What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 23

  “You didn’t offer me that one,” Gabe commented.

  “You wouldn’t like it,” Bull said. “There’s extra hops and wheat. More fruity and spicy to give a summery feeling.”

  “Summery beer?” Gabe snorted. “Yeah, no. I’ll take my fruit salad on a plate, not in my beer.”

  After moving his chair closer to the firepit, Caz took a sip and savored it. “Very nice, ’mano. It does taste like summer. This one is a winner.”

  The gazebo screen door opened, and Hawk scowled at them. “Noisy bastards.” Obviously not intending to stay long, he wore only a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt.

  “Evening.” Bull studied him quickly. For the past weeks, they’d been doing spring chores—cleaning the chicken coop, turning compost, washing windows, repairing snow damage. It appeared Hawk had also done personal spring cleaning. His blond hair, still shoulder-length, was evened out, and his beard trimmed to hug his jaw.

  The sarge would be pleased.

  “Try this.” He handed Hawk an Old Baldy.

  Hawk sampled. “Not bad. More hops would be better”—he sneered at Gabe—“but it’d work for a sunny afternoon grill.”

  “That was the idea.” Bull nodded. “I’ll feature it when I get the roadhouse patio opened up.”

  “When you do, then—” Gabe leaned forward. “What the hell is that?”

  Bull turned to follow his brother’s gaze. Across the lake, a red light flickered and grew. Another light on the shore grew bright, then another.

  “That’s fire,” Hawk said. “More than one.”

  “Fuck.” Bull jumped to his feet. “Those are Dante’s cabins.” Frankie.

  Gabe started snapping orders. “Caz, call the fire department—and tell JJ she’s on duty. Bull, make sure your New Yorker’s safe. Hawk and I’ll take the rest of the cabins.” He sprinted toward his house.

  “Hawk, I’ll drive.” Fear tightening his guts, Bull ran across the lawn to the house with Gryff at his heels. “Buddy, guard the place.”

  He got an acknowledging woof.

  With Hawk in the passenger seat, Bull drove his pickup down the road. Ahead of him, Gabe’s Jeep turned onto Swan Avenue. They went past the lake and onto Lake Road. The vehicle skidded to a stop at Frankie’s as Gabe kept going to the last of the four blazing buildings.

  In the few minutes it’d taken to get there, flames had engulfed Frankie’s cabin.

  “You see her?” Hawk jumped out.

  Throat-clogging smoke filled the air, and Bull coughed as he scanned for her small figure.

  No one. Fear rose even higher inside him.

  Her door and windows were aflame, bright orange against the dark cabin walls. The heavy logs shouldn’t have caught fire so quickly. The pattern was too deliberate.

  This was arson.

  Outside the light cast by the flames, the shadows were thick enough to hide…anyone. Bull’s pulse quickened as his lizard brain awoke, screaming about danger. He silenced the little voice and stayed focused on the goal: find his woman. “Go on. I got this.”

  As Hawk ran for the next cabin, Bull jogged around Frankie’s. A waft of wind sent embers through the air. “Frankie!”

  “Here!”

  At the sound of her voice, relief punched into his chest like a bullet. “Where?”

  “In here.” A hand appeared through a busted-out window. “I can’t g—” Coughing interrupted her. Flames from behind silhouetted Frankie—but she was alive and on her feet.

  For the moment. Fuck. The rectangular bathroom window was far too small for a person. Probably why it hadn’t been lit on fire. His gut tightened. The door and other windows were burning. This was the only way out—or she’d die. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

  He grabbed the sill and yanked. Not quite enough. He roared, “Hawk, need you!”

  “Coming!” As Hawk appeared from around the corner, Bull moved his grip to one side of the window frame. “Need an assist.”

  Hawk grabbed the other side of the sill.

  “Now.”

  They yanked together—and ripped out the sill as well as the wood below it. Thank fuck.

  “You good?” Hawk caught Bull’s nod, then sprinted toward the other cabins.

  Coughing as smoke eddied around him, Bull punched out the last of the jagged glass. “Turn sideways, sweetheart. I’ll brace you.”

  Still coughing, she nodded. It was going to be a tight fit.

  From the direction of Rescue, sirens were approaching, barely audible over the roaring crackle of the fire.

  Frankie tried to squirm out the narrow window but turned sideways; she couldn’t use her feet to push.

  “Here we go.” Bull gripped her waist, supporting her as he pulled. Her curvy ass caught for a second, and then he had an armload of woman. She was dressed only in one of his old flannel shirts—the one she’d laughingly stolen to use as a robe.

  “Orsacchiotto, thank you.” Arms around him, she pressed her face against his neck. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get out.”

  If he and Hawk hadn’t been here to rip away the window frame, she wouldn’t have. The knowledge was a shard of ice in his guts.

  Scooping her up, Bull carried her away from the overwhelming heat pouring from the cabin. The heaviest logs forming the walls hadn’t ignited, but everything inside the building was going to be incinerated.

  She could’ve been…

  Bull hauled in a breath. He had her in his arms. Could hear her voice.

  Even her coughing felt reassuring.

  He searched for something to say…other than you almost died. “Dante’s going to be pissed off.” Despite his efforts, his voice came out guttural and ragged.

  She buried her face against his shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

  Setting her on the passenger seat in his truck, Bull checked her over. No blood gushing. Nothing busted. He brushed her hair back off her face. “Fuck, I was scared. For you.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she pressed her cheek against his hand. “Me, too.”

  He turned to check the other three buildings. Who needed help?

  Caz and JJ had arrived and were assisting an older man who was staggering. Hawk was between two men in their thirties, both coughing violently.

  Fire extinguisher in his hand, Gabe appeared with his arm around another guy. From the scorch marks on the renter’s clothing, Gabe had needed to spray down some flames to get the guy out.

  All four cabins were in flames. “Any more?” Bull yelled.

  “This is it,” Gabe called back.

  “Three-o’clock!” Hawk shouted.

  Ambush.

  Bull grabbed Frankie and dove for the ground. Why the fuck hadn’t he come armed? He checked the woods down the road.

  The bushes were moving. There was a flash of clothing. Moving away.

  Not an ambush. The bastards were fleeing. Two men—no, three.

  Gabe snapped, “Doc, Hawk. Take guard.” Even before he’d taken off running, Bull had charged after the men.

  Hawk and the doc would watch over the civilians—and Frankie. Bull would eliminate the threat. He roared.

  His targets panicked, fighting to get through the thick undergrowth at the forest edge. Breaking from concealment, they fled down the road toward the park. Probably where their car was parked.

  Catching up to the first man, Bull grabbed his shoulder, then heaved and spun, tossing him back to Gabe before continuing after the rest.

  A glance showed him that Hawk was stationed in front of Frankie. She’d be safe.

  * * *

  Sitting in the pickup, Frankie stared as Bull, JJ, and Gabe chased whoever’d been in the underbrush. She’d never seen anyone react as fast as Bull had.

  He’d thrown that man to Gabe as casually as she’d have tossed her sister a scarf.

  Be careful, Bull. She sucked in a breath and broke into more coughing.

  By Gabe’s Jeep, her cabin neighbors were sitting on the ground. Standing guard over them wi
th a knife in hand, Caz scanned the surroundings.

  Beside Bull’s pickup, Hawk was doing the same…only he held a pistol.

  “Where’d the gun come from?” she asked.

  His sharp eyes paused on her for a second. “Just part of getting dressed in the morning.”

  Now…there was a scary habit.

  “You saw them first. Why didn’t you chase them or shoot them or something?” Not that she ever, ever wanted anyone to shoot someone.

  “I’m the slowest runner.” He glanced at her. “And I don’t shoot unless I know they need to die.”

  “Oh.” Fear for Bull had shut her brain off. What if they were simply scared drunks or something? She shivered because…what if they weren’t?

  Bull was almost to the second man with JJ right behind him.

  “I don’t shoot,” Hawk said. Like he’d done it before. Bull said they’d all seen action. Ugly shit. And Hawk played his violin at night.

  “Don’t shoot anyone, Hawk. I don’t want you to shoot anyone.”

  “Good to know.” The amusement in his eyes died when he realized she was serious.

  Arms around herself, she shivered and helplessly watched the chase. The light from the flames lit up the entire area—and showed Bull catch up to the next man as easily as if the guy hadn’t been full-out running.

  Bull swung his arm, and it seemed as if he’d merely swatted the man’s shoulders, but the guy left the ground like a pigeon taking flight.

  JJ took him on, and Bull continued.

  The last man spun. Knife in hand, he lunged at Bull. “Die, asshole!”

  “No!” Panicking, Frankie grabbed Hawk’s arm. “Help him!”

  “Eh, Bull’d get upset if I butt in.” Hawk just stood there.

  Frankie pushed him to one side and ran forward. If nothing else, she could distract the—

  “Civilians.” Hawk grabbed the back of her shirt, jerking her to a stop. “Stay put, yorkie.”

  “Vai all’inferno! Yes, go to hell.” She tried to wrench away and couldn’t. Tears burned her eyes as she stared at the men fighting. Please, don’t let him be hurt. Please.

  The man lunged, and Bull sidestepped the knife, gripped his opponent’s wrist, and brought his knee up. The man screamed, and Bull plucked the knife from his hand. The guy crumpled to the ground, cursing up a storm, and holding his quite obviously broken arm.

  Relief hit Frankie like a tsunami, leaving her shaking.

  “C’mon, woman.” Hawk pulled her back to Bull’s pickup so she could lean against the door.

  As she watched, Bull yanked the guy up, gripped his uninjured arm, and walked him back. As they approached the pickup, she could hear Bull’s deep voice with that impossible-to-shake calm. “A shame about your arm, but you hurried me. Why’d you burn the cabin anyway?”

  After a pat down and search, JJ forced her handcuffed man to kneel next to Bull’s prisoner. She glanced at Bull, snorted, and shook her head. “You broke this one, Bull. Caz’s going to be annoyed.”

  “Yeah, my bad.” Glancing over at his brother, Bull called, “Sorry, Doc.”

  Checking over one of her neighbors, Caz turned, saw the obviously broken arm. “No mames.” He scowled at Bull. “Vales verga.”

  “Hey, at least I caught the bastard,” Bull grumbled.

  Che cavolo, the man was crazy. He acted like he’d just gone out for ice cream, not been in a knife fight. Hysterical giggles welled up, and Frankie put her hands over her mouth to hold them back.

  As a fire engine pulled up, and firefighters jumped out, Gabe dragged his handcuffed man over. “Down, mister.”

  “You figure this is a PZ thing?” JJ asked Gabe.

  “I wouldn’t put it past the assholes, but arson isn’t usually their MO,” he said.

  Arson? Frankie turned toward her cabin. Firefighters were spraying water on the buildings and the fires were starting to go out.

  Arson. She stood up. Took a couple of steps forward.

  Hawk frowned. “Yorkie, stay—”

  “They threw something into my cabin to start the fire.”

  “Yeah?” He turned to where Gabe was talking to a firefighter. “Yo, old man. You got info here.”

  Old man? Gabe was…at most…a few years older than his brothers. Probably not even that. “Old man?”

  “Means he’s a bossy bastard,” Hawk growled.

  “What information?” Gabe walked over.

  So did Bull.

  “I was in the bathroom, and I heard the windows break, and something—several things—landed inside, and then everything was burning.”

  “Sounds like they tossed in Molotov cocktails.” A firefighter joined them. “From the scorch marks and stink, I’m guessing they splashed gas on the outside around the windows and doors.”

  Those three men had wanted her to…to burn? Her knees buckled, and Hawk grabbed her. Held her up.

  Bull pulled a blanket out of the back of his cab and wrapped it around her. “I’ll take her, bro. Thanks for watching her for me.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Releasing her, Hawk moved away.

  Feeling chilled as cold air wafted over her burned skin, Frankie pulled the blanket tighter.

  Bull pulled her back against his chest. His right arm crossed over her breasts and the other around her waist. So strong, so warm.

  She leaned back against him, and he didn’t even rock as he took her weight. He bent to whisper in her ear, “You all right?”

  Her hands curled over his scarred forearms, holding him to her. Here was safety. “Thanks to you, yes.”

  “You think the weird militia group did this?” the firefighter asked.

  “I don’t think they’re with the Pissers.” JJ joined them.

  “The…what? Pissers?” The firefighter laughed.

  Gabe snorted. “Lot of people refer to Patriot Zealots as PZs, and somehow—I’m blaming my niece—that’s been transformed to Pissers. Don’t tell anyone, but I rather like it.”

  As the fireman snickered, JJ sighed. “Regan started it. And after laughing my ass off when she said it the first time, I lacked the moral high ground to tell her to stop.”

  Gabe gave Bull a half-smile before asking her, “Any idea why the cabins would be burned?”

  “I don’t know.” She studied the three guys on the ground who appeared more like gang members than the PZs. “Dante had a fight with some renters a few days ago. He kicked them out.”

  “Fishermen did this?” The firefighter lifted his eyebrows.

  “The renters were a bunch of Anchorage’s gangsters. They got high and started shooting up everything, including the other cabins. Someone called Dante”—JJ’s frown showed what she thought about the police not getting called first—“and he showed up with a shotgun and booted them out. Insults and threats were exchanged.”

  “Gangsters versus redneck veteran.” The firefighter grinned. “Go, Dante.”

  JJ told Gabe, “The state troopers are on the way to take them. Caz will have time to splint that arm.”

  Gabe studied Frankie for a moment, then told Bull, “She can leave. I’ll get a formal statement later.”

  “I’m good with that. Just let us know what you find, Chief.” The firefighter scowled at the burning cabins. “Good thing it rained yesterday, or we’d be battling a forest fire, too.”

  “Chiquita.” Caz stepped in front of her. “Where are you burned or hurt?”

  “I…” Was she hurt? She wasn’t sure. “I-I think I’m all right.”

  “Let’s be sure, sí?” With someone holding a flashlight for him and Bull blocking anyone’s view, the doc was gentle, but thorough, finding burns on her left arm and leg. At least the right side wasn’t too bad; she’d been half inside the bathroom when the Molotov cocktails exploded. Being pulled through the window had scraped up her shoulders, back, arms, and even her butt.

  He listened to her lungs, mentioning the other renters would be spending the night in the Soldotna hospital. She’d gotten lucky th
ere, having closed the bathroom door quickly enough to avoid inhaling much smoke.

  “All right, Frankie.” The sympathy in Caz’s dark eyes and voice was incredibly soothing. “Shower, then apply antibiotic ointment to the scrapes. You can use an aloe vera gel on the burns—or nothing. Cover any blisters that might get irritated.”

  “I will. Thank you, Doc.” The need to leave, to get away from all the smoke and burning and violence filled her until she started to shake.

  Only where could she go to shower? What would she wear? She stared at her cabin that was still aflame.

  My clothes are…gone. So was her laptop and her purse and her credit cards and…everything. How could she even get a hotel room with no ID or money?

  It was…was too much. I can’t do this. Tears burned her eyes. No, don’t cry; don’t cry. “D-do you think the bed and breakfast will take me on credit until I c-can get—”

  “You’re coming home with me, sweetheart,” Bull interrupted.

  “But… We aren’t…” He didn’t like her any longer. He thought she was—

  He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll work it out.” Not giving her time to object, he gently helped her into his pickup and buckled her in, using the blanket for extra padding under the strap.

  She shouldn’t go with him. This was foolish and cruel to him. Only… Her breathing hitched as she stared at her cabin. What would she do otherwise?

  Bull turned to Hawk. “You ready to go?”

  His brother’s expression was unreadable. “I’ll catch a ride with Caz.”

  “Fuck,” Bull said under his breath. “Sure, bro. See you tomorrow.”

  As the pickup bounced around the lake and to the Hermitage, she struggled to stay calm. To not cry.

  The thought of everything she’d have to do now was overwhelming. How could she put her life together and still get Kit out?

  Those men had burned the cabins and tried to make sure she and the other renters would burn to death. Just because they’d fought with Dante? That was just…incomprehensible. Shivers shook her.

  I want to go home, to my own bright apartment, my plants in the windows. Where things sound right and smell right. The need rose inside her so hard she felt like she was five again, lost on the streets of New York, the noise and people and sights too much to handle. All turned around with no way to get home.