Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Laura Scott (speed reading book .txt) 📖

“We have to move fast,” he said. “Now.” He lifted her into his arms and swung her like a baby. “God, help us. Direct her landing and keep her safe inside the blanket. Like when You were in the fiery furnace—don’t let a single flame touch her!”

Then she was flying.

Whooshing.

Hissing.

Popping.

Her body met the ground with a thud that reverberated through every bone, but nothing appeared broken. Were the flames nearby? Coming for her? She couldn’t see!

Her fingers and toes tingled as a panic attack revealed its reckoning. Her insides felt like a bull bucking to get out of the stall. She thrashed and rolled, fighting for freedom from the blanket and quilt.

A piercing cry broke through the atmosphere.

Colt! Oh, God, let him be okay. But the sound was tormented. Had he succumbed to the flames?

She shoved and pushed until she unfolded from the blankets, her pulse pounding in her temple, and then she spotted Colt rolling on the ground, his blanket on fire.

Utter shock slammed into her, but she quickly grabbed her quilt and ran for him. No. No! She beat out the flames with the quilt before it engulfed him, then dropped to her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

“Colt! Are you burned? Injured?” She touched his sweaty, blackened face. He coughed.

“I’m okay,” he groaned, but his scrunched face revealed the pain. “My ankle... I burned my ankle, but I’m fine. Are you?” He pulled to his feet, favoring his right foot over his burned left foot. “Let’s go. Too much smoke,” he said as he coughed.

Colt had almost died. He was badly burned—worse than he was letting on. She was losing breath. Losing her mind. A full-blown panic attack came on and sank her to the ground.

“Oh, Georgia. Hey. Hey,” Colt said and forced her to look at him. “Breathe. You gotta breathe.” But she couldn’t. Colt had been injured. Twice. And her fear and distress proved she cared more about him than she ever meant to. Ever intended to.

“We have to get to the woods. To fresh air. Look at me and breathe.”

She turned away from him and watched in horror as the raging inferno consumed her home. It groaned and protested as it fell to ash, and inside Georgia mourned with it. Where would she go now that her sanctuary was destroyed? A monster had burned her out and isolated her. She’d faked bravado, then gotten indignant and angry over Colt, and one of those men had settled the score. Everything was burned to the ground.

A wintry chill swept over her fevered skin as it dawned on her that the killer had taken enough reckless chances by shooting her inside her home. Now he’d forced her to leave, which gave him more opportunities to kill her in other places.

“Georgia, look at me. Not the house. Look at me.” He patted her cheeks and forced her to peer into his eyes, surrounded by dirt and soot and sweat. “Breathe.”

She was no help to anyone in this state. But it was out of her control. Colt prayed, stroking her filthy hair and rocking her in his lap, his bad leg sticking out while she fell to a heap against him. At least her dogs were unharmed.

He kissed her forehead and coughed again. “We need help,” he said through a strained voice. “You work on breathing.” Colt called 911 and his team.

Georgia had lost track of time, but sirens sounded in the distance. The cold case unit arrived, running alongside the paramedics. Firefighters went to work dousing the fire to contain it, but her house was lost.

She was peppered with questions, medical care, oxygen masks. Surrounded by law enforcement and first responders. Everything moved like a whirlwind. And all she could imagine was Colt dying in that fire. He hadn’t just risked his life for Georgia—he’d have done this for anyone—strangers. It was his job. He’d chosen this.

“There’s a search going on now for evidence or the perpetrator,” Rhett said. “If he’s in these woods somewhere, we’ll find him.”

Colt shoved the oxygen mask from his face. “Let’s get to work.”

“Let’s make sure you’re cleared to go,” Poppy added, and the paramedic frowned and shoved the mask back on Colt’s face.

“You’re not,” the paramedic said.

Georgia sat, stunned. Colt laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. She peered into his compassionate eyes and saw the flicker of emotion that had also been burning since his earlier kiss—a kiss that had cracked open places she purposely kept sealed. It begged for her to swing it open wide. To stop fighting tooth and nail to avoid it. For a moment, she had given in and believed she might be able to do that. Wanted to or she’d never have allowed that kiss.

But it was reasons like this—like him being shot—that she kept herself locked tight. To avoid these triggers and keep this kind of torment at bay.

He’d been burned and could have been injured further or even died.

This was all too much. Her mind replayed what had happened and what could have happened and might happen over and again.

It all ended with Colt dying and her losing her mind.

God, help me. Heal me!

“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Second Corinthians 12:9 once again saturated her heart. It had been God alone getting her through these trials. Literally through the fire.

And they had made it out alive. God had used Colt to spare them.

“Georgia, talk to me,” Colt said.

“I’m so glad you had a good throwing arm and played football in high school,” Georgia breathed, using dry humor to help her cope.

“Me too. I could have thrown you straight into the wall or worse—the fire.” Colt winced as they examined his burns. Puckers of red flesh covered his ankle and some of his shin. “I’m sorry. I should