The Summer Park Psychics, book three
Heat hit her back as the room exploded into fire behind her. Jazz heard the window shatter. The next thing she knew, Finn had pulled her against his chest and was rolling them across the bed to the floor.
“What the hell?” she yelled.
“Molotov cocktail. We need to go out the back.”
The curtains were on fire, flames dropping onto the carpet. Some smoldered out. Others caught.
“Shouldn’t we try to stop it?”
As she said the words, another projectile flew into the room, landing on the bed. The sheets caught instantly as the accelerant poured over the mattress.
Finn leapt forward, blocking her body with his, pushing her toward the bathroom.
Jazz ducked under his arm so she could grab her wallet, phone, and keys from the nightstand. He took her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom, both crouching low to stay beneath the smoke. Finn slammed the door shut as soon as they were in the smaller room, then rolled up a towel and tucked it along the crack at the floor.
There was a small window above the sink. She could fit through easily. She wasn’t sure about him.
“It’ll be fine.”
He jumped up onto the sink, then opened the window and punched out the screen. He scanned the area outside. “I don’t think they’re back here. They might have taken off to avoid the cops, but we can’t assume anything.”
“Is it those guys from the bar?”
“Probably,” Finn said. “Come on.” He helped her up onto the counter. “Be sure to check the SUV before you get into it.”
As if he wouldn’t be with her.
“You go first,” she said.
“I will balk. I swear to f#$%ing God, I will kick and scream and fight you on this. I’m not going through that window until I’m sure you can fit through it. You go first.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“We’re wasting time,” she said.