From the Ashes Read online

  Maddox didn’t know that, but he didn’t seem afraid. Like he was banking on the fact that most women—most people—weren’t good shots with an assault rifle.

  Even fewer were willing to take a shot at a man with a child hostage.

  “Don’t test me, you scumbag!” Harlow spat.

  “Did you not hear me the first time? I’m not the bad guy here.” He dipped his chin at Dakota. “She is. I’m simply rescuing what’s mine. Y’all aren’t a part of this. We’ve all survived our own slice of hell on earth. If you’re alive, it’s for a reason. I’ve got no desire to kill you. Put your gun down and walk away.”

  “Whatever Dakota did or didn’t do, taking revenge into your own hands isn’t right,” Julio said. “Neither is taking this girl by knifepoint.”

  Dakota didn’t take her eyes off Maddox, but Logan saw her nostrils flare slightly in surprise at Julio and Harlow’s support. As if she didn’t expect it, or believe she deserved it.

  “Remind yourselves later that I tried this the nice way the first time.” Maddox shifted, adjusting his stance, and swallowed hard. His mouth contorted like he’d just tasted something nasty.

  Dark circles of sweat stained his armpits. He was clearly suffering from radiation sickness. But how badly? Would it make him more aggressive or easier to take down?

  Logan’s own stomach lurched. He swallowed down the acid burning the back of his throat. You’re getting sick, too.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Julio said. “Let’s stop and think things through. We’re still in a radiated area. Once we’re safe, we can discuss this like gentlemen, without weapons. Let’s move—”

  “Shut up, old man!” Maddox gestured at Dakota with the pistol. “Come on. Right now.”

  “Everyone, calm down—” Julio tried again.

  Maddox jerked the knife. Eden inhaled sharply. Several droplets of blood puddled against the raised scar ringing her neck.

  “Do I not look calm to you?” Maddox asked darkly.

  Dakota took a step toward him. “I’ll come with you. Don’t hurt her.”

  Every fiber of Logan’s body thrummed with tension. Adrenaline spiked through his veins. He wanted to shout at Dakota not to move, not a damn inch.

  He was an experienced street fighter, but he wasn’t a soldier. He didn’t possess tactical or martial arts skills. There was a way out of this, but he didn’t know what it was.

  He was limited in what he could do. As long as Maddox kept that blade tight on the girl’s neck, Logan didn’t see a way to neutralize him without risking Eden’s life.

  “Now,” Maddox said, his gun still aimed at Dakota, “I’d prefer Dakota alive, but I don’t need her that way. I don’t need her all in one piece, either. Put that rifle down, lady, or I’m shooting her in the kneecap. That’ll do some damage, especially without many hospitals taking patients right now.”

  Harlow hesitated.

  Fury painted Dakota’s features. If that M4 had actual bullets in it, the waitress would’ve told Harlow to shoot anyway, pain be damned. Logan was certain of it.

  But it was just a bluff—one Maddox Cage hadn’t fallen for.

  “You’ve never seen me shoot, but trust me when I say that I put a bullet where I want it.” He spoke in a flat voice, like he was reciting a grocery list. Even sick as he was, his hand was steady.

  Unlike Harlow, he didn’t seem like the type to bluff.

  Logan could tell by Dakota’s rigid expression that she was frightened of this guy. And Dakota didn’t scare easy. It didn’t matter that he’d known her for less than three days. They’d already survived a nuclear bomb, escaped the fallout, and battled a crazed mob.

  There was nothing like fighting side-by-side with someone, both your lives on the line, to cut away the layers of B.S. and take the true measure of a man—or woman, in this case.

  Dakota Sloane passed muster in his eyes. Despite the lies she’d spun, whatever games she’d played—the girl had grit, and guts.

  If she was wary of this guy, then Logan was, too.

  They couldn’t do anything stupid. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  “Harlow,” Logan said. “Stand down.”

  “Listen to him, damn it!” Park urged her. He tugged on her shirt sleeve with his good hand. “Don’t be a flaming idiot like me.”

  The woman huffed a breath and lowered the rifle, a scowl masking her fear. “Screw you.”

  Maddox’s smile slid into a grimace. “Unless you want me to double-tap you in the chest right now, Dakota, I suggest you get your ass in gear. Walk right up to the gun. That’s it.”

  Julio threw a hesitant look at Logan as Dakota started to obey, but Logan had no answers for him. He despised this sickening, helpless feeling as much as Julio did.

  Logan scanned their surroundings, searching for an advantage. When Maddox started to move with the girls, he’d present openings, weaknesses. A hell of a lot of mistakes could happen between now and their escape.

  If Logan saw even the smallest opening, he’d take it.

  His stomach roiled, and he sucked in his breath, ignoring the hot wrench of nausea.

  A flash of movement drew his attention. Behind Maddox, three houses down on the right, a couple had been packing their belongings in their vehicle. They’d been loading a heavy suitcase into the rear passenger seat on the opposite side of the truck when Maddox drew his gun.

  At the sight of a weapon, they’d disappeared quickly.

  Now, though, the barrel of a rifle peeked over the shiny gray hood, followed by the head and shoulders of a Caucasian man with thick, black-framed glasses and slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair.

  Maddox’s body was partially blocked by the trunk of the magnolia tree, which had maybe a ten-inch diameter. If the guy took a shot, the rounds could easily go wide and hit Logan, Dakota, or Julio instead. Even if the round struck Maddox, he might startle and slice into the little girl’s neck without even trying.

  Logan gave a subtle shake of his head, trying to warn the shooter off. The man gave no indication he’d gotten the hint.

  He was probably some rich CFO who went deer hunting with his buddies twice a year and believed that made him an ace shot in a dangerous, incredibly high-stress situation. Some well-fed, soft-bellied paper-pusher with Rambo delusions—which would only get somebody killed.

  Before Logan could decide what to do about it, the crack of a gunshot shattered the air.

  7

  Dakota

  Out of the corner of her eye, Dakota caught the glint of the rifle barrel in the setting sun.

  There was no time to react. The man aimed over the hood of his F150 and took his shot.

  The round went wide and pinged into the rear fender of the Tesla thirty feet behind her. A second and third shot sailed over their heads.

  “Get down!” she cried.

  Shay dropped to the grass, her hands over her head. Logan dove for the pistol and magazine only a few feet from him.

  Simultaneously, Maddox swung toward the street. Keeping Eden locked close to his body, the blade still at her throat, he focused on Harlow and aimed his gun at her chest.

  “NO!” Dakota shouted.

  But it was too late.

  Maddox squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times.

  Harlow’s body juddered like a puppet on a string. She staggered backward, looking down at herself, at the two red stains blooming: one on her upper right shoulder, the second one in the center of her chest. The M4 slipped from her fingers and clattered against the pavement.

  Harlow collapsed.

  Shay screamed.

  Park yelled something indecipherable.

  Maddox spun, took one step left out of the cover of the tree, and fired two shots at the man behind the truck. One bullet struck the windshield. The second skimmed the hood and narrowly missed the man’s head.

  The man yelped and ducked back behind the relative safety of the engine block. The woman with him let out a piercing shriek.

  The
gunshots blasted Dakota’s eardrums. Ears ringing, she searched the grass desperately for her gun and the magazine, her fumbling, bandaged hands shaking with rage, adrenaline, and fear.

  No, no, no. If Harlow was dead, Dakota would kill Maddox with her bare hands.

  Logan leapt to his feet with the Glock, slapping in the magazine, racking back the slide, and chambering a round. He half-raised his weapon and froze.

  Maddox had already moved back behind the cover of the tree trunk, whirled in a complete circle, and turned back toward Logan.

  The muzzle of his Beretta was aimed at Logan’s head. “Don’t move. Drop the gun.”

  Logan cursed but obeyed.

  So did Dakota. She was on her knees, one hand closing around the magazine of her Sig.

  “Get up,” Maddox said to her.

  She dropped the magazine, the cuts on her palms stinging, and stood slowly.

  Maddox raised his voice. “To the hero behind the gray F-150, I advise you to stay down. These people are harboring a kidnapper and murderer. You’re on the wrong side of justice. I’ve got no problem with you, man. But if you shoot at me again, I’ll kill you.”

  The man didn’t peek over the truck’s hood. He was probably cowering, completely terrified. He’d better stay there, too, or Dakota would be tempted to shoot him herself.

  His recklessness had gotten Harlow shot.

  Was she still alive? Dakota didn’t know. She couldn’t afford to take her eyes off Maddox for even a heartbeat.

  “You shot Harlow!” Julio stood next to the shattered window frame, his empty hands dangling at his sides. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide in horror and shock. “You killed her!”

  “It was self-defense,” Maddox said flatly. “I had every right.”

  Shay let out a low moan. She crawled across the grass toward Harlow.

  “Don’t move toward that rifle, girl, or I’ll put a bullet in this guy’s femoral artery, and you can watch him bleed out, too.”

  “The gun is empty!” Dakota cried. “It was a bluff.”

  “I believe you.” Maddox took a step back and leaned against the tree trunk. He huffed several deep, rasping breaths before speaking again. “Go ahead. Tend to your wounded. I’m nothing if not merciful. Isn’t that right, Dakota?”

  Dakota didn’t bother to answer.

  Shay reached Harlow. She checked the woman’s pulse, then looked up, stricken. “She’s dead.”

  This couldn’t be happening. It was all wrong. Dakota’s entire body flashed hot, then cold. Her ears rang, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

  Nancy Harlow was dead.

  She was dead because of Maddox, who was only here because of Eden and Dakota.

  This was Dakota’s fault.

  Something inside her shriveled. Black hatred colored her vision. The scars on her back burned with white-hot fire. “Go to hell.”

  Maddox smiled. “Let’s go together.”

  She forced herself to breathe, to focus. Dakota still had her knife sheathed at her waist, but she wasn’t willing to risk Eden’s life. As long as Maddox held the knife to Eden, she was helpless. They all were. She had to turn the tables somehow, and quickly.

  Against every instinct screaming at her to run in the opposite direction, she took a step toward Maddox.

  “Dakota, what are you doing?” Logan asked, his voice strained.

  “It’s no use,” she said softly, playing to Maddox’s ego. “He’s better than you are, Logan. He’s bested us. If we try to fight him, he’ll kill more innocent people.”

  “Still just as smart, I see,” Maddox said.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” Julio said.

  Dakota coughed and cleared her throat. She met Eden’s frightened gaze. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay. If we go with him, he won’t hurt you. It’s for the best, okay?”

  Eden couldn’t nod with the blade against her throat. She just stared at Dakota blankly, like she was a complete stranger, like Eden didn’t know her at all.

  Slow tears leaked down her chubby cheeks. Her eyes were filled with confusion—and betrayal.

  It felt like a blade slipping between her ribs. Dakota couldn’t blame her. Maddox twisted the truth to his own ends, but he wasn’t lying, either. She had murdered Jacob. She had caused Eden’s wound.

  Maybe Eden would never forgive her. Maybe she’d even hate her. Dakota had to live with that. But first, she needed to get them out of this alive.

  Every muscle ached with exhaustion. But she couldn’t rest. Not yet. She took another step and moved between the gun and Logan. “Take me as the hostage.”

  Maddox tightened his grip on Eden’s shoulders and chest. “Why would I do that?”

  “You’ve got to keep your attention on both Eden and me. If your attention—and that knife—slips for even a second, I’ll be on you. But if I’m your hostage, you only have to worry about me. Eden won’t try anything, you know that. But I will.”

  His vivid blue eyes brightened. “You’ve gotten more feisty since we last spoke. I always did like that about you.”

  She suppressed a flinch. She wouldn’t let him see her fear.

  His eyes were glassy with fever. She detected a slight tremor in his gun hand. He was weakening. She could use that against him.

  “I’m the expendable one.” She took another step. The metal barrel touched her forehead. “Take me.”

  In one swift move, Maddox released Eden and seized Dakota, drawing her to him so her spine pressed against his chest. The whole time, he kept the gun on her.

  Something large crashed behind them. Seven houses down, a portion of a burning house’s roof collapsed in on itself. Flames surged into the sky, spitting and sparking.

  Maddox cursed and jerked Dakota backward. “Eden, follow me. Anyone tries anything, Dakota gets the first bullet.”

  8

  Dakota

  Instead of turning toward the road and Harlow’s crumpled body, Maddox hurried Dakota and Eden between the houses, through several backyards to the next street over, and the next, following the same path Dakota had taken to reach Eden less than an hour ago.

  Eden stumbled beside them, crying silently.

  Maddox’s sweat-dampened shirt rubbed against Dakota’s skin. She inhaled the sour, pungent stench wafting off him and suppressed the urge to vomit.

  The haze of smoke dissipated as they traveled further from the burning cul-de-sac. They rounded the corner of a beige stucco mini-mansion, skirted the huge screened lanai and pool, and stumbled between two large yards lined with six-foot fences.

  “There.” Maddox pushed her roughly toward a house with three vehicles parked in the brick circular driveway. “The keys to at least one of them should be inside. Let’s go.”

  Maddox would likely put Eden in the back seat, take the passenger seat himself, and force Dakota to drive with the gun pointed to her head.

  Once they were in the vehicle, it’d be that much harder to make a move. She couldn’t risk forcing an accident with Eden in the car with them.

  She wasn’t worried about her own life. But Eden couldn’t return to the Prophet. Dakota would do anything and everything within her power to save Eden from that fate.

  No matter what.

  “Hurry it up,” Maddox panted. He was breathing heavily. Sour sweat poured off his feverish body.

  Whatever move she was going to make, it needed to be soon.

  They passed between two houses, their lawns divided by a small pond about twenty feet wide and just as long. The grassy walkway between the side of the closest house and the pond was only four feet wide.

  Every Florida resident knew to steer clear of any body of water, no matter the size. Anything deeper than a puddle was liable to contain an alligator or two.

  Maddox, Dakota, and Eden crowded together.

  This was her chance. Maybe the only one she was going to get.

  Panic clawed at her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. What if she made a
mistake? What if it was the wrong move?

  She had to be calm. She had to focus. One, two, three. Breathe.

  What if Maddox decided she was more trouble than she was worth and simply put a bullet through her brain? Then he’d be free to take Eden right back into that viper’s nest he called home.

  And Dakota would have failed at the only thing that mattered.

  Breathe, damn it! Breathe.

  Her muscles tensed. Dakota lowered her right hand to the knife sheathed at her side, the knife Maddox either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t deemed a legitimate threat.

  She stretched out her leg and tripped Eden.

  Eden lost her balance and tumbled against Maddox, striking the arm holding the gun to Dakota’s head. She felt the cold metal scrape across the back of her scalp, then disappear.

  Maddox expected something from Dakota, but not from Eden. It took him by surprise. “What the—”

  But Dakota was already spinning and slashing at the closest piece of Maddox she could reach—his face. Her hands stung as the knife handle gouged into the cuts marring her palms.

  He threw up his arm in time and the knife glanced off his forearm.

  Maddox grabbed for her knife hand. He seized her wrist and slammed her hand against the stucco wall of the closest house.

  Her fingers went numb. The knife dropped to the grass.

  She jerked her leg up and kicked him in the kneecap as hard as she could.

  His leg buckled. He released her arm.

  “Eden, run!” she screamed.

  Eden didn’t move. She stood next to the pond, her arms hanging limply at her sides, a silent tear trickling down one blood-smeared cheek. Frozen in shock.

  Dakota flew at Maddox again, going for the gun even as he raised it. She ducked in under his gun arm and head-butted him in the gut as the weapon discharged.

  The blast exploded in her ears. Pain vibrated through her skull. Sounds faded.

  They wrestled for the gun. She sucked in ragged mouthfuls of air, her scorched lungs begging for oxygen. Even sick with radiation poisoning, Maddox was physically stronger than she was. He jerked it out of her hands.