“Help me up.” He held out his hand.
She rose to her feet and grabbed hold. Sharp braced himself for the agony of movement. Haley pulled, and Sharp rolled to his knees.
Light-headed, he sucked hot air into his lungs and gestured toward the window at the back of the room. “Let’s go.”
Haley dragged the workbench under the window. Climbing on it, she flipped the lock and shoved the window open. Cool air poured in. Above them, the fire answered, flames rushing at the fresh oxygen.
“Come on.” She jumped off the bench and hurried back to him.
Sharp crawled to the base of the bench and pulled himself upright. His knees shook as he put one knee onto the wooden table.
Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t feel.
Keep moving.
He focused one inch ahead. No farther. If he looked all the way out the window, he couldn’t possibly see himself making it. But he could crawl one more inch. And then another.
Haley was behind him, pushing, as he dragged himself onto the workbench. Without stopping, he put his arms and shoulders through the open window. With Haley lifting his legs, he went out like a foal being birthed. He hit the ground with a jolt of pain that blanked his vision for a few seconds. Warm liquid gushed down his side.
A thud next to him announced that Haley was out the window too. Then she was at his side dragging him by the arm, her voice breaking with sobs as she cried, “Move. Please.”
The clean air in his lungs—and the hope that at least Haley would live—gave Sharp a small charge of energy. Unable to get to his feet, he crawled through the dry grass to the back of the yard, an inch at a time, trying to reach a place where the worst of the burning embers and flying bits of fire couldn’t reach.
Probably only a couple of minutes had passed, but it felt like hours to Sharp. Each movement sent another gush of blood from his wound.
Finally, Haley knelt and tugged off her sweatshirt. She pressed it to his wound and leaned on it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting through the sooty grime. “The wood came out.”
Sharp couldn’t believe they were alive. Haley hadn’t given up on him. As the night air rushed into his lungs, feeling returned to his body.
And pain. Loads of it.
He put a hand to his middle. The belt had come loose during his slide out the window. The wood in his side had been knocked free, and blood was flowing. The rags she’d used to stabilize the wood impaling him were gone.
Sharp lifted his hands. They were coated with blood. Haley’s horrified eyes took it in.
Sirens approached.
She clutched his hand. “They’re almost here. Please don’t die.”
“I’ll try,” he croaked and stared up at the sky. A thick cloud of smoke blew across the stars. The sight was deadly but beautiful. Would it be the last thing Sharp saw?
“I’ll get help.” Haley stood and turned toward the house. She’d have to give it a wide berth to get to the front of the property, where the fire trucks would arrive.
Even if he didn’t make it, Haley was going to survive. He hadn’t failed her. He hadn’t failed Ted.
She turned away from him. Sharp let his eyes close. He’d rest until she came back. The darkness pulled at him.
“You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” a voice said.
Sharp forced his eyelids open. A figure approached, silhouetted against the fire. He pulled a gun and pointed it at Haley.
“No!” she sobbed, her body wavering, her legs shaking.
“Stop,” the man shouted. The firelight played over a thin face that Sharp recognized from the photos on the whiteboard.
Isaac McGee.
Shocked, Sharp reached for his weapon, but his hand slapped nothing but his bloody hip. His gun had fallen from his belt in the basement.
“You’re coming with me,” Isaac said to Haley.
“No!” Sharp reached forward, digging his fingers into the dirt and trying to drag his body between the man and Haley. But it was no use. They were defenseless.
If Isaac took Haley away, she would die. Just like Ted. Sharp knew it with every fiber of his being. She’d be better off being shot here, with emergency responders on the way. Most bullet wounds were survivable with prompt medical attention. Ted had been unlucky.
Sharp drew in some air and forced out three words. “Don’t go, Haley.”
With his gaze locked on Haley, Isaac gestured toward Sharp with his gun. “Come with me, or I’ll shoot him.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sharp croaked. “I’m dying anyway.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Isaac said.
Haley stared at Sharp. Tears glistened on her face. Were they both going to die?
No. They weren’t completely out of options.
Haley knew the trails around her house. Hopefully, Isaac did not. In her black yoga pants and gray T-shirt, Haley would be a tough target in the dark.
He met her gaze in the flickering firelight. She knew what he wanted her to do, and it was clear she didn’t want to leave him. But Sharp couldn’t run, and he couldn’t fight.
Sharp mouthed, “Run.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Morgan lifted her fingers from the bodyguard’s neck. His eyes stared blankly at the sky. The man was dead.
She stood on shaky legs and scanned the lawn. Esposito staggered away from the burning house.
Terror gripped Morgan’s heart when she didn’t see Lance. She grabbed Esposito’s shoulder. “Where’s Lance?”
The ADA spun around and jerked a thumb at the blazing house. Anger narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Your boyfriend is an idiot,” he yelled, then choked, bending forward and spitting on the ground.
They turned toward the house. A roof beam collapsed at the front door, sending a shower of embers high into the air. A figure stumbled out of the smoke-filled doorway.
Lance.
Esposito raced forward. Draping one of Lance’s arms over his shoulders, Esposito half dragged him away from the burning house.
Lance shook off the assistance a few feet away from the house. “I’m going to try to get in through the back.” He pointed at the ADA. “Someone has to direct the fire crews.”
“I think they’ll find the fire on their own.” The ADA followed Lance around the house.
Morgan ran after the men. Someone had to keep a lookout for whoever had set this fire. She knew without a doubt that this fire was not an accident. Someone wanted Haley dead. But why?
Nothing made sense.
Morgan jogged through the grass behind Lance and Esposito. They made a wide detour around the house and ran into the small backyard. Embers and debris rained down on them. A pinprick of heat seared Morgan’s cheek as she scanned the back of the house. She brushed the ember off her skin.
“Look!” She pointed to smoke pouring from an open basement window. “Someone must have gotten out.”
Wood creaked and groaned. Then a moan sounded, soft and low. The fire or a person? Lance and Esposito both froze. Morgan strained to listen. The moan came again.
Lance dropped to a knee and touched the ground. “Blood.”
Crouching, he followed it through the tall grass. “Sharp!”
Morgan rushed to Lance’s side, her head pounding from the exertion and smoke. Sharp lay on his back in the grass, unmoving, eyes closed. Was he breathing?
Morgan scanned the yard. Where was Haley? She glanced back at the house, now almost completely consumed by fire. Anyone who was still inside that building wasn’t coming out alive.
Dropping to her knees, she pressed her fingers to Sharp’s throat. Please. His pulse throbbed weakly against her fingertips. “He’s still alive.”
But barely.
His hand clutched a balled-up sweatshirt pressed against his belly. Morgan lifted it and took in the volume of blood seeping out of the wound in his abdomen. She quickly pressed it down again. He needed help. Now.
“I have a first aid kit in my car.” Esposito doubled back and ran toward the front of the house.
Lance knelt on Sharp’s other side.
Morgan took Sharp’s hand in her own. His fingers were cold and bloodless. “Sharp, where’s Haley?”
Sharp’s eyes cracked a millimeter, just enough to show his complete defeat. She couldn’t hear him over the roar and crackle of the fire. Morgan leaned closer.
“I don’t know.” His voice was weak. “She ran.” He gasped. “Isaac.” Sharp drew in another labored breath. “Chased her.”
Isaac?
Morgan had no time to process Sharp’s revelation.
He lifted a hand and pointed to the fence and steep drop-off beyond it. The gate to the lookout path stood wide open. The bike lock was on the ground.
“You stay with Sharp.” Lance wiped soot from his face with his forearm and headed toward the gate.
Sharp tugged on Morgan’s hand and mouthed, “Go with him.”
Morgan put Sharp’s hand on the balled-up sweatshirt. “Press as hard as you can.”
Sharp’s eyes closed.
“Sharp!” Morgan touched his arm.
His eyelids opened halfway.
“Don’t you dare die.” Morgan wiped tears from her face with her sleeve. “Lance needs you.”
“Nah.” Sharp gave her a small headshake. “He has you. Now go. He needs backup.”
Esposito would be back in a minute. He’d have to look after Sharp. Morgan wasn’t letting Lance face a dangerous man alone. But leaving Sharp felt wrong.
Esposito’s shadow appeared around the side of the house. He was carrying a first aid kit and a blanket. Morgan stood and stared at the gate and trail beyond it. Her head throbbed, and nausea churned in her belly.