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This was no accident. This time they were out for more blood.
Meadow grasped her forearm, and Livia twisted to throw her arms around her dear friend. Meadow was shaking.
Ivy ran up to them, wild eyes reflecting the blaze. “The fire department is on the way!”
“Daddy?” Meadow’s voice pitched into a wail.
“He’s all right. He was asleep. I had to wake him. I told him to come out but that he can’t attempt to help with the fire.”
“When did someone sneak onto the ranch? We’ve been around all day. The cameras weren’t tripped or Colton would have gotten a text!” Meadow whipped her head around as if searching for the man she loved.
The cameras. After the break-in at Badlands, Carver discovered the camera lenses there were all spray-painted over.
Her heart exploded in panic.
“Badlands!”
Meadow and Ivy stared at her.
“I have to get back! Somebody might have torched it too! I need keys to a vehicle!” She wheeled around.
Ivy grasped her arm. “You can’t go alone. You have to find Wolfe!”
Sean Gracey would give her a vehicle. She had to go now.
She took three steps and slammed into a brick wall of muscle. Carver locked his arms around her. His face was covered in soot from attempting to fight the fire that was too far gone to control.
“I have to get to my bar!”
His stare penetrated hers. “I can’t leave my men. I have to stay here and help.”
“Then stay! I’m going!”
She struggled against his grip. At that moment, a loud whoosh sounded followed by an explosion as the gas line blew.
Carver took off, dashing toward the danger like the SEAL he was. She watched him go, eyes blurred with the brightness of the flames and tears pouring down her face.
Realizing she could make a break for it now, she took off running. Sean Gracey staggered down the porch steps, his face a mask of horror.
She rushed over to him. “Sit down. You have to watch your heart!”
He didn’t seem to understand for a moment, but when she said it again, he nodded and sat down hard on the top step.
“Mr. Gracey, I need a vehicle!”
His gaze flicked to her. “Your bar.”
“Yes!” Someone who understood what mattered to her.
“Hanging on a hook inside the door.”
“Thank you!” She bent and planted a kiss on his cheek before blasting into the house for a set of keys.
The next few minutes were a blur. Brief images flashed in her mind afterward—of ranch hands shooing horses out of the barn, driving them into the distant pasture far from the burning buildings.
Of Meadow and Ivy running to the porch and sitting with their father as the structure of the bunkhouse turned into a black beast devoured by flames.
She gunned it down the driveway, pulling into the grass to let three firetrucks in a row zoom by.
