Read Online Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) by Anne Marsh - Free Book Online Page B

good sign. I opened the door, stuck my head out, and it didn’t a genius to spot the problem. The Christmas tree lot was on fire.
    “Move. We’ve got a fire.” I dropped down on the bed, grabbed my phone, and called in the fire. What was outside the door didn’t look or smell like something I could deal with on my own with a garden hose. Plus Christmas trees could get downright flammable.
    “Who else lives on site?” I dragged on my boots.
    “One old man. Two other part-time elves,” she said.
    She started yanking on her own clothes, thank God. The smoke scent hung in the air between us now that I’d opened that door. We’d be having a conversation later about her lack of smoke detectors and general fire safety. How long would the fire have raged unchecked outside if I hadn’t been here?
    “Tell me where they sleep and what they drive,” I ordered, standing up. If anyone had spent the night elsewhere, I didn’t want to waste time looking for them. “Any pets I should know about?”
    “Just Frances,” she said quietly and then listed locations and vehicle makes. Good girl.
    “Grab a bag and pack anything important. You’ve got five minutes, and then I’m getting you out of here.” Ordinarily, I’d have gotten her ass straight off the property, but I needed to check on the other residents, so she might as well grab what she could. It didn’t take a genius to see that Holly didn’t have much, and she couldn’t afford to lose it. Since I’d also seen her POS car, and it probably ran at a maximum of twenty miles an hour thanks to its decrepit state, I handed her the keys to my truck.
    “Get in and start the engine. Be ready to roll.”
    She opened her mouth—probably because Ms. I’ve-Got-It protested anything on principle—but I was already out of there. She followed me outside, and her breath caught audibly. The air was thick with smoke now, the flames licking through the stand of trees less than a quarter mile away. The trees weren’t as dry as they could be, but they were still plenty flammable. Both our eyes went straight to the flaming plastic Santa that I’d bet was the root cause of the problem—that and the extension cord running back into one of the sheds. Which was also on fire.
    “The farm is on fire.” Holly sounded dazed now, like maybe things were finally sinking in.
    “Get your things,” I reminded her. “I’m gonna go check on the others. Then I’m coming back here, and you’re getting in my truck.”
    It would take the local fire department at least ten and possibly twenty minutes to get here. After I found the other residents of the farm, I needed to find a hose. Anything I could do to halt the flames, I’d do it.
    “Why?” she asked, which wasn’t a flat-out no, but now wasn’t the time for a fucking conversation. Plus I had no idea what she was asking. Why was the farm on fire? Fuck me if I knew. Why now? See above. Why did life crap on perfectly nice people? Again, no clue.
    “Bet those wreaths you bought just appreciated,” she mumbled and I shot her a look.
    She was in shock.
    Shit.
    “Five minutes,” I told her. “You count to three hundred, and you make sure you’re dressed and ready to roll when you hit three hundred, okay? Can you do that for me?”

    HOLLY
    Jacks sprinted across the yard, bellowing fire at the top of his lungs. When he banged on the door of the cabin nearest mine, someone opened the door. Jacks tossed a few words in the guy’s direction, then turned and ran for the main house. Right. Lucky was probably inside there, completely oblivious to his livelihood going up in smoke while he slept.
    Okay. Jacks had this handled. Somehow I stumbled back inside my cabin. It sure wasn’t much, but it was mine, and the last thing I wanted was for it to catch on fire. Grabbing my suitcase, I dumped the bulk of my clothes inside and swept up my books. Laptop? Check. My purse went on top of the suitcase.
    And… I was still only half-dressed in the