Melanie almost screamed! Not true. She did scream, in pleasure, but now she wanted to do it again, this time in frustration. So close to finally losing her damnable cherry, yet once again, fate intervened.

Smoke curled under the seam of the door, and she was all too aware they were on the second floor—with only one set of stairs out of here.

She popped off the desk, her skirt falling down to cover her lower body. Her bra hung over her shoulder still. She fumbled together the clasp as Bryce dared to open the door and peek outside.

He cursed. “Fuck me. The place is on fire again.”

Slam. The door shut, and he whirled to face her. “We won’t be getting out that way.”

The bottom of her stomach fell out. “Can we leave through the window?” It seemed large enough, but the second-story jump, a jump forty feet in the air given the factory’s first level needed room, meant a far fall.

“We can, but it will hurt.”

“What are we going to do?” They couldn’t take long to decide. The fire would spread quickly.

For a moment, Bryce eyed the bottle of whiskey, to the point she thought she’d have to explain why fire and alcohol didn’t mix.

He turned from it, and his expression brightened. “There’s a bathroom up here.”

“How does that help us?” She did have to pee but didn’t see how that would prove useful.

“I need to borrow your shirt.” Before she replied, he snared it off the floor and stripped his own off before entering the room to the side, and he emerged with both of them a moment later, sopping wet.

“Go and soak your skirt,” he advised.

Rather than waste breath and time asking why, she trusted in him having a plan and did as he asked, lifting the hem and spraying herself as well as she could.

When she returned, he held out the wet shirt. “Hold this over your nose and mouth. It will filter most of the smoke. We need to move fast.”

So he claimed, yet he went into the bathroom once more, and she heard banging.

Clang. Clang. Whoosh.

Water sprayed out from the doorway as he emerged, wet looking and grim. The broken pipe soon shot liquid across the floor. It didn’t seem enough to help, but then again, who knew? They could use any aid at this point.

“Ready?” He laced his hand in hers before the door.

No. She nodded.

He opened it, and a wave of smoke hit her in the face. The shirt over her mouth prevented her from sucking in a lungful, but her eyes stung.

Good thing Bryce held on to her because she could see nothing in the smoky haze filling the air. He knew where to go, though, and when she stumbled on the first step, he lifted her into his arms and carried her down.

She tucked her face against him, ignoring the crackle of the fire, the sting of the smoke, the terror making her heart beat too fast.

She heard an odd sizzling sound and found it less than reassuring that the water pouring down from above was turning into steam.

Bryce kept his stride steady and only cursed once when the heat licked at them unbearably. No need for waxing. The hair on her arms and legs disintegrated.

The nightmare inferno seemed like it would last forever. The heat dried out her skin, and the wet cloth grew warm. Suddenly, fresh air hit her skin, and she opened her burning eyes to see they’d made it outside. Stars twinkled above. The smell of smoke combined with that of a nearby forest, and diesel fumes. Parking lots tended to retain a certain scent.

Opening her eyes, she saw a few tanker-type vehicles. Maple syrup by the ton. Her feet hit the ground, and yet Bryce kept his arm around her. His body tensed. He also didn’t move despite the heat pouring at their backs.

“We aren’t alone,” he murmured.

She turned her head quickly and noted someone on the edge of the pavement. Standing by a little red sports car, a pack of wolves by his side. The same wolves as the forest, the ones who attacked her.

“Isn’t that Rory?” she said.

“It is.” Bryce looked peeved.

Rory took a few strides forward, thumbs tucked in the loops of his jeans. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“Yeah, imagine that, especially given the factory is closed. Which means you and your buddies are trespassing.”

Rory held up his hands. “Getting a little hostile there, aren’t you? We were just passing through.”

“The same way you were passing through the woods when your pals accosted Melanie?”

For a moment Rory looked surprised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. Your thugs attacked her in the forest.”

Rory turned to look at his pack and for a moment, just a moment, Melanie could have sworn he seemed angry. But it passed and he shrugged. “I’m sure they were just playing with her.”

“The same way they played with matches and set the factory on fire?” Bryce jabbed a finger behind them at the burning building.

“You can’t prove it.”

“Actually, I’ll bet the surveillance footage will.”

“Doesn’t matter what it shows. This is my heritage.”

Bryce stiffened. “The factory isn’t yours yet.”

“But it will be. I am, after all, Theo’s son.” Spoken with a sneer.

“I don’t care what the tests say. No son of Theo would kill someone in cold blood.” Or burn down a maple syrup factory. The horror of it.

For a moment, Rory’s face took on a troubled expression, a look quickly washed away. “The factory was supposed to be empty.”

“Guess again, asshole. You almost killed us both.”

“Almost. But look at you, still the luckiest bastard alive.” Rory said, his disgruntlement clear.

“Why are you burning it down?” Melanie’s soft question entered the tension filled air.

Rory shrugged. “Because I can.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Bryce exclaimed.

“Not insane, angry.” The voice, unexpected in this place and moment, emerged from the shadows a moment before the old man did. Bryce’s grandfather, Theo, casually dressed and his expression sad spoke. “I guess your mother told you. You know the truth.”

“Yeah, she spoke to me. Told me that you loved this damned factory more than her.” Said belligerently.

“It was more complicated than that,” Theo said. “We were both married. My daughter needed me.”

“My mother needed you. Do you have any idea of how my father treated her? Ignoring her. Acting so fucking cold. And I never knew why. Never even guessed until she finally told me a few weeks ago. You seduced her and then left her. You left her pregnant with your baby to face my father.”

“I never knew about the pregnancy.”

Rory snorted. “As if you couldn’t guess when I came along nine months later.”

“I swear, I never knew, or I would have done something.”

“Sure you would have.” The sarcasm dripped richly from his words. “Well, guess what, daddy dear. Not all of us are pussies when it comes to acting, and some of us don’t think factories are more valuable than people.” Rory swept a hand at the raging inferno. “This is what I think of your legacy. Soon to be my legacy. When I take over the company, I’m going to dismantle every single one of them.”

“Who says you’ll take over?” Theo asked the question, and Bryce stiffened.

“It’s already happening. Or hadn’t you heard about the hostile takeover?”

“You don’t have enough shares,” Theo proclaimed.

“Not yet. But I will. As soon as you die, this will be mine.”

“Not according to my will,” Theo announced.

But Rory wasn’t daunted. “I’ll contest your will as your most direct living heir.”

“Except I’m not dying.” Theo stood tall.

“Are you sure of that? A man your age doesn’t need much to suffer a heart attack or worse.” Rory didn’t say a word, and yet the wolves at his side leapt forward. If they thought they would have an easy task of taking down an old man, they were mistaken.

Melanie could only watch as Theo turned into a grayer version of Bryce. His rack extended magnificently, the body showing signs of age, but still lean and strong. Theo, the moose, bent his mighty rack and tossed the wolves. However, there were three, all trying to converge in different directions.

A wild bellow from behind. and a second later another moose galloped past, joining the battle, the pair of them making short work of the snarling canines, sending them howling into the woods.

Rory, his face full of rage—and hurt—shook his fist at them. “This isn’t over.” He jumped into his car and took off in a squeal of tires.

As his taillights winked out of sight, the sound of sirens filled the air with a mighty wail. She waved her hands at the moose. They’d never have time to change and find clothes.

“Go. Shoo. I got this.”

The sirens grew louder, and Bryce trotted close. He knelt down, offering her his back.

She could only hope a video of her riding Bryce wouldn’t surface on the internet. While not a knight on a white stallion galloping away, he had rescued her while the factory burned bright behind them.