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The quake of the structure, the noxious smell of the fire, and the adrenaline that consumes me is so similar to the last time that for a moment I forget where I am. Instead of another floor of concrete above my head, it’s the Mexican sun. My body responds before my mind catches up, and I hear a yell torn from my own throat, a guttural, horrified howl. “Sofia!”
The breath in my lungs is shoved down deep where I can’t access it. I lower myself to the ground, clutching my chest and gulping for air. I’m as mesmerized by the brilliant, burning flames as I am terrified, unable to tear my gaze away. My hands shake. My knees shake. The sound of my heartbeat is a heavy echo of the explosion in my ears.
The sprinklers switch on, dousing the flames but not doing much to subdue them. The cold water is a shock to my system, breaking me out of my flashback and forcefully slamming me back to the present. Smoke, thick and black like the robes of a grim reaper, coil across the garage and out the open siding.
A force grabs me from behind, gripping under my arms and hiking me to my feet. I writhe, arms swinging and fists wailing into a wall of muscle. He’s easily six-four, but his hulking body is not what makes me immediately place him. It’s Roan’s stony-blue eyes, reflecting the violent swirls of fire now behind me. They’re wild and harried, chilling me to the bone despite the heat. I latch onto them like an anchor in an ocean storm.
I don’t realize I’m still lashing out until my wrists are caught in his iron grip. He propels me back, pushing my body against the back of another car, and I finally allow myself to heave in a breath. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything. I realize it wasn’t my heartbeat but the thrumming echo of the explosion still ringing in my ears.
I can’t imagine what I must look like to make his brows crease with something suspiciously close to concern. His lips form words soundlessly as he drops my wrists and brushes my hair out of my face with both hands. One rough palm clutches my cheek while the other slides down to press two fingers into the underside of my jaw. My eyes fix on the furtive way his gaze is scanning my face. In my distant awareness, I realize he’s checking my pulse.
Something about the caring gesture, the way he’s looking at me like I’m frail and vulnerable, makes my lungs seize uncomfortably. He thinks I’m weak. That dawning thought has me throwing his hands off me and pushing out from between him and the car.
“I’m fine.” I know I’m speaking from the vibration in my throat, but my voice sounds miles away.
“You’re not fucking fine. Can you even hear me?” It sounds like he’s under water, but there is something barely audible under the hollow ringing.
“Yes.” I must be shouting by the way he tucks his ear into his shoulder.
He shakes his head and tries to loop my arm around his neck while grabbing me around the waist. For a second, I almost let myself melt into him—his solid, sturdy frame holding me up and making me want to give in to the post-adrenaline exhaustion seeping into my bones. He’s offering. I should let him, but I still find myself shaking him off me.
The sting of rejecting his help is evident in his scoff. “Suit yourself.”
We hobble down the garage stairwell to his car that’s parked in its usual spot outside my apartment building. Well, I hobble, my equilibrium still unsteady after the blast. He walks like a soldier—tall and proud—with poorly concealed sighs and eye rolls when I wobble.
He opens the passenger door. “Get in the car.” He barks orders like a soldier too.
I lean against a fire hydrant on the sidewalk. Looking up, I can see the smoke and flashing lights of the fire alarms coming from the garage. My head throbs, but I don’t think the blast wind was enough to give me a concussion.
“Where are we going?” I ask what I assume is a reasonable question for the man demanding I get in his car, but Roan’s mouth draws into a tight line. He looks up at the sky like he’s praying for patience.
“Christ, not this again.” He grabs me by the bicep and tugs me toward the open car.
“Where. Are. We. Going?” I demand again.
His grip tightens, and I bite back a wince as his fingers dig into my skin. “Get. In. The. Car.” He bares his teeth. When I continue to push against his attempts to shove me in, he huffs as if in defeat. “I’m taking you to see our doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine,” I stress, pointing at my ears to emphasize my returning hearing. I don’t know why I’m fighting this. I’m clearly in danger. A bomb meant for me just left my car a ball of flames. But for some reason, going with him, accepting his help, feels like letting them win. Whoever they are.
Oh, and he’s a grumpy fuck and I’d rather spend eternity with my shittiest ex-boyfriend than a second longer with him.
“Have you forgotten I’m the one who went to medical school?”
His lip twitching in the flash of a smirk is all the warning I get before he drops my arm and pulls out a gun instead. “And you must have forgotten I’m the one with the gun.”
I take a step closer, so close that my chest is inches away from the muzzle. For the first time since the explosion, I feel steady on my feet. “Shooting me kinda defeats the purpose of keeping me safe. How much is my father paying you for that anyway?” I bounce my gaze between him and the gun like it’s nothing more than a toy. He’s not going to shoot me.
“A bullet hole would make you agree to seeing a doctor.” One eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head to the side. There’s no humor to his statement. Okay, maybe he would shoot me. This is a man who is used to killing and maiming to get what he wants. “Car, now.” He gestures for me to get into the car with the gun, and I relent, climbing into the passenger seat.
He gets in, and I refuse to look at him, but I can hear the goading taunt in his voice. “Don’t worry, I know where to shoot to keep you alive.”
I force out a dry laugh as we drive off to the sound of approaching fire sirens. “Ah, right. Gotta protect that payday.”
I see him look at me in my periphery, so I turn my head and am met with the same scowl he always wears. But there’s an intense sincerity in his deep blue eyes. “Don’t insult yourself.”
Roan
She’s in my house, my home. And it’s suffocating.
