Extreme Exposure

by Alex Kingwell

  Matt released Jason, who stalked off toward his car. He waited until Jason was close to the car before he turned and started walking toward her, looking at the ground, avoiding her eyes.

  Way to go, Emily. Way to eff things up.

  A second later, there was a boom, a hollow, deafening sound. At the same time, a wave of pressure hit every part of her body with the force of a knockout punch, slamming her into the ground.

  Sprawled face-down on the pavement, she lay stunned for a moment, breathless, the pavement spinning around her. It was hard to hear. For some reason her ears were plugged, like on an airplane when you’re waiting for them to pop. A pungent smell, maybe gunpowder, burned her lungs. Gunpowder? What was happening?

  Lifting her head, her eyes caught pieces of a car mirror strewn on the pavement. Behind her, a yellow-orange fireball and plumes of thick, black smoke shot high in the air.

  Oh, God.

  Behind her, a bald man with bulging eyes was shouting into a cell phone, his voice muffled as if it were coming from a long way away. A car battery had exploded, he yelled. People were dead.

  She tried to lift her head but it felt as heavy as a bag of sand.

  Matt. Where was Matt?

  A woman rushed to her side. “Stay still. You’re going to be okay.” Kneeling down, she blocked Emily’s view of Matt and the burning wreckage.

  Emily tried to get up but the woman held her down. “It’s best not to move.” Lifting her head, she barked an order at the people standing in front of them. “Someone get me some blankets. Now.”

  Tears bursting from the corners of her eyes, Emily grabbed the woman’s hand. “I was with a man, a tall man. His name’s Matt. What happened to him?”

  The woman glanced behind her across the pavement. Turning back, blue eyes avoided Emily’s. “Don’t think about that right now. Help is coming and you’re going to be all right.”

  A searing pain gripped her heart, tore it into pieces.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Hot pavement scorched Emily’s skin. Strange, then, that she should feel cold, her skin clammy, teeth chattering. The smell of smoke and burning rubber burned her throat. People stood watching, bewildered. A fleshy-faced man came with a blanket and spoke to the woman taking care of her. His voice was muted by the sound of somebody moaning.

  Matt is dead.

  She didn’t want to move. Better to die right there. But she had to see him. It was her fault. She owed him that much. Using her elbows, she tried to get up. The woman held her back but Emily cursed loudly, shoved her hand away, and sat up. Realized, dimly, that the person moaning had been herself.

  A man with a portable fire extinguisher sprayed white foam at Jason’s blackened car. The roof had blown off and teetered upside down on the hood of the car beside it. The bald man was still on the cell phone, not yelling now but pacing back and forth. In front of her, two men dragged the limp body of a man across the pavement away from the burning wreckage.

  Matt.

  Stumbling to her feet, she staggered forward, smashed glass crunching underfoot. As the men laid Matt on the pavement, she dropped beside him. His eyes were open and his face was contorted in pain. “You okay?” he choked out.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, started running down her cheeks. Choking back a sob, she nodded, ran a cursory glance over him. His right forearm was bleeding from a cut, but there were no major wounds that she could see. A layer of dust coated his hair gray, and there was a smear of what looked like grease on his chin.

  “Where are you hurt?” A flood of emotions uncoiled deep inside her, a jumble of anger, fear, guilt. She was responsible for this.

  He grimaced. “I think I broke my arm, but I’m okay. Jason?”

  Wiping away tears, she shook her head. The light dulled in his eyes.

  Oh, God, what have I done? Jason was dead. Matt had escaped, but barely.

  Confused people shouted around them, their voices mixing with the wail of sirens in the distance. A police car screeched to a stop at a haphazard angle in the parking lot. The siren stopped, but there was another one, higher pitched, and moments later an ambulance pulled alongside. More police cruisers arrived and officers started clearing people from the parking lot.

  She stepped back while the paramedics attending to Matt put him on a stretcher and wheeled him into the ambulance. Climbing in beside him, she hung her head in her hands.

  He reached over and touched her arm. “This is not your fault.”

  Rocking back and forth, she flinched as the ambulance doors shut. Of course it was her fault. The tears refused to slow.

  The ambulance driver left the siren off on the way to the hospital. Ashen faced, Matt clenched his teeth. At the hospital, a doctor ordered intravenous pain medication and an x-ray.

  A uniformed police officer appeared in the doorway and asked her to come out. They walked to a vacant examining room, where the detective she’d talked to with Matt, Sam Fisher, was waiting. For the next hour, he grilled her about what happened while the uniformed officer took notes. No, she hadn’t seen anything suspicious. No, she didn’t have any specific information about why Jason Hatt was targeted. When Fisher moved on to questions about Amber, she cursed under breath. There was nothing new she could tell him.

  When they let her go, the door to Matt’s examining room was closed so she walked out to the waiting area and found an empty chair against the back wall. A bored-looking man with a paunch stared at her, as if trying to guess her ailment, but she gave him a hard stare and he turned his attention back to a weather report on the television.

  She couldn’t think clearly, the thoughts in her head twisting like a ball of yarn—except for one clarifying thought. The search for Amber’s killer was futile. Talking to the cops—seeing their unbelieving looks—was enough to make her realize that. Never mind that it had led to Jason’s murder.

  An awful hollowness filled her chest. Matt had been right when he’d accused her of being stubborn. Why hadn’t she listened to him?

  An hour later, Matt appeared, looking pale, his arm in a cast.

  She rose to greet him, fingered the cloth sling supporting his arm. “How are you?”

  “I broke two bones in my forearm. They drugged me up with something, so I’m not thinking too clearly right now. Other than that I’m okay.”

  He swayed slightly and she moved around to his left side and put an arm around him. Dark shadows under his eyes signaled his tiredness. He gave an impression of vulnerability that made him unbearably attractive. Her heart skipping, she fought the urge to reach out and touch him.

  She said, “The police want to talk to you.”

  “Later. Right now, I’d feel safer if we got out of sight. Let’s get a cab back to the rental car. After that, we can figure out what to do.”

  In the fifteen-minute cab ride to their car, it didn’t look like anyone was following them, but she couldn’t be sure. She snatched two parking tickets out from under the windshield wiper, then drove down the street to a hotel, the Belvedere, where they checked into a room on the second floor. Inside the room, Matt lay down on the bed without going under the covers, closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed and he was asleep.

  Opening a set of sliding doors to a small concrete patio, she stepped out, looked out at the parking lot. An image of Matt lying on the pavement, thick smoke behind him, was playing on a continuous loop in her brain. She had been sure he was dead. Tears forming in her eyes, she took a couple of deep breaths. Hold it together. Let him sleep. We’ll figure out what to do.

  Behind her, the sliding door scraped open. Flinching, she whirled around.

  Matt stepped onto the small balcony. “It’s just me. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Standing beside her, he squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Wiping clammy hands on her shorts, she took in the wrinkled brow, the expectant look in his eyes as he waited for an answer. She’d almost gotten him killed and he was worried about her?

 
; She had to get away from him, to get out of his life. “Do you want me to get you some pain medication? There’s a drugstore down the street.”

  “I’m okay for a while.” He smiled reassuringly.

  Crossing her arms, she faced him square-on. “This is over, Matt. I can’t do this anymore.”

  He looked at her blankly. “What do you mean?”

  “Jason’s dead.” She swallowed, the fear she felt for him rising like bile in her throat. “You were almost killed.”

  Mouth slackening, he shook his head. “We can’t quit now. Jason’s death is even more reason to go on.”

  She stared at him hard. “What if you were the target? When I was waiting for you at the hospital I couldn’t get that idea out of my head.”

  “Jason was the target. The bomb was likely set to go off when he put the key in the ignition. Whoever did it wouldn’t have known we were going to be there.”

  “Oh, God.” She rubbed her face. “This is senseless.”

  He was silent.

  “Will they be able to tell who made it?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It was likely a pipe bomb. They’re pretty easy to make. I’m guessing there won’t be fingerprints.”

  No surprise there. His answer underlined the futility of their quest. Resolve hardened in her chest. “So we’re no further ahead now than when we came to Riverton.”

  “We can eliminate Jason as our main suspect.”

  Disbelief had her shaking her head. “We can only eliminate suspects when they’re killed off? That’s pathetic.” She pinched her lips together. “Don’t you see? It’s not worth it. I can’t risk putting your life in more danger.”

  Tilting his head, he looked her in the eye, his expression tight. “Emily, you’ll never be free unless we get to the bottom of this.”

  “That was before this happened. Why can’t you see that?” Her words brought no change in his expression.

  A black car pulled into the parking lot. Instantly, they backed up against the wall, watched as the driver found a spot near the road. A woman got out and took four or five shopping bags out of the trunk.

  Letting out a breath, Emily looked at Matt, her eyes examining his face, the wide forehead, chiseled cheekbones, full lips, strong jaw, until at last they stopped at those dark eyes. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She had to do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even if that meant never seeing him again. Even if it felt like part of her would be torn away.

  She wished she’d never met him. But it wasn’t too late. The self-talk that came next was as familiar as a mantra. You can handle this. You can get back in control. You are better on your own. Repeat forty times.

  When she spoke, her voice sounded flat, distant to her ears. “I’ll go into hiding. I’ll disappear. Forever if I have to.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, as if he knew she was right. Pivoting, he opened the door slowly, stepped inside.

  She had expected anger, had even braced for a fight, but somehow his calm manner hurt more. Her face wet, vision blurring, she couldn’t see him through the glass door. It was as if a thin, dark veil had been dragged like a curtain between them.

  * * *

  Matt slammed his fist into the bathroom door. Emily was right, of course. She had to go into hiding. That was the only way she could be safe.

  Walking over to the sink, he turned on the faucet, used his left hand to splash icy water on his face. A hollowness burned in his chest. Straightening, he dried his face with a hand towel.

  When he came out of the bathroom, Emily was sitting on the end of her bed. Heart hammering in his chest, he said, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “Yes.” She stared down at her hands and when she spoke her voice was flat. “It’ll help if you give me some pointers, but I think I can do it on my own.” She looked up, hopeful. “What are you going to do?”

  Closing his eyes, he pinched his nose. “I still have to find out who’s behind all this.”

  Standing up, she stared at him. “What? Why?”

  “If I don’t find out, I’d have to disappear, too.” He took a breath. “I can’t do that. I can’t just leave everything, my company…”

  She shuffled back a few steps.

  Her swallowed hard. “Did you think I would come with you?”

  Red blotches appeared on her face. “Of course not. I thought you would go back to Boston.”

  “They know who I am. They’ll find me.”

  She leaned against the wall and sank slowly to the floor, covering her face with both hands.

  He knelt in front of her and put a hand on her knee.

  When she spoke her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I am so sorry. Never in a million years did I expect this to happen.”

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know that. It’s not your fault.”

  For some reason, it wasn’t the right thing to say because she started sobbing uncontrollably. He shifted to her right side, put his arm around her, and pulled her close, stroked her hair with his left hand.

  He said, “We’ve got to find somewhere safe for you to hide out.” There was another reason for doing that. It was bad enough spending night after night in motel rooms trying to keep a distance. Now, despite the mounting danger, all he could think about was getting her in bed. That could get them both killed.

  Her head jerked back and she looked at him with watery eyes. “What do you mean? I’m not going to hide out.”

  It was his turn to be surprised. “You just said you would.”

  Breaking away, she jumped to her feet. “That was when I thought you were leaving. Since you’re not, I’m hardly going to go hide out. Whatever happened to being in this together?”

  He stood up. “I’m not saying we’re finished. You don’t have to hide out forever, depending on what happens.” The thought of her being in any more danger nauseated him.

  “You are such a jerk.” She glared at him a moment before turning to the door.

  He caught her hand. “Where are you going?”

  “For a walk. I have to get out of here.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Am I missing something here? I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “And it’s okay if you do?” She pulled her hand away, rubbed her wrists. “How does that make sense?”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. I just feel protective of you.”

  “You don’t think I can look after myself, is that it?” Eyes lit with anger, she turned toward the door again.

  Scratching the back of his head, he studied her. “So now you’re going to go? Is that it? Just walk out?”

  “It was a mistake, right from the start, trusting you. Letting you get close.”

  He scoffed. “You haven’t let me get close. You’ve done everything you could not to let me get close.”

  He had hit a nerve. She froze, seemed to be trying to think of something to say.

  He pushed. “Why is that?”

  “Why are you making this my fault?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You’re avoiding the question. Why won’t you let me get close?”

  “This is hardly the time to be having this discussion.”

  “You want to get close. I can see it.”

  She looked down, not saying anything. He waited, let the silence stretch between them. When she looked up, all traces of anger had vanished, replaced not by that cool and collected game face he’d expected, but by a look so raw and unfiltered his heart clenched.

  She said, “Because if you get too close, you’re not going to like what you see.” Her eyes, deep and vulnerable, burned holes into him.

  Walking over, he took her hand, recognizing the courage it took for her—especially for her—to expose that vulnerability. “It’s the opposite. The closer I get, the more I like what I see.”

  She stood frozen in place, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

  He said, “I think you’re the smartest, gutsies
t, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. What’s not to like? Never mind that I can barely keep my hands off you.” She stood, open-mouthed, not seeming to believe him, unidentifiable emotions flashing across her face. He said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  She said, with a kind of desperation, “You know, the usual, what a mess I’ve made of everything.”

  Tilting his head, he looked at her closely. “Did you ever think it might be the other way around, that things have made a mess of you?”

  Her moist, expressive eyes looked huge in that pale face. “I think that’s just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He smirked. “Really? It wasn’t that nice.” The soft swell of her breasts was clearly visible under her T-shirt. He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching for her.

  She said, “It’s funny what you said about having trouble keeping your hands off me.” Something new and dark lit those eyes.

  “Why is that funny?” he said, throat dry.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you.” She wet her lips, and reached up to stroke his cheek with long, pale fingers.

  Her touch sent a surge of blood racing to his groin. Standing on her toes, she brought her lips to his. He shouldn’t, he knew that, but couldn’t stop himself. He’d waited too long. Sucking in a breath, he kissed those warm, soft lips, wanting to go slowly, taste every inch. His hand stroked the silky white skin of her neck.

  Tentative at first, she put her arms around his neck and drew him close, swirling her tongue in his mouth and pressing herself against him. She was hurrying, trembling fingers struggling with the button of his jean shorts.

  Pulling away, he looked into those gorgeous smoldering eyes. “Emily…”

  Her hand went to her lips and she stumbled back. “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Are you sure you want to do this? No regrets?”

  She was breathing heavily, the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling through the T-shirt. “No regrets.”

  “Okay, not too fast.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Blood rose in her cheeks and she pulled her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m nervous, I-I’m out of practice.”