“It’s nothing. I’ve got to try and contain this fire. Savannah’s calling 911, can you go check on her?”
Max gave his hands one more look. He thought they seemed pretty bad, but he turned and ran into the house. “Savannah! Savannah!”
No answer. That was strange.
He quickly ran into the study and immediately spotted the papers strewn about. And the phone that was off its cradle. It didn’t have to mean anything, but when he called 911, they told him they had no record of a call from this address. Shit. He hung up and raced out of the office.
“Savannah! Savannah, answer me now!” He ran into the kitchen, then the living room before heading towards the stairs. The back door was open. There could be all sorts of reasons it was open, but some instinct tugged at him, and he raced outside, staring around.
Someone screamed. A woman. In the distance, he saw two people fighting. A gun fired. Then one of them hit the other and one dropped to the ground.
Fuck.
“Savannah! Savannah!”
The person still standing didn’t move. They just stood over the person slumped on the ground. As he grew closer, they turned.
“Max, you’re home,” Savannah said before she fell into his arms in a faint.
***
Savannah groaned. Who was making all that noise? She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep. Just a few more hours.
“Savannah? Savannah, wake up, honey.”
Now she was dreaming she could hear Max’s voice. That was nice.
“It’s not a dream, love. I’m here. Wake up now.” Warm hands grasped her shoulders and shook her.
Not a dream. What did that mean?
She shot up with a scream. Her body protested the quick movement. She stared around her, disorientated for a moment. Where was she? This looked like the living room, why was she in the living room? Max!
“Max!” She threw herself against him, her arms tangling in the blanket she was wrapped in.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her, holding her tightly against him. “Don’t move so fast. You just woke up.”
“Max, you’re here! When did you get home? Oh, I’m so happy to see you!”
“Is she awake? Is she all right? Damn it, I don’t need checking over, my hands are fine.”
She looked up as Logan stepped into the room, a man in a paramedic uniform trailing him. Logan looked terrible. His clothes were dirty, his face covered in soot.
“Sir, you’ve suffered severe burns on your hands. I need to tend to them.”
Logan waved the man off as he stormed towards the couch, a scowl on his face. “Is she all right?”
“I’m fine. Logan, what’s happened?” She heard a horse neigh, and she gasped as it all came back to her. “The fire. Are the horses all right? Are you?”
She pushed at the blanket, wanting to go to Logan.
“Lie still,” he grumbled at her. “I’m fine. So are the horses. I’m more worried about you.”
“Sir,” the paramedic said.
“I said I’ll be with you soon,” Logan snapped back.
“You need to get those hands looked at, Logan,” Max said mildly.