The room was engulfed in fire, the heat intense, but there hadn't been any more blazing missiles coming into the house. He heard sirens. One of the neighbors had probably called 911. They could be running into an ambush, but their choices were limited. He just didn't know if they could get through the fire to the door.
Maya grabbed her bag off the table and shoved her laptop inside it.
"Fire trucks are coming," he said. "But we can't wait another second. We have to get out."
"You want to run through the fire?"
It sounded crazy, but he couldn't breathe very well, and she was starting to cough and gasp for air. He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. "We run. When we hit the ground, we dive and roll. Got it? Trust me?"
She nodded with terror-filled eyes.
They ran through the flames. He used the towel to yank open the door, shoving her onto the porch in front of him. As they hit the grass, she dropped to the ground and rolled just as he'd ordered. He did the same, as firefighters jumped off the arriving truck and raced toward them.
The firefighters helped them smother out the lingering flames as the EMTs rushed forward to check them for burns and smoke inhalation. Thankfully, while their clothes were a bit singed, they'd escaped serious injury. After being completely checked out, they sat on the back of the ambulance with oxygen masks on, and Jax finally had a chance to look around.
There were neighbors on the street now. He didn't know if Maya recognized any of them, but she was staring in bewilderment at her house, or what was left of it.
She pulled the mask away from her nose and mouth. "It's all going up in smoke. My house, my life," she murmured, her voice dazed.
He removed his mask. "But you're still alive, and that's what matters."
She looked at him with her heart in her eyes. "Someone tried to kill us, Jax. What were they throwing into the house?"
"Molotov cocktails—gasoline-soaked firebombs."
She stared back at him. "That sounds very…Russian."
He nodded, a grim line tightening his lips. "Yes, it does. They probably couldn't risk breaking in again, so they decided to take the house down, and if you were inside…"
"Then no one would ever find out what they're trying so damn hard to protect. I wish I knew what that was."
"It must be something in the journals. Even if they believed that you were giving up on the movie, they might not have wanted those journals to see the light of day."
"But they don't contain anything that would destroy someone. They're just her diaries. Well, there is one that's a little different. I think she was trying to write some fiction. There are drawings and some random passages. They didn't make any sense to me, but maybe it's something."
He frowned at that piece of information. "I don't think you ever told me that one of the journals was fiction."
"I don't know what it is. It's just really random thoughts, not even thoughts—pieces of narrative…the dog jumped over the haystack, kind of thing. I think it was a children's book."
He didn't think that at all. Something was off. "I need to see those journals. We have to get them tomorrow."
"They might be safer far away from me."
He wanted to tell her he could keep them safe, and he could keep her safe, although he hadn't done a hell of a good job so far. But that was partly because he was playing out his cover. And he couldn't blow that cover now. He couldn't forget that there was a bigger investigation going on, one that went far beyond the murder of two women, one that could be a matter of national security.
"You could have been killed," Maya continued. "I am so sorry, Jax."
"I told you before I don't want your apology. This isn't on you. And we're all right."
"For now," she said darkly. "What do we tell the police?" she asked, tipping her head to the officer speaking to the fire captain. "Do we get into Natasha, Julia, the Firebird Club?"
He wanted to say no, but that wasn't realistic. Once more, he would need Flynn to take over the case so they could control the investigation. But that wouldn't happen until tomorrow. "I think you should just tell them that since you've been researching your grandmother's murder, your house was broken into, you were personally assaulted, one of your research subjects