“Landon James,” a man’s voice said wearily. “Of course.”
Landon couldn’t see the man’s features with the light at his back, but the voice was familiar. “Antonio,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “Let’s work this out between us.”
“Like equals?” the younger man scoffed. “No, Mr. James. I don’t think we can do that.”
Landon opened his mouth, but a sharp, acrid scent suddenly reached him. Gasoline. “Not like equals,” he managed. “You’re in control here, Antonio. You’ve got my best friend tied up, and you’re the one carrying the gas can.”
“That’s not all,” Antonio said and jerked his head. “Come here.”
“Don’t, Landon!”
Kait’s voice propelled him forward, stepping quickly over Gray’s body, into the kitchen. Relief hit him first. She was alive, she was unhurt. But reality was close on its heels. Her wrists and ankles were bound with what looked like duct tape, and from the quiet click he heard behind him, Antonio was armed with more than gas.
His mind flipped decisively through the moves he could make. He’d lost his chance to charge Antonio—he’d been too hasty. He could still try, of course, but he’d more than likely get shot. And then Antonio would have to kill Kait. The only thing he could do was try to delay him until the police arrived.
Slowly, his hands raised to show Antonio he had no defenses, Landon lowered himself to the floor beside Kait and let his wrists be bound. “So your mom is Basil’s sister?” he asked. “Does she know what her brother has you doing?”
“My mom died when I was seventeen,” Antonio said flatly, jerking the tape tight. “Basil took me in, taught me a skill, gave me a job.”
“My mom died when I was twenty-two,” Kait said quietly. “My dad, too. It was a car accident.”
Antonio’s face softened when he looked at her. “I know. I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to get caught up in this. I tried to protect you.”
“You said that before,” Kait remembered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I hid mushrooms in one of the entrees you ate last night. It wasn’t dead food—I made it for you.” Antonio shook his head at her. “How are you even out of bed right now?”
“I didn’t eat very much,” Kait remembered. “It was a busy night.”
“Is that all you did?” Landon asked.
“I was in the restaurant with you that night,” Antonio admitted. “That was partly Basil. He wanted me to send you a message. I wouldn’t have done it, but I thought it would be a good way to keep you away from here late at night. In case it came to this.”
“Came to burning down the restaurant?” Kait choked on a hysterical laugh. “What else could it have come to?”
“We thought we could run you out of town again if we stirred up the old scandal, but he kept getting in the way.” Antonio looked hard at Landon. “If you hadn’t turned the story in the Canteen, and if your mother hadn’t made a big show of supporting this place, it would have—”
Suddenly his head turned sharply in the direction of the dining area. Kait saw red and blue lights flash across his face and heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop in front of the restaurant.
“Fuck,” Antonio swore. Keeping the gun trained on Kait, he shook out the last of the gas around them.
“Please,” Kait gasped as he pulled out the long lighter they used to light the candles in the evening. “Don’t!”
But he already had. His face set, Antonio set the flame to the gas and stumbled back when they flared up immediately. The heat was immense. Kaitlyn turned her face away, gasping to fill her lungs with air that wasn’t on fire. In her smoke-smudged periphery, she saw Antonio hesitated only for a moment and then was gone.
“Kait.” Landon’s calm, steady voice cut through the panic that was screaming in her brain. “He didn’t have time to do my ankles. I’m going to get one of the knives, then I need you to cut my hands loose.”
He grunted with the effort of getting to his feet without the use of his hands, then backed sideways along the counter until he got to the knife drawer. Unable to reach beyond the handle to feel what type of blade he was selecting, he wrapped his numb fingers around the closest one.
Kait struggled to her feet and leaned heavily against the side of the counter. It was so hot that sweat was pouring down from her hairline, stinging her eyes. She tried not to look at the flames—to see how close they were to Gray. “You should run,” she told Landon hopelessly as he handed her the knife behind her back.
“Cut the fucking tape, Kait.”
Praying that her bloodless fingers would be able to hold onto the handle, Kait began sawing blindly at the tape around his wrists. She heard him inhale sharply more than once. Tears poured down her face, both from the hot, black smoke filling the kitchen and the fear that she would accidentally cut open an artery.
“It’s okay,” he said when she hesitated. “Keep going, I can almost—yeah, I can get my wrists a little bit apart now.”
It was easier to jab the blade through the tape without fear of cutting right through his hand. It was only another minute before Landon said triumphantly, “You did it.” Ignoring the stinging sensation of blood pumping back into his fingertips, he grabbed the knife from her hands and cut her free, then knelt down to cut her ankles free. “Get out of here,” he said. “I’ll get Gray.”
But when Kait opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t leaving him—either of them—the toll of the sickness, the shock, and the heat overwhelmed her. Her last memory was of the floor pitching beneath her, the room sliding sideways, and Landon’s arms closing around her.
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of the night
