Flash Burned

by Calista Fox

  His hands stilled. This time he speared me with a solid gaze. A knowing look flickered in his eyes.

  Jackson Conaway couldn’t lie to me.

  I smiled, my heart soaring. More tears built. “I know Dane’s alive. I figured it out. I should have figured it out sooner. That’s what he expected, I’m sure. What he hoped for from the beginning.” Though he wouldn’t have known I was pregnant and struggling with all that entailed.

  Mr. Conaway sat back in his chair, neither confirming nor denying.

  His longtime loyalty to Dane warred with his new loyalty to me. Dane would win out, I had no doubt. So I made it easy for our attorney.

  “Tell Dane his wife needs to see him. It’s urgent.”

  We left the office and drove back to the retreat. Mostly in silence until we turned onto the rugged road that led to the rustic area.

  Kyle asked, “What if you’re wrong? What if you’re way wrong?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Ari.”

  I sighed. “Come on, Kyle. It’s Dane. In what universe would he be defeated?”

  Sliding a glance toward me, he said, “If you really believed that, you never would have accepted he was dead in the first place.”

  “It was a terrifying time, Kyle. The most beautiful building I’d ever seen had just been blown to bits. People were screaming, injured. I was bleeding all over the place. Dane was missing. All of our hard work was destroyed and employees could have been killed. I’d lost my wedding bracelet. I was in complete despair—and thoroughly wrecked without Dane.”

  I still had a ton of questions about his disappearance but no one to ask. My theory, of course, hinged on Mr. Conaway getting my message to Dane and him following through on my request to see him.

  The waiting game would not be an easy one. But my certainty that he’d survived the Lux explosion brought me a huge amount of peace.

  For now.

  chapter 12

  The Arizona Republic not only picked up the obituary Mikaela submitted but also ran a nice piece on the memorial service scheduled for the following week.

  Guilt tripped through me.

  Oh, boy.

  This was a different conundrum to face. An ethical one I’d not factored into my euphoria over coming to the realization that Dane was alive.

  A part of me wanted to tell Mikaela of my suspicion and have her call off the event. But that could be detrimental to Dane’s efforts, when we needed to perpetuate the myth of his death.

  Still, it was difficult to let Mikaela go through with a service when I knew it was a farce. Emotionally, she’d suffer. Financially, too, though I could easily compensate her. I couldn’t, however, make it up to her that I let her believe Dane had never made it out of the Lux.

  Yes, it was odd that I was so obsessed over this woman’s feelings—after all, I’d feared what her true intentions were when it had come to my husband. But I wasn’t like my mother, whose sole focus was herself. I wasn’t cold and callous. Which almost made me reach for the phone.

  But no. I couldn’t tip off Mikaela, even if she was Dane’s lifelong friend. She had to help me carry on the lie, albeit unbeknownst to her.

  And I had to accept that this was all for the greater good. What Dane did was dangerous yet meaningful. I couldn’t let my conscience undermine his efforts.

  However, I did worry a little about my mother picking up a paper and having a renewed sense of let’s sue the Lux conglomerate. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already tried to take up a class action suit and Mr. Conaway hadn’t wanted to concern me with it.

  She couldn’t reach me by phone, nor did she know where I currently resided. But out of sight, out of mind was never a clever tactic to take when it came to Kathryn DeMille, so I stewed over how to stay on top of that potential dilemma.

  A few days later, Mr. Conaway came to the retreat. Handing over a padded envelope, he simply said, “This arrived for you earlier.”

  I eyed him curiously. There was no mailing label with my name on it or his address. No return label, either.

  “How do I know this is safe to open?” I asked.

  “Trust me.”

  “Right.” I tugged on the sealed flap and dumped the contents onto the table we sat at in the visitors’ lounge. A slim Samsung flip phone lay before me. Looked to be of the disposable variety. Pre-paid minutes, no contract, not easily traceable.

  My breath suddenly came in heavier pulls. I reached for the phone and flicked it open with my thumb. It was fully charged and had a decent signal, despite our being in a canyon. I pressed the button for text messages, but there were none. I selected the contacts’ list, but it, too, was empty.

  My gaze returned to Mr. Conaway. “I don’t understand.”

  He was already on his feet, prepared to leave. “You will.”

  I watched him go, wondering if he thrived on all this cloak-and-dagger stuff when it came to Dane.

  All it really did for me was wear on my nerves. I had a phone now, but I still couldn’t call Dane. I had to wait for him to call me. And that was pure torture.

  I didn’t bother programming the Samsung or adding my dad’s or Kyle’s number. I suspected it was meant strictly for one line of communication—from Dane to me.

  Anxiety rippled down my spine, and I found myself staring at the damn thing more often than not, willing it to ring. I even checked the volume numerous times, to make sure it was cranked up. And I never went anywhere without the cell, even leaving it close at hand on the vanity when I showered.

  The phone became a bit of a nemesis, but it convinced me further that I was right about Dane being alive.

  Kyle asked where it had come from, and I told him the truth. He rolled his eyes and went back to pruning the shrubs.

  I met with my OB-GYN and my counselor, as usual. The latter was a bit trickier to deal with because I had to contain my excitement when I was normally very reserved.

  “You’re showing excellent signs of improvement, Ari,” she commented with a smile.

  I’d barely spoken to her when we’d first started the sessions, since I could hardly function, let alone carry on a conversation. She’d been extremely patient, commiserating yet encouraging me to work through the stages of grief with her. Not the grief of losing a husband and the father of my baby—she had no idea about that. As far as she was concerned, I was upset over losing my boss. Someone I’d worked so closely with, and of course there was the trauma of what I’d been through. Not to mention the prospect of being a single mother.

  I felt a little deceptive now that I fabricated more mourning, but it was necessary, as was the case with Mikaela. I couldn’t do anything that would jeopardize Dane’s covert work.

  Kyle and I attended the service for Dane in Scottsdale. A harrowing experience, despite clutching the cell in my hand and believing it would ring at the right time. Mikaela looked fabulous, even as she got choked up while delivering the eulogy. It tugged at my heartstrings, too, because I had to outwardly share the belief of the masses that Dane was no longer with us.

  I was emotionally drained by the time we returned to the retreat. Kyle took pity on me and didn’t harp over the fact that Dane still had not called. I mentally harped enough in that vein.

  We had dinner and watched TV. That very evening, another indictment was announced. I crossed the name off the list I hid under my mattress. As I wandered aimlessly about my room, a sense of foreboding and a dangerous air encroached on my optimism.

  The third indictment would no doubt have the remaining two members on-edge. Although they would have heard Dane hadn’t survived the blast, surely they’d find it suspicious that Hilliard, Avril, and now Anthony Casterelli had been targeted by the FBI and the IRS.

  Did they wonder now if Dane really was dead?

  Technically, in my mind, he’d only been missing, since his body hadn’t yet been found. But I’d learned that all news reports—from the very beginning—claimed he was dead. As my mother had picked up on,
which had motivated her to come to the hospital to jump on the lawsuit bandwagon. Not just presumed dead. Did the FBI have something to do with that?

  If the others started to ponder this and pick it all apart, the way I had … That would not bode well for Dane.

  Or me.

  I sat on the bed, an ominous sensation moving through me, like snakes slithering under my skin. I shivered.

  What if they came looking for me?

  But no—I shook off the thought. How the hell would they find me?

  I was pretty much off the grid at this point. I’d only been back to the house once since Kyle had told me about the rehab retreat. And though the reminder of metal flashing in the sunlight, through the trees, crept into my brain, no vehicle had pulled out when we’d left the house before visiting Mr. Conaway.

  Plus, the retreat had oodles of high-end security. Dr. Stevens was a stickler for both patient confidentiality and safety. In fact, she’d mentioned the requirements were stringent for her to maintain her accreditations.

  I tried to latch on to that, find a comfort level that didn’t have me freaking out too much. Even Mr. Conaway had said I was safe here.

  Hmm. How would he know that for sure?

  I shook my head. Now the cloak-and-dagger was getting to me.

  My panic escalated as I returned to the living room and watched more breaking news. In Casterelli’s case, the reporter actually mentioned a potential connection to the bombing of 10,000 Lux.

  Was that some sort of FBI squeeze play? Or was my mind running ridiculously rampant?

  “Shit,” I murmured.

  “Oh, Ari,” Gretchen said as she sat next to me. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I should know better than to have this on when they’re talking about the hotel.”

  She was aware that both Kyle and I had worked at the Lux. Naturally, she had no idea of my association with Dane, but I had told her my injuries were a result of the explosion.

  “It’s okay. I’m interested in how this all pans out. Who’s behind it and what’s going to be done about it.”

  For mention of the Lux to come about now … I could only speculate that perhaps Dane and whoever he’d partnered with—it had to be the FBI—were closing in on the remaining two corrupt members.

  Anticipation gripped me so that I had to spend extra time on the treadmill later to burn off nervous energy. Then I showered in my private bathroom and headed toward the door, wanting to join Gretchen, Hannah, and Kyle for dinner.

  Then it finally happened.

  The cell rang.

  I started. Nearly dropped the damn thing.

  My hand suddenly shook, but I flipped the phone open.

  “Yes?” I simply said, not sure I should give my name, say it was me on the line—or ask if it was Dane calling.

  “Have your friend drive you to the house.”

  Amano!

  I couldn’t breathe.

  He said, “Eight o’clock.”

  The line went dead.

  I stared at the phone, my heart pounding.

  Amano was alive, too!

  Or perhaps he was the only one. And Mr. Conaway wanted me to hear the truth from my former, trusted bodyguard.

  Fuck.

  I was too keyed up to eat but didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention. Or skip a meal now that I was back to keeping food down and had returned to my normal weight.

  While the ladies engaged in a rousing game of Scrabble, I once again asked Kyle to take me home.

  His gaze narrowed. “Why?”

  “Please?” I asked anxiously.

  His blue eyes clouded. “You heard from him.”

  “No. Amano.”

  Kyle seethed. “This could all blow up in your face, Ari.”

  My stomach knotted. “Bad choice of words, Kyle.”

  With a miserable sigh, he said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. It’s just … Okay, Amano is alive. That doesn’t mean Dane is. This might be where you get the confirmation you’ve fought so hard to accept.”

  I’d already considered that myself. Still.

  “I’ll take my chances.” Though Kyle’s warning would not go unheeded. It was entirely possible that he was right and I would be devastated all over again.

  Fear mingled with my unease. I wrung my hands, wondering if I was being masochistic. Setting myself up for a really hard fall.

  I wasn’t sure I could make it through a second time around. Were it not for Dane’s baby growing inside me, I would have been the walking dead.

  But I had to find out the truth. I had to know one way or the other. It was time to see if there was a silver lining somewhere on my horizon.

  I remained positive as we headed to Oak Creek Canyon, despite Kyle’s dour mood.

  “I swear, if this is a setup or if you find out he really is gone … Jesus, Ari.”

  “Lighten up on the steering wheel,” I said. “You’re going to rip it from the dash.”

  “You do realize how fucked up this all is?”

  “I realized that a long time ago,” I conceded. “But this isn’t your everyday intrigue we’re dealing with here.”

  “It never is with Dane Bax.”

  I smiled, the hope building within me.

  We reached the gate and I perked up in my seat as Kyle punched in the code. One of the stall doors of the detached garage opened.

  “Pull in,” I said.

  “Do we really have to get all Mission Impossible?”

  Revenge was more like it, I suspected. “Just do it.”

  The door lowered behind us. Kyle cut the engine.

  I said, “You know how much I appreciate this, right?”

  “You know how pissed off I’m going to be if he breaks your heart again. Right?”

  Leaning over, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a great friend. I think I’ll be okay. You, too.”

  He scowled. “Let’s go.”

  Regardless of the reassurance I’d given us both, my nerves jumped as I reached for the handle.

  I’d walked into a very easy trap once before. Considering the people we were dealing with, it could happen again. Even though it had definitely been Amano’s voice on the line, there could have been a gun to his head when he’d called me.

  I suddenly regretted involving Kyle. I should have asked to borrow his Rubicon, not have him drive me.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that before?

  Yet … Once again, my gut told me otherwise. Instinct and everything I’d recently unearthed made me confident of what I would find here.

  Kyle took me gently by the forearm and led me through the garage to the main exit. We passed a black SUV—not the Escalade Dane drove—as well as Dane’s McLaren and high-performance motorcycle.

  We made our way up to the house and I bypassed the keypad and tried the lever. It was unlocked. Stepping inside, I found the entryway and the space beyond as dimly lit as when we’d arrived here after I’d been in the hospital. I didn’t bother turning on any lights. Instead, I led Kyle to the great room. The silvery-blue hues of this portion of the house provided just enough illumination because of the tall windows and doors that let in the streaks of moonlight.

  I pulled up short just past the oversized entrance, my heart stammering. Kyle instantly let go of my wrist.

  Air rushed from my lungs as the figure at the windows turned.

  “Dane!”

  I raced across the stone floor and launched myself into his arms.

  “Well, fuck me,” I heard Kyle mutter, nonplussed. And astonished.

  Dane held me firmly. Everything ceased to exist except the two of us.

  Tears began to flow, which quickly turned into body-wracking sobs. My face was buried in the crook of his neck and his embrace tightened.

  Relief and joy echoed through every inch of me. Every fiber of my being screamed with the need to get closer to him, even though we were completely melded together from head to toe.

  I was overwrought with emotion. All of the positive energy I�
��d channeled into my belief that Dane was alive could not prepare me for the reality of it. For the feeling of his hard body against my curves, his soft lips at my temple, his warm breath on my skin as he murmured apologies and “I love you” in a tormented voice.

  I clung to him, not sure I’d ever be able to let go.

  This wasn’t a dream. It was real. He was alive and I was in his arms.

  Somehow, he’d survived the explosion. And I knew he had to be as wrecked as I’d been, not being able to tell me, to talk to me, to touch me.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” I sobbed. “I’ve never been happier than right this very moment.”

  “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For all you’ve been through.”

  “Nothing matters, Dane. Except that you’re here with me.”

  I couldn’t let him go. Clung endlessly to him. Continued to cry.

  He kept one arm solidly around my waist and smoothed my hair with the other hand.

  In the background, over my soft wails, I heard Amano explaining what had happened after they’d discovered the bomb planted in the table below that massive chandelier I’d always admired.

  “Dane was the last one out,” he said in his deep, stoic tone. “He went into the kitchen, just to be sure everyone escaped. He wasn’t far out of the doors to the courtyard when the building blew. I found him under a pile of stone, glass, and wood. He was unconscious. Barely breathing.”

  My crying jag ensued, but I tried to concentrate on what Amano said as Dane stroked my hair and kissed my temple.

  “I had to get him out of there, fast. He wouldn’t have survived. So I carried him over my shoulder to the back lot where the hotel Escalades are and left through the service entrance before the ambulances and fire trucks were even on their way.”

  “He took me to the physician who helped Vale,” Dane told me in a quiet voice. “A private facility—a friend. Part of my network.”

  So nothing would be reported. Everything kept hush-hush. Including his existence.

  Amano said, “I went back for you, Ari, but by then you’d been taken to the hospital. I followed the story on TV, learned your injuries weren’t life threatening. I had to trust that Kyle and your father would take care of you, and I had to do the same with Dane.”