos’s warning. I felt like I was going to throw up. This is all my fault. I brought this down on them.

I swallowed. “It’ll be quicker,” I said again, my voice thin.

Mac stared at me a second longer...and then nodded. “Make a line!” he yelled to the others. “Pass the boxes out!”

I shoved my way into the line as it formed, more determined than ever to help. There were tears in my eyes and not just from the smoke. Carrick put his arm around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze which helped, but my guts were still churning with guilt.

We started passing the cartons of clothes along the chain, working as fast as we could. Soon, we had a continuous flow going: my hands were never empty for more than a second. We worked like that for several minutes as the flames crept closer and closer and then: “Enough!” yelled Mac. “Everybody out!”

He herded us all out the door, staying behind to make sure no one was left behind, then joined us in the fresh, clean air. We all stood there, hunched over and coughing painful, rasping coughs. Carrick found my hand and squeezed it and I squeezed back. Mac caught my eye...and nodded his thanks. He even looked a little guilty for snapping at me. But that didn’t make me feel better: he’s right to be pissed at me. This is all my fault!

At that moment, a fire truck pulled up, its crew cursing as they jumped out. “What took you so long?” Mac yelled, then descended into coughing again.

The firefighter in charge looked both pissed and defensive. “We got the call,” he said. “Then we got another one from the state police, saying they’d caught you trying to burn your own place down, and there was no fire.”

“Sonofabitch,” muttered Mac.

I was reeling, too. Volos. He’d tried to ensure the fire would burn as long as possible. Either he really did know people in the state police, or he’d convincingly faked the call—neither was a good sign.

The firefighters went to work and quickly brought the fire under control but the stock left inside was ash and the building was a burned-out wreck. Between the efforts of the Prospects and the human chain, we’d managed to salvage maybe half the stock but the club had still lost tens of thousands of dollars...maybe more.

Then it got worse. Sheriff Harris pulled up and headed straight for Mac. He pulled him to one side, but I managed to overhear some of the conversation. “Arson?” was the first word out of the sheriff’s mouth.#p#分页标题#e#

“Yeah,” said Mac bitterly. “But we can’t say that. The Feds would come snooping around. Write it up as an accident.”

“You won’t be able to claim on the insurance,” said the sheriff. “The investigator will spot the signs—hell, I can smell the gasoline from here. They’ll know someone burned it down.”