Deep Burn (Station Seventeen Book 2)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  So could Vaughn.

  “Hold.” Moreno’s hand lifted, her fist closed tight, and Capelli’s breath snagged at the sight of the three low-ceilinged corridors snaking off from the main tunnel.

  “These look like service passageways,” he said. “Some of them might lead aboveground. If Vaughn wanted a quick getaway once he set the fire, chances are decent Shae might be in one of them.”

  “Okay. We’ll each take one for a thorough sweep. Call out if you need backup.”

  Moreno started down the first corridor and Hollister took the last, leaving Capelli to the one in the center. He listened carefully, although it was an absolute chore to process anything over the squall of his heartbeat.

  The sensation didn’t get any more manageable when he reached a small door about halfway down the cave-like passageway. But Shae could be on the other side of the rust-covered metal, and he gripped the door handle, pushing over the threshold in one quick burst.

  And saw her huddled on the ground next to a bright red can of gasoline.

  “Shae,” Capelli breathed, his relief so strong, it smashed his equilibrium to pieces. Her green stare went wide and she choked out a sound—Christ, Vaughn had gagged her, too—and Capelli lowered the Glock he’d held in his clammy grip as he hit his knees beside her.

  “Okay. Okay, I’ve got you, baby,” he said, curling his arms around her instinctively before realizing she’d been bleeding in the FaceTime video.

  He rocked back on his heels, his brain in go-mode. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, forcing his eyes to do a visual assessment for any injuries as his hands loosened the rag tied over her mouth.

  “I’m okay,” she said hoarsely, her face smudged with a layer of dirt and dust.

  And blood. “You don’t look okay,” Capelli said, his molars coming together in a hard clack at the closer examination of the cut-and-bruise combo spanning from her temple up into her hairline.

  “Look at you, with all the sweet talk.” The tiny smile she’d managed to work up disappeared half a breath later. “Vaughn knocked me out before he dragged me down here, probably so I wouldn’t kick his scrawny ass and run. But really, other than feeling like a bunch of squirrels are having an all-night rave in my cranial cavity, I’m fine.”

  A tendril of dread and something much, much deeper uncurled in Capelli’s gut, and he sent a glance over his shoulder, toward the door. “Do you know where he went?”

  “No.” Shae shook her head, then winced and added, “But you completely spooked him, and you were right. He didn’t have any time to start a fire, or to try and hurt me. He just gagged me to keep me quiet and took off as soon as you hung up on him.”

  “Good. I’m glad the plan worked.” Capelli knew the words were lame, but his emotions were churning all over the place, threatening to swamp him, and he had to keep them in check. He had to get Shae out of here.

  Not wanting to call out on the off-chance that Vaughn was still nearby, Capelli dug deep for an inhale and formulated an exit strategy. “First things first. Let’s get these bindings off you.”

  He pulled a pen knife from the pocket of his jeans, flipping it open with a snick. Although the vicious rope burns and raw skin at Shae’s wrists tempted his fury to make another appearance, the methodical act of cutting through the rope went a long way toward getting his brain back in the vicinity of calmness.

  Finally, the last strand of rope popped free and fell away to the dirty concrete floor, and he took another breath. On to step two. “We’re not too far from the exit. Follow me.”

  Picturing the path he’d taken into the tunnels, Capelli easily reversed it in his mind. He grabbed the Glock with one hand and Shae’s fingers with the other, ducking past the doorframe, out into the twisty passageway that would lead them back to the main corridor.

  And found himself face-to-face with Conrad Vaughn for the first time in eight long years.

  Chapter 25

  “Ah!” Capelli’s gun hand whipped upward out of sheer instinct, the distance between him and Vaughn so close that the guy smartly chose to freeze in place. “Don’t fucking move.”

  “Hello, James.” Vaughn actually had the nerve to crack a grin, albeit a small one, and a strange chill started moving through Capelli’s mind. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “If you were looking to double back and slip out of the tunnels through the service exit at the end of this hallway, I’d say that was a tactical error,” Capelli said, dropping Shae’s hand and angling his body in front of hers to advance a step closer to Vaughn in the narrow space of the hallway.

  “I don’t make tactical errors,” Vaughn said, the words dipped in steel despite the fact that Capelli had a gun pointed at him. “But it does seem that on occasion, you get very, very lucky.”

  Capelli’s brows winged upward, his shock escaping in a huff. “I see. So knowing you’d run rather than carry out your plan to burn this place down was just luck?”

  “It was strategy.” Vaughn shrugged. “Covering my ass now gives me the opportunity to come back and fight another day. But you know all about that from squealing on your mother, now don’t you?”

  He hadn’t been expecting the blow, and it landed right in his solar plexus. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, it has everything to do with this.”

  Capelli was aware on some logical level that Shae was behind him, that the hallway had two viable exit paths, that they were still pretty far from backup being more than halfway down the passage. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the cold, visceral sensation spreading out over him, and Capelli took another step toward Vaughn, this one fueled by menace.

  “And the fact that I pinpointed your location here in the tunnels even though you thought you trashed all of Shae’s coms? Is that luck too?”

  Well, that shut Vaughn’s cake trap. “Good guess,” he finally said, and Capelli allowed himself the pleasure of a laugh.

  “It’s not really a guess when it’s that close to the mark, now is it? There’s a GPS tracker in her boot heel. One you missed,” he added, a swirl of dark pleasure rippling through him at the muscle tightening in Vaughn’s jaw.

  “So how are we going to do this, Wraith? You gonna rat me out, too? I heard your mother died in the clink. Stabbed with a screwdriver.” He clucked his tongue. “Such a shame. Could’ve been avoided if she hadn’t been there in the first place, don’t you think?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Capelli wasn’t shocked by the words until he realized he hadn’t been the one to say them. But it was Shae’s voice that hung in his ears, and all at once, he realized how close he’d come to losing her.

  How Vaughn had had every intention of killing her. Slowly. Painfully.

  His free hand was around Vaughn’s throat in a blinding, white-hot instant.

  “There we go,” Capelli hissed, backing Vaughn against the wall for leverage and pressing the Glock to his rib cage for insurance. His anger pulsed through him, sliding under his skin like a living, breathing, mind-altering thing. He could call out, he knew. He could hold Vaughn at gunpoint until the rest of the team arrived to back him up. He could have him in full custody in less than two minutes.

  But he wasn’t going to.

  Surprisingly, Vaughn wheezed out a strained laugh. “Yeah,” he grated, and Capelli kept his grip firm enough to be painful, yet loose enough to let Vaughn speak. “There we go, indeed. There’s the ice-cold son of a bitch I always knew.”

  Capelli’s grip tightened of its own volition, but still, Vaughn sputtered on. “You haven’t cleaned up, James. You’ve just gotten a whole lot better at being dirty. So go on. Do it. Shoot me and get it over with.”

  “I’m not going to shoot you.”

  Even in his utterly outmatched position, Vaughn had the balls to laugh again. “I always knew you were a pussy.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to kill you,” Capelli said, and there. There it was.

  Fear.


  But the flash in Vaughn’s eyes only lasted for a second before turning flat, cold and lifeless. “You were raised by wolves, brother. So go on. Show me your fangs.”

  The dare collided with the adrenaline in Capelli’s veins, forming a four-hundred proof cocktail of dark and nasty. He wrapped his fingers more tightly around Vaughn’s throat and started to squeeze. He knew the anatomy, trachea, hyoid bone, external carotid artery—which was hammering away beneath the pad of his index finger. Funny, how delicate it all was. How all it took was one move, one snap decision to change everything.

  “Capelli.”

  The voice sounded far away. He was aware—quite vaguely—of movement beside him, of Vaughn’s eyes bulging wider, of a more earnest struggle, but he didn’t care.

  “Capelli!” came the voice again, yet still, he pressed harder, his fingers digging deep.

  “James.”

  The single syllable pierced his awareness at the same time his conscience came roaring back to life, carrying out the plan he’d had all along.

  “I didn’t say I was killing you, either,” Capelli said. “But you deserve to know what it’s like to be scared for your life. Just like you deserve the one thing you’re afraid of more than dying.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Vaughn coughed, staring up at him in true fear. “You can’t.”

  “Oh yeah, I really would. You belong in jail, asshole. And I’m going to make it my personal mission to be sure you rot in there for the rest of your nice, long life.”

  Keeping the Glock trained on Vaughn just in case, Capelli took a step back and aimed a shout down toward the main corridor.

  “Suspect in custody! Repeat, suspect in custody in passageway two, requesting backup!”

  The heavy riot of footfall echoed off the damp tunnel walls, and seconds later, Moreno and Hollister arrived on each other’s heels, Glocks drawn.

  “Jesus. Nice work, Capelli,” Hollister said, turning Vaughn around roughly while Moreno slapped handcuffs over his wrists. “McCullough,” he added, relief flooding his voice. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now,” she said, launching herself into Capelli’s arms, and Capelli didn’t even care that the hallway was starting to swarm with all manner of RPD personnel, all of whom could see every last one of his emotions.

  He held her back even tighter.

  Chapter 26

  Shae sat back on the pancake-flat gurney, arming herself with a full-on scowl as she looked at the paramedic-in-training in front of her.

  “Seriously, Slater. Do we really need to go through the entire concussion protocol?” All she wanted was a hot meal, a hotter shower, and about a week in bed. Preferably not alone. But since protocol was protocol, here she sat, in the back of Ambulance Ninety-Three, where Slater just happened to be riding along tonight.

  Hell if the rookie didn’t look far more pleased than he should. “Considering you have a head injury, and I’m your paramedic?” he asked, barely containing his smile as he recorded Shae’s vitals. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know what, Slater? You go ahead and take your time,” Capelli said from his spot beside her in the ambulance, and Shae threw her hands up in defeat.

  “It isn’t fair when you two gang up on me,” she groused. “But fine. Whatever rocks your cradle, boys.”

  Under the watchful eye of the senior paramedic on duty, Slater completed a thorough exam and pronounced her—shocker—just as fine as she’d claimed to be, thank you very much.

  “That cut is pretty nasty, but I don’t think it needs stitches, and your concussion protocol is all clear.”

  “So am I good to go?” Shae asked, and Slater nodded his nearly shaved head.

  “I can clear you for release in about fifteen minutes. You’ll need to sign the waiver just like regular people, but…yeah. I can’t find anything wrong with you,” he said.

  She laughed, and okay, yeah. She might not have a concussion, but her head still smarted like crazy. “I know you’re in training and everything, but don’t sound so disappointed.”

  “I’m not.” The rookie surprised her with an expression of sudden, sincere gratitude. “I’m really glad you’re okay, McCullough.”

  Her heart squeezed unexpectedly. “Thanks. And hey, Slater?” When he looked back at her from the back door of the ambulance, Shae said, “You’re a great firefighter, but you’ve got a real knack for this paramedic thing, too.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled, a blush creeping over his light brown cheeks. “I’ll give you a few minutes to rest before I write up those release waivers.”

  “Thanks, Slater,” Capelli said, staying quiet until the guy was out of earshot. But then he turned back toward her, and God, she loved his sweet, serious face.

  “You scared the hell out of me, Shae. Putting your cell phone down to keep Vaughn from bolting was risky as hell.”

  “I know,” she said, because she really, really did. “But I didn’t just do it impulsively, without thinking. I knew we had a backup plan, and that you’d follow it to the letter to find me and bring Vaughn down.”

  “Let me guess.” Capelli lifted a brow. “Another gut feeling?”

  Shae shook her head. “No. Fact. You’re smarter than he is. I knew you’d form a strategy that would work.”

  Capelli braced his forearms over his thighs, his gaze dropping just slightly as he nodded. “Yeah. Moreno and Sinclair brought Vaughn down to the precinct. He’ll be charged with your kidnapping and attempted murder, but we also found a key to an apartment in South Hill on him. Hollister said techs just recovered several laptops, along with a ton of other evidence that can link him to both of our other crime scenes and a ton of other crimes, too, so…”

  “He really is going to rot in jail for the rest of his life.”

  “Looks that way,” Capelli said.

  Shae looked at him, weighing her words in her mind for only a second before giving them voice. “You let go.”

  Capelli frowned. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

  “Not of me. Of Vaughn, in the tunnel. You had him by the throat. You could have easily killed him. But even before I said your name, you let him go.”

  “Not really. I mean, physically, yes. I let go of his neck. But Vaughn took away the thing all of his victims held the most valuable. It only seemed fitting to take the thing he needed most in return.”

  “His freedom,” Shae whispered, reaching out for his hand and squeezing tight. “It was a hell of a risk.”

  He squeezed back with equal measure. “Yeah, well, a very beautiful, very brash person taught me that sometimes, risks are worth taking.”

  “Beautiful, huh? Should I be jealous?”

  “Nope. Because I am completely, insanely, irreversibly in love with you.”

  Shae’s heart swelled in her chest, but wait. Wait. Capelli couldn’t have possibly said… “You what?”

  “I love you, Shae.” Shifting forward, he cupped her face gently in his hands. “You saw parts of me that I didn’t even see, and you showed me who I am. You make me laugh, you frustrate the hell out of me. You drive me the very best kind of crazy, and I don’t ever want to be without you.”

  “Oh.” The word collapsed past her lips, happy tears wobbling on her lashes, and she pressed forward to hold him close. “Well, when you put it that way…I love you too. God, I love you so much.”

  He brushed the softest of kisses over her mouth, then pulled back with a grin.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be Starsky. But only if you’ll be Hutch.”

  More Station Seventeen

  Want hot heroes, exclusive freebies, and all the latest updates on new releases? Sign up for Kimberly Kincaid’s newsletter, and check out these other sexy titles, available at your favorite retailers!

  The Station Seventeen series:

  Deep Trouble (prequel)

  Skin Deep

  Deep Check

  The Cross Creek series:

  Crossing Hearts

  Crossing the Line
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br />   The Line series:

  Love On the Line

  Drawing the Line

  Outside the Lines

  Pushing the Line

  The Pine Mountain Series:

  The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap, with Donna Kauffman and Kate Angell

  Turn Up the Heat

  Gimme Some Sugar

  Stirring Up Trouble

  Fire Me Up

  Just One Taste

  All Wrapped Up

  The Rescue Squad series:

  Reckless

  Fearless

  Stand-alones:

  Something Borrowed

  Play Me

  And don’t forget to come find Kimberly on Facebook, join her street team The Taste Testers, and follow her on Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram!

  Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet and hot and edgy romantic suspense. When she's not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as "The Pleather Bomber", she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today best-selling author and a 2016 and 2015 RWA RITA® finalist and 2014 Bookseller’s Best nominee who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters. Visit her any time at www.kimberlykincaid.com