Let It Burn

by Ruth Cardello

  There wasn’t time to argue. Andrew jumped in the driver’s seat while Art took the passenger side. They started off across the rescue, kicking up dirt as they flew down the unpaved roads.

  “He’s telling me to open the door. He says he’ll get me out of here. Hurry, Andrew.”

  Andrew was using both of his hands to drive, and Art heard his daughter’s fear.

  “What are you two involved in?” he demanded.

  “Later,” Andrew said and threw the phone to Art. “Right now, we need to make sure this isn’t who she thinks it is. Ask her to put her phone on video.”

  Art caught the phone even though he was being thrown around while Andrew took tight turns. “Honey, we’ll be there in one minute. Hang on. Can you switch to video?”

  “I’ll try,” Helene said in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have come home.”

  A moment later Art held up the phone for Andrew to see. Andrew slammed on the brakes, and quickly grabbed his phone back. “Shit. Helene, you’re safe, but I have to call off my men.” He sent a quick text to his team to stand down and fall back.

  “What the hell is going on?” Art growled.

  Andrew let his next words to Helene also be his answer to Art. “Helene, you’re safe, do you hear me? That’s Dax Marshall, my brother-in-law. Kenzi’s going to kill me. My men just shot at her husband. Stay there. We’re coming.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andrew had people up in the trees? People with guns? And the furious-looking man banging on her window was his brother-in-law? She unlocked the car doors and the suited man jumped in the passenger seat.

  “Are you hurt?” He scanned her as if expecting to see blood.

  “No,” she said, her mouth almost too dry to speak. “They were just warning shots.”

  “We need to get out of here. Do you want me to drive? You don’t look so good.”

  Helene bet she didn’t; her hands were shaking so much she’d dropped the phone onto the floor of her car, and she felt like she was about to throw up. “Andrew’s calling off his men. We’re safe. I think.”

  “Andrew’s men? What the hell is going on here?”

  Before Helene had time to answer, the gate of the rescue opened and a truck sped through it, coming to a dusty stop beside her car. Both her father and Andrew came running to her side of the car.

  Her door was pulled open and Helene attempted to step out, not sure her legs would hold her. She looked up at the trees, half expecting more gunfire. Not because she didn’t trust Andrew, but because she once again felt like she was in a nightmare, and nightmares didn’t follow the rules of reality.

  Andrew pulled her out and into his arms, but she didn’t stay there long. Her father grabbed Andrew by the back of the neck and yanked him backward.

  Helene thought she knew what her father looked like when he was angry. She’d seen him go toe to toe, sometimes fist to fist, with some nasty people in the past, but she’d never seen him look as close to real violence as he did in that moment. He shoved her behind him and said, “No. You don’t go anywhere near my daughter.” He looked up from the man in the suit who was walking toward them to the trees and back at Andrew. “I let you in my house. Trusted you with my baby.”

  “Dad,” Helene stepped out from behind him. “Andrew—”

  “What have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Andrew?” the man Andrew had called Dax demanded.

  “Who are you?” Art yelled at Dax.

  “Family,” Dax yelled back with more than a little impatience in his voice. “Who are you?”

  Helene went to stand with Andrew. “Dad, Andrew is only trying to keep us safe.”

  “Safe from what?” her father barked into Andrew’s face.

  Instead of answering, Andrew put an arm around Helene and pulled her closer. He buried his face in her hair. “I will hire a hundred men to guard you every day for the rest of your life if it means never feeling like this again. All I could think was what if I didn’t get to you in time.”

  Dax growled. “I came to check on you, Andrew, to make sure you’re okay. I’m glad I didn’t bring Kenzi with me. This is as far from okay as I’ve ever seen anyone.”

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” her father demanded and Andrew raised his head.

  In a tight voice, he said, “Anyone we tell has a chance of finding themselves in the same danger.”

  “Tell what?” Dax asked.

  Helene met Andrew’s eyes. Always the hero, he’d take a beating if it meant keeping others safe, but that wasn’t what she wanted and she no longer saw it as their best option. “We need to tell them. I mean, what if it had been them today? People are safer if they’re prepared.”

  “And I’d like to not be fucking shot at again by snipers you apparently haven’t bothered to show photos of your family to,” Dax said harshly.

  Art was looking at Andrew in disgust. “My daughter never got so much as a speeding ticket. What did you drag her into?”

  Helene stepped out of Andrew’s arms, but took his hand in hers. “He didn’t drag me into anything. It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

  Her father shook his head, clearly not believing her.

  “No,” Andrew said, “it’s not, Helene. Your uncle did this. It’s all on him.”

  Maybe, but a part of her wished she’d never gone to Aruba. “Dad, Uncle Clarence isn’t the man you and Mom thought he was. He isn’t who I thought he was either. He did some very bad things and warned us not to tell anyone, but maybe the advice of a coward is advice that shouldn’t be taken.”

  “Who the fuck is Uncle Clarence?” Dax asked.

  Art turned toward him. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t swear in front of my daughter.”

  Dax threw his hands up again. “Yes, I can see that’s what we should be concerned about right now.”

  Andrew snapped, “Go back to Boston, Dax. I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  “That’s it,” Art said in a stern, authoritative voice. “Andrew, get in the truck. We’re returning it to Dr. Robbins. If we’re lucky, he hasn’t already called the sheriff. We’ll tell him whatever we have to, to get him out of here. He has a panther to release so he might swallow whatever we tell him. As soon as he’s gone I want everyone back in the main house. No one goes anywhere before we talk this out. Are we clear?”

  Helene had no idea what kind of reaction to expect from Andrew, but he held her father’s eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Art turned to Dax. “You and your fancy car can follow Helene to the main house, but don’t go in.”

  Dax nodded his head once.

  Art stood there, still tense and looking ready to punch someone. Helene let go of Andrew’s hand and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I should have told you everything.”

  He hugged her to him. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, Lenny. I just had my whole life flash before my eyes. Your mom and I pushed you out into the world, and if that had taken you away from us, I would have never been able to forgive myself.”

  If squeezing harder could have erased the last few minutes, Helene would have kept hugging her father, but there were things they all needed to do. “I’m fine, Dad. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

  Her father took the keys from Andrew and took the driver’s seat of the truck. He gave Dax a long look as if he considered demanding that he come along with them, but maintained his original plan.

  Helene got back into her car and Dax walked slowly back to his. He pulled off to one side and let Helene take the lead. All three vehicles drove through the gate. The truck with her father and Andrew kept going, but Helene stopped in front of the house and Dax parked his car beside hers.

  Her mother was beside the car, waiting for her as she stepped out. “You scared Dr. Robbins half to death. I convinced him to give you all a minute to sort things out.” Her eyes went to the tall, suited man getting out of the Maserati. “What was happening out there and who’s that
?”

  “Dax something, Andrew’s brother-in-law.”

  “That’s what this was all about? We had a visitor at the front gate? The way Andrew and your father peeled past the house I thought there’d been a crash or something.”

  Dax walked up and put out his hand. “Dax Marshall.”

  Her mother shook it. “Rose Franklin. It’s nice to meet a member of Andrew’s family. He’s a tough one to get to speak about much.”

  Dax nodded. “Sounds accurate.”

  Her mother waved toward the house. “I guess this changes your plans to go along for the release?”

  “Oh, yes,” Helene said, still shaking on the inside.

  “Well, let’s go in where it’s cooler. Would either of you like a glass of water or lemonade?”

  Neither Dax nor Helene budged. Helene said, “Dad asked us to wait outside.”

  “Did he?” her mother asked, cocking her head to one side. “How odd. He must have thought I wouldn’t be here, not that that would matter. Come on.”

  Dax folded his arms across his chest and sat back against the front of Helene’s car. “I’ll wait here.”

  Helene joined him. “Me, too.”

  “Is something going on?”

  “Dad said we’ll talk as soon as he gets back. If it’s okay, Mom, I’d really rather only explain everything once.”

  Her mother gave her a long look. “You look a little wrecked. I’ll bring drinks out here.”

  Helene and Dax thanked her.

  After her mother had gone into the house, Dax said dryly, “I almost called ahead to tell Andrew I was coming but decided to surprise him.”

  Helene smiled slightly and met his eyes. He wasn’t at all the scary character she’d imagined him to be. She quipped, “Hindsight.” An awkward few moments passed, and Helene felt she had to say something. “So you’re Andrew’s family.” Dax arched an eyebrow at her, and she forced a pained smile.

  “And you are—?”

  Helene looked away without answering. No matter how one wanted to live happily in denial, reality had a way of forcing its way to the forefront. Why would he want to tell his family about her? How could Andrew possibly explain her or how they’d met without lying? How could she ever look them in the eye and not feel awful for whatever role her uncle might have played in the death of one of their own?

  Dax cleared his throat. “I’m here because my wife loves her brother, and she’s worried about him.”

  Since he didn’t know about Aruba, Helene had to ask, “Worried? Why?”

  “He told her he would finish a tour in Iraq then head home in time for the holidays before going back. He didn’t come home. He didn’t reenlist. And no one knows why.” Dax punched his leg. “Do you?”

  Helene looked in the direction where she knew Andrew and her father were, even though she couldn’t see them through the heavily wooded area. “I don’t know the details, but even if I did, it would be something I’d leave for Andrew to share . . . if he’s able to.”

  “What did he mean that people would be in danger if they knew about your uncle?”

  Helene was saved from answering by the arrival of her mother with two glasses of water. Even though they’d met under crazy circumstances, she trusted Andrew. Again and again he’d proven to her that she could. All she had to do was stall until he came back and the two of them would figure out what to say together.

  As soon as the truck started moving, Art growled, “You’re going to tell me what’s going on. I want to hear it now before you and my daughter have a chance to come up with a story you think will appease me.”

  “It’s exactly as Helene said—Clarence Stiles got himself involved with some dangerous people. He asked me to bring your daughter home while he fled Aruba. He warned both of us not to tell anyone. Without saying why it was necessary, I couldn’t tell you I’d hired men to watch the perimeter of your property—”

  “Couldn’t tell me? You’ve been with us well over a week. You’re expecting me to believe that never in that time did your brain engage and think I might need to know any of this?” Art parked the truck back near the panther enclosure but didn’t make a move to get out. “I let you into my house. I trusted you with my daughter. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Art threw the door open and got out. Andrew took a deep breath and did the same. He held his silence while Art clapped the vet on the shoulder and made light of the whole incident. “Stupid interns. Helene’s been gone long enough to forget not to take their pranks seriously. This one just shaved five years off my life.”

  Andrew half listened to the story Art told the veterinarian, but all he cared about was getting back to Helene. Was she still scared? His men had texted that they’d fired because the man had looked like he was retrieving what might have been a weapon from his vehicle. Dax fit what Andrew had told them to watch out for: someone who would come in confidently and look as if he didn’t belong. Hitmen weren’t timid. He couldn’t fault his men for reading the situation as they had, but he’d talk to them about their delivery.

  Although, had there been an actual threat to Helene, their method might have saved her life. He shuddered, fighting back the horrific images that had filled his mind when he’d thought she was in danger.

  On autopilot, he helped Dr. Robbins and Art load the panther into a travel crate. Dr. Robbins asked if he wanted to accompany him for the release and Andrew shook his head. He’d been looking forward to that ever since he’d first heard about it, but all he wanted at that moment was to have Helene back in his arms and assure her that he’d find a way to fix this.

  A few minutes after the vet drove off Andrew and Art stood facing each other. Art said, “I want you and your men gone. I don’t care what you have to tell Helene.”

  Andrew pocketed his hands and rocked back onto his heels. “I’ll leave, but I will have people watching out for Helene. You don’t know what you’re facing. She needs the protection.”

  Art stepped closer, grabbing the front of Andrew’s shirt. “Why? You say keeping me in the dark will protect me. I don’t give a shit about me. My wife and my daughter are my life.”

  Andrew could have pushed Art away, but he didn’t. He understood Art’s desperation, and it moved him. This was Helene’s father, though. What if telling him inspired Art to do something stupid that got him killed? What if her father slipped up and told someone or asked a question to the wrong person? Was it worth the risk? Andrew wasn’t sure. He was willing to step in front of a bullet for Helene, but could he allow her father to do the same?

  Art shook Andrew. “You bastard, who do I need to protect my family from?”

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said and looked him in the eye. “If I did, they wouldn’t still be breathing.”

  Art dropped his hand and brought it to his mouth. “For God’s sake, help me protect my family. What happened in Aruba?”

  Andrew took a long, calming breath. Helene might hate him for what he was about to do, but her safety was what mattered most to him. “My family sent me to Aruba to ask about something that happened a long time ago.” As Andrew retold the events, he left out how he’d watched Helene before ever speaking to her. The date she’d gone on with the doctor was irrelevant as was the fact that he’d been unable to think of anything else but her since the first time he’d seen her. He did, however, retell precisely what Stiles had said regarding his involvement in the death of Kent. By the time he described how Stiles had burned his house to destroy the records before fleeing into hiding, Art was shaking his head as if it were all too much to absorb.

  They stood there for a few minutes after Andrew finished.

  “You brought her home after you learned what Clarence had done to your family?”

  “She had nothing to do with that.”

  Art rubbed a hand across his forehead then he pinned Andrew with an intense look. “Tell me, would you trust your daughter with a man like you?”

  Andrew chose brutal honesty. “With the ma
n I used to be, yes.”

  Art studied Andrew’s expression. “You’ve got ugly demons haunting you, don’t you, son?”

  “Yes, sir, and some days it feels like they’re winning.”

  After a moment, Art asked, “Who do you have protecting my land?”

  “The best retired Marine scout snipers I served with, men who taught me everything I know. I’ll introduce you to them.”

  Art rolled his eyes heavenward. “Yes. I suppose I should meet them.” He rubbed his forehead again. “I can’t decide if you’re a hero or a danger to everyone you’re around. Do I call the law and have you hauled away or thank you for bringing Lenny home to us?”

  Andrew didn’t have an answer to that, so he said nothing.

  Art turned and started walking. “Come on, everyone should be waiting for us back at the house.”

  Andrew wordlessly fell into step beside him.

  After a few minutes of walking together, Art asked, “Will you tell your brother-in-law why there were people shooting at him?”

  “Not if I can help it. No matter what role Stiles played in Kent’s death, it won’t bring him back. My mother mourned his death for a long time, and it nearly destroyed her. What would be the purpose of opening all that up for her again?”

  They didn’t speak again until they were near the house. “What if Helene already told him?”

  Andrew shrugged. He’d thought of that, but Helene was surprisingly good at keeping her head in situations that would break most people. She wouldn’t say anything unless she felt she had to. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now.

  If Dax does know, I’ll convince him that no one else needs to. Like the rest of what was fucked up about his life, he’d contain the fallout.

  When he saw Helene he fought the urge to run to her and pull her into his arms again. He wanted to hug her, reassure her, kiss her until she understood exactly how much she’d come to mean to him. He didn’t, though. Instead, he kept pace with her father until they were standing just a few feet from where Helene was with her mother and Dax.

  His eyes met hers. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to even start. Did he start by apologizing for not telling her about the men he’d hired? Did he take her aside and break it to her that he’d told her father everything?