Page 35 of Lock ’N’ Load

Both he and Jake froze. A few seconds later, the sound of metal on metal came to his ears. He ran around to the back of the house and heard the same metal sounds and more glass breaking.

“There!” He pointed and ran to the window well.

A crowbar, held by pale, bare arms cleared glass from the broken basement window.

Trista.

Matt jumped into the window well just as Trista pulled herself to safety. She fell against his chest and he picked her up, getting a glimpse of the flames flickering inside the basement.

“Poofy!” she shouted, dropping the crowbar and slapping at his hands. “Let me go.”

“Stop fighting me!” Matt shouted. The basement was bright with flames. Smoke poured out the open window, making them both cough. He had to get her out of here, away from the house.

“Let me go!” she repeated. “I have to go back inside.”

But she was no match for him, and he easily handed her up to Jake. Kicking her legs, she caught him in the jaw, and he fell back, whacking his head hard against the siding. For a moment, he saw stars and his vision blurred. He reached out his hand, leaning on the side of the house until the moment passed.

“Poofy!” she screamed, still struggling to free herself from Jake’s arms. “I have to go back and get Poofy!”

Shit. The damned cat.

“Get her out of here!” he yelled to Jake. “Whoever did this could be out there waiting to take a shot at her.”

A fit of coughing seized her, allowing Jake to grip her tighter as he ran from the house.

“Fuck.” Taking a deep breath, Matt pivoted in the tight confines of the window well and began lowering himself into the basement, legs first.

Bits of glass cut into his palms, but he kept going until his feet hit something. A stool. He stepped onto it, then onto the concrete floor. The intense heat hit him first, then the smoke. He dropped to his knees, knowing the air would be better down there. Not much.

“Poofy! Poofy!”

He looked around the smoky room for the cat, not really expecting the animal to come to him like a dog. Hell, even a dog would probably ignore his calls under these circumstances, instinct driving it to go to ground for a hiding place.

This was beyond crazy. It was insane. But seeing Trista screaming, panicked over her cat dying tugged at his heart to the point where he’d do just about anything for her. If it had been Sheba trapped inside a burning building, he would have fought anyone who tried to prevent him from saving her as well.

A chemical smell came to him—gasoline—and he tugged his shirt from his jeans and pulled it over his head, using it as a filter to breathe through.

If I were a cat in a burning building, where would I go?

If the situation wasn’t so dire, he would have laughed. Then it hit him. Years ago, he’d taken care of a friend’s cat for a weekend, and every time he walked into the house, the cat took off and hid behind the dryer.

Matt grabbed the edge of the dryer and pulled it away from the wall. Hunkered down in a tight, soot-covered ball was the cat.

Meoooow.

“Hey, Poofy.” He kept his voice low and easy, trying not to frighten the feline. If the animal took off, and he had to search for it again, he doubted he’d have time to get his ass out of there before the basement turned into an inferno.

Slowly at first, he eased his arm toward the cat. The animal braced itself against the wall and, from the looks of it, was about to haul ass. Dropping his shirt to the floor, Matt shot his arm out, grabbing the cat in mid-lunge, then hauling it to his chest.

He tensed, expecting sharp claws to dig into his skin, but all he felt were soft paws and a wriggling body. Mercifully, the cat must have had its claws trimmed recently.

Coughing worse now, he made his way back to the window and stepped onto the stool. Aiming carefully, he hurled the cat through the open window, over the edge of the well and onto the grass. Then he hauled himself through, grimacing as more shards of glass dug into his palms.

Hands grabbed at him, hauling him out. Firemen.

“You okay?” one of them asked, urging him away from the house.

Water sprayed from two hoses, hissing as it hit the burning timbers.