“Scott, believe me, this place is as safe as safe can get,” Millie said. “Nobody could get in this house without me knowing it. I promise.”
“I believe you,” he said, frowning. “I did hear a couple of vehicles go by.”
“I live outside of DC,” she said. “Cars always go by.”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed his whiskered jaw. Oddly enough, his whiskers were darker than his hair, the contrast masculine. Tough and sexy. “But I heard the same clunking sound from a damaged muffler three times, with pauses in between as if somebody turned around at the end of the street. I’m probably on edge.”
Just then, a battered blue truck drove by through the quiet neighborhood.
Millie listened. “You’re right, that muffler has broken internal components.”
Scott partially turned. “Get down!”
Projectiles blew through the front window, shattering the glass. Millie caught sight of something on fire and turned to run with Scott right behind her. The projectiles detonated in the living room, throwing the two of them across the kitchen and against the door leading to the garage.
Pain slammed down Millie’s arm.
Several additional explosions sounded, and her cupboards flew open, spitting plates and glasses down on them.
Scott immediately rolled on top of her, wrapping both of his arms around her head.
Roscoe whined and shimmied up next to them, his nose on the door to the garage. Smoke poured from the living room, and crackling flames ripped gleefully through the morning. Scott stood in one swift motion, drawing her with him, and opened the garage door, carrying her inside with Roscoe on his heels. He slammed the door and opened her car door, pushing her across to the other side before helping Roscoe into the back seat.
He vaulted into the driver’s seat. “Where’s the key?”
“Just push the button. I always leave the key in,” she gasped, her eyes stinging from the smoke.
“All right.” He took a deep breath. “Where’s the garage door opener?”
Smoke began to filter through the kitchen door and panic engulfed Millie. She’d secured her valuables in a safe, so they should be okay, but everything else she owned was going up in flames.
“We have to get out of here,” Scott said.
“I know.” She pressed the button on the dash.
“Duck down—I’m going to gun it.” He ignited the engine. “As soon as the door opens.”
She held her breath. The door rolled open and he punched the gas, swerving around his vehicle to the street. He paused and looked around. The blue truck had disappeared.
Millie stared through the window and watched as flames swallowed her home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The fire took half the house. Scott leaned against the side of his SUV near where Millie perched on the hood, her legs dangling over the front. Roscoe had flopped next to her after having jumped on top, scrambling with his claws, then hunkering down with a sigh. Scott purposely didn’t look at the damage because surely he’d have to get the hood buffed out.
Right now he didn’t care.
They had moved the vehicles across the road to make room for the fire trucks. Acrid smoke still wafted through the air while debris gently rained down. Soot covered part of Millie’s face, but even so he could see new bruises on her cheek and jaw. They appeared darker, more purple than the bruises from the other day, which had begun yellowing. He wasn’t taking very good care of her.
“Stop worrying,” she said, her gaze still on the house.
“I can’t help it. I smashed you into that door pretty hard.”
She turned to him and grinned, and he noted the right side of her lip had cracked. “Considering three projectiles exploded in my house, I’m rather thankful the blast threw us into the door and away from the flames.”
He sucked in the stench of charred wood and scorched paint mingling with the choking fumes. The flashing red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles glowed eerily through the still-dispersing smoke, even as the firefighters rolled up their hoses. Their response had been quick and they’d managed to save half the house.
“I’m sorry about your belongings, Millie,” Scott said.
