His friends, Viking and AK, stood off to the side. Viking, the enormous red haired brother, looked distressed as he talked to the dark-haired AK, and when he ran his hand through his hair, he turned, and his attention locked on me.
Viking’s large chest deflated in what looked like relief and he said something to AK. AK looked toward me and threw a small tired wave.
But I did not have the time to spare for them. All I could concentrate on right now was Flame.
I winced as I caught sight of white gauze on the side of his neck. The gunshot graze. The bullet that should have hit me if he had not thrown himself in its path...
... to protect me.
Flame’s pace increased. I could see his hands shaking as his fists became impossibly tight. Then, with a corded neck, he began to scream. His croaked and rough voice made it to “MADD—” before his eyes whipped to the top of the stairs…
… where they collided with mine.
Flame’s bellowed call caught in his throat and his body came to an abrupt stop. He staggered on uneasy feet as though he was too tired to be standing. But that midnight stare remained. His hands stopped shaking, his wide bare chest pumped at a heady speed, yet a strange kind of calm seemed to flow over him.
I wanted to speak to him.
I wanted to take his hand in mine and thank him. Thank him beyond words for saving my life.
But I could not. I did not have the courage. So instead, I lifted my trembling hand to my neck. I placed it in the same spot as his injury. Making sure I had his undivided attention, I bowed my head in thanks.
Flame stilled at my gesture, then, with his nostrils flaring, and his chest heaving, he stepped forward. My heart raced when I thought he was about to climb the stairs and meet me. But after only one step, it was as though something stopped him dead in his tracks.
My heart fell.
I could tell he wanted to come to me.
I could tell that he wanted to speak to me. But like me, it was not that simple.
Feeling someone come up behind me, my stomach rolled when Flame’s calm demeanor suddenly snapped as he looked over my shoulder. The tortured man I witnessed controlling his rage each night broke back through on a graveled growl.
“Maddie?” Pastor James called. The sound of the Pastor’s voice and her presence at my side seemed to send Flame over the edge. His eyes clouded with rage. His feet carried him forward. With a threatening menace, his harsh demeanor held the promise of pain.
Barely breathing, I followed my instincts and ran down the church steps. Flame coming back from wherever he had been in his tortured mind with every step I took towards him.
AK spoke. “Maddie, we need you to come back with us.”
Flame was breathing as heavy as if he had been running for endless hours, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his pale, drawn in face.
Without looking at AK, I nodded my head. AK moved in near Flame and said quietly, “She’s coming back with us, okay? She can ride in the truck with me.”
Flame stiffened and shook his head, as if what AK had said did not please him. AK inched closer and said, “Look at me, brother.”
Flame did not remove his gaze from me. AK tried again. “Flame, look at me.” This time Flame did. But it was not a friendly expression.
AK held his hand over his chest. “Do you trust me? After everything we’ve been through, do you trust me to bring Maddie home safely?”
Viking moved to AK’s side. I watched as Flame darted his glance between the two. With a visible sag of his shoulders and a long sigh, Flame croaked huskily, “Yeah.”
AK relaxed. Looking to me he held his hand out in the direction of the truck. I walked forward, but refused the seat in the front of the vehicle, instead choosing to sit in the back.
Sliding into the seat, I met Flame’s apprehensive stare as he watched me get into the truck and nodded my head, offering an appeasing smile.
Flame’s lips parted and, as AK slipped into the driver’s seat, Flame ran toward his motorcycle.