Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,39

glow had quadrupled in size and he could see smoke and smell the harsh fumes.

Chapter Ten

Harte moved toward the door with Dani right behind him. On the other side of the building, a roaring whoosh of air indicated more floats going up in flames. The acrid fumes grew worse. Dani coughed, and the sound echoed off the walls.

“Listen!”

Dani clapped her hand over her mouth.

“You!” a loud, gruff voice said. “Go around. They’ll be smoked out in no time. Find the doors! Don’t let them get away.”

Harte reached the door and flipped the lock. He stopped, trying to get his bearings. If they were on the opposite side of the warehouse from the door they’d come in, then which way should they go? His best guess was to the right.

“Harte?” Dani sounded nervous.

“You stay behind me and follow me. I’m turning right. But keep up. I may have to change direction. If there’s someone outside the door waiting for us, you stay inside until I can take care of him. Understand?”

She looked as though she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She nodded and covered her mouth again, coughing as quietly as she could.

He turned the bolt and pushed on the door, opening it a crack and checking to be sure the coast was clear. The only thing he saw through the silvery haze of rain was the dark, wet alley. Carefully, he pushed the door wider and stuck his head out. Nothing.

He slipped through the door with Dani right behind him. The alley was somewhat protected from the storm, but he heard the wind. It roared as it whipped around corners and flung rain at awnings, street signs and shutters in all directions. Paper and trash swirled and flapped against curbs and walls.

“Stay right behind me,” he told her. They hugged the wall of the warehouse until they reached the street. He stopped Dani with a hand, then pressed himself against the building. He peeked out, trying to see both ends of the street without exposing himself.

So far they were in the clear. “Looks like we beat them here. But they’re going to be right behind us,” he said, pointing to the right. “This way.”

Dani started to move, but Harte stopped her. He leaned close to her ear. “The wind is worse than it was,” he said. “Hook your fingers into my belt. If you lose your grip, do not move. I’ll find you.”

She nodded and he felt her fingers slide beneath the waistband of his pants. He wrapped an arm around her and hooked a finger through one of the belt loops of her jeans. “Okay,” he said. “Ready.”

When they emerged from the alley and onto the street, the wind nearly knocked Dani’s feet out from under her, but she held on to Harte’s belt. He braced himself, tightened his grip on her belt loop and turned as directly into the wind as he could. He had learned on a winter hike in the Rockies that when his back was to the wind it was more difficult to maintain balance and control.

Once they were clear of the alley, the wind, rain and thunder quickly drowned out any other sound. Harte was acutely aware that a vehicle could be upon them before they could hear its engine. He trudged on, favoring his strained ankle and trying to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the men who were chasing them.

He was pretty sure the warehouse was west of the bed-and-breakfast. At least that was the direction he’d started out. He had a good sense of direction, but the combination of the darkness, the wind and the rain were playing havoc with his usual calm assurance.

He knew he was disoriented by the rain, but his best guess was that the wind was coming from the south, since that had been the projected path of the storm. That meant if they kept facing into it, they’d be moving farther away from the bed-and-breakfast.

The pelting of the rain on his face and hands stung like blackberry briars, making it hard to keep his eyes open. Dani was having the same problem; plus, with her eyes closed, the wind was pummeling her, causing her to stumble.

Harte pulled her close to his side. He wiped his face with the soaked cuff of his shirt, not that it did much good. Lowering his head, he continued on.

Then everything stopped. Harte had