roll, Sienna.”
He jumped, aiming for a thick bayberry shrub. Branches scraped his face, but the bush protected his bones from breaking. He rolled out, held out his arms.
“Jump.”
Sienna fell, rather than jumped. He caught her, wincing as her weight made contact with his burns. Matt set her down, whistling through his teeth, the agony in his arm graying his vision. Swaying, his eyes watering and lungs burning with smoke, he fought to remain on his feet. Sienna’s soot-covered face looked anxiously at him.
“Better get that NASCAR illusion ready, sweetheart. Because this time, I think I will let you drive.”
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