She was incredibly lucky. Nell couldn’t remember the last time she’d not only been awake this late, but had left the house, as well. She was damned lucky.
She tried very hard to feel lucky as she stood in the early-morning darkness and watched everything she owned but her car and the clothes on her back go up in smoke. There were things that were burning right now that couldn’t be replaced. Photographs. She’d had a really great photo of her and Crash and Jake that Daisy had taken. All of her books and CDs, the dishes her grandmother had given her, Daisy’s irreplaceable watercolor painting. It was all gone. She’d been out of the house for only two hours, and just like that, nearly everything she’d cherished was gone.
Tears filled her eyes, and she fought them. She was lucky, dammit. She could have died.
IT WAS DAWN BEFORE the fire was down to a smolder, midmorning before the insurance forms were filled out and the paperwork was filed.
Nell drove to the Ritz-Carlton—one of the fanciest hotels in town—and checked herself into a very expensive room. She deserved it.
She was exhausted, but she took the time to call Captain Franklin’s office, leaving the hotel phone number with the lawyer’s administrative staff, with a message asking him to call if he heard any news of Crash’s whereabouts.
Tired to the bone, Nell peeled off her clothes, climbed into bed and fell almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CURTAINS WERE HANGING open an inch or two, and Crash quietly slid them all the way closed.
They were effective in shutting out the last streaks of light in the late-afternoon sky. He moved silently through the now complete darkness of the room, toward the bathroom that was next to the door.
He closed the bathroom door all but an inch, and turned on the bathroom light.
It was dim, but no longer pitch-black. He went back into the other room. Yeah, it was bright enough for him to be able to see Nell’s face as she slept.
She was curled up in the middle of the hotel room’s king-size bed. The blankets covered all but her face and the very top of her head. She slept fiercely, eyes tightly shut.
Crash stood for a moment, just watching her, wishing he didn’t have to disturb her, wishing for things he couldn’t have. But there was no time now to let her sleep, and there’d never been time for the other things he wanted.
“Nell,” he said quietly.
She didn’t move.
He nudged the bed with his leg. “Nell, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to wake up.”
Nothing.
He sat down on the bed, leaning over to gently shake her shoulder. “Nell.”
Her eyes opened and widened in fear.
Crash knew at that moment that he’d made a mistake. With the bathroom light shining dimly behind him, she couldn’t see his face. All she could see was a big, dark figure looming menacingly over her.
She took a deep breath to scream, and he quickly put his hand over her mouth. “Nell, shhh! It’s me. Crash. Billy.”
She sat up, shaking herself free from his hand, all but launching herself into his arms. “Billy! God! You scared me to death! Thank God you’re all right!” She pulled back to look at him in the darkness. “Are you all right?”
She smelled so good. Crash wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her hair and just sit on that bed with his arms around her. But that wasn’t why he’d come.
And after that one initial hug, Nell seemed as eager as he was to put distance between them.
She let go of him quickly when he released her, wrapping her arms around her knees as he stood up. “I can’t believe you came here. How did you find me?”
Her low, husky voice was so familiar, so warm. God, how he’d missed her. He had to keep distance between them, or he was going to be tempted to do something that he’d later regret.
Again.
Crash turned on the desk lamp. “It wasn’t that hard.”
“My house burned down last night. I went out for a donut, and when I came back, my house was on fire.”
“I know.” When he’d seen the picture in the newspaper and realized it was Nell’s house that had burned, his heart had stopped beating. And when he’d read that no one had been killed or injured, he’d gotten dizzy with relief.
And even though he’d had plenty of other things to do in his quest to find the man responsible for Jake’s death, Crash had spent the entire afternoon tracking Nell down. There was no way, no way he was going to let her die, too.
She ran one hand back through her hair as if she was suddenly conscious of the fact that it was rumpled from sleep. And she pulled the blanket up a little higher around her neck.
Crash saw that her jeans and shirt were in a pile on the floor. Under those covers she was wearing only her underwear. Or less. He had to turn away from her. He couldn’t let his thoughts move in that direction.
“I can’t believe you came to me for help,” she said quietly.
He couldn’t keep himself from turning back to look at her. Was that really what she thought? That he’d come here because he wanted or needed her help?
“I spoke to your lawyer about having the ballistic tests repeated,” Nell told him.
She looked far too good in the soft, romantic light, sitting there, possibly naked beneath the covers of an Olympic-event-size bed. Crash turned on another lamp, and then another, trying to make the room as glaringly bright as possible. “So that’s what it was.”
She squinted slightly in the brightness. “That’s what what was?”
“That’s why they tried to kill you.”
She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
He couldn’t keep himself from pacing. “You don’t really think that fire was an accident, do you?”
“According to the experts in the fire department, it was an electrical malfunction. The wiring was ancient, there was a power surge and—”
“Nell, someone tried to kill you. That’s why I’m here. To make sure that when they try again, they don’t succeed.”
She was so completely blown away she almost dropped the blanket. “Billy! God! Who would want to kill me?”
“Probably the same person who killed Jake and framed me,” Crash told her. “Did you tell anyone you were coming to this hotel?”
Nell shook her head. “No. Wait. Yes. I called your lawyer and left this phone number in case he needed to get in touch with me.”
He swore softly and Nell realized how infrequently she’d heard him use that kind of language. Even words like damn or hell—they just weren’t part of his normal working vocabulary.
He picked up her clothes and put them next to her on the bed. “I’ll go into the bathroom while you get dressed. And then we have to get out of here. Fast.”
Nell quickly pulled on her shirt and slipped into her jeans before he’d even closed the bathroom door. “Billy, wait! You honestly think that whoever killed Jake is somehow privileged to your Navy lawyer’s phone messages? Doesn’t that sound just a little paranoid…?”
He pulled open the bathroom door and looked at her. He was dressed entirely in black. Black fatigues, black boots, black turtleneck, black winter jacket. Underneath the jacket he was wearing what looked to be some kind of equipment vest—also black. His preference for wearing black had nothing to do with fashion, she realized. He was dressed to blend with the shadows of the night.
“Here’s what we know about the man we’re after,” Crash told her. “We believe him to be a U.S. Navy commander with a lot of connections. Whether he’s that or not, we do know for certain that… We. God, listen to me.” His voice shook. “I’m talking as if Jake is still alive.”
He swiftly turned away from her, and for a minute Nell was certain that he was going to put his fist through the bathroom door. Instead he stopped himself, and slowly, carefully laid the palm of his hand against the wood instead. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady.
“I know for sure that this
son of a bitch has got something to hide, something he was afraid Jake was about to uncover. And that something—whatever it is—is so important to him, he’d risk his eternal soul to keep it secret. He had Jake killed, and set me up to take the fall. Whoever he is, he’s powerful enough to falsify the results of those ballistic tests and believe me, that couldn’t have been easy to do.” Crash turned to face her. “Since he’s already killed once, I wouldn’t put it past him to decide that it’d be easier to kill you than to do whatever he’d had to do to fake those test results all over again. So, yes, it sounds paranoid, but I can’t assume that someone that powerful won’t have access to the information coming into and out of Captain Franklin’s law office.”
His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and the severe style emphasized his high cheekbones, making his face look starkly handsome. And his eyes… The burning intensity of those eyes had haunted her dreams.
“Come on, Nell,” he said softly as her silence stretched on. “Don’t quit believing in me now.”
As crazy as his theory was, it was clear that he believed it.
“You didn’t come here to ask me to help you,” Nell realized. “You came because you think I need your help.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to answer.
“What if I said I didn’t want your help?” she asked.
It was obvious from the look on his face that he knew where she was going. She was revisiting the words he’d said to her. “This is different.”
“No, it’s not. We both think the other needs saving.” Nell crossed her arms. “You want to save me? You better be ready to let me help save you.”
“Maybe we can argue about this in the car.”
She nodded, feeling lighter in spirit than she had in a long time. He may not have written. He may not have called. But he’d put in an appearance when he thought her life was in danger. Despite everything he’d said and done, he cared—he was still her friend.
Friend, she repeated to herself firmly. He’d jumped back as if her touch had burned him. It was clear that he had no intention of letting their relationship move past the friendship stage ever again. And that was good because she felt that way, too. She had absolutely no intention of making the same mistake twice.
“I’ll put on my boots, and we can go.” She turned back to look at him. “Do we have a destination in mind?”
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
A loud knock sounded on the hotel-room door, and Nell jumped. She hadn’t seen Crash move, but suddenly he had a gun in his hand. He motioned for her to be silent, and to back away from the door.
Whoever was out there knocked again. “Room service. I have complimentary hors d’oeuvres and a bottle of Chablis for Ms. Burns.”
Crash moved back toward her and spoke almost silently into her ear.
“Tell him to leave it outside the door. Tell him you’re just about to take a shower. Then get under the bed, do you understand?”
She nodded, unable to pull her eyes away from his gun. It was enormous and deadly looking. This was the closest she’d ever come to that kind of weapon. And it was amazing in more than one way—despite the fact that Crash was the subject of the biggest manhunt of the decade, he’d somehow managed to arm himself.
He was holding her arm, and he gave her a quick squeeze before he released her. He moved quickly around the room, turning off all the lights that he’d turned on earlier.
Nell cleared her throat, raising her voice so that the person on the other side of the door could hear her. “I’m sorry, you caught me at a bad time. I’m just about to step into the shower. Can you leave it outside the door?”
“Will do,” the voice cheerfully replied. “Have a good evening.”
Crash motioned for her to move. As she slid underneath the bed, she saw him go into the bathroom and heard the sound of the shower going on.
It all seemed kind of silly. The person who’d knocked on the door was probably a room-service waiter, just as he’d said.
She lifted the dust ruffle and saw Crash come back out of the bathroom. He sure didn’t seem to think it was at all silly. He stood in the shadows, out of sight of the door, his gun held at the ready. Holding the gun that way, with his mouth set in equally grim resolve, he looked incredibly dangerous.
Crash had told her once that she didn’t really know him, that he had only let her see a small, very whitewashed part of him.
Nell had a feeling that if she was wrong and there really was someone outside her door who wanted to hurt her, in the next few minutes she was going to get a good look at the other side of Crash. She was going to see the Navy SEAL in action.
And then she saw the door to her room open. The sound of the bolt being drawn back was drowned out by the noise from the shower. The bathroom door was ajar, and in the light that came through it, she saw a man come into the room.
He wasn’t carrying a plate of cheese or a bottle of wine. Instead, he held a gun like Crash’s.
Nell’s heart was pounding. Crash had been right. This man had come here to kill her.
The intruder gently closed the door behind him, careful not to make any noise.
He was smaller than Crash, more wiry than Crash, and he had less hair on the top of his head than Crash.
But his gun looked just as deadly.
As Nell watched, he pushed open the bathroom door.
That was when Crash moved. One moment he was in the shadows, and the next he was almost on top of the man, his gun pressed against the back of his head. Even his voice sounded different—harsher, rougher. “Drop it.”
The man froze but only for a second.
Crash knew when the man didn’t instantly drop his weapon that this guy was not going to go down easily. The gunman’s hesitation only lasted a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Crash to anticipate his next move.
He was, rightly, calling Crash’s bluff. It didn’t take the brain of a rocket scientist to figure out that, at this point, this gunman was the only potential link Crash had to the mysterious commander. The only real reason Crash had to shoot this man was to protect Nell.
The gunman, on the other hand, had no reason whatsoever not to shoot Crash.
But Crash was a nanosecond ahead of him. He hit the man hard on the side of the head with the barrel of his weapon, even as he disarmed him with a well-placed kick.
The man’s handgun hit the door frame and bounced back, skittering across the rug and into the center of the room.
The blow to the head that Crash had delivered would have taken damn near anyone else in the world down, and down hard, but this guy wasn’t about to call it a day.
Pain exploded as the gunman smashed his fist back into Crash’s face and elbowed him hard in the ribs. The man tucked his chin against his chest, bending over in an attempt to throw the SEAL over his shoulder. But pain or no pain, Crash anticipated that move, too, and instead, the gunman hit the floor.
But he went down willingly, diving out into the room, going for his weapon.
The gun wasn’t there.
Crash silently blessed Nell as he leapt on top of the man. The bastard fought as if he was possessed by the devil, but Crash would have taken on Satan himself in order to keep Nell safe. He hit the man again and again until finally, finally he delivered a knockout punch and the son of a bitch sagged.
Searching the gunman quickly, Crash came up with a smaller automatic and a large combat knife. Both weapons had been securely holstered and—luckily for him—totally unreachable during the fight.
He looked up to see Nell peeking out from underneath the bed.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Oh, God, you’re bleeding.”
His cheek had been cut by the fancy ring the gunman wore on his pinky finger. Crash used the back of his hand to blot it. “I’m fine,” he said. A little scrape like that didn’t matter. Nor was the bruise he was going to get along his ribs even worth mentioning.
He’d hurt when he
laughed for the next few days.
But since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, he didn’t think that would be much of a problem.
Crash pulled the man’s wallet from the back pocket of his pants. There was a driver’s license inside, along with several suspiciously new-looking credit cards. There were no papers, no receipts, no photos of child or wife, no little scraps of life.
“Who is he?”
“He’s currently going by the name Sheldon Sarkowski,” he told her. “But that’s not his real name.”
“It’s not?” She began inching out from her hiding place, gingerly pushing Sheldon’s handgun in front of her.
“Nope. He’s a pro. He probably doesn’t even remember his real name anymore.” Crash took the weapon, pulled out the clip and stored both pieces in his vest, along with the other weapons he’d taken from the gunman.
“What are we going to do with him?”
“We’re going to tie him up and take him with us. I have a question or two to ask him when he wakes up.”
Nell had climbed to her feet, but then backed up so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She was so pale, she looked almost gray.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “We’ve got to get out of here right now before this guy’s backup comes to see what’s taking him so long. Are you going to be able to walk?”
“Yeah, I’m just…getting used to the idea that someone named Sheldon came in here to kill me.”
Crash stood up. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Nell. I swear, I’ll keep you safe if it’s the last thing I do.”
Nell gazed up at him. “I believe you,” she told him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“WHAT EXACTLY ARE WE GOING to do with the guy in the trunk?” Nell laughed in disbelief as she turned slightly in her seat to face Crash. “I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe we’ve actually got a guy in the trunk. Isn’t that very uncomfortable for him?”
Crash glanced at her. “That’s his tough luck. He should’ve thought of that before he broke into your hotel room to kill you.”
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating Page 139