Let It Burn (The Barrington Billionaires Book 4)

by Ruth Cardello

  “I have to know if there’s anything left of those files.” She pulled harder, twisting with her whole body in an attempt to free herself. “You can’t stop me.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said harshly and began to haul her back toward the car.

  “What is wrong with you?” she cried. “Everything I need to know is in there. For all we know, everything you came to find is in there, too. We can’t just do nothing.”

  “Yes, we can,” he ground out.

  “No,” she said, pulling back as hard as he was pulling forward. “I will not give up on my uncle. All he wants is for me to be safe. I don’t believe he killed anyone. And I won’t believe it unless I see hard proof, and it’s in that house. You have to help me, Andrew. Help me get it.”

  He grabbed her by both arms, lifted her an inch off her feet, and shook her. “Let it burn. There is nothing in there worth your life or mine.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she cried out, and he came fully back to the present.

  He instantly lowered her, released her arms, and pulled her to his chest. Shame. Fear. Guilt. It all gripped him as he wrapped his arms around her. Tears filled his eyes, and he hid his face in her hair. “I can’t let you go in there, Helene. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t lose you, too.” Emotions he’d held in for too long ambushed him, and he shook against her as tears silently ran down his face.

  Chapter Nine

  Feeling Andrew break against her shifted her focus from her uncle’s pain to his. Several realities were rammed home fast: she’d clung to the possibility that things were not as bad as they seemed, but there was no longer a way to deny that the danger was real. The fire before her was proof of exactly how serious her uncle thought the threat to them was.

  Good or bad, criminal or unwilling accomplice, her uncle had run like a coward and that was difficult for Helene to process. He may have asked Andrew to get her out of Aruba, but he hadn’t stuck around to make sure she was safe. The man who was holding her had. The man who’d let her glimpse his fear: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t lose you, too.

  Helene wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. His sorrow was so intense she found herself weeping with him. She cried for whatever happened to him that had damaged him so deeply and the role she was playing in making him face it again. I’m such an idiot.

  She leaned back so she could see his face. “I’m sorry, too, Andrew.”

  He shook his head and laughed without humor. “You’re the only one in this shitfest who has done nothing to be sorry for.”

  She tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks. “That’s not true. You warned that I’d probably get us killed, and I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to be right so badly that I wasn’t thinking straight. We could have been on our way back to the States by now.”

  He smoothed her hair with his hand. “You couldn’t leave your uncle.”

  “He didn’t have a problem leaving me.” She looked away and blinked back fresh tears.

  Andrew didn’t refute that, but what could he say? Her uncle was not only a coward, but he’d also admitted to having been the cause of the death of Andrew’s brother. “You must hate me.”

  Andrew kissed her forehead and pulled her back into his arms. “If by hate you mean I want to carry you off and lose myself in that sweet body of yours all night, then yeah, sure.”

  She frowned up at him. “How can you think about that right now?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, settled her more firmly against his excitement and asked, “How can you not?”

  Passion flared through her even though she felt very close to disintegrating into tears. “You’re crazy, do you know that?”

  A slight smile curled one side of his mouth. “I’ve questioned your own sanity at least five time since we met, and it’s only been a couple of days.”

  She chuckled without humor and turned her head so she could see her uncle’s house. “What do we do now?”

  He stepped back and took her hand in his. “Now I take you home.”

  She searched his face. “To my parents?”

  An odd expression came and went on his face. “Of course.”

  Disappointment ripped through her, confusing her even more. Of course. How else did I think this would end?

  They returned to his car and were well on their way to the airport before Helene spoke. “Where do you think my uncle is?”

  “The world is a pretty big place when a man wants to hide.”

  She nodded, still trying to come to terms with how much had happened over the last few days. “What do you think will happen to the clinic and its patients?”

  He switched gears. “It’s not the only medical center on the island. We all think we’re indispensable; we’re not. The clinic will probably close, but life will go on.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I am.”

  She hugged her arms around herself, feeling cold despite the warm air temperature. “I’m grateful to you, but I may start calling you Mr. Positivity.”

  “Do it and I’ll call you . . . let’s see . . . sugarlips.”

  “I’m sure my parents would love that.” She froze as a thought occurred to her. “Are you going to meet them? I mean, once we get back to the States there won’t be a reason for us to see each other, will there?”

  He met her eyes briefly. “I’m not leaving your side until I’m sure you’re safe.”

  She hugged herself tighter and tried not to think too much about how his words made her feel good and bad at the same time. They rode along in silence for a while, then she asked, “If you ever want to talk about what happened to you, I just want you to know I’ve helped many creatures overcome trauma.”

  “Creatures?” he asked in a slightly amused tone.

  Helene bristled a little defensively. “I’m not joking. Animals experience pain, fear, and loss just as deeply as we do. We had this spider monkey once who had been brought into the United States illegally as a baby. When his owner died, he bounced around, getting more violent and out of control with each new home. By the time he came to us, the road back to trust was long, but we eventually reached him.”

  “Have you always been involved in animal rescue?”

  “My parents started their rescue straight out of college. You could say I was born into it. I grew up bottle-feeding tiger cubs and treating injured animals. I almost became a veterinarian.”

  “What stopped you?”

  She stared out the passenger window as she answered. “My family doesn’t have a lot of money. Whatever came in went for the care of the animals and the upkeep of the rescue. There was a period of time, just about when I was heading off to school, when the rescue almost went under. My parents couldn’t afford to pay someone to replace me if I left. I had to choose between saving the animals at the rescue or saving animals in the future. The choice wasn’t easy at the time, but I don’t regret choosing the rescue. We’ve successfully returned hundreds of animals to their natural habitat. There’s so much wrong with the world that thinking about it can be overwhelming. I know I can’t change everything, but whenever we have a success story I feel like I did something to tip the scales in the right direction.” She glanced back at him. “You probably think that’s silly.”

  His answer was to raise her hand to his lips and kiss it. “What happened to the monkey?”

  She instantly wished she’d picked a different example. “Not every case has a happy ending. He did well for a while with us, then we sent him to an animal Primate Rehabilitation Center in Belize. They have a high success rate and are passionate about what they do. Spider monkeys are endangered so each one that can be returned to the wild tips the scales in the right direction. He was socialized with a troop he was given time to bond with. They worked on predator avoidance skills, tagged him, and released him.”

  “And?”

  “He was eaten by something a couple of weeks later.” Andrew coughed and Helene shook his hand in reprimand. “I
t’s not funny. It was awful.”

  “I’m sure it was,” he said in a serious tone, but one side of his mouth twitched as if he were suppressing a smile. “I’m just remembering your elephant story and wondering if you need help choosing inspirational examples.”

  “You’re an ass,” she said and pulled her hand free of his, although she could see how he’d find humor in what she’d said.

  “No, I’m an angry elephant.”

  The comparison instantly cut through her. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” The edge in her voice surprised even her.

  He took her hand again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of something that’s important to you.”

  She clung to his hand and looked out the passenger window again. He’d misunderstood what had upset her. She hated that she and her family hadn’t been able to save the elephant, but she accepted that not every animal that came to them could be rehabilitated. It was a harsh reality she’d found a way to live with, but in that moment she understood how he’d felt when she wanted to run into the fire. The idea of losing Andrew, especially to his anger and sorrow, was more frightening than anything she’d faced in Aruba. She didn’t know how to express that fear to him so she didn’t. Instead she simply tightened her hold on his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said tightly.

  Without turning away from the window, she said, “It’s okay.” What she wanted to say was, “It will be okay. I’ll find a way to make it okay,” but she was afraid that if they started talking about anything serious again she would break down into tears. How could Uncle Clarence have left without knowing if I was safe? How do I even begin to be okay with that?

  They didn’t speak for several minutes, until she couldn’t bear the silence another moment. If something didn’t change it would be a long, painful flight home. She forced a smile on her face and turned to look at him. “I prefer the nickname I came up with for you the first time we met.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Should I ask?”

  “Probably not.”

  A smile stretched his lips. “Is it a swear?”

  She raised her chin playfully. “I’m not saying.” He turned down a private road. “I thought we were going to the airport.”

  “Felipe Ambrosio has a home with an airstrip here.”

  “The race car driver?”

  “Yes. He should have a plane we can use. I’ll call him. If he doesn’t, I’ll have one here within the hour.”

  “People lend you their planes? Just like that?”

  He gave her a sidelong look. “You don’t know much about my family, do you?”

  Helene remembered what her uncle had said about them. “I know they’re wealthy.”

  He made a face. “To a repulsive degree. It defines who they are. I walked away from that life as soon as I was old enough. I go home only when I absolutely have to. There are, however, certain perks to being a Barrington. People tend to worry so much about trying to impress them, and therefore me, they forget they can say no when I ask for something.”

  Helene opened her mouth to say she wasn’t impressed by money, but he brought the car to an abrupt stop in front of an enormous private home that was fully lit up against the dark night. Even though Andrew spoke of money as if it disgusted him, if the man who owned that house worried about impressing him, Andrew’s life had very little in common with hers.

  Which isn’t a problem because all he promised was to stay until he knows I’m safe.

  He let go of her hand so he could make a phone call, and she gave herself a firm mental smack. I don’t even really know this man. I was convinced he was kidnapping me earlier. If he actually gets me home, I should be grateful for that alone. The only reason he’s here with me at all is that my uncle . . . No, I can’t think about Uncle Clarence right now. I would have helped him if he’d let me. I just hope none of this makes the news back in the States, because I’ve never been able to lie to my parents, but if it keeps them from being involved in whatever Uncle Clarence did here, then I’ll learn to.

  “All set,” Andrew said. “Grab your purse; his pilot is meeting us on the airstrip.”

  “Right now? How is that possible?”

  “He uses a local man.”

  “Who is free right this moment to fly us home?”

  Andrew made a face as if he was revealing a side of himself he wasn’t proud of. “As I said, people don’t say no.”

  Half an hour later, Andrew poured a ginger ale and asked Helene if she would like something to drink. She looked like she would have welcomed something with a bit more of a kick, but he wasn’t sure he could pour one for her without pouring one for himself.

  What a day.

  He hadn’t allowed himself time to think too deeply about its twists and turns while he was in the middle of the insanity. He’d learned early that it was best to remain focused on the moment until the bullets stopped flying. Although none had physically been fired in Aruba, Andrew felt like a man who’d fought and lost again.

  He was leaving Aruba without the answers his brother had sent him to find. He hadn’t been able to help Helene’s uncle and, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how much he would have done if given the chance.

  The only thing I did right was get Helene out of Aruba. And now I’m taking her home.

  A woman whose uncle’s actions forever changed my family. Not her fault, and something that happened before she was even born, but still, that’s fucked up.

  I’m fucked up.

  Helene was reading a magazine, affording him an opportunity to study her profile. A wave of possessiveness washed over him. There was no way he was walking away from her when they reached Florida.

  He shook his head at his priorities.

  I should care more about how my brother died than about a woman I just met. Kent is dead, though. What do I do with the knowledge that it wasn’t an accident? Tell my family? And then what? How will the truth help them? All it would do is rip open old wounds. And likely cause my mother to have another breakdown.

  No.

  Some men would vow revenge. They’d hunt Stiles down and make him pay. His death, though, won’t bring my brother back. I’ve killed too many people in the name of my country; I can’t handle more blood on my hands.

  I can’t wrap my head around this, though. What possible reason could anyone have had to kill an infant? What kind of person could do something that heinous? Had Stiles done it himself or been part of the cover-up? And what was the link between my mother’s sister and Stiles? Why would a crime that Stiles committed be recorded in her journal? It wouldn’t be unless she’d somehow been involved.

  Oh, yes, that would definitely send my mother over the edge.

  He thought about Gabrielle. If the truth were what mattered most, he should tell her that her husband wasn’t the war hero she thought he was. It would ease his own guilt if he told her what he suspected they’d actually been doing there. How would she handle discovering that her husband’s death had only been honored because the colonel had needed to make sure Andrew would have a reason to keep the truth to himself?

  His friends had died, not heroically trying to retrieve classified materials. They’d died because the colonel had wanted a trophy. They died for nothing. And they’d still be alive if Andrew hadn’t blindly accepted the colonel’s orders. He always studied the details of their missions, but they’d been at the end of their tour and were feeling cocky.

  All I had to do was ask what was in the crate, but I charged ahead like we were invincible. What had Stiles said? “It doesn’t matter how much good we do before or after, we never rise above our lowest moment.”

  Accurate for Stiles as well as for myself.

  That’s fucking depressing.

  Helene looked up from her magazine and smiled at him. “You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”

  He cupped a side of her face with one hand, gently caressed her cheek, then let his hand drop. “No, you
’re perfect just the way you are.”

  She gave him a funny look, then said, “You’re just saying that so I won’t kick you in the head again. It wasn’t my fault, though. I thought you were going to kill me.”

  “You are a tough cookie to save. Worst damsel in distress ever.” He chuckled.

  She laughed lightly, then sobered. “I’m still in shock. I mean, none of this feels real. I keep expecting my uncle to call and say it was all a mistake, an elaborate joke.” She sucked in an audible breath. “But he’s not going to, is he?”

  Andrew shook his head sadly. No, unfortunately, all of it was fucking real.

  She chewed her bottom lip before saying, “I don’t know what to tell my parents.”

  “Nothing. You heard your uncle. If you tell them anything, you put them at risk.”

  “They’re all the way back in Florida. Do you really think whoever my uncle is afraid of would bother them there?”

  Andrew’s hands clenched. “We don’t know what or who he was involved with.”

  She took a sip of her ginger ale. “I thought I wanted to know, but I don’t anymore. What if I discover he really did hurt your brother? What would I do with that? Am I a coward if I don’t actually want to face that?”

  “You’re not a coward, Helene; you’re just more honest with yourself than most. You have no idea how much I wish he hadn’t told me he was responsible for Kent’s death. I don’t know what to do with that either.”

  “Because of how it would hurt your family.”

  “Exactly.”

  “My mother thinks her brother is a wonderful man, just like I used to. How do I tell her there’s a good chance he’s a monster?”

  “You don’t.”

  “I just bury it? Pretend today didn’t happen?”

  It was a question he’d asked himself a hundred, no a thousand, times. She was looking to him for the answers he was still searching for himself. “It’s all we can do.”

  “Is it?” She looked into his eyes for a long moment. “Maybe it is.” She took another sip of her drink then swirled the ice in the cup. “My parents will want to know why I’m back. They don’t need me anymore. I was supposed to go out and find myself. I’m coming home more lost than I left.”