by LENA DIAZ,
“I don’t have time, Emily.” He jerked the wheel and pulled to an abrupt halt in front of a big white house. Emily’s seat belt locked as she was thrown against it. Her breath left her in a rush. She struggled to draw in some air. Finally, her lungs expanded again. She drew several deep, gasping breaths.
And reached for her gun.
Devlin leaned forward, peering past her through the passenger window. A Dumpster sat in front of the house. Tools and lumber sat in the yard beside it, but there wasn’t anyone around. He grabbed his phone again. “Yes, Judy, Devlin again. Braedon’s not here. No one’s here. Yes, yes. Lunch? At my father’s house? Got it. Thanks.”
Emily shoved the muzzle of her gun against his rib cage.
Devlin froze.
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. I mean it, Devlin. If I have to shoot you, I will. It won’t kill you with your vest on, but it will damn well hurt. Might even break a rib or two. Start talking.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I swear, if you try to grab this gun like last time, it’s not going to work. I’ve got a tight grip on it and I’m—”
He swiped the gun away from her with a quick twist that sent a sharp jolt of pain from her wrist to her shoulder. She cried out and grabbed her arm.
His expression immediately softened. “I’m sorry, Em.” He shoved the pistol in his waistband on his left side, where she couldn’t reach it, and took off again, racing down the street.
He lifted the phone but hesitated. “Are you okay?”
She rubbed her arm. “Yes, if you don’t wreck the car and kill us.”
He slowed, just a little, but it was enough to make her realize he was listening. He called another number, but no one must have answered because he didn’t say anything. He turned the car down a two-lane road that led out of town and picked up speed. Two calls later, he tossed the phone into the console and shot Emily an apologetic look.
“I can’t slow down,” he said, as if knowing she was about to ask. “Ace is after my family now. Alex, Austin, and Braedon should be at Alex’s house, but no one’s answering. Everyone else is accounted for.”
She picked up the phone and scrolled through the last dialed numbers.
“What are you doing? We can’t call 911.”
“I know that. But we can call your FBI brother again; Pierce, right? Don’t you think he could help us? You wouldn’t have to worry about protecting him, and I’m sure he could be an asset in this kind of situation.” She paused with her hand over the redial button. “Or do you have a better idea?”
His lips pursed, but he gave her a quick, sharp nod. “Go ahead.”
Keeping her explanation as vague as Devlin had on his earlier calls, she got Pierce to agree, then put the phone in the console.
“He’s dropping his wife and daughter off at Matt’s lab. That’s where Matt’s going with his wife, Tessa. Since it’s Sunday, no one else will be at the lab to get in harm’s way. Plus your brothers think the lab is a good, defensible position, with concrete block walls. They should be okay there. Pierce will meet you at Alex’s house.”
They were well outside of Savannah now. At the pace Devlin was driving, assuming they didn’t wreck, they’d be at the house in just a few more minutes. When they topped the last hill before his father’s house, Devlin punched the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
Emily stared in horror at the thick, black clouds billowing up into the sky.
Alex’s house was on fire.
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
DEVLIN BARRELED UP the long driveway and slid to a stop at the edge of the front lawn, twenty feet back from Braedon’s truck and his father’s Escalade.
“Lock the doors, Em. Keep your gun close. Ace could still be out there.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He slammed the driver’s door and raced for the porch, which was already half-obscured with thick, black smoke. As soon as he reached the front door, it flew open, and Braedon staggered outside with Alex draped over his shoulders.
Coughing violently, Braedon dropped to his knees. Black soot covered his nose and mouth. Devlin cast an anxious glance at Alex. His eyes were closed, and Devlin couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.
“Come on,” Devlin yelled over the roar of the fire. “You can’t stay here. The whole house is going up.” He lifted Alex off his brother’s shoulders and hurried away from the house, laying Alex down on the cool grass a safe distance from the fire.
Braedon stumbled after him.
“I can’t find a pulse. What happened? Was he shot?” Devlin pinched Alex’s nose shut and covered his mouth, blowing three quick breaths before starting chest compressions.
“Shot?” Braedon coughed. “Why would he be shot?”
Devlin rushed to cover his mistake. “Why isn’t he breathing?”
“Don’t know. Heart attack maybe? Smoke inhalation? I was in the kitchen when I smelled smoke. The alarms never went off.” He coughed again and wiped his mouth, smearing black soot across his cheek. “I found him lying in his bedroom doorway.”
“Where’s Austin?” Devlin performed more chest compressions.
Braedon looked around as if he expected his little brother to be right behind him. “He was supposed to follow me. He was right—” Another violent coughing fit wracked his body.
Devlin gave him a sharp look, worried that Braedon’s airway might close soon from the soot. He blew three more quick breaths into Alex’s mouth. The throaty sound of a powerful engine had Devlin jerking his head up. Pierce’s Pontiac GTO was coming up fast, kicking up gravel as it raced up the road toward them.
“I’ve got this.” Emily was suddenly standing beside him. “Go, Devlin! Find Austin.” She cast a worried glance at Braedon. “I called 911.” Her dark eyes pleaded with him for understanding. “I didn’t have a choice.” She dropped down beside Alex and pushed Devlin’s hands away so she could take over the CPR.
“Thank you, Em.” He squeezed her shoulder and took off in a sprint. The front porch was engulfed in flames, making entry impossible through the door. He ran through the yard down the length of the house, desperate to find a way in, but flames poured out of every window, including Austin’s room at the end, across the hall from Alex’s bedroom.
He tore around the end of the house to the back, but the deck was an inferno. He couldn’t even see the sliding glass doors because of the flames and thick, black smoke. Despair threatened to send him crashing to his knees on the ground. How could anyone survive in there?
“Austin!” he yelled. “Austin!” He ran to the last window on the end—Alex’s room. The flames here weren’t as bad, licking at the glass from only one side of the bedroom. He jumped up and kicked the glass. Flames immediately leaped up to fill the opening, fed by the fresh air from outside. Devlin ducked down from the searing heat, forced to move back several feet. The left side of the bedroom was dark, filled with smoke, but so far untouched by the flames. If there was any chance of saving his brother, he had to get inside, now, before the entire bedroom was engulfed.
Damn it, Ace. You are not taking my family away from me!
Whirling around, he ran to the pond behind the house and dove in. He jumped out and ran toward the house, water dripping from his clothes and hair. The only thing he knew to do was to jump through the window and hope he didn’t land in any flames. He hoped the water would keep him from becoming a human torch.
He ran full tilt toward the bedroom, holding his arms up to protect his face from the flames and diving toward the broken window.
Suddenly, someone slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He automatically reached for his gun but stopped when he saw who was on top of him—his brother Pierce.
“Damn it, Devlin. You idiot. Are you trying to kill yourself?” Pierce shoved him, then hauled him upright. “You have to knock the flames back first.” He tossed a fire extinguisher to Devlin and ran with his own extinguisher to the window casing.
T
hank God for overprepared, overprotective brothers who had the sense to bring fire extinguishers; Pierce had probably grabbed them from the back of Braedon’s B&B Construction truck out front.
Together they blasted the windowsill, temporarily knocking the flames back.
“You or me?” Pierce yelled over the dull roar of the burning roof above them. But Devlin had already stepped back a few feet to get a running start. He clutched the extinguisher and ran forward, diving through the opening, rolling across the floor. The heat was so intense he could barely breathe. He shot a spray of retardant at the closest flames, making a path to the hallway.
“Hurry, the roof’s about to come down,” Pierce yelled from outside.
He could hear short bursts from Pierce’s extinguisher as he beat back the flames to keep the path to the window clear.
“Austin, where are you?” Devlin ducked beneath the thick, black smoke that was already making his eyes tear up. He got down on all fours and scrambled forward as fast as he could crawl toward the hallway. Fire licked at the walls. It was like a damn oven.
“Austin?” He reached the hallway and almost fell on top of his brother, lying facedown, unconscious or worse. His wheelchair was overturned. Part of the ceiling in the hallway had caved in already, making it impossible for Austin to get out that way in the wheelchair. His clothes were charred, probably from when he’d escaped from his room. He’d had the sense to close his door behind him, which was probably the only reason the flames hadn’t shot out into this area yet.
Devlin didn’t have time to check for a pulse or give CPR. He had to get Austin out, now, or they’d both die in here. He couldn’t see the window anymore. Thick smoke and flames from the walls obscured everything. Even practically lying on the floor to get beneath the smoke, he could barely breath. The faint sound of sirens sounded from somewhere outside.
“We’re—” He coughed violently and tried again, to let Pierce know to blast the extinguisher inside the room. “We’re coming out!”
A tiny hiss sounded from the window. “My extinguisher is empty!” Pierce yelled.
Damn it. Devlin grabbed the back of Austin’s collar and dragged him behind him as he used short bursts from his extinguisher to clear the way. When he reached the window, he handed out Austin’s limp body to Pierce.
He was about to follow Austin out when flames shot up in front of him, blocking the window and forcing him to back up to the center of the room.
“Devlin!” Pierce yelled from what sounded like far away. “Get out of there!”
Devlin pressed the extinguisher, aiming at the wall of flames in front of him. It shot a short burst, then fizzled. Empty.
Ah hell.
“Dev!”
Searing heat forced him to the right side of the room. He coughed and fell to the floor, desperate for some air. The black smoke on this side of the room was so dark he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. He tried to picture Alex’s bedroom the last time he’d been in it. Alex was fastidious about putting everything where it belonged. And he always had a blanket neatly folded over the top of the recliner.
He scrambled toward where he thought the recliner might be, coughing and struggling to breathe. He bumped against it. Yes! The blanket was there. Thank you, Dad. He held it up in front of himself, surged to his feet, and made a Hail Mary run toward the window. Using the blanket like a shield, he vaulted through the opening and dropped to the ground outside.
“Roll, Dev! You’re on fire!”
As soon as Pierce said it, Devlin’s nerve endings screamed the same message. White-hot agony raced up the back of his left leg. He rolled back and forth on the ground. Pierce fell on top of him, smothering the last of the flames with a soaking-wet cloth.
Devlin coughed. The movement rubbed his burned calf against the ground and sent a fiery burst of pain spiking through him. He arched off the ground, hissing through his teeth.
“How bad?” Pierce demanded.
Devlin forced a smile. It hurt like a son of a bitch. “I’ll be fine. Where’s your shirt?”
“I sacrificed it to save your sorry ass. You owe me another one.” He held out his hand to help Devlin up.
“Where’s Austin? Is he still alive?”
Pierce winced. “Barely. He’s by the pond. Come on.”
The burns on Devlin’s leg throbbed as he ran beside Pierce to the water’s edge. But his pain was forgotten when he saw his baby brother lying on his back. His upper body had suffered only minor burns, but the lower half must have practically cooked in the metal wheelchair. And his legs . . . God, his legs.
They both knelt down beside him.
Devlin checked his pulse; weak. Austin’s chest rose and fell in short bursts, his breath wheezing like a severe asthmatic in the middle of an attack. “Thank God he’s unconscious or he’d be in agony.” He frowned and turned Austin’s head. “He’s bleeding.” He shot a glance at Pierce. “Are you sure Matt and the others are safe?”
“I called three times on the way here,” Pierce said. “Tessa and Madison are both armed to the teeth. Matt’s got his hands full keeping them from running over here. But they’re fine.”
Austin moaned, then stiffened.
“We’ve got to get him to the hospital,” Devlin said.
“And once we’re there, you’re going to tell me who did this.”
From the angry, determined look on Pierce’s face, Devlin knew he wouldn’t be able to lie his way out of this one. He gave his brother a stiff nod, hoping to hold him off for now.
They debated how to pick Austin up without hurting him, but just as they were about to try, two EMTs and a fireman hurried around the far corner of the house, pushing a rolling gurney. Behind them were Lieutenant Drier and Devlin’s least favorite detective, Tuck.
Devlin slid his holster out of his waistband and chucked it into the pond with his gun still in it, hoping the weeds and tall grass at the edge of the water had kept the cops from seeing what he’d done.
Pierce stared at him in shock. “Since when do you carry a gun?”
“I never had a gun.” He nodded toward Drier, still forty feet away.
Pierce looked over his shoulder, then narrowed his eyes. “We need to talk.”
Devlin sighed. “Yeah. I know.” He looked down at his baby brother, his heart seizing in his chest. “Austin has to make it. He has to.”
Pierce’s hands curled into fists. “I’m going to kill whoever did this.”
“No,” Devlin said quietly. “I am.”
DEVLIN AND PIERCE ducked down beneath the rotors of the LifeStar helicopter perched in the field in front of Alex’s house and followed the EMTs to the chopper’s open door. Tuck, Devlin’s newly acquired shadow, yelled at him to stay back. Devlin didn’t bother to waste a glare on the detective. No one was going to stop him from making sure his baby brother was taken care of.
The EMTs slid the gurney holding Austin into the helicopter and began securing him for the flight.
“Can a family member accompany him?” Pierce shouted above the whine of the rotors.
One of the EMTs shook his head. “Sorry, no room. You’ll have to follow in your own vehicle. We’re taking him to the trauma center at Memorial. Once he’s stabilized, we’ll fly him to the Joseph M. Still Burn Center in Augusta.”
“Is he going to make it?” Devlin shouted.
The grim look on the EMT’s face told Devlin more than he’d wanted to know.
“We have to go, sir. Please step back.”
Pierce pulled Devlin with him up the hill to where Tuck waited.
The pitch of the rotors changed as the helicopter accelerated and lifted off. The three of them held their hands up to protect their faces from the dust kicked up by the blades. When the chopper was a speck on the horizon, Pierce and Devlin turned to check on the rest of their family.
Tuck deliberately stepped in Devlin’s way.
Devlin tensed, ready to knock the smaller man to the ground if he had to in orde
r to reach Alex and Braedon.
Pierce stepped between the two of them and held his hand out. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Special Agent Pierce Buchanan.”
The tactic worked. Tuck shook Pierce’s hand and introduced himself. By then, Devlin was halfway up the hill. His burned leg still hurt like the devil and forced him to go slower than he wanted. It felt like someone was shoving a poker into the back of his calf every time he took a step.
Since no one was standing by the first ambulance, he wasn’t surprised to see the back was empty as he hurried past. Emily stood with her boss, about ten feet back from the second ambulance. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but he didn’t know why.
He rounded the open doors to see Braedon sitting beside an EMT on the right, breathing into an oxygen mask, while Alex lay unconscious on a gurney on the other side, being tended by the second EMT for this ambulance. Although Alex didn’t look much better than when Devlin last saw him, the rise and fall of his chest was reassuring. When the EMT taking care of him gave Devlin the thumbs-up sign, his shoulders sagged with relief.
“How are you, Braedon?” Devlin asked.
Braedon pulled his mask off. “I’ll be fine. I doubt I even need to go to the hospital, but I’ll go so I can be with Alex.”
The EMT put Braedon’s mask back on and received an irritated look in response.
“His oxygen saturation levels are way down,” the EMT said. “He needs to stay on oxygen and be closely monitored in case his airway becomes inflamed and he has trouble breathing. He’ll probably have to stay at the hospital overnight.” He motioned toward Alex. “Your father is doing surprisingly well for someone who had a heart attack.”
Devlin stilled. “There’s no family history of heart disease. He’s only fifty-one.”
The EMT shrugged. “He had no other injuries. Heart disease exacerbated by smoke inhalation seems the most likely explanation. I’m sure the doctors will run some tests and be able to tell you more.”
Only if they look for a puncture wound from a needle and run a tox screen.
Devlin’s hands curled into fists. If Ace were standing in front of him right now, Devlin would tear him apart, limb by limb.