Get Dirty (Don’t Get Mad Book 2)

ED CHECKED THE ADDRESS ON HIS PHONE FOR THE BAZILLIONTH time, then looked around the desolate alley. It was like something out of a postapocalyptic sci-fi movie. A single light cast eerie shadows across the trash-strewn, semi-abandoned industrial neighborhood, a mix of boarded-up warehouses and gated repo lots that, according to Ed’s cinematic expertise, meant it was a breeding ground for zombies, vampires, or homicidal motorcycle gangs.

Really? This was where the notorious DGM made their secret headquarters? He had a difficult time imagining Olivia picking her way down the broken pavement in heels.

He hurried to the next building, squinting to read the address. This is it. A large storehouse marked “Custom Furniture and Imports.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and lifted his hand to knock on the door when he paused.

In the distance, he distinctly heard the sound of footsteps.

It was just a light patter, like shoes crunching across the gravel of broken pavement, but as he stood frozen at the door, eyes straining against the darkness, everything seemed deathly still.

Great. All this DGM crap was starting to make him paranoid.

He turned quickly back to the door and knocked.

“Who is it?” Kitty asked from the other side.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Jack the Ripper. Who do you think it is?”

There was a pause, then the sound of scraping metal as Kitty threw a bolt and the heavy door inched open. “Could you be any louder?” she asked as Ed slipped inside. The words were sharp but Ed noticed that both her voice and her body were relaxed. “You probably woke up the whole neighborhood.”

Ed snorted. “Who, the rats? Or the homeless guy shantied up in the alley?”

Kitty heaved the door closed and threw the bolt. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

Ed followed Kitty as she snaked around dining room tables and bureaus, armoires and princess beds, all in various stages of construction. In the back of the warehouse, an unfinished table was positioned under a bank of fluorescent lights in a small clearing amid the furniture. Several mismatched antique chairs had been arranged in a semicircle, one of which contained Olivia, who was examining her face in a compact.

Olivia looked up, smiling brightly. “At least I wasn’t the last one here.”

“For once,” Kitty said under her breath.

“I’m not always late,” Olivia said, snapping the compact shut.

Kitty half-smiled. “Oh really? Name one time before this that you weren’t the last one here.”

“Um . . .” Olivia jutted out her chin. “Okay, fine. But I blame public transportation.”

“What is this,” Ed asked, “teatime? Can we get this show on the road? I have things to see and people to do.”

Kitty’s eyebrow shot up. “Don’t you mean things to do and people to see?”

Ed settled into a chair. “No. No, I do not.”

“Okay,” Kitty said slowly, missing the joke. She leaned against the table, gripping the edge with her fingers. “Who’s first?”

Olivia raised her hand. “Oooh, me! Me!”

Kitty laughed. “Miss Hayes?”

Olivia stood up, like a teacher’s pet, and clasped her hands in front of her. “Today I learned—”

Click.

“Shh!” Ed held up his hand, his senses immediately on alert. This time, he was positive he’d heard something. A snap, like two pieces of wood lightly knocked together, followed by what he thought once again might be footsteps.

“What is it?” Olivia whispered.

Ed waited, searching for any sign of movement in the darkened recesses of the warehouse, then shook his head. Was he going crazy? “I thought I . . .” His voice trailed off and he sniffed at the air. “Do you smell smoke?”

Before Kitty or Olivia could respond, the back corner of the warehouse erupted in flames.

It looked like it happened in slow motion: one minute it was completely dark except for the lights above them, the next, the south wall was on fire. The warehouse was like a tinderbox—the unfinished wooden furniture crackled as the blaze jumped from cabinet to armoire to dresser. Tongues of orange and yellow flames raced along the floor as if they were following a track, igniting everything in their path.

Kitty leaped into action. “Grab your stuff!” she yelled. She whipped her duffel bag off the floor and hauled a stunned Olivia to her feet, practically tossing her into Ed’s arms. “Head for the door.”

“What’s happening?” Olivia cried, clutching her purse to her chest.

Ed pulled his backpack over his shoulders. “I think the warehouse is on fire.”

“Move!” Kitty barked.

Ed grabbed Olivia by the hand and dragged her toward the metal door through which he’d entered just minutes before. The interior was already heavy with smoke, and he could feel the heat of the fire in every breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the south end of the warehouse, now completely engulfed in flames. How had the fire moved that quickly? And how did it start? Furniture doesn’t spontaneously combust.

Just as they reached the door, the sprinkler system kicked in, dousing the interior with water. But it was like trying to use a garden hose against a forest fire—the water sizzled to steam as the inferno blazed forth.

The metal door was already hot to the touch. Ed pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and leaned all of his weight against the sliding metal bar that locked the door from the inside. Beside him, Olivia was doubled over, coughing uncontrollably as more and more oxygen was consumed by the flames. He felt his chest seize up, his nose and throat seared from the heat of the air that was becoming more impossible to breathe with each passing second. Ed strained against the metal bar as he gasped for air, but his knees buckled and his body sank to the floor.

Suddenly, a rush of cool air swept over him; Ed opened his mouth and let it fill his lungs. He felt a strong arm around his waist, dragging him to his feet. He stumbled forward, his sneakers crunching against the gravelly surface of the alley. He could still feel the heat of the fire against his skin, but it was growing less intense by the second. Ten steps, twenty. The arm let him go and he collapsed on the ground.

“Thank you, officer,” Ed panted. Thank God the fire department got there so fast.

Kitty coughed, and slapped him on the back. “That was me saving your ass, idiot.”

Ed pushed himself to his feet. “Oh.”

In the distance, they heard the scream of a siren.

“We could have died in there,” Olivia whimpered. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, creating shiny trails through the soot and ash that stained her face.

“We could have been killed,” Kitty said. Her voice was tight.

“That’s what I said.” Olivia wiped her nose.

“No,” Kitty said softly. “It’s very, very different.”

Ed whipped his head around at the ominous tone in Kitty’s voice. She was staring at the facade of the warehouse, glowing bright orange from the force of the flames inside. Ed followed her gaze and his body went rigid.

Letters glowed on the exterior of the wall, growing brighter as the heat from within intensified. Ed could just make out the words as the flames began to eat away the wall.

I’m back.