Gold Fire

by Starr Ambrose

  “God, you’re slow.” Holding the gun at her waist, she steadied the barrel with her other hand. “But you caught up just in time to appreciate the ending.” She smiled with satisfaction at her own words as she thumbed the safety, then raised the shotgun and leveled it at Jase.

  Chapter

  Twenty

  He didn’t care about the saloon. All Jase could think of was protecting Zoe.

  He angled his body to shield her better, but stopped at Jennifer’s oddly melodic “Uh-uh-uh.” She shook her head in warning. “In case you were thinking of moving, don’t. Obviously, my aim is rusty, but at this range I can’t miss.”

  He didn’t doubt it. It was the only thing he was sure of. “What are you planning to do, Jennifer?”

  “Put things right.” She glanced at the box. “And burn down the Rusty Wire.”

  He didn’t try to hide his confusion. “Why?”

  “Because it’s important to you. That means it has to go, along with anything else you care about.” She gave Zoe a significant look.

  The panic that shot through him made him want to leap at her, wrestle away the gun—a suicide move that would only get them both killed. He tried to override his fear. To think. Her detached attitude confused him. Murder generally sprang from hatred, but Jennifer seemed oddly unmoved. An ugly possibility came to mind. “Did Matt Flemming put you up to this?”

  “No. Really clinging to preconceptions, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dense, Jase. But you make a good point—I’m sure Matt won’t mind. He was disappointed when the first fire didn’t do more damage. It was just dumb luck the fire truck was already on the road, coming back from a run, when I called.”

  “He asked you to set the fire?”

  “He paid me.” She laughed. “Fuckin’ idiot. I would have done it for a lot less than he gave me, too. He must want this place real bad. He’ll be glad to see it burn down.”

  “He won’t know about it,” Zoe said. He heard a slight quiver in her voice that stabbed his heart. “Matt’s gone. The authorities are already looking for him. Looking at his financial dealings. They’ll follow the money trail right back to you.”

  Jase thought it was a good try, but Jennifer laughed it off. “You think I’m stupid? He gave me cash.”

  The new bedroom furniture. The realization barely had time to flash through his mind before she motioned at him with the shotgun barrel. “Would you like to start the fire yourself before I shoot you? Just set the box under the bar, knock over a couple bottles, and strike a match. It’ll be ironic, burning down your own bar just like some people thought you tried to do for insurance money. Want to do it?”

  Not a chance in hell. He had to figure out how to prevent it, and all he could think to do was to keep her talking. “How can you do this? You love the Rusty Wire.”

  She sneered. “I don’t give a damn about the Rusty Wire.”

  “But you put in so many hours here.” He was honestly surprised by her response. “You were here even when you didn’t have to be. You did whatever needed to be done.”

  “To keep you from doing it.” She shook her head with a pitying look. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Because you’re so self-centered. You only saw what you wanted to see—a cozy saloon where you could put your feet up, have a beer, and watch the bar babes.”

  He winced; the description was too accurate for comfort. “You’re right, Jennifer.” He’d heard somewhere that using a person’s name made them more sympathetic toward you. “That was my life for nine years.” Not entirely, but it seemed important to agree with her. To placate her. “But I’m not doing that anymore. I wasn’t fulfilled, wasn’t accomplishing anything.”

  Jennifer’s fingers turned white on the shotgun. “Figured that out, did you?”

  “Someone pointed it out, and they were right. What I had wasn’t a life.”

  “No shit!” She yelled it, startling him with the sudden change. Rage sped through her, stiffening her back, burning from her eyes. “You didn’t deserve a life! Not after taking Adam’s. And I made sure you didn’t have one. For nine fucking years!”

  He’d obviously flipped a switch in her brain, and he wished he knew how to turn it off again. A crazy person with a gun was bad enough; a crazy person with a gun and a grudge was miles worse.

  “I babysat you,” she said, getting into her rant. “Made sure you remembered what you’d done, kept your guilt alive. What you’d taken from me. It was a daily dose of revenge. But then she came along and ruined it all.” Jennifer’s heated gaze burned into Zoe before shifting back to him. “It would have been okay if she’d just jiggled her tits in your face like the others, but she pushed you to do something, and you started getting all sorts of fucking ideas in your head, getting interested in the business and making plans. And you fell in love with her.” Her scowl deepened, anger twisting her features into something ugly. “Like you had some right to be happy. Well, you don’t!” she screamed, her voice rising with a hysterical edge. “You goddamn fucking don’t! It’s your fault I’ll never be happy again, so you damn well won’t be happy, either!” A drop of spit clung to her lip, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she regained her breath. “And I’m going to make sure of it. I can set the fucking fire myself.” She lifted the gun.

  “It won’t work,” he said, thinking fast. “Even with the fire, they’ll be able to tell we were shot.”

  The gun dropped a bit as she glared over it. “Who the hell cares? Let ’em pin it on Matt. They will, you know. Everyone knows he wants to get rid of the saloon, and to do that he needs to get rid of you. And he’s conveniently on the run, already suspected of crimes.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like it. I bet I can even fake a few sniffles on your behalf.”

  A chill spread through him. She was right. Matt would get blamed, and she would get away with murder.

  Beside him, Zoe tensed and her breathing quickened, but she wisely didn’t move. He reached for her hand, wishing he’d told her what Jennifer had realized. That he loved her. Instead, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He’d get her out of this so he could say it himself.

  She gripped his hand in return, and hung on. He hated to do it, but he pulled his hand away. He had to be ready to move fast if he could catch Jennifer off guard.

  If he couldn’t . . . well, a gunshot didn’t kill right away, despite what TV and movies would have you believe. He’d have time to reach Jennifer and overpower her, enough time for Zoe to get out of here.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” he said. Still trying to soothe her. To stall her.

  “Of course not.” She spit it back at him, as if the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Everything’s all about you, isn’t it?”

  He hoped her perceptions about that were as skewed as her logic, but couldn’t think about it now. He needed to get her off the topic of Adam’s death.

  “Jase didn’t kill Adam,” Zoe said.

  Shit! He shot a frown at Zoe, a desperate message to drop the subject, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her steady gaze was on Jennifer as she defended him.

  Jennifer glared. “Shut up! You don’t know anything about Adam.”

  Listen to her! he thought.

  Unfortunately, Zoe seemed bent on defending him. “I know what happened. Adam took a dare and ended up dead.”

  “Because of Jase!”

  “Adam was an adult, wasn’t he?”

  “He was my husband!”

  “He was capable of making his own decisions. He chose to do something stupid. It’s not Jase’s fault he died.”

  Jennifer’s vicious stare slowly changed to one of perverse satisfaction mingled with hate. Chills shot down Jase’s back as she raised the shotgun to her shoulder.

  “Pay attention, Jase,” she said, sighting down the barrel at Zoe. “This is what it feels like to lose someone you love.”

  Chapt
er

  Twenty-one

  Zoe froze. She’d planned to duck, but apparently gazing down the barrel of a gun induced paralysis. She stared.

  Jase didn’t freeze. A blur of motion beside her made her blink. The next second a chair hurtled through the air, coming between her and the deadly black hole of the shotgun.

  “Run!” Jase yelled. It was enough to break her stare, to get her muscles moving.

  She dove sideways at the same instant a blast broke the air. Above her, tiny pellets crashed into a hanging light, dinging into metal and shattering glass. Glass and spent pellets clattered to the wooden floor in front of her.

  Zoe hit the ground moving, scrambling for cover. She’d already thought it out, knew the only protection would be a table, if it wasn’t too heavy to tip. But she wouldn’t be able to do it before Jennifer took a second shot. Zoe got to her knees, glancing over her shoulder to see which way to dodge. Hoping Jase had already found cover.

  He hadn’t. His long strides ate up the distance between him and Jennifer.

  But not fast enough.

  Jennifer’s expression was contorted with hate as she swung the shotgun toward him. Not bothering to aim. She didn’t need to; Jase was too close to miss.

  The second it took for the gun to arc down and around stalled into an eternity. Zoe screamed his name, dreading what was coming, and knowing she was too late to change it. Already seeing the result. Hundreds of tiny lead pellets would rip into him, tearing a hole so big he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Jase!” The name ripped out of her the same instant he dropped. The same instant the gunshot exploded.

  Jase fell on Jennifer in a flailing tangle of arms and legs, with the gun poking out to the side, held in two fierce grips. Zoe was up without thinking, racing toward them. Jase was still alive, still struggling for the gun, and she had to help. Blood already smeared Jennifer’s shoulder and face. His blood.

  He rose with a violent movement just as Zoe reached him. Half-kneeling above Jennifer, he tore the gun from her grasp. Beneath him, she uttered a feral sound, half growl, half scream, reaching to yank it back. In one swift motion, he turned the stock down, gripped the barrel, and swung it at her head. She fell back, motionless.

  “Jase!” Zoe touched him, wanting to see his wound, but afraid to hurt him.

  He sucked in a heavy breath and fell hard on his ass. “Tie her up,” he managed, raspy and breathless.

  Her eyes were on the blood covering his shoulder, spreading as she watched. She reached for him, fear squeezing her chest. “Let me see.”

  He twisted weakly, possibly the best he could do, but enough to fend her off. “No! Tie her first!” He panted for breath, met her eyes. “I’m okay. Do it.”

  She didn’t want to fight him, but knew he wouldn’t give in. Knew, too, that he was right. If Jennifer regained consciousness, she was a threat. She had to secure her so she could look after Jase.

  “How?” She said it aloud as she stood, her mind racing. “Do you have an electrical cord?”

  His brow furrowed as he sat on the floor. “In the office. Desk lamp.”

  She ran. The lamp was small, and stubbornly attached to its cord. She didn’t care. She turned Jennifer over, tied her hands behind her back, leaving the lamp, minus its shade, dangling from her wrists.

  She turned to Jase. He was lying on the floor, blood spreading across the wood planks. Her stomach flipped, but a reassuring thought kept her focused. There was no gaping hole. He must have been grazed by the edge of the shot. Not hundreds of pellets. Maybe fifty? Please, God, maybe a lot less.

  The amount of blood dimmed that hope.

  She knelt by his head, fingers frantically running over his shoulder, looking for the worst source of bleeding. Blood seeped onto her hand, obscuring everything. She swiped at his neck and as much of his shoulder as she could expose beneath the shirt.

  And found the source. Red holes and lines dotted his neck, oozing blood as she watched, running in rivulets to his shoulder and the floor. Covering his neck in red.

  “You’re not okay!” she accused. Raw fear kept the threatening tears at bay. “This is not okay!” She met his eyes, not caring if he saw her terror, because he was scaring her to death and it made her angry.

  His eyes looked back, unfocused. As she watched, they closed. His head fell to the side.

  “Jase!” Panic turned into a ball of sickness, rising in her throat.

  No time for it. Think! Stop the bleeding.

  She raced to the bar, tearing through cupboards, knowing towels would be there somewhere. The stack of folded white cloths caught her eye. She grabbed a handful, and ran back to kneel beside Jase, pressing the whole mass of them to his neck.

  “Don’t die,” she ordered, even though he couldn’t hear. She repeated it, “Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,” becoming a chant as she pressed with one hand and reached into her pocket with the other.

  Pulling out her phone, she called 911 for the second time that day.

  Chapter

  Twenty-two

  Jase was gone. The doctor at the urgent care clinic had taken one look at his wound and had him medevaced to the hospital in Juniper. Their surgery team was better able to handle the delicate repair on his nicked artery. Cal had kept her calm with updates, but it was hours before the police were done with her and she could make the drive to Juniper.

  They wouldn’t let her see him. His sister, brother-in-law, and niece were with him, and three visitors at a time was the limit.

  She sighed and found a seat in the waiting room where all she could do was remember the blood and imagine the damage. He was alive, that was all that mattered. She cringed at the thought of what he’d suffered, and trembled over how close she’d come to losing him. She could almost understand Jennifer’s pain at losing her husband, even if she couldn’t forgive the twisted way she’d made Jase feel responsible for it. She couldn’t imagine losing Jase.

  After more than four hours of frantic worrying, she couldn’t relax. She needed a distraction. Scanning the waiting room, she spotted an abandoned copy of the Barringer’s Pass Echo.

  It was the latest issue, the one with the story about Jase reopening the Rusty Wire. She read with a satisfied smile as the reporter cast suspicion for the harassing incidents on Matt and Ruth Ann Flemming. The scandal brewing there was going to keep the Echo busy for months to come. Jase had some nice, diplomatically worded quotes about their possible involvement, and a few other things to say about—

  She sat up straighter as she spotted her name. Then went cold at what followed:

  Garrett denied any personal involvement with Zoe Larkin, the woman who had been representing the Alpine Sky in the negotiations. Ms. Larkin recently left her job at the resort under questionable circumstances, with her boss hinting of a romantic involvement with Garrett. “I’d say we’re more like acquaintances,” Garrett scoffed when asked about it. Emphasizing their strictly business relationship, he added, “Zoe’s hardly my type . . .”

  The rest of the story blurred as her eyes lost focus. She lowered the paper, staring at nothing, replaying the lines in her mind. Imagined Jase smiling condescendingly as he spoke. “Zoe’s hardly my type.”

  An ache began deep in her chest. It hadn’t taken him long to distance himself from her questionable circumstances. Right there, on the same page with that snarky innuendo from Matt, he’d let everyone know he had nothing to do with her. Any questionable actions were all hers.

  It had been bad enough to find out that Matt was only looking for a good time. But Jase had liked her family, understood the side of her she barely knew herself. She’d trusted him. But when scandal once again hovered around her, he’d backed off fast enough to burn rubber.

  It was the one thing she couldn’t forgive.

  She wanted to be furious, but right now it hurt too much. She pressed a fist to her chest, rocking slightly, riding out the pain.

  “Zoe Larkin?”

  She jerked her
head up and found a cute blonde standing in front of her with a questioning look. Jase’s niece, Hailey. She nodded.

  “They said to let you know you can go in now.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m Hailey Watson. Jase is my uncle.”

  “I know.” She dug deep to find a polite smile.

  Hailey tilted her head, friendly but curious. “He was asking if you were here. I think he wanted to see you more than us.”

  The girl was obviously fishing, and Zoe wasn’t about to take the bait. She got to her feet. “It was nice to have met you, Hailey. Room 238, wasn’t it?” She hurried down the hall.

  • • •

  He was propped up in bed, hooked up to an IV, and looking better than someone should an hour after emergency surgery. The bandages around his neck and shoulder were a pristine white, a strange contrast to the memory of all that blood. The image was too fresh in her mind, and concern swamped the mixture of anger and hurt brewing in her chest.

  She stood nervously beside his bed. “Are you really okay?”

  “Yes.” He reached for her hand, and she let him keep it. Pulling it away would be mean, and she couldn’t be mean to someone who’d just survived a brush with death. Someone stitched and bandaged and weak from blood loss. Someone she loved despite his betrayal and the fact that she was leaving him.

  Realizing how deep the love went was depressing. It would take a long time to go away.

  He squeezed her fingers. “They said you saved my life.”

  “You saved mine, throwing that chair and jumping between us.”

  “We can spend a long time thanking each other.” He tugged her closer. “Zoe, I want to spend a long time thanking you. Being with you.”

  Panic jumped in her chest. As emotionally exhausted as she was, she recognized another heart-wrenching moment rushing at her, one she couldn’t deal with right now. She tugged her hand away and stepped back. “Don’t!”

  He smiled through a puzzled look. “Don’t what? Zoe, I’m just trying to tell you that I love you.”