I was falling. Sliding. The blanket tore through my hands and I couldn’t hold on.
Falling—
He caught me. Just like he promised. He caught me—quick, easy—and he hauled me against the railing a floor below. I was shaking and terrified, but he had me. He pulled me over the metal rail and set me on cool concrete. And then he took the blanket from my shaking hand and pushed Ben to me.
The boy grabbed hold, and I crouched down over him. My legs couldn’t support my weight anyway. But it was cooler here, and I could breathe. And Jake was right there, picking up the metal table that sat out on the balcony.
What?
He mimed covering our faces, and I blocked Ben’s eyes. But I didn’t cover mine soon enough. Instead, I watched as Jake lifted the metal table high over his head. I saw the muscles of his arms bunch and the taut clench to his neck and jaw. And then he threw the thing forward, straight into the sliding glass doors.
They shattered with a crash, and I tucked my face against Ben. When I looked up again, I saw Jake using the protection of the blanket rope to knock away leftover glass shards. When he was done, he held out his hand with a grin.
“Come on. We can get down now.”
Right. Because the fire was on the floor above us. I nodded and straightened, bringing Ben with me. Jake grabbed the boy and whispered in his ear. The kid nodded and took off toward the door. He touched it gingerly and looked back with a grin.
“It’s cool!”
“Great!” Jake called back.
Fabulous. But when I took a step forward, Jake was there before me.
“What?”
“Hold on.” He didn’t ask permission. He just put one of my arms around his shoulder, then squatted down. A split second later, he was carrying me in his arms.
I squeaked in alarm as I clutched him tight. “What are you doing?”
“You’re barefoot. There’s glass.”
Wow. He didn’t even sound winded. And I felt all those muscles and that masculine power as he strode through the room with me in his arms.
“Can you open the door, Ben?” Jake asked. “Slowly.”
“Put me down,” I said. I didn’t want him to. Hell, I wanted to curl into his side and stay in his arms forever. But that wasn’t going to get us out of the fire. And we needed Jake to be strong and capable, without me hindering him.
He nodded and gently set me on my feet. “Watch where you step,” he ordered softly. “And both of you, keep low to the ground.”
Right. Against the smoke. Except compared to what had been billowing out of the room a floor above, this place was crystal clear. Meanwhile, Ben pulled the door open.
“Let’s go,” Jake said. “Low and fast.”
I nodded and grabbed Ben’s hand, and the three of us dashed for theExitsign, Jake in the lead.
Then it was down the stairs as fast as we could go. All seventeen floors, though we were met halfway by firefighters. One of them pressed an oxygen mask to my face and I looked at him in confusion. And then I coughed, long and hard. Hell. I just then realized that I had been coughing on and off this whole time and hadn’t even noticed.
We made it outside, all three of us holding hands, and stepped into chaos. Lights, people, officials, everyone trying to talk to us at once. I didn’t hear a woman scream Ben’s name, but he certainly did. He croaked, “Mom!” then tore out of my grip. Mother and son reunited with tears and words that I couldn’t hear. Though I did see her look up at me and Jake, then mouth the words, “Thank you.”
I couldn’t help grinning. But when I turned to share the moment with Jake, he was being pulled aside by an EMT while journalists bellowed questions at him. Well, he probably knew it was only a matter of time before he was recognized. I released my grip on him as another EMT came to my side. Jake needed to face the cameras, and I had no desire to go anywhere near those flashing lights.
He didn’t want to let my hand go, but then I started coughing again and he had to. I was rushed over to an ambulance, and from there, the night blended into one long blur of No-Jake-in-Sight. I lost him in the crowd, then couldn’t find him at the hospital where they patched up the rope burns on my hands. And he certainly wasn’t anywhere when my sister came rushing into the ER, carrying a pair of old sweats and a makeup kit. She shoved them in my arms, then engulfed me in a hug.
“Umph,” I said. Then I repeated it with more clarity. “I’m fine. Rachel, I’m fine.”
“Mom and Dad are on their way here.”
I shook my head. “Call them. Tell them I’m fine.”
