Let It Burn

by Ruth Cardello

  “Of course it didn’t. Don’t worry. I handled it. He won’t bother you again.”

  A tightness spread across her chest. Oh, no. She felt sick. “What did you do?” her words came out as a whisper.

  “I fired him. You’re my niece. It was bad enough that he asked you out, but to dare to say anything derogatory about you here, to my staff, that was inexcusable.”

  Fired him? “Oh, you mean Dr. Gunder.” Relief flooded through her, and she felt like a complete idiot for believing for a second that her uncle was capable of anything sinister.

  “Yes, Dr. Gunder. Why, is someone else harassing you? Don’t be afraid to give me their names. I have zero tolerance for that kind of thing. We’re here to save lives not replicate scenes from daytime soap operas.”

  “No, everyone else has been wonderful.”

  Her uncle leaned forward and gave her knee a pat. “Since you said yes to Gunder, I know you must have been excited to have been asked out. Your mother explained to me that you’ve always had trouble finding dates. Don’t worry. I know a lot of people. We’ll find you someone nice.”

  Helene wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. “Please, don’t listen to my mother. I’m fine.”

  “Of course.” Her uncle sat back with a sympathetic smile. “We won’t speak of this again, but I wanted you to know I take my role as your guardian seriously.”

  Guardian? “Uncle Clarence, I’m twenty-six, I don’t need—”

  “I may not have been around much while you were growing up, but having you here has reminded me of the importance of family. Whatever you need, Helene, all you have to do is ask. You said you wanted to go back to school. I want to help you make that happen.”

  Blinking back tears, Helene said, “I don’t know what to say except thank you and I’m sorry I was the reason you had to let one of your doctors go. I should have known better than to agree to that date in the first place.”

  With a touch of sadness in his eyes, he said, “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Helene. Don’t rush to shed that innocence. Trust me, it’s not easy once it’s gone.”

  Helene nodded because the truth of how much she wanted to ditch that innocence wasn’t something she could share with her uncle. “I love you, Uncle Clarence.”

  His smile returned. “I love you, too, Lenny.”

  Helene’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t you dare. It’s bad enough my parents call me that.”

  He laughed heartily. “We used to call your mother Rosie Posie. Start throwing that back at her and your nickname will die away pretty quickly.”

  Smiling, Helene said, “Really? That’s awesome. What else don’t I know about her?”

  Her uncle went on to share several more stories about what it had been like for them as children. His intent was to make Helene feel better, and it worked. She was smiling and laughing in no time.

  Eventually her uncle glanced at the clock on the wall, stood, and said, “I hate to say it, but I have to get back to work. Was there anything else you needed?”

  Helene smacked her forehead. How could I forget? “Yes. I met someone yesterday who asked me a question that I thought you’d be the better one to answer.”

  “Who did you meet?” he asked, already beginning to shuffle through papers.

  Helene went to stand in front of his desk. “Andrew Barrington.”

  Her uncle went pale and sat down. “Where did you meet him?”

  “Here at the clinic.” She leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

  Looking like he was far from fine, her uncle said, “Sorry, I got lightheaded for a moment. Probably because I skipped breakfast. Luckily I’m surrounded by doctors, right?”

  “Do you want me to call someone?” she asked in a mild panic.

  “No. No. They nag me enough about my blood sugar. I’ll have Marcy bring me a snack after you go.” He rested his hands on his desk. “Now, tell me about this Andrew Barrington. What did he want to know?”

  “We don’t have to talk about this now. It’s nothing.” The last thing she wanted to do was add to her uncle’s stress, especially when he wasn’t feeling well.

  “Tell me,” her uncle said in a harsh tone she’d never heard him use. Her shock must have shone on her face because he grimaced. “Sorry, I get testy when my BSL is low.” He picked up his phone and asked his secretary to have orange juice sent up from the cafeteria. “Now, what were you saying?”

  “Just that the question can wait.”

  “What was it? His question. What did he ask you?”

  “It’s about his brother. He died at birth in this clinic twenty-nine years ago. The family is still wondering how it happened. I told Andrew if he had a question about it he should ask you directly.” Her next suggestion sounded ridiculous as she said it now. “I thought we could have him over tonight for dinner. It’s Andrew’s family who are pushing for answers. He understands that awful things like that can happen no matter how good the care is. I thought if you met with him it might smooth the whole thing over.”

  “Why are they asking about this now?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Her uncle brought a shaking hand up to smooth his hair back. “Did he say anything else? Ask about anyone else?”

  “Not really. I mean, yes. A nurse. He said his family asked him to find the nurse who had worked for you during that time.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Pamela Thorsen.”

  “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Helene didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Do you remember his family? I know it was a long time ago.”

  Her uncle’s face tightened. “You never forget the ones you lose. I remember the Barringtons. They’re an extremely wealthy family from Boston.”

  Wealthy? Andrew didn’t give off that vibe at all. “And the baby that died?”

  Her uncle stood and walked to the window of his office. “Nothing could be done to prevent what happened.” He turned back to face her. “Did you say you invited Andrew Barrington to dinner?”

  “I told him I’d ask you.”

  “Do it. Invite him for seven. We’ll have a late meal.”

  Helene hesitated. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  His smile looked forced. “I’ll be fine.”

  Unsure of what to say or do next, Helene just stood there feeling like she’d let him down.

  As he often did, he seemed to read her mind. “You did the right thing, Helene. If his family has concerns, it’s our duty to help them find some peace.” He referenced the clock again. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have too much to do and not enough hours in the day to get it done.”

  “Of course,” Helene said. She started walking to the door, stopped, and rushed over to her uncle to give him a hug. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

  He kissed her forehead. “If I had a daughter, I’d like to think she would have turned out like you. The world looks better when I see it through your eyes.” He turned away again. “Now go on. Get back to work.”

  “See you tonight,” she said just before she closed the door.

  He didn’t answer, but she didn’t wait for him to. Her uncle was a busy man. He had, though, agreed to meet Andrew and, hopefully, that would bring a good conclusion to a very confusing couple of days.

  I’ll see Andrew tonight.

  Most likely, for the last time.

  He’ll have his answers and there’ll be no reason for us to see each other again.

  Chapter Five

  Stiles’s house wasn’t the mammoth structure Andrew had expected. It wasn’t small, nor was it flashy. It was a villa on a hill, stucco exterior, muted colors, a gated home within a gated community, on a third of an acre with nothing blocking the view from the street. A guesthouse flanked one side with not so much as a tree blocking it from the main home. Stiles seemed to value security over aesthetics, which was a curious positio
n for a supposedly beloved benefactor.

  Andrew pressed the video intercom on the stone pillar at the gate and announced his arrival. A man responded, telling him to pull up and park in front of the far left garage, and Andrew did so after the gate swung open. Before getting out, he leaned over, opened the glove compartment of his car, and tucked a 9mm Berretta in the back of his trousers. He didn’t think there would be a need for it, but he hadn’t taken the advice he’d gotten on the beach that morning lightly. When someone yells duck, a wise man does so first and figures out the nature of the threat later.

  “If you’re not careful, you will get her killed,” the anonymous blonde had said. Careful about what? She hadn’t exactly been specific with her warnings. Was his association with Helene putting her in danger because of who he was, because of something her uncle had done, or for some completely unrelated issue someone was afraid he’d stumble upon? The blonde had known about Iraq, or implied she had. Was the threat against him because of what he knew, and Helene was someone Ahearn might use against him? None of it made sense. He’d tried to call the number on the card, but it had rung many times without answer. Not exactly the helpline the blonde had implied it would be.

  As Andrew walked up the many steps of the villa, he asked himself if it was wise to be there at all. The last thing he wanted was the blood of another person on his hands. And for what?

  My brother sent me to find out about a death that happened nearly thirty years ago. Even if the clinic was at fault, what would the truth change? Nothing. If negligence was a pattern of behavior, Dr. Clarence Stiles wouldn’t still be in business.

  Does any of this matter enough to put an innocent woman’s life at risk?

  If she is innocent.

  She definitely had nothing to do with what had happened twenty-nine years ago, but there was no way to know what her uncle might be mixed up in now.

  I could leave now. Andrew hesitated before ringing the doorbell. However, if my presence here is a danger to Helene, how safe is she anyway? I can’t walk away before I know who would hurt her and why.

  Recon without engagement is no longer an option, but I’m not going in blind. If there is a lurking threat, I will find and neutralize it. Helene Franklin is not dying on my watch.

  He squared his shoulders and rang the doorbell.

  The door flew open, revealing the woman he couldn’t shake from his thoughts. She wore a navy blue dress that was modest and sexy at the same time. The excitement in her eyes accompanied by the pink flush on her cheeks made him want to pull her to him and kiss her soundly. The presence of the suited man at her side, though, kept Andrew in check. He looked the man over from head to foot and frowned. This wasn’t her uncle. This man was heavier, older, and had the polite air of someone who was paid to be welcoming.

  “I have it, Paul,” Helene said in a rush.

  “As you wish,” the man said before retreating into the home.

  Helene smiled at Andrew, and he felt a surprising warmth. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Her smile widened. “I never know what to wear to dinner here. My uncle is on the formal side. I grew up on a large animal rescue and rehab facility. Back there, we wiped our feet, washed our hands, and that was good enough.”

  The more he learned about her, the more she fascinated him. She took sweet to a level that bordered on unbelievable. In his experience, people pretended to be good, but if you scratched their surface you discovered an entirely different side of them. An animal rescue? Seriously? She was hard selling not only her uncle’s good nature, but a positive image of herself as well. No one was that good. Instead of sharing any of those thoughts, he chose to keep their conversation light. “You washed your hands? That’s considered a luxury in some of the places I’ve spent time.”

  She opened the door wider. “Come in.” She bit her lip and looked uncertain. “My uncle isn’t here yet. He said to start without him because he’d be late. I should have called you when I found out. I hope you don’t consider this a waste of your ti—”

  Her huge-eyed innocence act was too much. He had to know how much he knew about her was an act and how much was real. There was one surefire way to find out. He held the door with one hand and backed her up against it with one strong move, digging his other hand into the back of her hair to hold her head still for his plundering kiss. Her arms slid up to loop around his neck, and she arched against him. He was rock hard and loving every place her body touched his. Her mouth opened for him, and he lost himself in the sweet taste of her.

  The reason he’d initiated their kiss fell to the wayside as fireworks shot through him, overwhelming him. He’d been numb for so long that feeling anything, even something this good, was painful. Desire for her cut through his guilt, his shame, and made a mockery of his willpower. Sinner or saint, he didn’t care which she was. Whatever she wanted, he wanted to give her as she kept rubbing herself back and forth against his cock.

  Her hands slid down his chest, across his stomach, and he thought he might come from the unexpected pleasure of them gripping his ass. She was bold in her exploration. It was difficult to believe she was a virgin, but, holy shit. Now, he wanted her to be. He wanted to be the first one to taste her, the only one. His completely primitive and possessive desire to own her fueled his need for her. Lost in the heat of their passion, he could have taken her right there in the hallway of her uncle’s home. She kissed him with total abandon that said she wanted the same.

  Her hands moved upward over his belt. He knew the exact moment she grazed the gun because she tensed and broke off the kiss.

  Between ragged breaths, she asked, “Is that a—do you have a—?”

  Where he was, pressed up against her, he felt her heart beating wildly in her chest. It wasn’t only passion he saw in her eyes; there was also fear. “Yes.”

  She kept her eyes focused on his neck and dropped her arms away. “Why would you bring one here?”

  He gripped her chin with more force than he meant to and brought her face upward until her eyes met his. “You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

  “I’m trying not to be.”

  Her honesty brought a small smile to his lips. “But your instincts tell you I’m dangerous?”

  She looked away then back. “Sometimes,” she whispered.

  He released her chin and brought his hand down her neck, marveling at the delicacy of it as he caressed it. “Do you know who everyone says are the most deadly people to deal with?”

  “No.” She swallowed visibly, looking both turned on and more than a little afraid of him. He didn’t mind either reaction.

  She needed to be careful when it came to him. He was damaged, and if she was half as innocent as she portrayed herself to be, the right thing to do would be to help her without giving in to the temptation of her. His need for her was battling with what was left of his moral code, and it was winning. He continued, “A man who has nothing left to lose or one willing to give his life to protect someone. I am both.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand. Who do you feel you need to protect?”

  “You.” His answer hung in the air for a long moment.

  Chapter Six

  Me?

  Maybe it was the sensation of being so physically close to him or the strength he exuded—and good Lord can the man kiss—but she believed him. She didn’t think she was in danger, but she believed he thought she was. Was this what was referred to as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? She didn’t know. She had no experience with it, at least not in humans, but she knew how animals dealt with stress. Some withdrew. Some lashed out. Often the brutalized ones saw an enemy in every extended hand. They were the most dangerous ones.

  And he has a gun.

  “Who do you think I need protecting from?” she asked and held her breath as she awaited his answer.

  “I’m not sure.” There was the slightest falter in his confidence, one she would have missed if she hadn’t been watching his r
eaction closely.

  She let out a slow breath and spoke in the tone she used at the rescue whenever she approached a volatile resident. “You don’t have to protect me, Andrew. I’m not in any danger.”

  His only answer was a clenching and releasing of a hand at his side.

  In a calm tone, she suggested, “Why don’t you give me the gun?”

  He ran his hands down her arms in a final caress then stepped back. “What time is your uncle expected?”

  A chill passed through her, and she considered calling the authorities. But what would I say? He hasn’t threatened my uncle or me. He’s here because we invited him. “He didn’t say, but I think you should leave.”

  He frowned and studied her face. “I would never hurt you.”

  She kept her shoulders squared and held his eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone. Please leave.”

  He rubbed a hand roughly over his chin. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can’t leave until I know you’re safe.”

  “You said you were here to find out about your brother. Was that another lie?”

  “No. That’s what brought me to Aruba, but my presence here has put you at risk. I just don’t know how yet.”

  She nodded slowly as her mind raced. The man before her was waging a battle with himself. “Andrew, something happened to you, didn’t it? Something traumatic. How you’re feeling is normal, but what you don’t want to do is act on fears that aren’t based in reality and yours aren’t.”

  “I’m not afraid,” he said in a cold tone.

  No. He clearly wasn’t. “Neither am I.” It was a standoff of sorts. They simply stood there, painfully sexually aware of each other, breathing deeply, while also completely at odds. “We had a bull elephant come to our rescue once. He’d mauled the owner of an amateur traveling circus who had purchased him. He was angry, and even my parents wondered if he could be saved. He never charged at me because he knew I wasn’t afraid of him. I respected what he’d been through. I knew all he wanted was to find his herd again. I believe you don’t want to hurt me, but I do think you’re dangerous, and you will be until you talk to someone about whatever happened to you.”