Forbidden Fires

by Jodie Griffin

  “I know,” he replied, pushing him into the hallway. “Go!”

  An unearthly scream came from the dining room. “Where did they go?” Kayla wailed. “They have to die. They were in the hall, laughing with everyone else. Master Hank had them on his wall so I know they have to die.”

  “They never laughed,” Delia said in a soothing voice. “Charlotte and I were talking earlier about how much you obviously love Hank and he loves you. They didn’t think it was right that Master Gabriel wouldn’t let you in.”

  “Are you sure?” Kayla asked. He could almost hear the frown in it. “Master Hank said they all laughed. I think you’re lying to me. I think you’re Master Gabriel’s slave and I don’t believe you!” Her words ended on a hysterical shout.

  Fuck, they were out of time.

  Colin bolted for the door, his drawn weapon in one hand and the fire extinguisher in the other, just as Kayla threw the lighter to the floor. Flame whooshed across the carpet, greedily searching for more gasoline. It leaped the distance from the carpet to the curtains, faster than most people thought possible.

  “Delia!” He holstered his weapon and hefted the fire extinguisher, aiming it at the wall.

  “The sprinklers aren’t working,” she shouted.

  He turned the nozzle toward her voice, aiming it at her feet. “Cover your eyes!” He didn’t wait for a response, just knocked down as much fire as he could. He couldn’t see where Kayla had gone, almost didn’t care. All the gasoline had ignited, and the room was getting hotter. There was only so much he could do with the extinguisher, and he was fighting a losing battle.

  Delia came through the breach he’d made in the fire, stumbling, coughing on the smoke, but alive and otherwise unharmed. He dragged her into the hallway and down the porch stairs, out of the burning house.

  He looked around but didn’t see Kayla outside. Fuck, arsonist or not, he couldn’t leave her in there to burn. He handed Delia his phone and weapon and squeezed her tightly. “I need to make sure the house is clear. Get the fire department up here. I love you,” he shouted, going back up the stairs onto the porch so he could grab the second extinguisher. He made it into the front hallway but he didn’t get far before a small concussive blast knocked him back.

  Déjà vu washed over him the same time as the blast. He cracked his head against the wall as he fell, and there was a sickening crunch as his arm smashed into the floor.

  His lights went out.

  * * *

  Delia ran for the house before the boom even ended. The front door was open and smoke poured out of the hallway. Her heart nearly stopped as she reached the top of the porch stairs. Colin was on the floor inside the door, slumped against the wall, the flames licking closer and closer to him.

  She didn’t have time to check for injuries, just squatted behind him, tucked her arms under his shoulders and dragged him away from the flames. He was heavy, but she was motivated. He groaned but she continued, almost falling down the wide porch steps, wincing as his feet bumped down them one by one. Finally he was out of the house, away from the fire.

  She collapsed on the ground on her knees, cradling his head in her lap as she waited for the fire trucks to reach the driveway, rocking him back and forth. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The litany played over and over again in her head in time with her body as she rocked, her eyes streaming from the smoke, and maybe from the fear.

  She heard the engines pull up, and people milling all around her, firefighters with hoses, cops, paramedics, but she tuned it all out, focused only on the rise and fall of Colin’s chest. He was breathing, thank God, but she was afraid if she stopped looking, he’d stop breathing.

  “Ma’am? You need to let us see him,” one of the paramedics said, touching her arm.

  She flinched and held Colin tighter. Voices rumbled around her, and then she felt a presence at her back.

  “Delia, honey, you need to let go of Colin so they can examine him.” Gabe McConnell said, squatting behind her.

  She shook her head.

  “Let him go, Delia,” he ordered in the voice he used as Master Gabriel. Before she realized what he was doing, he slid an arm under hers and across her body, locking her to his chest. He had her tight, and she couldn’t move. He nodded, and the paramedics held Colin’s head as he lifted her to her feet. “Shh. They’ve got him, and I’ve got you.”

  She struggled for one brief moment, but he only held her closer, tighter, until she sagged against him, submitting to his dominance. Not a sexual type of control, but one that seemed a hundred percent protective.

  She bit back a sob as they loaded him into an ambulance, but she was calmer now, thanks to Gabe McConnell. When the ambulance sped off, she let out a shuddery sigh. “You can let me go now.”

  He squeezed once, tightly, leaning his chin on top of her head. And then he loosened his hold, stepping back.

  She turned, and her heart twisted. He was staring at his home, his business, at the smoke billowing from the right side of the structure, with a bleak look on his face. Colin hadn’t been the only victim. So had Gabe McConnell. She stepped forward and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry about your home, Gabe.”

  “Not your fault.” He paused, then laughed without a trace of humor. “She must’ve disabled the sprinklers. A fucking fortune in fire-suppression equipment, and it was all taken down by one mentally unstable bottom manipulated by an evil, power-hungry top with a God complex.”

  Delia leaned back. Jesus, how had she forgotten? “Kayla?”

  He looked down at her and grimaced. “She’s dead. She never made it out of the house.”

  Her heart clenched. “That poor girl. She didn’t have a chance.”

  He nodded. “They’ve got Hank Whitcomb in custody too. He’s blaming her for everything, the prick. Telling everyone who’ll listen.” He looked back at the house. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  She hugged him once more, then stepped back. “I have to check in with the local cops here, and then I have to get to the hospital to check on Colin.” Her stomach dropped as she said the words, but she pushed on over a suddenly tight throat. She couldn’t leave with clearing the air. “Thank you for everything.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice,” he said, his words surprisingly mild considering he’d been steamrollered into helping them.

  “Oh, that. Yeah. But I meant personally.” His startled eyes met hers, and she dropped them to the ground. Her voice was low, for his ears only. “For helping me see that I really am what I thought I was all along, but was too scared to learn. It wasn’t an act, not one single piece of it.”

  Once again, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his all-knowing, direct gaze. “You’re going to make Colin a great sub. But if he can’t or won’t top for you, come and see me.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her forehead, featherlight. The devil lit his eyes, temporarily chasing away the shadows she was sure would remain there for quite some time. “I’ll be more than happy to introduce you to some Doms who’d love to show you the ropes.”

  She felt the heat rush to her face. “Thank you, Master Gabriel.”

  * * *

  At the hospital, she paced the hallway outside the exam room where Colin was being checked over. Low conversation came from inside, and then a groan. “Damn it, that hurts. Let me twist your arm and see how it fucking feels.”

  A few minutes later, the doctor stepped into the hallway. “Ma’am. Are you Delia, by chance?”

  “Yes,” she said, pulling out her shield and ID. “Detective Delia Robinson. I’m Colin’s partner.”

  He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. He’s been asking about you. He’s got a slight concussion and I’m sending him for X-rays, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a broken arm.”

  Her stomach heaved. Same damn things as the last time she waited for him in a hospital, but this time, she wasn’t going to let him use it as an excuse to end things. Or, really, to set things up
so there was nothing left to do but end things.

  She’d learned so much about herself and about him in the past two weeks and, while Master Gabriel’s offer to introduce her to other Doms was generous, her heart belonged to Colin. The only man she wanted dominating her was him, or it was nobody.

  And nobody wasn’t an answer she’d accept.

  “May I see him?”

  The doctor nodded. “That might keep him still. He’s in a lot of pain with his arm, but he’s been trying to get out of bed.” The man’s brow raised and a quirk of smile lit the corner of his mouth. “Looking for you.”

  Her heart sped up. “Okay, thanks. I’ll see what I can do.”

  The doctor headed off in the other direction, and she took a deep breath before stepping inside the small exam room. She forced calm into her body language, but her senses still took a jolt. Colin was sprawled on the bed as though he owned the place, but his normally tanned features were pale, his eyes closed and his lips tight against the pain. One arm lay immobilized against his chest, and he had an IV in the other.

  “Hey,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb him if he’d managed to drift off.

  His eyes flew open wide. “Delia.” He used his good hand to push himself up, but she intercepted him.

  “No, don’t. You’re going to hurt yourself more.”

  He dropped back against the bed again, a hiss escaping from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, that hurts. I can’t fucking believe I broke my arm again.”

  She reached out and swept his hair from his forehead, leaning forward to kiss him there, careful not to jostle him. “You do seem to be a magnet for this kind of thing.”

  He grimaced. “Lucky me.”

  All humor fled. “You are lucky. So am I, so are the Smithsons, and so is Gabe McConnell.” Her eyes misted and she put her hand on his good arm, squeezing gently. A giant lump settled in her throat, making her words come out a strangled whisper. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You saved yourself. God, Dee. When I realized she had gas and a lighter—” His voice trailed off and his eyes blinked closed. “Scared the shit out of me, but you held it together. Jesus, you were calm.”

  “Only on the outside,” she admitted wryly, lacing her fingers with his. “Inside, I was trying hard not to throw up. Or give up.”

  He opened his eyes. “Did she make it out?”

  Her heart was heavy for the young, emotionally unstable girl who’d been manipulated by an older, cunning, sick bastard. “No, she didn’t. But we got Whitcomb. He was there, waiting for her. Wouldn’t shut up about how it was all her idea.”

  Disgust etched itself on Colin’s face. “We’ll get him. With his print at the one scene, and what’s on his computer, we should be able to get him.” He shifted slightly on the bed. “Goddamn, this hurts. How’d Kayla get in?”

  “The alarm system was off because he was expecting guests. Looks like she came in the back door. The team has McConnell’s security tapes, so we should see for sure then.”

  “What about McConnell’s place?”

  Guilt sliced through her. “A lot of damage on the dining room side of the house. Water damage on a good part of the first floor. I’m not an expert, but it looked fixable. I don’t know what he’ll decide to do.” She couldn’t hold back her sigh.

  He frowned. “Why the guilty face? We did what we had to do, or more people would’ve died.”

  “I know that. But it still leaves a sour feeling in my stomach.”

  “Think about it this way. If we hadn’t done this, hadn’t warned him, everyone in that house might’ve died.”

  She hadn’t considered that, and he was right. “True.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “About that, no.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get into the whole thing about what he did say. Now wasn’t really the time to talk about their relationship, and she hoped Colin hadn’t caught her slip of the tongue.

  Wrong.

  “He said something to you. Spill.”

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he was surprisingly strong for someone in pain.

  He frowned. “What did he say, Delia?”

  His words had the bite of an order, even though his voice was reed thin. She responded to it, almost on instinct. “He said that if you weren’t interested in being my Dom, he’d introduce me to Doms who’d show me the ropes.” She gave a half laugh. “He might’ve meant that literally.”

  Colin growled. “I already warned him that wasn’t going to happen.”

  Her heart sped up but she wasn’t going to ask him to explain himself, not now. When his arm was set, and his head was clear, then she would. The arrival of a hospital transporter bought her time.

  The older man released the wheels on the gurney and hooked Colin’s IV to a pole on the bed. “I’ll be taking you to X-ray.” He smiled at her. “We’ll be back shortly.”

  She leaned over and kissed Colin’s cheek. He smelled like smoke and she was sure she did too, but she didn’t care. She pressed her face to his and stayed there for a moment. When she pulled back, her eyes were misty.

  So were his.

  “I’ll call the team and see what they’ve got,” she said, her voice thick. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Shortly turned out to be three hours. To keep herself occupied, she checked in with the task force. Not only were the Mendozas and the McDonoughs silent partners in the bondage club in Baltimore, the Lindstroms and the Wests had been members there. The manager of the club had mentioned that he’d gotten information about McConnell’s retreat and had posted it at the club, which is how they’d all wound up at Bondage and Breakfast. Whitcomb had gone to the club as a prospective member and had seen the notice.

  When the transporter brought Colin back, he was in a wheelchair, his arm set in a cast and held in place with a sling. His eyes were glazed with pain or drugs, she wasn’t sure which.

  “He insists on being released,” the doctor said, frowning. “Does he have someone to stay with? He shouldn’t be alone with this concussion, even though it’s mild.”

  Stubborn man. “He can stay with me.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Colin said petulantly. “I can take care of myself. I always have. And don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

  The babysitter comment stung, but she cut him some slack since he wasn’t quite himself. She forced her own feelings and worries away. “Well, too bad, because you’re getting one. Or you’re staying here.”

  The doctor laughed. “I can see he’s in good hands.” He handed her the list of instructions and symptoms to look for, then left, promising to have someone come by to discharge him.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Shut up, Colin. You’ll stay with me at my place, since it’s closer to everything.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  She blew out a sigh. “I said shut up, and I mean it. You’re coming with me, and that’s that. Don’t make me pull out the restraints Master Gabriel gave me. I’ll use them, I swear it.”

  He shut up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Colin came awake slowly, fighting through the fog in his brain. What the fuck? He felt the way he had right after he and Delia had broken up, suffering from too much beer and nothing but time to wallow in self-pity. Had he had too much last night?

  He blinked, looking up at the ceiling fan. Ceiling fan? He didn’t have one of those in his tiny apartment. He blinked again, swiveling his head, his eyes landing on flame-red hair splayed across a pillow. “Delia?”

  His voice shocked him. It was raspy, smoke-thickened, and in a flash, everything came back. Including the throbbing in his head and the ache in his arm. He groaned. “Son of a bitch.”

  Dee rolled over and looked at him, her brow furrowed. “You okay?”

  “As okay as I can be with this jackhammer in my head and someone sticking a hot poker in my arm.”

  She flipped over in bed, then rolled back, holding a bo
ttle of water and a tablet. “Here, take this. It should take the edge off.”

  After he tossed back the pill and drained the water, she leaned up on one arm and felt his forehead. “No fever.”

  “You were expecting one?” His voice cracked like a whip and her eyes clouded. Shit. He wasn’t sure why he was annoyed with her, but he was. Maybe he was just mad at himself, pissed off in general. He pushed the irritation away. He shouldn’t take it out on her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “Well, you did, and I was only making sure,” she retorted. “The doctor said it was possible with the fracture. How about your head? Any ringing in your ears?”

  “No.”

  “Dizziness?”

  “No.”

  “Nausea?”

  “Jesus, I said no.”

  She stiffened and climbed off the bed. “Excuse me for asking,” she muttered, stalking toward the door.

  Panic flooded him, so strong it took his mind right off his head and his arm. Goddamn it, they were bickering like they had last year. Were they doomed to repeat history? Not if he had anything to say about it. “Wait.” She kept going, and he tried again. “Delia, wait.”

  She stopped, one hand on the doorknob, glancing over her shoulder. There was fear in her eyes, fear she was trying to hide from him, choosing to run away instead. With the clarity of a year gone by, he realized he’d never fully understood her running away, even if he thought he had. Leaving hadn’t been just to calm down. It had been to protect herself from emotional pain.

  His heart clenched. “Come here. Please.”

  The indecision on her face hurt worse than any arm break. He rolled to his side and sat up, then leaned against the headboard of her bed. She watched from where she stood, her lip caught between her teeth.

  He knew what it would take to fix this, but damn it, baring his soul was something he sucked at. This was important, though, and this was Delia. She was worth everything to him.

  “I’m not angry with you,” he admitted.

  “Then why the nasty attitude?”

  “Fear. I was terrified I was going to lose you in there. You came so close to dying.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t think I’d survive that.”