by Calista Fox
I said, “You gave me a beautiful dream with this hotel, Dane. And with our life to—”
I got no further.
The lights went out.
Gasps and a few groans ensued. Other than that, everyone fell quiet. Perplexed or in suspense.
“Oh, shit!” My nerves jumped. “I blew the fuses with all my twinkle lights!”
Dane reached for my hand and squeezed it tight. “We’ll fix this. And there’s a backup generator that’ll kick on in a second if we blew the grid.”
Oh, my God! I’d pulled a Clark Griswold on one of the most important nights of Dane’s and the Lux’s existence!
“Dane, I’m so sorry.” I felt wretched. “I’d never even considered this. I—”
“Ari, it’s okay, baby.”
But the generator didn’t spring to life. We remained bathed in darkness.
“Dane. Shouldn’t the lights be on by now?”
“I’m on it!” I heard Chris Monroe, from the Engineering/Electrical staff, call out. We’d wanted him on-hand for any emergencies, but this certainly wasn’t one I’d written into my crisis management plan.
Fuck! How could I have not considered frying fuses?
But then … I seriously hadn’t gone overboard with the lights. I’d been tactical and judicious, striking the right balance. And Chris’s team had been with me the whole time, running tests.
“Dane,” I said, uncertainty slithering down my spine.
“Shh,” he silenced me. “Do you hear that?” His tone remained low but now much more ominous.
“Hear what?”
A breath later, a calculated, deliberate, distinct clicking noise filled the deathly quiet air.
No. Not a clicking noise.
A ticking one …
And a sharp dripping sound accompanied it.
“Oh, Jesus,” I hissed out. “Dane.”
He gripped my arm and guided me farther into the lobby, where the ticking echoed louder.
We weren’t the only ones to hear it now, and the ripple of, “What is that?” made the rounds. The electricians had flashlights on their tool belts, and beams of light swept the cavernous room.
Dane called out for my dad, and both and he and Kyle suddenly appeared at my elbow.
So, too, did Amano. “Dane.” The bodyguard pointed to the enormous table in the center of the lobby. The one situated below the to-die-for chandelier I admired every single morning when I came through the doors of 10,000 Lux.
At the table’s base, a little red light blinked.
My stomach dropped to my knees. “Oh, Lord,” I whispered. “Is that…?” I couldn’t even say the word.
“Bomb,” Dane ground out urgently. “And whatever’s spilling from the base … My guess is, it’s flammable. Somehow they shoved something up there. A pipe bomb? I don’t fucking know.” He thrust me toward Kyle. “Get her out of here. Now!”
“What?” I cried out, instantly distressed. “Dane, no!”
“Ari, just do as I tell—”
“I’m not leaving without you!”
“Fuck!” he roared. Then to my dad and Kyle, he demanded, “Get her out of here! Right this very minute! All of you”—he announced to the crowd in an urgent voice—“get as far away from the building as possible! Across the grounds!”
He shouted more orders for everyone to evacuate the lobby. Amano raced toward the bank of elevators and pulled the fire alarm. Then he was on his cell, issuing strict instructions to whoever was on the other end of the line to get out.
I was rooted where I stood, paralyzed by fear. Kyle’s arm shot around my waist and he yanked at me. My dad had my forearm. They started to pull me away from Dane.
“No!” I cried out as I gripped a fistful of his jacket. “I’m not leaving without you!” I yelled, fear seizing my soul. “You have to come with us!” My heart thundered. My pulse raced. Terror tore through me. “Dane!”
“Ari!” Kyle snapped. “Do as he says! Go with me!”
“No, I—”
Wrenching my hand free of his sleeve, Dane insisted, “Go!” Then he turned away, rushing about, getting the employees hustling toward the doors.
A mass exodus ensued. I struggled every step of the way, thrashing in Kyle’s strong embrace, screaming at him and my father to let me go. My arms flailed and I kicked at Kyle’s shins as he lifted me slightly off the ground to make a hasty retreat.
“I can’t leave him!” I cried. “Put me down!”
“Shut the hell up, Ari!” Kyle bit back.
I craned my neck to get a glimpse of Dane and Amano ushering out the kitchen staff as the flashlights provided just enough illumination for everyone to find their way.
“Dane!” I called out again just as we passed through the twenty-foot double doors of the lobby.
There were panicked and confused hollers above the eerily piercing fire alarm as we burst into the resort’s valet area, the outdoor lights from the decorations and fountains edging the glow of twilight. We were some of the last people out—making it well past the entrance and the circular drive and to the grounds and waterfalls beyond. I screamed bloody murder all the way as I tried to free myself of Kyle’s vise grip.
Then a thunderous roar filled the quiet night, simultaneous with a massive explosion that propelled those of us closest to the lobby off our feet and hurled us toward the marble-trimmed waterfalls, along with shattered glass and wooden splinters.
I hit the side of one of those short marble encasements, with Kyle’s body sprawled heavily on top of mine. The ground shook beneath us.
I screamed again as searing pain ripped through me. Tears flooded my eyes. Above the ringing in my ears, I heard—all around me—the others yelling, sobbing, screeching. The debris rained down, mostly landing in thick treetops or the water so that it splashed everywhere.
“Kyle!”
“Just stay put,” he growled. He was still mostly on top of me.
“My dad!”
“Right here!” he called out, though I couldn’t tell from which direction or how far away, I was so disoriented.
I heard the pieces of 10,000 Lux pelt the stone driveway. When I stole a glance through a peephole Kyle’s propped-up arm created, I saw chunks of concrete and wood tear through branches that only slightly slowed their descent enough for the few who hadn’t found refuge on the opposite side of the circular drive to be able to dodge the massive destruction. We were all mostly a significant distance from the hotel but some of us too close to fully escape the damage. Several employees stumbled about, bleeding and half hysterical.
The blood flowing down the side of my own face barely registered. I had no idea where the burst of energy came from, but I shoved Kyle away and started to crawl toward them, along the glass-covered lawn.
“Goddamn it, Ari!” My dad was instantly beside me, hauling me to my feet.
I stared up at the four-story lobby of 10,000 Lux, a wide, gaping hole of tall blazing flames and billowing smoke.
“Jesus,” Kyle breathed as he took in the same scene. Then turned his attention to me. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”
My hands stung from the shards lodged in my skin, but the agony couldn’t compete with the throbbing in my head. Or the instant horror that my wedding bracelet was missing from my wrist.
“Oh, God, Kyle,” I said on a sharp breath. “My bracelet’s gone.”
But that was really the least of my worries at the moment. My gaze swept the crowd of thirty or so behind us, mostly out of harm’s way, and away from the burning Lux. Only a handful had been as close to the building as the three of us.
Of those unfortunate souls I said to my dad and Kyle, “Help them, please.”
We were all breathing hard; all wore the same stunned and pained expression. The others had scrapes and quickly developing bumps and bruises, but I appeared to be the only one in this small, immediate conglomeration with a crimson river flowing down my cheek and dripping from my chin, staining my dress. My dad was alre
ady on the phone to 911.
Very gently, Kyle held me. “You’re seriously hurt,” he said. “You need to sit down.”
“No.” Anxiety gripped me. So, too, did my sense of duty. I scanned the crowd. “They’re freaked out and we have to calm them.” My attention shifted as I noted each familiar face. Instantly realizing two very important people were missing. My anxiety turned to heart-wrenching, blood-chilling fear. “Dane,” I whispered. He and Amano were nowhere in sight. “Dane!” I started toward the hotel.
Kyle wouldn’t release me. “Ari, no.”
“He’s not here.” My chest heaved. The tears streamed, mixing with the blood. I swiped at the sticky mess clouding my vision. “Kyle,” I choked out. “He’s not here. Neither is Amano.” The panic made bile burn my throat. “Dane!”
I struggled against Kyle’s caging arms, my horror mounting.
Chef D’Angelo hurried toward us, hobbling slightly. His black pants were shredded at the knees, obviously from a rough fall. “Ari, are you all right?”
“Are you?” I implored.
“Yes, yes. Amano called the kitchen. Dane helped everyone out. Everyone got out, Ari, because of them. Everyone.” Chef’s dark-brown eyes danced wildly in the sockets. His cheeks were sullied and he had a small cut on his chin. He clasped my hands, then suddenly realized they were covered in blood. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
I winced at his quick grip—he’d let go instantly.
“Not your fault,” I eeped out. The pain and the blood made me queasy. My mind turned a bit hazy. I suspected I had a concussion from the blow.
“Anyway,” I said. “Thank God everyone escaped.” Though relief couldn’t fully register. There were too many petrified and wounded people. And no Dane and Amano. “Chef,” I insisted, my own eyes as wide and wild, “where is he? Where are they?”
“Ari.” He stared at me a few agonizing moments, then slowly shook his head. “They were the last ones inside. Still in the lobby when—”
“No,” I said on a broken breath. My eyes squeezed shut.
Kyle handed me off to my father while he still had his cell to his ear.
“Where are you going?” I demanded in a hoarse voice as I slumped against my dad’s side.
“I can’t just stand here and do nothing,” Kyle shot back. He gave me a full-on tormented look, taking in my injuries, which were apparently quite bad, because he raked a hand through his hair and added, “But damn it, I can’t leave you.”
“Then don’t,” I urged. Regardless of my foggy brain, I knew exactly what my best friend had in mind. “Just stay here. Help the people who are out here.”
He gave me a long look, our eyes locked. I saw his internal tug-of-war. He hated to leave me. Was torn by it. But Kyle was the stuff of which heroes were made. He’d proven it to me more than once.
Before I could get another word of protest out, he whirled around and ran toward the roaring inferno.
I screamed, yelling out for him. More pain sliced through my heart. My dad held me even tighter.
Chef also called out for Kyle to come back. But he didn’t return.
Chef’s attention zeroed in on me again, though it barely registered. In a tight voice, he said, “I’m so sorry. Dane and Amano wouldn’t leave until everyone was safe.”
The throbbing and the haze in my head intensified. A raging pulse beat in my ears. Fury and heartbreak ripped through me, as hot and bright as the mammoth flames engulfing the night.
It couldn’t be true.
It was impossible.
There was no way Dane and Amano could have been trapped inside, couldn’t have made it out in time.
No. Way.
And now Kyle was chasing after them to do what? Charge into a burning building and try to rescue them?
I could hardly fathom the nightmare suddenly seizing me. My legs shook and my heart felt as though it were being beaten to a bloody pulp with a bat.
Someone—Chef or my dad—dabbed at the crimson river mixed with tears covering my face. I couldn’t make out who, because the sticky mess was blinding, along with the pounding in my head.
I struggled again. My dad gently held me. “Ari, just stop.”
“Don’t let Kyle go in there.”
I felt my body slip from my dad’s grip. Slowly crinkling. Everything was slipping away.
“Dane!” I cried once more, weakly.
“Ari. Stay with me, sweets. Come on now.” My dad’s tone was frantic as he eased to the ground with me.
He started talking, but I couldn’t latch on to his words. All I heard were the shocked cries, the snapping and crackling of mile-high flames, the popping of whatever continued to explode inside what was left of 10,000 Lux, and the sirens in the distance. So very, very far away. Nowhere near close enough to save the hotel or anything—anyone—inside it.
And what about Kyle, so determined to risk life and limb for … Dane and Amano?
Oh, God.
He really was a hero.
All three of them were.
I cried harder. I tried to lurch forward once more in my dazed state. But I was weightless and floating.
Then there was nothing but darkness.
* * *
I woke to more voices. Not necessarily calm ones. More like insistent and under-the-breath ones. As though they didn’t want me to hear.
“Completely incinerated … Acres scorched…”
“Ammonium nitrate … explosion…”
“Needed volunteer firefighters from Oak Creek and Flagstaff…”
“Search and rescue team onsite…”
“Others released from the ER … Just Ari under observation…”
“Police have questions … FBI has been called in … Criminal investigation…”
My eyes remained closed and I drifted back into darkness.
I came to from time to time, surmising I was in a hospital room. But the pain was so excruciating, I didn’t move or bother to open my eyes. Why didn’t they give me something more potent?
My best guess was that if I had a concussion they’d prefer I be awake as much as possible the first twenty-four hours.
Impossible.
It wasn’t so much that I slept … I was pretty sure I blacked out from the throbbing, the haze, and the sheer torment of it all.
It took a while for coherent thoughts to gel in my mind. I had no idea how long, but eventually I was a bit clearer in the head. I licked my lips, only to discover they were coated with a vanilla-flavored balm that my dad or one of the nurses must have brought from the gift shop. My mouth, however, was bone-dry.
I noted that my breathing wasn’t quite normal, coming in heavy pulls. And I was nauseous.
Finally mustering some strength, I forced my lids open. Stared across the room at where Kyle sat in a chair, flipping agitatedly through a magazine, not even stopping to read the articles or view the pictures.
I jerked awake at the sight of him. Worse for wear, what with some bandages and burns, but sitting right there beside me.
“Oh, thank God you’re alive!” The enthusiasm echoed in my head, not my voice. It was a mere wisp of air.
Kyle tossed aside the magazine. My dad, who’d paced alongside him, came to an immediate halt. They’d changed clothes, but they both had fresh scrapes and bruises that told me I hadn’t been out too long. Maybe no more than a day or so.
They both closed in on me. I tried to remain focused. Funny, with all the napping, I should feel refreshed and alert. Instead, I was thoroughly exhausted. Like I could sleep away the rest of the month.
Dane would never let me get away with that.
Dane.
I sat bolt upright at the thought of him. Then promptly let out an ear-piercing wail at the pain that shot through me. I dropped back to the bed.
“Ari,” my dad said, his voice thick with worry.
I couldn’t concentrate on him, what with the blinding agony and the sudden reminder of what Chef D’Angelo had said.
“Dad
.” I reached out for him, groping the air. He helped out, clasping my wrist. I realized my hands were wrapped in bandages.
During my drifting in and out, in another conversation I’d heard someone mentioning I had nearly twenty stitches along my hairline. Yet another scar, compliments of the corrupt members of the secret society. And I’d needed a dozen more stitches on my palms from the cuts I’d collected when trying to help the others who’d escaped the hotel.
But that was really of little concern at the moment.
“Where’s Dane?” I demanded. “Why isn’t he here?”
Because what Chef D’Angelo had told me could not be true.
The door flew open and a nurse rushed in—clearly, she’d heard my scream.
My dad told her, “She’s in a lot of pain. Can’t you give her something stronger?”
“Dr. Lindsey’s orders,” she told him, a bit exasperated, as though she’d reiterated that a thousand times before. Had I been whimpering or groaning in my sleep? “You can speak with the doctor again when she returns this afternoon.”
I wasn’t quite following the exchange. To the nurse, I pleaded, “I need a painkiller.”
“You’re being administered a low dosage of acetaminophen. It’s perfectly safe, I assure you.”
My brows knitted. “Safe?”
Kyle swore under his breath and moved away from the bed. My dad’s jaw clenched. I cataloged all the responses, but my mind wasn’t functioning well enough for me to process all of this.
Catching on to that, my dad gently rested his hand on my shoulder and tentatively said, “Ari…” He shook his head. Tried again. “Did you know…?”
I stared quizzically at him for several suspended seconds.
What the hell was going on?
“Ari,” Kyle broke the silence with a clipped, anguished tone. “You’re pregnant.”
chapter 8
“I’m what?”
I stared blankly. Gaping. Reeling. Wanting desperately to sit up again but knowing the agony that would ensue.
“Guess that answers that question,” my father grumbled.