His ex rolled his eyes. “Don’t fuck with me, Cole. Do you have a buyer lined up? Who are you trying to scam?”
“Wouldn’t you like?—”
Right then, something sailed through Cole’s peripheral vision, and he had just enough time to recognize the flying—and flaming—bottle before it smashed into something.
And then all hell broke loose.
Something was on fire—not ideal in a loft full of chemicals, for fuck’s sake. People were shouting. The Goon twins released Cole as they turned their attention toward whoever was throwing Molotov cocktails. Gunshots rang out, instantly leaving Cole’s ears stuffed with cotton. He scrambled for some kind of cover; overturning a table and ducking behind it worked. Once he had a momentary bunker, he looked around, trying to orient himself and remember where Will had gone down.
Unsurprisingly, though, given the chemicals Cheyenne kept in here, it didn’t take long for something to explode.
Cole ducked, keeping his head down as fire raged through the warehouse. Through the cotton in his ears, he heard Marcus scream for his men to “Get out! Get out!” and there was no more gunfire. Made sense—Marcus was a lot of things, but someone who’d let himself burn alive in a place like this was not one of them.
And in this instance, he had the right idea. Puffins and treachery could wait—time to get the hell out of here.
Just as Cole was getting to his feet, though, Jansen Mortimer appeared in front of him. “Come on!” He had a gun in one hand and a cast on the other, which explained why he wasn’t offering Cole any help. “Let’s go!”
How the fuck—they must’ve heard the commotion and come on in instead of waiting for a distress signal. Turned out therewashonor among thieves.
“Will!” Cole shouted, heading in the direction he was pretty sure Will had fallen. “We have?—”
Jansen caught his elbow with the cast. “Vanessa’s getting to him. We have to go.”
Fine by Cole. He managed to get upright, and he hurried after Jansen. They stayed low, sprinting across the studio-turned-warzone. Some more shelves and workbenches had been toppled, and they hustled over them. Jansen stumbled. Cole caught his arm, and they both paused to regain their balance. Once they did, they kept going.
As he stepped out of the debris and onto the floor, Cole landed in something slick. His foot went out from under him, and something in his right knee moved in a way it definitely shouldn’t have. Pain knifed through Cole’s leg, and he shouted as he went down, his other kneecap cracking on the hard floor.
He called after Jansen, but the man didn’t hear him, and a second later, he was gone.
Fuck. Cole was on his own.
He tried to stand, but the pain dropped him right back down. How the joint hadn’t literally burst into flames, he had no idea, but God, it felt like it had.
Sweat rolled down his face. The heat in the room was intensifying, and there had to be more explosive shit in here that hadn’t gone off yet. If he didn’t get to a door, he was either going to burn alive, or the toxic gases were going to kill him.
He looked around for the nearest door, wondering which one he could crawl to, and his gaze landed on the back door just in time to see Cheyenne disappearing through it… withWillhot on her heels.
Will—upright, alive, and moving on his own power.
The man in question glanced back. They made eye contact.
Something flickered across Will’s face, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t come back. He just vanished through the door after Cheyenne.
Leaving Cole here. Alone.
He shoved his emotions back; there wasn’t time to be hurt or angry. Hehadto find a way out of this. If nothing else, so he could hunt Will down and kick his sorry ass.
Gritting his teeth, focusing on anger over agony as much as he could, he crawled toward the nearest door. Every movement sent fresh knives down his leg. His eyes blurred from the smoke and the pain. His lungs burned from the heat and Christ knew what he was breathing in.
Somewhere, there was a loud crack. Then a crash. He had no idea what had fallen or exploded, but the thought that it might be one of the rafters holding up the ceiling had him crawling faster. Pain be damned, he had to get out of this place. Except the door was miles away. He couldn’t take a deep enough breath without coughing it right back out. And his knee… God, his knee was fucked. There was no way he was?—
Someone was suddenly beside him, slinging Cole’s arm around a pair of shoulders and hauling him upright.
“Fuck!” Cole cried.
“Don’t worry, honeybee. I got you.”
Cole blinked past the heat and tears. Holy shit. “Will?”
