Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,22

She touched it with her free hand; it wasn’t even hot yet.

Turning the hairdryer back on, she resumed drying her hair.

But the smoke smell grew stronger and acrider as the minutes passed. The steam from her shower was still thick—so thick that it made her cough as she breathed it in. She waved her hand in front of her, trying to clear some the air. Should that steam have dissipated by now, or at least made the mirror so foggy it was impossible to use?

Yet mirror was fogged only along its uppermost edge.

Brows furrowing, she turned her head and glanced through the open doorway. Gabriela’s eyes widened. Shutting off the hairdryer again, she set it down and walked into her room, coughing again. The steam was even thicker in the bedroom—and the stench of smoke even stronger.

It’s not steam at all.

“Oh, my God.”

Rushing to the bedroom door, she yanked it open and stepped out into a blazing inferno that had once been her living room and kitchen.

Her heart ceased to beat. For several moments—they felt like eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds—all she could do was stand there and stare as roaring flames roiled from floor to ceiling, blasting her with unbearable heat. The air was hazy with smoke, the worst of which was gathering in a thick, impenetrable black cloud on the ceiling. The pops and cracks of everything being consumed by fire were almost deafening.

This…this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. If there was a fire, surely the smoke detector would have gone off, right? That damned detector went off at the slightest hint of smoke from the oven when she was cooking.

As though on cue, a shrill alarm blared.

It was like being woken from a nightmare only to find yourself still dreaming. Worse…this was real.

And the raging fire was between Gabriela and Ana.

Gabriela sucked in a stinging breath that sent her into a coughing fit. Her throat and eyes burned, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

She blinked away those tears and screamed, “Ana!” Her voice was raw, ragged, desperate, and the blaze seemed to swallow it up.

“Mom!”

Though the response was muffled and competing with far more aggressive sounds, Gabriela knew it was from her daughter.

“Go to your window, mija,” Gabriela yelled before she was overtaken by more coughing. She bent forward and lifted her forearm to cover her mouth and nose, sweeping her gaze from side to side to seek a path to her daughter’s room. But between the smoke, the bright flames, and the tears in her eyes, she couldn’t even see the door to Ana’s bedroom. The front and back doors were likewise obscured.

Heart pounding, Gabriela turned away and stumbled back into her own room, slamming the door shut behind her. The smoke was noticeably thicker now. The burning in her throat had burrowed down into her lungs, making every breath painful. But that didn’t matter.

Only Ana mattered. That was all.

Gabby vaulted onto her bed, crawled across it, and leapt down on the other side, catching herself with her hands against the wall beside the window. She hurriedly threw open the curtains and tugged on the string to raise the blinds so hard that something snapped overhead. She didn’t bother checking the damage.

Her fingers felt clumsy and weak as she fumbled with the window locks.

“Come on, please. Come on!”

Finally, she had both locks undone, and she didn’t waste a second in thrusting the window up and shoving out the screen. Frigid air blasted her, made all the worse by the withering heat she’d just faced.

Grasping both sides of the window frame, Gabriela pulled herself through, swinging a leg over the windowsill. She dropped down into the snow below, landing on her feet and sinking to her knees before she lost her balance and fell on her backside.

“Help!” she shouted into the night as she scrambled upright. “Help!”

Her breath was ragged as she fought her way through the two-foot-deep snow to get to the front of the house, crawling on hands and knees where she had to. She cried out for help—and called her daughter’s name—the entire way.

The snow in front of the house was bathed in the orange glow of the growing flames when Gabriela finally neared Ana’s window.

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

Ana was at the window, with terror gleaming in her wide, tear-filled eyes. She banged on the windowpane. “Mom!”

Gabriela braced herself against the window frame and met her daughter’s gaze. The bedroom was hazy, and darker smoke was creeping in through