by Liz Johnson
But they didn’t have ten minutes.
They didn’t even have two.
She and Luke locked eyes for a brief moment, the thickening smoke making his figure fuzzy as the truth slammed into her. He was going to die, too. And it was all her fault. He would be collateral damage for whatever crime she’d committed.
And there was nothing she could do except beg for mercy.
Lord, save us!
TWELVE
Luke choked on the haze filling the landing. He hacked and coughed against the burning in his chest, the air itself painful.
Mandy leaned on the wall behind him, her back curled and head bent between her knees. She wobbled for a moment but kept her feet.
He spun back to the knob. He just had to get this pin to pop. It was clearly an upgraded lock, one the publisher had installed to keep Big Brother’s prying eyes at bay, but it was still a pin-and-tumbler. It wasn’t overly complex. Just enough to keep them from escaping.
He shut his watering eyes under the heat of the fire that licked against the other side of the door. When he did, he was in another place, another time. Eight years old and crying for help. Terrified and alone. Confined. Forgotten.
The memory made his skin too tight, as if it belonged to someone else, and he flexed his shoulders and back to stretch it out. That just made it feel as though it was on fire.
“God, we have to get out of here. Help us.” His prayer was little more than a breath as he twisted his picklock one more time, hoping the pin would shift this time.
It didn’t.
“Few more minutes,” Mandy wheezed. “Fire department…few minutes away.”
He risked a glance over his shoulder to find her skin sallow and her eyes red.
If Mandy lost consciousness, he couldn’t carry her through the fire. He wasn’t even sure he could get himself through it.
He glanced at the ceiling. A little help. Please.
The last pin slipped into place, and he released a long breath. “Get ready.”
Mandy pushed herself off the wall, her movements sluggish. “Why?”
“We’re going to have to make a run for it.”
“You picked the lock?”
She didn’t have to sound so surprised. He shot her a smug smile before covering his nose and mouth with the collar of his shirt. She followed his example, tucking her chin into her chest.
Letting go of his shirt for a moment, he held up three fingers. “Stay right by me. On zero.” She jerked her head in understanding, and he ticked them down quickly. When he held up just a fist, he flung open the door, which pushed the flames apart just long enough for them to dash across the linoleum.
The fire licked at his arms, and his leg screamed at the light jog. But he pushed through.
Just keep going.
He zeroed in on the sunlight filtering through the front door. Fresh air and freedom were his only goal, Mandy’s hand tucked tightly in his own. He kept her safe in the shelter of his embrace, acting as a wall between her and the blaze.
Escape was so close he could almost taste the cool water. They’d made it through the heart of the fire.
And then she tripped, taking two giant steps to stay upright, her fingers clinging to his. He spun and wrapped an arm around her to keep her on her feet.
“I’m okay.”
He’d started to pull her toward the exit when he glanced down and saw what her foot had caught on.
Gabby.
She lay sprawled on the floor, her hair fanned out around her head, her breathing shallow.
“Keep going.” He waved Mandy on. “Open the door.”
She raced for the entrance as he grabbed Gabby under the armpits. Sweat poured down his back as he dragged the girl toward safety. His leg felt like rubber, every inch of him shaking. A spot on each forearm had been scorched by the fire, but he couldn’t feel that pain yet.
And then a gust of fresh air swept around him. He stumbled onto the sidewalk and then the empty street.
He collapsed next to Gabby’s still form, and Mandy fell down across from him.
The air was sweeter than water in Death Valley, and he angled Gabby’s neck so she could drink deeply of it. But she didn’t stir.
Suddenly sirens descended upon them, a fire truck and two ambulances taking up both sides of the street. And like ants from a flooded hill, emergency personnel poured into the street. When two paramedics reached Gabby, Luke scooted away. Usually he thrived in the thick of the action. He loved the adrenaline that pumped through his veins. He enjoyed using his medical training when it really counted.
But in that moment, staring at Mandy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d nearly lost the most precious thing in his life. Somewhere between a wild ride down a mountain road and hearing her panicked voice in the basement, he’d fallen for her. Hard. And ignoring it wasn’t really an option. Of course, neither was acting on it.
“Ma’am, are you injured?” A young woman leaned over Mandy, who managed only a cough in response.
“She inhaled a lot of smoke.” He sounded more toad than human. “Probably needs oxygen.”
The paramedic’s gaze shifted to him, her forehead wrinkling. “Javier! Javier!”
As soon as he saw the look in her eyes, the pain in his arms ignited. It was as if a switch had been flipped. The fading adrenaline opened the door for his nerves to cry out. Risking a glance down, he cringed. Each arm boasted a three-inch swath of seared flesh, and now that he noticed, the smell of charred hair nearly made him heave.
Javier approached at a run but stopped to survey his patient.
Luke probably had eight inches and fifty pounds on the guy, and with his knee brace and second-degree burns on his arms, getting him off the ground wasn’t going to be easy.
But he wasn’t about to get carted off on a gurney.
Holding up a finger, he croaked, “I can get up.”
All of a sudden, Mandy was by his side, carefully wrapping his arm across her shoulders and circling his waist with hers. “All right. We’ve done this before. Just lean on me.”
His chuckle turned into a roaring cough as she maneuvered him to his feet without twisting his knee.
“And maybe you should quit smoking. You don’t sound so good.”
He guffawed at that. “You’re one to be talking, Smokey.”
She helped him to the rear bumper of one ambulance as the other took off with Gabby in its bay. “Is she going to be okay?” Mandy pointed to the red beast rolling down the road.
“She got a bad knock on the back of her head and some smoke inhalation,” Javier said, pulling out his medical supplies. “But she was regaining consciousness when I closed her in. Now let me take a look at your arms.” After a thorough inspection, he reached around for a couple ice packs and put them on the burned areas. “Keep these on for about twenty minutes. Would you like to go to the hospital? These are small second-degree burns, but if you’d like, we can take you to the ER.”
“No. That’s okay. I’m a navy medic. I know what to do to care for these.”
Javier nodded just as the young woman handed Mandy an oxygen mask. Luke let her put one on him, too, the green elastic band stretching around his head just above his ears.
He tried to breathe normally, but the unadulterated air was like a dessert buffet. Eventually he let himself close his eyes.
Just for a minute.
The shouts of firemen jerked him awake. Apparently he’d dozed off. The paramedics weren’t in sight—though they’d almost certainly not wandered too far from their ambulance—and the firefighters were winning the battle against the smoking building.
Luke glanced at Mandy, her long lashes resting on now-pink cheeks. Just as he smiled, her eyes fluttered open. “Hey, you.” His words were garbled by the mask, so balancing his ice packs, he pulled it down to his chin. “How’re you feeling?”
After removing her mask, she returned his smile. “Better. You?”
“Good.”
/> She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Fine. My arms feel like they’re still on fire. And my leg feels like I ran a marathon, but I didn’t twist my knee. Happy?”
She leaned her shoulder against his. “Yes.” Resting her ear against him, her sigh was filled with every emotion he’d felt in the previous hour. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to be caught up in all this,” she said.
“I’m just sorry that I couldn’t get that door open faster.” Even now, he could feel his tools in his hands, searching for the pins. If the handle hadn’t gotten so hot. If he hadn’t lost the tension needed to keep the pins in place. If he’d just been a few minutes faster.
Then what? Then they’d be right where they were now.
Safe for the moment but nowhere closer to finding the person responsible.
“How did you know how to pick that lock? And you had that knife handy like you’ve used it a hundred times.” Her jaw moved against his shoulder, but the touch wasn’t enough. He shifted to let her lean her head against his chest, drawing her into his embrace.
The expectant silence prompted him to confess his unusual hobby. “When I was a kid, my mom would take me and my sisters up to my grandparents’ place on the Oregon coast every summer. Just two weeks of running around barefoot and exploring the beach and the woods and Grandma’s attic.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“It was pretty great. But one summer, when I was eight, I found this old trunk in the attic with the key still in the lock. So I opened it up, and it had some old records and dolls in it. My dad had just read Treasure Island to me, and I was convinced there was a treasure in the bottom of that chest. But there were just a handful of dusty quilts. I was upset that there wasn’t something more valuable, so I crawled inside to take a nap.”
She nodded, as though validating his childish train of thought.
“I must have kicked one of the sides in my sleep because I woke up when the lid slammed shut. I was locked inside.”
“Oh, Luke.” The emotion in her voice matched the twist he felt in his gut every time he remembered that day. “How did you get out?”
“I screamed and yelled until I was hoarse, and no one came. And I prayed and prayed that God would send someone to rescue me. But after what felt like hours, I was still trapped in there. I could see through the keyhole, but the key had fallen out.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve a tiny bit of pressure building there, all the fear still easily accessible. “I was hungry and so scared, and I think—as much as my eight-year-old self could—I realized that if no one ever found me, I was going to die. Alone.”
Her hair swung across his arm, as she whipped her face in his direction. Her eyes glistened in the afternoon sun. “What happened?”
“My mom got really worried when I didn’t show up for dinner.” He rubbed his belly. “Even then I didn’t like to miss a meal. And she came looking for me. When I heard her footsteps, I cried out, and she unlocked the trunk and let me out.”
“Oh, Luke, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad, really. Mom felt so horrible that I was in there all day, I got ice cream for dinner.”
She gave him a playful elbow to the stomach, and he faked a pained wheeze.
“Honestly, it’s a rough thing for a kid to face, but it gave me some purpose, too. I knew I wanted to do something with my life to help people who were trapped, who were facing death alone.”
“That’s why you became a SEAL?”
“Yep. It’s also why I learned how to pick a lock.”
She pulled away from him, twisting at the waist so she could look right into his eyes. “The padlocks in your room. You practice on those.”
“I do.”
She cupped his cheek with her palm, her touch like silk to his overheated skin. Underneath the scent of smoke, he could almost smell her sweetness. “Then I’m not sad you were locked in that trunk. Because of that, you saved us today. Because of that, you became a SEAL, who ended up at my practice. Who has saved me more times than I can count.” She chewed into her lip. “I’m just sorry that you were so scared.”
Her compassion stole his breath, and he pulled her closer. “I was more frightened today.”
He heard Mandy’s breath hitch, her unblinking eyes like pools of milk chocolate.
“I was afraid I was going to lose you.”
“Me, too. And it was all my fault.”
He brushed her hair out of her face, leaving his fingers behind her ear and closing the distance between them by half.
Somewhere, in the depths of his memory, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be this close to her. He wasn’t supposed to comb his fingertips through her hair. He most certainly wasn’t supposed to kiss her.
His stomach dropped, and he threw away all caution.
She leaned into him, her lips soft beneath his. Her hand whispered to the back of his neck, playing with the shaggy curls there. Wave upon wave of goose bumps rolled down his back, and he couldn’t stop. Quite honestly, did not want to.
He just wanted to be closer to Mandy. Safe in her arms.
She made him feel protected. He was supposed to be the protector, but somehow she was the one who gave him the courage to keep fighting in spite of his injury. In spite of his uncertain future. She gave him a purpose and a reason to keep going.
The world seemed to stop spinning, and everything disappeared.
Everything except Mandy and their perfect kiss.
*
Mandy had never known something so sweet, so powerful. Luke’s kiss was like lightning over the Pacific. It made everything inside her jump to attention, her every hope and dream suddenly illuminated.
She tried to breathe but couldn’t. And the air that had been so precious just minutes before was now overrated, unnecessary.
Twining her fingers into his ruffled waves, she held on for all she was worth, letting him be both her undoing and her anchor. His arms—even injured—were unrelenting, gentle but unmovable.
Resting his forehead against hers, he snuck a quick breath, and her smile felt as if it would crack her cheeks. When he swooped in for another kiss, her stomach took flight, soaring without concern. And taking her with it.
This kiss was like nothing she’d ever known before. Not as a teenager. Not as an adult. Not even with…
Who could think about him when Luke filled all of her senses? He filled her heart with a joy that no other man had sparked.
This moment was near perfection.
And then it was rudely interrupted.
The cop tried to be subtle, clearing his throat and offering a fake cough. But it had the same result.
Mandy jumped away from Luke, her cheeks burning and lips tingling as sense tumbled back into place.
She’d told him they couldn’t share anything more than what they had. She’d told him why she needed space. And then she’d very nearly attacked him. How many mixed messages could a girl give?
Luke’s eyes were hooded but still shone with a combination of pleasure and pain. Or was it confusion? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t concentrate when he pressed his thumb to the corner of his mouth, and all she wanted in the world was to have him touch her lips again.
Get ahold of yourself, Mandy!
But screaming at herself wasn’t going to help. She’d crossed the line that she’d drawn, broken the promises that she’d made.
Again.
Didn’t she have any self-control? A handsome, kind, protective, compassionate man walked into her life, and she suddenly forgot all her rules.
No. This could not happen again. It just couldn’t.
Except, the butterflies in her stomach suggested that all she really wanted was a replay.
Before the not-so-patient officer could capture their full attention, Luke whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
His words were a knife to her chest, and she had to ignore them as the cop said, “What happened here? Our dispatcher sai
d you were locked in the basement when the fire started.”
Mandy’s eyes shifted between Luke—whose face seemed to say that they would talk more about this later—and the officer. She wanted to talk about what had just happened right now. Actually, that wasn’t true. She wanted Luke to say he was sorry for saying he was sorry. She wanted to know that the kiss had meant something to him.
But if he felt otherwise, she most definitely did not want to know that.
Especially in front of the fidgeting officer.
Finally she focused on the cop with a hesitant nod. “We were looking at the archived newspapers when someone locked us in.” She recounted the rest of their experience in sparse detail while the officer jotted down a few notes.
“And what were you doing down there in the first place?”
“Someone’s been trying to kill me, and I think it might be related to a local family.”
The cop shifted his stance, his pen frozen over his notepad. “Kill you?”
“Yes.” It was surprisingly easy to say at this point. Somewhere along this road, she’d come to terms with being hunted. It wasn’t ideal. It was simply life as she knew it. Life for the foreseeable future—until the cops could find the person after her.
This time she told him everything. The almost hit-and-run, cut brake lines and gas leak. But as she reached Vacerville in her story, her words slowed, her brain churning. She closed one eye and looked into the sky, trying to pinpoint a nugget of information that danced just beyond her consciousness.
With a glance at Luke, she said, “There was something in that basement we weren’t supposed to see.”
Luke scrubbed his hands down his face, but when he met her gaze, she could see he was making the connection, too. “Whoever is after you followed us out here. She tracked us. She could have stayed in San Diego. We’d be back. But she knew that there was information out here that would point to her.”
“She’s never seriously targeted anyone except us, but she was willing to kill Gabby to keep us from finding whatever is—was—down there. All of this has to be related to Laney Tract.” She flipped a hand toward the smoldering remains of the building. And now they’d never know. The archives were almost certainly a total loss, between the fire and water.