Pain splintered through my head, but it was worth it. It was worth it because Janel stumbled back, arms flailing and hair whipping around her. The box she’d had in her hands went sailing through the air and crashed to the floor.
I dove for it. A hand fisted in my hair, yanking it back. “You stupid bitch, always in my way. Not this time. Not this time.”
I threw an elbow back and caught her in the ribs.
She heaved out a cry.
I spun around and rushed her just as she was rushing me.
Our bodies collided.
A clash of souls.
I hooked her around the neck, trying to pin her, hold her.
She jerked free, so frenzied that she reeled, her footing gone. She stumbled back until she hit the desk.
I dove on her, and we slid across the slick wood, knocking everything that had been on the top to the floor.
Papers and the phone and the candle.
And we fought. Arms and fists and ripping hair. Fought until a big body was yanking me off. I screeched and kicked and fought. Fought in fury. In hate. In the desperate need to get to Frankie.
Frankie.
Frankie Leigh.
Aaron’s cologne filled my nose, the memory of it making me gag. I struggled to break out of his hold, but he was too strong. He tossed me aside. As if I was nothing.
Trash.
Just the same as he’d treated me before.
Aaron grabbed the box from the floor and then snagged Janel by the wrist. “We have to get out of here. Right now.”
My attention caught on the floor across the room. A tiny flame leapt to life. The candle a match to a piece of paper that’d floated to the floor.
Part of me wanted to go for it. Stamp it out. Protect my gramma’s legacy. But none of that mattered if they got away with Frankie. I couldn’t—wouldn’t allow it to happen.
Hand-in-hand, Janel and Aaron ran down the short hall and escaped out the back door. The door they’d most likely broke in through.
Frankie was my only concern. Not a building or its memories or the hopes of what it may be one day.
Only that little girl.
Crying out in pain, I struggled to get to my feet, chasing right after them. By the time I made it out the door, they were sprinting toward a black Durango parked in the back lot. In my periphery, I could see the spark of fire.
And I knew my grandma’s restaurant was getting ready to go up in flames.
I didn’t slow, only pushed myself harder, desperate to get to Frankie.
Aaron tried to force Janel around to the front passenger seat, but she diverted and wrenched open the back passenger door. “Frankie . . . Frankie?”
Janel started to panic, shouting it again. “Frankie!”
Struggling to jerk out of his hold, she whirled on Aaron. “Where’s Frankie?”
I stumbled to a stop halfway across the vacant lot, heart crashing against my ribs.
