A Target's Love

23

Javier stood rooted to the ground in shock for about a minute after he yelled Elizabeth's name. The loud sound of shattering glass echoed into the night, but he didn't respond to the sound. The heat from the flames escalating dangerously nearby scorched his skin. There was a faint odor of burnt hair wafting in the air.

His BMW was gone, totally ruined. The shiny silver was now black with soot, and the smell of burning rubber and leather rose to linger with all the other disgusting odors his olfactory sense was slowly becoming accustomed to.

Then one thought hit him with so much force he almost crumpled to his knees:

Elizabeth was gone, too.

He was knocked back to reality by the sheer jolting force of the realization.

Beth was gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

He started shaking his head violently as a torrent of emotions bombarded him all at once. There was the anger. He was gonna kill them both when he tracked them down. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that Renee and Elizabeth's jerk of an ex—Jake—were responsible. When he found them, he'd give them both clear reasons to wish that they'd never been born.

And he was going to kill them slowly.

He was going to enjoy torturing them, relishing the look of pure pain on their faces as he creatively snuffed the life out of them. Maybe then they'd understand what a mistake it was to rip Elizabeth away from him before he could really discover what the special spark they shared really meant.

That thought of her spurred him into frantic action. As he moved, he felt a notable and quiet emptiness in the spot where his heart usually thudded. He stopped moving for about three seconds to check and see if he could still feel it beating in his chest. It was still there, but the movement was so faint that he started to wonder if he was imagining it.

Intense pain followed his anger. He knew without a doubt that he really was falling for Elizabeth Rosheuvel, and now he'd lost her before he'd had the chance to tell her.

He walked frantically through the haze, calling for her and sputtering as smoke filled his lungs. He couldn't remember if he'd seen her enter the car. He tore the heated car door from the chassis of the car, the scalding metal burning his hands terribly. He didn't care. He had to see her at least one more time. . .in whatever state she was in. The thought was enough to cause bile to rise in his throat.

It didn't take long for him to realize that the car was empty of any remains. He opened his mouth to yell in defeat, but quickly closed it as smoke filled him once more and he went off in a fit of coughing that racked his entire body. His eyes stung and he shut them for a few seconds. When he opened them again, they were filled with tears. He just wanted to see her once more.

He jumped when fire licked at his legs, catching his jeans. He hit at them—burning his hands further—and thankfully, they went out, leaving smoldering wisps in their wake.

He took in a shaky, ragged breath, and rounded the car twice, looking for any sign of her. He came up empty. It was as if she'd disappeared. That, or. . .

He shook the foreboding thought away, glancing dejectedly around the vicinity of the old training center, then up and down the street. The area was quiet and empty, save for the sound of flames nearby. It seemed as if no one had heard the explosion.

Suddenly, he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye that seemed out of place. He turned toward the movement unsteadily. There. He could barely make out what looked to be a piece of fabric fluttering in the gutter. Definitely out of place.