set the night
on fire
Avery
“Wake up, little one.”
I roll to my back and look up. It’s quiet—the muffled sounds of music and people have disappeared and the only thing surrounding me is Link’s low baritone.
He pushes the hair from my face. “Everyone’s gone and it’s all locked up for the night. Time to go.”
“I don’t know how you keep this schedule and be up as early as you are. How are you not exhausted?” I stand and pull his soft plaid shirt down where it hits me right above the knees and slip on my suede booties. I’m glad it’s almost three in the morning so no one will see me. I look ridiculous.
“I’ve been working in a bar since I was twenty-one. I wouldn’t know what to do with a normal schedule.” Going to his desk, he throws all my stuff in my backpack and heaves it over his shoulder along with his own bag and grabs his keys. After putting my jacket on and grabbing my purse, Link locks up his office and we head down the stairs.
“I’ve been here when it’s crazy-busy, during the day with no one here, and now. I’ve got to say, this is creepy, all dark and empty—kind of hollow,” I note, taking one last look around before he flips off the lights.
Link grabs my hand as we head out the back of the building. “I’ll get up and take you to class in the morning. Until they find my old boss from Vegas and figure out who’s working with him, I don’t want you walking around on campus by yourself.”
“The officer from Vandy said I could request an escort. I feel bad you have to get up early with me, but I really can’t miss any more classes. I’m already behind.”
He lets go of my hand long enough to set the alarm and lock up the last door for the night.
“I don’t mind. I’d rather take you myself than worry if you’re okay.” He looks down and grins. “I’ll add extra sugar to my coffee to get me through.”
“Of course, you will.” I roll my eyes. “Not everyone trains like a prize fighter. I guess you can drink spoonfuls of sugar in your coffee when you work out that hard. I have no desire to exercise, let alone like you do. I’d rather eat veggie burgers and put sugar free jam on my ice—”
Link yanks me to his side, interrupting my commentary about his penchant for too-sweet caffeine. I frown and begin to ask what’s going on, but he’s got his phone out and doesn’t take his eyes off the darkened street. Picking up his pace, he pulls me along as he clips, “Let’s get you to the car.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but he’s already got his cell to his ear.
“Yeah, this is Lincoln Forester. I own The Knot at the corner of Grand and 37th. There are two cars idling down the street from my bar with the lights off and I recognize one—”
But he doesn’t get another word out. One second he’s whisking me across the parking lot and the next, our bodies are thrown forward by the heated explosion from behind us. Link’s arm comes around me just in time—folding me into his chest and shielding my head as we skid across the concrete on our sides, the pavement biting into my bare legs. Before our bodies come to a stop, he rolls, pressing my back to the hard ground. I squeeze my eyes shut and hang on to him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear debris raining around us. The heat from the blast is a stark contrast to the frigid ground below me.
Link doesn’t let go of his fierce hold on me as he cranes his neck around to look at his bar.
Holy shit.
His Goliath of a warehouse is still standing, but there’s a hole in the back where flames lick the black sky, setting the night ablaze.
“Fuck,” he growls, and just as quick as he took in the destruction to his bar, he swings his head around and looks back down the street. Never letting go of his phone, he puts it back to his ear while doing a pushup with one arm, and I lose his weight. “You still there?” he asks and grabs my hand, yanking me to my feet. “There was an explosion and my building’s on fire.”
Sirens ring in the distance and he starts pulling me into a run toward his truck just as tires squeal. When we get to his driver’s side door, two cars stop in the middle of the street next to the parking lot.
“Get down!” he yells and jerks me to the front of his truck, opposite the street. Gunfire rings through the night and I scream, not able to get close enough to Link. We’re hunched, me wrapped in his arms, with the sides of our faces pressed together.
I can’t believe I’m able to hear sirens over the gunfire and flaming building, but as they grow louder, the gunfire disappears and the cars squeal off into the night.
Feeling Link’s warm breath on the side of my face—his lungs searching for air as his chest heaves against mine—I realize we’re okay. We’re alive and at least well enough to stay wrapped in one another’s arms, which is saying something after the last few moments.
The sirens get louder and when I look through the broken windows of Link’s truck, I see police cars pass just as fast as they approached.
Link forces my attention on him by taking my face in his hands. “You okay?”
I start to tremble, either from the cold or my adrenaline crashing and barely manage a nod.
His hands start to roam my body. “You’re sure? You weren’t hit?”
I shake my head—my voice as unsteady as my legs. “No. I think I’m okay.”
More sirens sound as fire trucks come blazing around the corner, followed by an ambulance, and two more police cruisers. The fire is spitting and hissing from the back of The Knot. Firefighters quickly start to do their thing and Link has his cell back up to his ear.
“They’re here,” he says into the phone and pulls me close to him. “They did?” I feel him tense and I tip my head back to look up to see him nod. “Good. The officers are coming up now. I’ll let them fill me in.”
“What?” I ask as he slides his phone into his pocket.
“My security company was watching everything on the cameras I have installed in the parking lot.” He motions toward the light poles above us. “They were reporting it to the police, that’s how they knew to chase the cars. One of them wrecked and they’re IDing the suspects now. I know it’s my old boss from Vegas—I recognize the car.”
As EMS, police, and big, muscly firefighters converge on the scene like the Justice League on D-Day, I exhale a big breath and hold tight to Link.
It’s then I realize, there’s no way I’ll make it to class tomorrow … or, later this morning. I’m just glad it’s not a Dr. Eubanks day.