Of course.
I drop to the floor against the far wall, groaning as I hold my ribs.
I was a fucking idiot for walking away from her at that beach house earlier. I was a complete fool for walking away from the one good thing to drop into my life in years, and now we're both paying for it.
I've spent years distancing myself from all of it - living alone up in my damn abandoned loft building like some sort of urban hermit. I've surrounded myself in coldness, and apathy, and control, and order, and anything even remotely resembling human feelings. I've taken it a step further, really, regarding those feelings as a weakness.
Feelings like the ones that have come exploding out of the darkest corners I locked them in, ever since Sierra walked right up and kissed me.
Except I don't feel weak with her at all. In fact, I've never felt stronger. With her, I feel strong enough to be the man I want to be.
Except that's done with. Down here in this room, I know that. Down here in the musty, dusty, smoky-
I suddenly frown, my senses perking up. My eyes narrow as I scan the roof, sniffing and thinking I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I mean shit, smelling burnt toast is a sign of an impending stroke or something.
But then, there it is again.
I sit up this time, inhaling deeply, and I suddenly cough.
Okay, not having a stroke, and I am definitely smelling real smoke.
Suddenly, I hear yelling outside in the hallway, and now I'm fucking alert. People are bellowing in Ukrainian, there's a crash, more yelling, and slowly, I realize I can fucking see the smoke.
I scramble up from the floor and back against the wall, swearing as the black and grey smoke starts to pour into the room from the cracks around the door. I reach up and shred one of the sleeves off my t-shirt, holding it to my face as I crouch low. My eyes scan the room as they start to water, my lungs start to burn. And I'm doubled over and coughing when I hear the door jangling.
I tense, and as the knob starts to turn, I ready myself.
Time to get the fuck out of here and find the girl I've been too much of an idiot to admit I'm completely falling in love with.
The knob clicks. I cough, stumbling to one knee as the door flings open. Feet approach me, my jaw tightens, and as a hand lands on my shoulder, I snap.
I'm up with a roar, lunging at the guy and slamming him backwards into the wall and-
"Or you could stay here if you're that opposed to leaving."
I blink, coughing through the heavy smoke.
And then I grin.
I've got Sierra pressed up against the wall, her eyes wild, her lips pulled into a grin.
Soot all over her face.
"Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with this?"
Her eyes flash, that smile spreading over her soft lips.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I grin, raising a brow at her. She raises her hand, the silver Zippo lighter glinting in the dim light. I start to laugh, but there's suddenly an exploding sound, and the hallway outside the door fucking erupts into flames as the ceiling gives way.
Sierra shrieks, and I yank her behind me as fire and smoke come belching into the room, choking us and singeing the arms I throw up to block it.
I push her back into the far corner, flames crackling and roaring as they engulf the doorway - the only fucking doorway, and I can feel her hands tight on my arm.
Fuck, this ain't good.
"Connor."
I turn, my eyes meeting hers.
"If we-"
I stop her, my jaw clenching. "We're not going to die here."
I say it tightly, my voice leaden as I feel the heat at my back.
"Connor, I just-"
"I am going to get us out of here," I hiss, looking her dead in the eye, ignoring the sound of more of the hallway ceiling collapsing. "I just-"
"I love you."
I freeze, my eyes locked on hers. And fucking all of it just goes away. The rest of it just disappears around me until it's just me, her, those lips, and the words that just came out of them.
"I just mean-" she stutters at my silence, her eyes dropping. "I mean if we don't-" she shakes her head. "I need to tell you that, just in case-"
"Hey, princess?" I say quietly, reaching out and tilting her chin up.
Our eyes lock.
Time stops.
"I love you too."
And then I just fucking kiss her.
It's the worst timing possible. We're trapped in a fucking burning room in the basement of a building that's crumbling around us, with the oxygen quickly turning to poison and flames licking our backs.
But fuck if I don't grab her, pull her against me, and kiss her with every. Fucking. Thing that I have. It's sweet escape. It's naked truth.
It's the wrecking ball that smashes through the last of the walls I've thrown up.
And part of me knows I could die happy now. Part of me knows that with the one kiss, and the exchange of those words, I've suddenly done more living in the last forty seconds than I have in thirty years. And if now's my time, I could go and be pretty okay with that.
But then there's the other part of me. There's the part of me that knows going out now means this is the last kiss. It's the part of me that realizes that this could be the end - the part of me that suddenly sees the unfairness and the cruelty of giving me this brief taste of what I didn't even know I was looking for, only at the very end.
And that pisses me off.
That enrages me.
Something snaps in me, and I suddenly kiss her as fiercely as I can. I kiss her until we can't breathe before I pull back. I whirl, teeth bared as if ready to fucking fight this fire hand to hand - ready to charge head first into it and go down swinging. My eyes drag up at the raging fire, and suddenly, they land on the rusted metal pipes, drooping lazily from the ceiling above us.
I freeze for one second, before it all snaps into place.
I whirl, my eyes landing on the old metal desk chair tipped on its side in the corner. I lunge for it, yanking it up in my hands and raising it high.
"Stand back, princess," I growl, hefting the chair in my hands, and before she can say a word, I raise it high and bring it crashing into one of the pipes.
The thing trembles, but it holds.
I grit my teeth, feeling the smoke and the sweat pouring down my face as I raise the chair up again, bringing it crashing against the pipe a second time.
Rust flakes sprinkle like dirty snow, the thing shudders again, but it still holds.
This better fucking work.
My eyes start to burn fiercer, my lungs are on fire, and I can hear her coughing uncontrollably behind me.
I've got one more shot at this because we're about to run out of time.
One more shot.
Just give me one more fucking shot.
I grip the chair in my hand, raise it back, narrow my eyes at the pipe, and then I hit that motherfucker like it's the devil himself.
And the damn thing shatters.
The water that comes gushing out is fucking hot, but it'll do. I whirl and lunge for Sierra, who's collapsing to her knees, coughing and gasping, and yank her up in my arms.
"Hang on, sweetheart," I growl into her ear, ducking us under the water, drenching us, and shaking it from my hair as I eye the doorway.
"Connor," she opens her eyes weakly, following my look and then turning back to me, fear in her eyes.
"I don't think-"
"Do you trust me?"
Her eyes hold mine.
And she nods.
I kiss her once more, tasting the goodness in her lips, the sweetness in her gasp, and swearing to whatever god is up there that if this is the last one, I'm going to come meet him swinging.
The water drenches me, pouring over my face as I narrow my eyes at the belching flames of the doorway.
"Deep breath, beautiful," I whisper in her ear.
And I run head first into the fire.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sierra
I'm aware of blazing heat - of smoke, and fire, and the shuddering, wrenching sound of the building shattering around us. I'm screaming, my fingers digging into him as we stumble through the flames, madly searching for the doorway.
There's a booming sound like a cannon going off, and Connor roars as exploding wood and fire slams into us from the side. A wall of flame erupts in front of us, and I scream again as he drops to one knee, his chest heaving.
I slip out of his arms, my heart hammering a million miles a second, and one thought pulsing through my head.
I will not die here.
I will not die five seconds after everything in my life finally clicks.
Five seconds after I tell the rough, broken, complicated man who stole me away five days ago that I love him.
Screw how insane that sounds. Screw how incredibly fucked up that sounds even in my own head.
Screw Stockholm syndrome.
I've found the one thing and the one man that makes everything make sense, and I'll be damned if I die here and now, like this.
I throw my arms around his waist and yank him to his feet.
"Let's move it, Roarke."
He grits his teeth, suddenly throwing himself over me as another explosion rocks across us.
"I've got you, princess," he growls, hauling me up and barreling forward, limping.
I slip my arm around his waist, shouldering some of his weight.
"And I've got you, mister," I hiss back fiercely.
Heat explodes over my back, acrid smoke burns my lungs, tears stream down my face, and our legs carry us barreling forward, with no concept of which way is out in this fiery hell. There's another shattering, crushing sound of the roof giving way, I'm screaming, Connor is yelling, his arms suddenly scooping me up as he starts to run …
And then suddenly, we're out of it.
We go crashing through a doorway, or it might be a window or a hole in the wall, but suddenly, there's air, and solid ground, and a lack of flames burning us.