Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  “Why did you bring them here?” Huang demanded.

  “I had to … I, uh …” Reynolds straightened up in his chair. “She knows too much.”

  “Obviously.” The man stared at Reynolds. “You are well paid to keep this sort of thing away from me. Perhaps you are a liability, as well?”

  “No. But you have people who can …” Reynolds’s Adam’s apple jumped.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, if you tell me where to take them …” Reynolds stammered.

  Lu definitely wasn’t getting back into the car with Reynolds again, she decided. She concentrated and focused all her anger on Reynolds’s chest. She felt the pressure building up at the back of her skull. A slight ache began to form and she closed her eyes.

  God, could she actually do this? She pictured Reynolds writhing in pain, engulfed in flames and stopped. No, she couldn’t. She opened her eyes. Not even to save Susan and herself. Reynolds wiped the front of his shirt, and Lu felt her blood chill as she realized how close she’d come to committing murder.

  She focused instead outside the room on the row of ovens in the kitchen, wondering if she and Susan would be able to escape if the explosion was too big. There was no other alternative.

  Reynolds stood up. Apparently she’d missed some of their conversation. She blocked him out of her mind, piling her anger and frustration into the kitchen instead. She could hear Reynolds saying something to her, but his voice was muffled by the pulse pounding inside her head. She barely registered the pressure on her upper arm as he lifted her to her feet.

  He was yelling at her now, but she closed her eyes as pain took over all her senses. A loud crash in the next room coincided with the gush of relief washing the pain away from her skull. She collapsed as the explosions in the kitchen came one after the other, like well-timed fireworks, each one building on the last.

  A loud scream from the kitchen galvanized the two men into action. Huang opened the door only to slam it shut again at the burst of heat barreling into the small room. The sheer curtains flared up, then quickly melted in the fire. Flames licked along the surface of the carpet.

  Within seconds a fire alarm was adding to the noise, then two more alarms joined in. Lu struggled to sit up as Reynolds grabbed his chair and swung it at the window. The glass shattered. He swung again, clearing out enough of the window so they could escape. His firefighting training seemed to have deserted him as he climbed onto the sill to exit the room first. Reynolds was poised to jump when Huang calmly pulled out a small automatic and shot him in the back. He fell outside.

  Huang turned toward Lu. With a yell, she propelled herself at his legs and knocked him to the ground. He dropped his gun and they both watched it slide across the carpet and rest against a burning rattan garbage can. She hauled him back before he lunged for the gun and was rewarded with a fist flailing at her face. She ducked and then flung herself at him again, smashing him in the chest with the top of her head.

  She heard the air rush out of him as she tried to shake off her own dizziness. For future reference, it was probably better to use her fists than her head. She wound up to punch him when she felt herself lifted into the air from behind. She swung backward and her elbow connected with muscle.

  “Stop that,” a male voice commanded. “Get the hell outta here.” Lu was shoved toward the window.

  “But Susan — ?” Lu looked at the empty chair that her friend had been in.

  “She’s outside,” Byron said as he effortlessly picked up Huang in a headlock.

  Lu jumped onto the burning windowsill then onto the grass and rolled. About five yards to the right by Reynolds’s car, she saw a couple of paramedics and some cops, probably hovering over Reynolds and Susan. When had all these people arrived? Lu looked up to see Byron in the window frame. He pushed Huang out the window. The man hit the ground, then attempted to flee, but was hindered by the handcuffs. Byron leapt out and tackled Huang easily. Grasping Huang by the collar of his shirt, Byron held out his other hand to Lu.

  She grabbed his hand. Oh fuck, here come the bloody tears. Lu stared at the confusion ahead of them as she attempted to rein in her emotions.

  “So how did you find us?” God, there were so many questions, but it seemed like a good place to start.

  Byron’s smile was a little sheepish. “I had a GPS on Reynolds’s car.”

  Lu dropped her voice. “Are you allowed to — ?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “How’d you figure it was him?” Lu slowed down, hoping to get a few more answers before they joined the melee.

  “You. I hadn’t known how deep his hatred for me was until we saw him in the restaurant that night. Then I got thinking about how he’d requested to work with me in the investigation. I wasn’t sure, though, until after I saw you kissing him on the street.”

  “But you looked so mad?”

  “Yup. I was ready to shoot both of you.” He squeezed her hand. “Then I thought better of it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too.” He rolled his eyes. “That would’ve been a big blot on my pristine record.”

  “Excuse me?” Lu looked at him in mock horror.

  “No. You’d left that address on my answering machine. Not exactly the first sign of a woman meeting a secret lover. And your body language was off — you were tense.” He indicated the increasing crowd of cops in front of them. “That’s when I got the W.I. team in action.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I would like to talk to you later off the record about some fires …”

  “Hey, Morgan.” A large uniformed cop ambled over. “We picked up a couple of people running down the street, but the house came up clean in our database. Fire crew says they’ll have this one under control quickly. The kitchen was toasted, but the sprinkler system seems to have saved the rest of the building.”

  Lu let go of Byron’s hand and watched him take charge of the various crews. After a few minutes he came back to where she was standing.

  “Hey cutie.” He discreetly kissed her forehead and handed her his keys. “Why don’t you go sit in my car? I won’t be long and then I’ll take you home.”

  “What about Susan?”

  “She’s fine. She asked Ed to marry her.”

  “What?”

  Byron chuckled. “The drugs. But who knows? She could do worse than Ed.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Two heavyset police officers stood on either side of the pale cream doorway, their expressions bored and guarded. They straightened up when they saw Byron.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Byron asked her again.

  “No,” Lu answered. “But I think I need to. I mean. It wasn’t like we were friends, but I can’t see how … I don’t know.” She smiled and shrugged.

  “Okay.” Byron nodded at the shorter of the two men and he opened the door for Lu. “I’m right out here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Stepping into the hospital room felt odd. It looked much different seeing all the equipment attached to someone else. She glanced at the monitor, I.V. pole and locker, before focusing on the prone figure on the bed.

  “Hey.” Lu was surprised at how much smaller he looked. He turned to face her, his expression giving nothing away. “How’re you feeling?”

  Reynolds huffed. “You care?”

  “Maybe,” she waffled. “You visited me when I was sick.”

  “Ri-ight.” He rolled his eyes in disgust.

  “What about the hall and the other fire fighters?”

  “What about them?”

  “Didn’t you care about them?” Lu was shocked by the blankness in his eyes. It felt like the old Reynolds had been replaced by a computer clone.

  “They didn’t care about me.” His eyes flashed with anger. At least it wa
s an emotion. “I was supposed to get the next promotion and then that — ” Reynolds shook his head, his lips a tight white line. “Comes in and suddenly he’s the new golden boy. I’m not ‘fun’ enough, to heck with procedures, bloody Morgan breaks all the rules and he gets my job, the awards. I had to work like a dog for every scrap and Morgan …” He turned his head and stared at the ceiling.

  “But …” She took a step closer to the bed.

  “You stupid cow.” His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong. “You still don’t get it. Morgan doesn’t care about you. He only wanted you because you were mine.”

  “What?”

  “All he cares about is screwing me over.” The corner of his lips turned up in a malicious grin. “I showed him. His botched drug busts were making me rich. And the idiot kept feeding me the information to give to my new partners.” He released her wrist. “I was winning, finally.”

  “But people die from drugs.”

  Reynolds turned back to face the ceiling.

  “What about the woman who was burned in the fire? What about me? You were going to — ”

  He closed his eyes. If it wasn’t for his tightly clenched fist she’d have thought he was sleeping. She ran her hands through her hair wondering if there was anything she could say that would penetrate his conscience. After a couple of moments of silence, she walked to the door. She turned back to look, one last hope that he’d show a shred of humanity. Then she left the room.

  Byron jogged over from the nurses’ station and put his arms around her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Lu’s tears started streaming and she buried her face in Byron’s neck. “Fuck, I still don’t get it.”

  “Me neither,” he agreed and held her tighter.

  • • •

  “How was your first day back at work?” Byron handed her a glass of wine and kissed her forehead.

  “Strange. They’ve brought in the captain from Bellevue One for the interim, but it sounds like Red’s getting promoted pretty quick. He’ll be a good boss.” She dropped her bag in the corner and walked into the living room. With a groan she sunk into the comfy leather couch.

  “They should’ve put him up years ago. There just wasn’t room there and his wife wasn’t prepared to move.” He sat beside her. “Susan phoned.”

  “Uh-oh. What now?”

  “Two things. One, she has to tell you all about the big fight between her and Kaitlynn — the good thing is they seem to have made up. And two, she wants to know if you’ll help her paint the apartment on Tuesday. Pink,” he added with a smile.

  “Wow, and you thought the white was bad?”

  “Yeah. I said you’d love to.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “And I promised you’d be nice.”

  “What? Why would you — ?”

  “Her ex-husband is going to be there.” He raised his eyebrows. “She says he’s changed.”

  “Oh God.” Lu rubbed her face. “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Doesn’t matter what we think.”

  “Shit. You know I hate it when you’re right,” Lu grumbled.

  “Yeah. That’s what makes it so much fun.” Byron took her wine glass, sipped from it and placed it on the coffee table.

  “Hey!”

  “You were too slow,” he explained. “And my sister Annie wants to know if you’d like her to redecorate any of the rooms for you. She found a great Mexican adobe style that would work for the dining room. I think she figures with you living here, she can redo the whole house again.”

  “Great.”

  “One more thing — ”

  “You’re kidding, there’s more?”

  “No, I’m deadly serious on this one.” Byron said. “You still owe me a whole lotta sex, lady.”

  “Oh.” Lu climbed onto his lap with a big smile and kissed him. “I’d better get right on that.”

  More from This Author

  The Spanish Acquisition Nora Snowdon

  Love’s Prey

  Envy Augustine

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Allison Martinez

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-5893-0

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5893-1

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-5894-9

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5894-8

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com, istockphoto.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  Chapter One

  Snow crunched under Isabelle’s boots as she trekked to Keene Lodge. The main building had been renovated. Fresh, red timbers paneled the rustic cabin and wood sap gave the air a pleasant tang. A plank and wire pen to the building’s right housed an enormous white Samoyed. The dog barked and yipped at her approach, its black eyes sparkling in the gray morning haze.

  Isabelle froze. The Samoyed’s shrill vocalizations set off an uncomfortable itch beneath her skin.

  Come on, Izzy. One foot in front of the other.

  Despite the private pep talk, Isabelle stayed put. The shaking started in her knees and traveled up through her shoulders and into her hands. She squeezed her purse strap, tucked her chin to her chest and ground her teeth behind closed lips, willing away the icy burn of adrenaline spreading through her breast.

  “Hey! Hey, there!” The lodge’s screen door banged shut and a man bounded down the front steps. He trotted to Isabelle as he rubbed his hands together and squinted when he got closer. “Do I know you?” He sniffed and pinched his nose.

  Isabelle hadn’t seen this man the last time she’d been to the lodge, but that had been four years ago and her memories of that time were foggy.

  “You coming inside?” He was huge; tall and bulky with muscle his loose flannel shirt and baggy jeans couldn’t conceal. His girth blocked Izzy’s view of the dog pen and dampened that awful barking.

  “Hello?” He waved a hand in front of her face and smiled. One of his bottom teeth edged out in front of the others, crowding its neighbors.

  “Yeah, I’m coming in.” Isabelle shook herself and took a bold step forward. As soon as the dog sighted her again it went wild, spinning in circles, jumping at the gate and swooshing its tail. She stumbled and would have fallen if the gentleman at her back hadn’t caught her.

  “Whoa now, careful,” he said, bracing her against his wide chest and grasping her
shoulders. Lifting her chin, Izzy gazed into the man’s face. His brown eyes were touched with warmth and something else, but he broke their staring contest before she could determine what it was.

  “You all right?” He stood her up and ushered her toward the lodge.

  “Fine,” Izzy said, forcing cheer into her voice. The Samoyed yipped and launched itself halfway over the gate when they passed. She stopped short and the man stepped on her heel.

  “Oops, Sorry. Can it, Petey,” he said and the dog obediently sat. Its tail thumped the well-tracked ground and its mouth spread in a wide doggy grin. “Don’t like animals?”

  “It’s not that.” Izzy studiously avoided eye contact with man and beast. “I had a bad experience a few years back.”

  “Well, no worries. Petey’s friendly as they come. I’ll introduce you.”

  Izzy was about to refuse when she remembered her therapist’s assignment.

  Challenge yourself, Isabelle. Confront your fears.

  She doubted Dr. Turner meant returning to Keene Lodge and coming nose to snout with a wolf-sized dog, but Izzy never did anything halfway.

  “All right,” she said, hoping her smile seemed genuine.

  “Great. Wait right there. I’m Curtis Keene, by the way.” He offered his hand and Izzy shook it with her left, keeping her right arm tight to her side.

  Snow piled in front of the pen’s gate and Curtis had to wiggle it open and kick a trough through the powder. Izzy gave a nervous laugh as the white hound sped forward and jumped up, planting his paws on Curtis’s chest. A pink tongue washed his master’s nose.

  “Down, Petey. Sit.”

  The command in Curtis’s voice was so strong Izzy almost popped a squat. Petey did as ordered and his master crouched at his side.

  “Come on. I’ve got him.”

  The dog didn’t look like it was going anywhere, but Izzy didn’t budge. She squeezed her eyes shut, urging her feet onward.

  This is a domesticated dog, Izzy. Domesticated.

  “Hey.”

  Izzy cracked one eye to see Curtis waving her over. His large hand secured Petey’s ruff.