“Quinn, go alert the staff. They know what to do.”
Collin yanked the blankets out of the satchel and doused them in the horse’s water from the barn and returned to help in the battle.
Chapter Twenty
Quinn ran as fastas she could and burst into the kitchen to startle several people.
“Garth…fire.” She’d no more said the words while trying to catch her breath than Mavis, Angus, and the staff flew past her. She’d turned to follow when a hand landed on her arm.
“No, Quinn. Help me get the extra extinguishers. They’re in all of the second story rooms,” Abigail said and led Quinn out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.
She raced behind her up the stairs toward her room, but Abigail disappeared into the door before Quinn’s. She hurried inside, scanning the room in search of an extinguisher. The smell of kerosene made her nose twitch and pause. A pool of liquid sat on top of the dresser, and Quinn slidher finger through it and brought it up to her nose. She’d been right. Kerosene.
Quinn spun around to find Abigail standing in the doorway with a gun in her hand pointed at Quinn’s chest. “You ruined everything.”
She shook her head, not understanding Abigail's words. “What are you talking about?”
“You killed Ramsey. He was going to take me away from here with the money and treasures he stole.”
Anger ripped through Quinn’s body. This little bitch had been in on it. “You set the fire?”
A devious smile formed on Abigail's lips. “Garth was easy. He never suspected a thing. I knew Collin was going to take you to the cliff. It’s where he took me.”
Quinn swallowed hard around Abigail’s lies. “He turned down Margarete. Why should I believe he’d ever love a sadistic bitch like you?”
Abigail pulled a lighter out of her pocket and flicked the Bic. “I hope you burn in hell.”
“I’ll be sure and save you a spot.”
Abigail tossed the flame onto the kerosene-soaked dresser and eased out of the room, keeping the barrel of the gun trained on Quinn’s chest. She pulled the door closed, and Quinn heard a lock click into place.
This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t dying in this room. She ran to the door and tried to turn the knob. It didn’t budge. She covered her mouth with her shirt and hurried into the bathroom, looking for anything she could use to put out the fire. There was nothing.
Quinn ran to the window and pried it open, taking in a breath of fresh air. The fire at Garth’s still raged on. She yelled, yet no one heard her voice.
Covering her mouth, she glanced furiously around the room. Her gaze landed on the bed and moved to the curtains. “I did it once. I can do it again.”
She yanked the covers and the window linens free and made quick work tying them together. She had to get out before fire caught her makeshift rope on fire.
She tied one end to the steel bed frame and tossed the extra out of the window. Wrapping her arms around the linens, she climbed up onto the windowsill and eased herself out.
“Nice and slow.” She replayed the words Collin had used and tried not to look down.
“Fire,” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she held on for dear life and cleared the second story. If she fell now, at least she wouldn’t die, but it would hurt like hell.
“Quinn.” Collin’s voice filled her with relief.
“There’s a fire in my room,” she hollered and eased another step down the wall. Her foot slipped, and she dangled, held by nothing more than the puny muscles in her arm. She screamed again.
“Quinn, let go. I’ll catch you.”
Sweat beaded her brow as she glanced down at him. He was still too far away. If he tried, he might miss.
White foam came pouring down on her from above. Someone was in the room putting out the fire. Thank God, the linens holding her life wouldn’t burn.
Her arms burned as she hung on, trying to get another footing.
“Quinn, let go.”
