From the Ashes Read online

  She forced herself to sit up, fighting through the faint-headed wooziness. She banged the tiled wall over the bathtub with her fist.

  With a grunt, the figure forced the door open. And then he was there, standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim daylight streaming down the hallway.

  Maddox, her brother.

  She let out a sob of desperation, relief, and joy.

  “Eden!” In two strides, he was across the bathroom and scooping her up into his strong arms. He cradled her to his chest. His body was too warm, his skin burning hot and damp with sweat against her own. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

  She must have dropped her notepad, but she didn’t notice in the exhilaration of being rescued. Maddox carried her down the long hallway, turning into the formal living room.

  Smoke snaked into her nostrils and throat, and she coughed into his chest. She gazed over his shoulder, bleary-eyed. The flames danced across the glossy white cabinets in the beautiful kitchen she’d spent much of the last two years enjoying—sitting at the island, doing homework, practicing sign language with Gabriella, eating takeout together like a real family, grinning as they both danced to salsa music or laughed at Jorge’s lame jokes.

  All of that was gone now.

  Gabriella and Jorge weren’t coming back.

  The fire would burn down the house she thought of as home. The bomb had destroyed the city she loved. Was anything but ashes left?

  And where was Dakota?

  With Eden still held firmly in his arms, Maddox dashed through the dark living room and crashed through the double front doors. She closed her eyes against the harsh blast of sunlight.

  She’d been trapped in complete darkness for two and a half days. It felt like forever.

  Maddox carried her across several lawns, finally stopping ten houses away. She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly as he set her down beneath the spreading leaves of a huge magnolia tree near the front of the house.

  This was the Westwood’s house. They were both real estate agents, with a son who was studying engineering at Miami University. Mrs. Westwood had a green thumb and tended to her own landscaping rather than hiring gardeners like everyone else did.

  Bright rain lilies and periwinkle flowers poked out of the mulch surrounding the trunk of the tree. All along the front of the house, luscious tropical plants like Florida sweethearts, white birds of paradise, and elephant palms fluttered in the breeze.

  It was all so beautiful, so peaceful—except for the smoke pouring into the sky behind them.

  Maddox knelt, pulled a water bottle out of his back pocket, and handed it to her. She downed half of it in one gulp. It was warm but still tasted like heaven, soothing her parched throat and wetting her cracked lips.

  When she was finished, Maddox gripped her shoulders and stared at her. She looked into his vivid blue eyes.

  Her brother. It wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t delirious. He really was here, right in front of her.

  Memories of her life at the River Grass Compound came flooding back. Maddox, Jacob, her father, Sister Rosemarie, all her friends…and the Prophet.

  After they’d fled, Dakota told her not to think about that place anymore, to put it all in the past—where it belonged.

  She’d done her best, trying to only think of the here and now, to live her new life without mourning the old. The past only brings heartache, Dakota had told her. We’re going to build a new life.

  She’d thought she had. Until now.

  Maddox shook her. “Are you okay?”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  “Where is Dakota?”

  She signed, I don’t know.

  He looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “What are you doing? This isn’t the time for games, Eden! Answer me!”

  Fresh fear constricted her lungs. He didn’t know about her voice. Would he think less of her? Would she be damaged goods to him now? Would he get angry at her? Hate her?

  She loved Maddox, but he could be volatile, and fly into a rage over anything, just like their father. At the compound, she’d learned to notice the signs of a coming storm and find somewhere to hide. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid this one.

  She signed again, forgetting he couldn’t understand her. She gestured at her throat instead, at the thick, ugly worm of the raised scar.

  His eyes narrowed. They were glassy, his pupils dilated. “What did she do to you?”

  Eden didn’t understand the question. She opened her mouth, closed it, pointed to her damaged throat again.

  “You can’t talk.” Her brother scowled, indignant. “You’re damaged! You’re handicapped!”

  She shrank away from his anger. I’m sorry, she signed. Please don’t be angry.

  He saw her fear and his features softened—barely. “I didn’t know it was that bad. I saw it, but I didn’t realize…” He pulled her into his arms. “I found you, little sister. I found you and I’m never going to let you go.”

  For some reason, his words didn’t bring her comfort.

  “It won’t matter,” he said quietly into her hair. “I’ll make it right. I’ll figure it out.” He pulled away and held out his palm. “Spell out the words. What happened to you? Where the hell is Dakota? You need to tell me everything.”

  4

  Eden

  “Dakota kidnapped Eden,” Maddox said.

  Eden knew perfectly well that she and Dakota weren’t sisters by blood, but by choice. Back at Ezra’s, Dakota had sworn to love her and protect Eden like she was her own. Eden loved and depended on Dakota as much as any real sister would.

  Once they’d left the compound, Dakota explained that it would be safer for them both if they called themselves sisters. In a cruel, harsh world, they only had each other.

  They had already been through so much together. Dakota had already sacrificed so much for her. It was only natural to consider each other sisters. To Eden, it had become real.

  But kidnapping?

  “Someone tell us what’s going on,” the middle-aged Cuban guy said, glancing warily between Dakota and Maddox.

  Dakota stood there, speechless and white-faced.

  Maddox’s hand pressed heavy and hot against Eden’s shoulder. She could feel the heat of fever radiating off his body mingled with the sweltering temperature.

  “My family has a home in the Everglades.” Maddox’s voice was calm, but she could sense the barely contained rage vibrating just below the surface. “A community of like-minded souls who work and live and worship together in peace.

  “Dakota is an orphan who came to live with us after her own parents perished in an unfortunate car accident. Her aunt is one of our loyal parishioners. My father could have kicked her out to starve. Instead, he took her in, gave her a home, food and shelter, and welcomed her into our community.”

  He coughed and cleared his throat. “Instead of gratitude, instead of obligation, she chose to betray me, to steal the thing that would hurt my family the most. Eden was twelve when Dakota kidnapped her, did you know that?”

  “You’re the liar,” Dakota said, her voice shaking. “That’s not how it happened, and you damn well know it.”

  “She’s a murderer, too,” Maddox said evenly.

  The blood drained from her face.

  “She killed our brother,” Maddox said. “Stabbed him to death in cold blood.”

  Eden’s hands fluttered in the air like startled birds. What? Jacob is…? No, oh no…

  Her mind struggled to decipher the words. Jacob…was dead? The older brother she adored, the one always with a ready smile and twinkling eyes, who never lost his temper or treated her like she just a bothersome kid?

  Jacob was so tall and strong, like the trunk of a mighty, ancient tree. When she was little, she would look up at him and his head would blot out the sun.

  That’s how she remembered him—his face fairly glowing, the sun shining all around him like a halo.

  When she thought of the compound, she al
ways thought of everyone the same as when she’d left—never aging or changing, never dying.

  “Dakota murdered Jacob,” Maddox said, venom dripping from his every word.

  “That’s a—that’s not how it happened,” Dakota stammered.

  But Eden knew her too well. There was something guarded in her face, something she was hiding.

  You knew? she signed. All this time, you knew he was dead?

  But Dakota couldn’t understand her words. No one was paying attention to her, anyway. They were all staring over her head, watching Maddox.

  The others in the group—two men standing beside the Westwoods’ car in the driveway, two others at the curb, one of them lying in a stretcher—watched silently, too stunned to intervene.

  Eden’s pulse thundered so loud inside her head she could barely hear her own thoughts. There was so much she didn’t remember. The events of that night were still a blot in her memory. A black hole.

  Dakota had never explained what had happened. She never told Eden her own brother was dead.Anger and confusion mingled with the grief tearing at her insides. She didn’t know what to feel. It was all too much.

  She wanted to clap her hands over her ears and drown it out, push it away, go back to that place in her head where Dakota had saved her, not stolen her. To go back in time until her precious Jacob was still happily alive.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to have this conversation,” the Cuban guy said cautiously. “We need to move somewhere safer. It’s getting dark. We have wounded people in our group. Sir, you don’t look so great yourself. You need medical treatment. We have a nursing student—”

  “This is the perfect time.” Maddox squeezed Eden’s shoulder so hard she felt his nails digging into her skin like talons. “Have you told her? Have you told Eden what happened to her throat, why she can’t speak?”

  “Shut up!” Dakota whispered.

  “Have you told her that it was your fault?”

  “Stop it!”

  “What did she tell you, little sister? That she’d saved you from something awful?” He gave that laugh again—flat and dangerous. “Did she forget to mention that she was that something awful? Not only did she end the life of your beloved brother and stole you from us, she also cut you to ensure you were completely dependent on her, and couldn’t run back to us.”

  Eden’s eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t thought it could get any worse. Her mind was a jumble of confused questions and tattered thoughts.

  She longed to beg Dakota for the truth, but without her notepad, a cellphone to text, or someone who understood ASL, she was effectively voiceless.

  She could only watch and listen in horror as her life collapsed in a cascade of lies.

  Even if she could talk to Dakota, would she get the truth? Who was even telling the truth? Her own brother or the girl she loved like a sister? Or were they both lying?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement. One of the men by the red car, a tall, muscular Hispanic guy, swiftly drew his gun.

  But before he could lift it and point it at anyone, Maddox had whipped out his own pistol. Instead of aiming at the other man, the cold tip of the muzzle pressed against her right temple.

  “Anyone moves and I put a bullet in her brain.” Maddox’s voice was cold, unfeeling. Like he really would do it without a second’s hesitation.

  The Hispanic guy froze.

  “I thought—I thought she was your sister?” the Cuban man stammered.

  “She is. And if she dies now, she’ll die a martyr’s death and spend eternity in paradise. And so will I. Death doesn’t frighten us. Not like it should frighten you.”

  “Julio,” Dakota warned in a low voice.

  Slowly, Julio raised his arms in the air. “We’re not your enemies. No one needs to die today. Please, just tell us what you want, and we’ll do our best to help you.”

  Maddox gave a mirthless laugh. “What do I want? I want my sister returned to me where she belongs.” His right hand still held the gun to her head. With his free hand, he pulled a folding knife from his pocket and flicked it open.

  Deftly, he slipped the knife to Eden’s throat and aimed the pistol straight at Dakota’s chest. “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “Me,” Dakota said. “He wants me.”

  5

  Logan

  Logan stared at the incredulous scene unfolding before him in disbelief. He’d barely had time to catch his breath from the fight he’d barely survived, and now this.

  “Put your guns down, nice and easy,” Maddox said. “On second thought, discharge the chamber, eject the magazine, and toss them in opposite directions.”

  Dakota unholstered her pistol, did as instructed, and set it down on the grass. She tossed the magazine a few feet away and glanced at Logan, begging him to follow suit with desperate eyes.

  Logan had no clue what was going on. Whoever this guy was to Dakota, it was something bad. Her face had lost its color, and she was trembling.

  The guy had accused her of murder and kidnapping.

  Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn’t.

  But seeing as the scumbag was currently holding a knife to his own sister’s neck, Logan made the split-second decision to leap all-in on Dakota’s side.

  Still, Logan despised the thought of giving up any ground. Anger burned through him as he lowered his Glock to the grass, dropped the magazine a few feet from the pistol, and straightened, both hands raised, palms out.

  He clenched his jaw, barely reining in the fury boiling inside him. Dakota had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Had she known this guy was out here looking for them? She must have. She hadn’t seemed all that surprised to see him. Horrified—but not surprised.

  When Dakota had taken off running toward the smoke, Logan had been forced to go after her. She was faster than he expected, and he was still hurting from the shallow gash across his ribs and multiple bruises and contusions.

  By the time he reached Bellview Court, several houses were on fire. He wasn’t sure which one belonged to the sister. Dakota was nowhere in sight.

  He had jogged down the street, searching for an opened door, for some sign or clue.

  He caught sight of movement in a yard several houses up from the fire. A man and a young girl. The man had waved to him, calm and nonchalant as could be.

  Hi, friend, he’d said. Hi, friend.

  The guy had looked just like another survivor—exhausted, sick, thankful to be alive. He’d said he was Eden’s brother. Knowing Dakota and Eden were sisters, Logan assumed this guy was Dakota’s brother as well.

  Why wouldn’t he? The girl was happy to see Maddox. She stood close to him, totally comfortable, looking at him like he was her savior.

  If Logan had been well-rested, if he hadn’t just nearly gotten his head bashed in, if he hadn’t been so worried about Dakota…he would’ve been on his game. He wouldn’t have taken the scene at face value.

  He knew better.

  He should’ve paid better attention. But he was operating on the last of his energy reserves, and he was so focused on finding Dakota he barely registered anything other than his goal.

  “Which house is yours?” he’d yelled at the girl.

  The guy had pointed down the street. “Blue shutters. It’s on fire.”

  But Logan was already gone, tearing down the street to save the crazy waitress, who he knew without a doubt would never leave that house without her sister, even to her own demise.

  She’d burn to death before she admitted defeat.

  And crazier still—he knew he had to get her out. He wanted to get her out.

  And he had. She’d been okay—hacking like a smoker from the inhalation and cut up everywhere—but alive.

  He told himself it was quid pro quo, nothing more; she’d saved him by shooting Tank in the head. Now, he owed her. He was just returning the favor.

  A small, insistent part of him knew it was more than that.

  Now here he was—exh
austed, completely spent, hurting and sick—and faced with yet another threat: one he hadn’t even seen coming, in large part because Dakota Sloane hadn’t bothered to warn him about her apparently psychopathic non-brother.

  Fresh anger slashed through him. Whatever little game she was playing was gonna get someone killed. Possibly even himself.

  He pushed aside his rage. Allowing emotions to interfere in a deadly-force situation got people killed.

  “What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Only what’s mine,” Maddox said. “Only what’s fair.”

  The blonde girl—Eden—started to cry. According to Dakota, she was fifteen, but the girl was short and chubby, her angelic face sprinkled with freckles. She didn’t look a day older than thirteen. She was just a kid.

  “We’re doing what you asked.” Julio spoke with remarkable calm, like he was just soothing another bruised ego at his bar. “We put our guns down, no discussion. How about you do us a solid and lower your own weapon? Maybe you could put that knife down, too. We don’t want any accidents. Your little sister looks really scared right now.”

  Maddox cocked his head, like he was considering it. He spat yellowish-tinged spittle out of the side of his mouth. “Nah. I’m taking them both.”

  “No, you’re not!” another voice shouted.

  Flinching, Logan whipped his head toward the sound.

  Nancy Harlow stood at the curb, feet shoulder-width apart, gripping the M4 with both hands. She aimed it at Maddox’s chest.

  6

  Logan

  “You aren’t stealing a kid, sister or not,” Harlow said valiantly. “Not on my watch.”

  Maddox gave a hollow laugh. Sweat trickled down his forehead and stubby jawline. His skin looked clammy and tinged a sickly shade of yellow. “You sure you can hit me and only me?”

  The muzzle of the M4 shook in Harlow’s hands. The woman was brave—Logan gave her credit for that—but she was also foolhardy. The weapon was out of bullets.