Page 50 of Fate Book

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His eyes went from hard to soft to hard again. “Good night, Dakota.”

He went to the couch, and I slipped into his flannel sheets, wondering how this man I barely knew suddenly felt like the center of my universe and the path to my destruction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Dakota.” Paolo’s deep masculine voice stretched into my dreams, grabbed me by the collar, and yanked me violently into the here and now. “Wake the hell up,” he whispered.

My eyes opened to Paolo’s face inches from mine, the warm glow of flames behind him, the smell of a fire filling my nose.

Crap. I sat up and looked toward the curtained window. The blaze was outside.

“Look at me, Dakota.”

I did.

“We can’t run outside. It’s a trap. They’ll be waiting to pick us off.”

Oh my God. “They found us? But how?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He reached and grabbed something from the nightstand and put it on his head—some sort of visor. He already had a rifle strapped to his back.

“The cabin is on fire. We’ll burn alive,” I shrieked.

“No we won’t.” He opened that middle drawer—the one with that woman’s clothes—and threw a pair of jeans at me. “Put those on.” I was in no position to complain about wearing his deceased lover’s clothes, so I did as he said, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it. He handed me my flip-flops next. “I wish you’d brought tennis shoes, but they’ll have to do.”

“I thought you said we weren’t running.”

“Not yet.” He grabbed my hand, pulled me to the bathroom, and shoved me under the showerhead. “Wet yourself down.” He turned the handle, and cold water torpedoed my face.

“Shit!” I said as I saw him dart into the other room. “Wait. Don’t go!” Panicked, I stepped out onto the floor, but he came right back.

He turned off the shower and then gripped me hard by the shoulders. “Dakota, I know this is going to be difficult, but I want you to lie inside the tub. Cover you head with a towel. Wait here—do not move until I come back for you. Got it?”

He shoved me back inside the bathtub and pushed me down.

“Where are you going?”

“To the roof.” He grabbed something from his waistband and placed it in my hands. “If anyone, besides me—key word besides—comes in here, shoot. Don’t stop to ask any questions. Just shoot. The safety is already off. ” I looked at the weapon. It was a small black handgun. I’d never touched a gun in my life, let alone fired one, but I got the gist of how it worked. How different could it be from a video arcade? But would I really be able to shoot another person?

If your life depends on it? Absolutely.

“You’ll be back, right?” The cabin continued to fill with smoke and orange light poured in from the windows through the living room. We couldn’t have more than just a few minutes before the entire place burned down with us inside.

He looked at me and brushed the wet hair from my face. “I’ll be back. I promise.” He kissed my forehead and disappeared. I heard his footsteps thump up the stairs. And then the waiting started. I tried to calm my breathing, but the air was thickening. I lowered myself down a little farther in the tub, hoping the extra few inches would provide more breathable air. It did. But damn it, what if he didn’t come back? What if the fire got so bad that there was no way to get out? All of the exits would be blocked, if they weren’t already.

Shit. I can’t believe this is happening.

I heard a loud pop, pop, pop.

I held my breath, listening for the sound of Paolo’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Instead, I heard the sound of glass shattering in the living room, and then another pop.

Oh God. Please let him be okay. Please.

I suddenly realized how much I didn’t want to lose him. It had to be just because we were in a life-and-death situation. Right? I didn’t truly know, but the only thing that seemed to matter was his not dying.

“Please, please, please live. I’ll do anything you want, just let him live.” I’d never been the praying type, but I guessed it was human nature to roll the dice when all other avenues of salvation were null and void.

“Are you actually praying for me? I have to say, that’s very sweet.” Paolo’s large, recognizable silhouette appeared in the doorway.

The air whooshed from my lungs. “Thank God.” I put the gun down, and he grabbed my hand, plucking me out of the tub like a tiny doll. “What happened?”

“I only saw one person. He was positioned out front.”

“Did you shoot him?” I asked

“Yeah. But I didn’t kill him. He ran off.”

Paolo dragged me through the kitchen. The fire blazed around the exterior of the cabin, including the back porch where a four-foot wall of flames greeted us when he opened the backdoor.


Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Romance