“She’s lucky I didn’t draw my gun.”
He tried to smile. Failed.
“I’m so sorry, Lund.” Val stepped closer to the bed. “Jerry was a good man.”
Lund shook his head. He couldn’t believe Fruehauf was gone. It made no sense. “The explosion… I…”
“You didn’t know the tank was there.”
“I avoided the place, Val.”
“And your former father-in-law should have had it removed years ago when he switched to natural gas for heat. Or, at the very least, he could have kept records of the thing. Or, how about this? We blame the arsonist who set the damned fire in the first place.”
Lund knew she was right, but that didn’t mitigate the relentless ache deep in his chest. Over the past few years, he’d probably spent more time with Jerry Fruehauf than anyone. Doing the job, of course, but also puttering around the beat-up, old fire station, playing cards at The Doghouse, hell he’d even eaten Thanksgiving dinner at Jerry and Maribeth’s house.
The chief had filled a hole in Lund’s life, and as he sat in this damn bed, he could feel that void once again opening inside.
Val sat on the edge of his bed, and for a long time, neither of them spoke.
Lund finally broke the silence. “I wish you could have met my dad.”
It was a non-sequitur, but Val didn’t seem to mind. She took his hand between both of hers. “Tell me about him.”
His dad… there was so much he was, so much Lund missed. But when it came down to it, Lund could only grasp the little things, the details, the rest was too big to get his arms around.
“He sang out of key, couldn’t hit a fastball to save his life, and was the most selfless man I’ve ever known.” Lund took a moment, swallowed, looked at the ceiling. “Until Jerry. They had a lot in common. They would have liked each other.”
Val nodded. “Jerry was a terrible singer.”
This time the smile came, lifting the corners of his lips despite every force in the world holding them down. “He was. He had this song he liked to sing around the station. That weemoweh song.”
“The Lion Sleeps Tonight?”
“Yeah. He drove me nuts with that. I think our dispatcher Nancy had serious homicidal thoughts.”
“Did your dad have a favorite song?”
“MacArthur Park.”
“Someone left the cake out in the rain? That one?”
“Yeah.”
Val made a face. “Oh, God.”
“Two of a kind. Too bad they never met. Jerry and my dad would’ve had the time of their lives hanging out at a Brewers game, destroying the National Anthem.”
Val gave his hand a squeeze.
Lund stared at his fingers entwined in Val’s. Then he drew her down and enfolded her in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, him breathing in her scent, soaking in her heat, but slowly the shock dissipated and the anger set in, and he knew what he had to do. “Let’s get out of here.”
Val pulled out of his embrace and studied his face. “I can drive you home.”
“I don’t want to go home. I want to take a look at the oil tank, or at least what’s left of it.”
“And your head is okay?”
“I had worse concussions playing baseball.” He wasn’t kidding.
“Rough game.”
“I played all out.”
“Of course, you did.” Val gave him a smile. “I have a couple of Maglites in the trunk of my car. You get dressed, and I’ll cut through some red tape.”
Lund was released from the hospital, and they were on the road in what had to be record time. Guess it helped to have a cop on your side.
He glanced at Val next to him behind the wheel then stared out the windshield at the dark ribbon of road swelling and dipping in front of them. The last time the two of them had taken this road, it had led to a fire, an explosion, and a good man’s death. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So many tragic things had begun and ended at that farm.
Val turned into the circle drive, and Lund got his first glimpse of the wreckage in the sweep of the high beams. The grass was blackened as far as he could see, as if they’d been performing a spring burn off to preserve prairie lands. The second floor of the house was gone, the rest a pile of charred debris, only the front porch still recognizable.
Val angled the Taurus to illuminate the structure then added the car’s spotlight to the headlight beams.
Even from this distance, Lund could see the ripped up earth, splintered siding, and gaping hole in the old stone foundation. There had been a lilac bush there, planted too close to the house. In the spring, Kelly had liked to open the window next to it so she could smell the flowers. In the winter, the branches scratched against the clapboard like frantic fingers.
“Shall we?” Val said.
They climbed out, and Val circled to the trunk, pulled out two large Maglites, and handed one to him. Switching on the lights, they picked their way to the house through truck ruts and lingering mud puddles.
Lund could tell Val was having problems with the uneven terrain. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Fine.”
“You look like you’re limping.”
“Twisted my ankle a little yesterday. It’s fine.”
He reached for her. “Here, let me help.”
“You just got out of the hospital. I’m fine. Really.” She focused her beam on a portion of the tank still embedded in the ground. “How much of the explosion do you remember?”
“None. The last thing I recall is plowing a fire line on the other side of the ridge. Next thing I knew, I was face down on the ground talking to a doctor named Mark.”
Val said nothing, her light bobbing over the torn up earth.
“He said he was an old friend of yours.” Lund knew he was probing at a topic Val didn’t want to talk about, but he couldn’t help it. Call him a Neanderthal, but he didn’t like the idea of some doctor hanging around. And that he was Grace’s father really hadn’t made Lund’s day. “So I take it you and this Mark were close?”
“Forever ago.” Val’s light careened over the gnarled siding of the house.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Lund asked.
“I don’t believe in speaking ill of Grace’s father. Besides, I’m really hoping he’s gotten his act together, for Grace’s sake.”
“If he’s a problem, let me know.”
“What are you doing? Defending your women?”
“My women.” He was definitely some kind of Neanderthal, because he liked that thought. Liked it a lot. If he concentrated, he could still feel the press of Val’s lips when they’d kissed in the hospital. And if he had a daughter like Grace, he couldn’t even hope to contain his pride.
Val didn’t answer, and he couldn’t see her face in the darkness, just the beam of her Maglite.
“After the hospital, I was hoping things would be different,” Lund finally said.
“Different?”
“Easier. I think our feelings for each other are pretty clear, Val. I don’t understand why you’re still holding back.”
“Things are complicated.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m patient.”
“How common is it for underground fuel oil tanks to explode during a fire?”
“You want to change the subject.”
“I want an answer to my question. How common are explosions like that?”
Reluctantly he steered his focus to the reason they were here. “Not common at all. That’s one reason to bury them.”
“So why did this one blow up?”
“An explosion is just fire igniting under pressure. You know the three things fire needs.”
“Fuel, which would be the oil in the tank.”
“Technically the fumes in the tank. Liquid doesn’t burn. The fuel has to be in a gaseous state.”
“Okay, so the fumes in the tank. And heat. That would be from the house fire.”
“But n
either the volatility of the fuel nor the heat in this case would be enough to build up pressure on their own. Not without the third element.”
“Oxygen.”
He stepped closer to the tank remnant. The top of the tank was still intact, the opening where it could be filled still bearing its heavy cover, but…
“The cover is closed. How would it get enough oxygen? Is there some other vent?”
Lund grasped the cover. It moved under his hand. “Val, the cover isn’t sealed. That’s where the supply of oxygen came from. The cover was open.”
She stumbled toward him over the rough ground, her flashlight beam bobbing wildly. “Open? After all these years?”
Lund focused his Maglite, illuminating the opening. Dirt, spider egg sacks and other sediment collected around the seal. But under, the pipe was perfectly clean. “Not after all these years. This was recent. Someone opened it on purpose, maybe trying to cause exactly what happened.”
Val stepped forward, hunching to see. Her left foot slipped in the mud, skidded, and her leg collapsed beneath her. She tumbled forward, sliding into the pit.
“Val!”
“I’m okay. I’m okay. Just slipped.”
“Thank God.” He directed his beam down.
Val hunched at the bottom of the hole, clinging to the side. Gathering her legs under her, she moved to stand. She bobbled, then slumped back.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m not. I’m fine. Just muddy.”
“Then why can’t you get up?”
She tried again. A smaller surge. A fall.
As if, try as she might, her legs didn’t quite work. Lund dealt with injuries all the time, saving people from falls and fires and car accidents was what he did, what he lived for. But for a moment, staring at Val hurt like that, he felt a surge of cold panic. “You must have hurt your back.”
“No, Lund. I didn’t.”
“I’m calling 911. I don’t think I should pull you out of there without a backboard.”
“I don’t need a backboard.”
He pulled out his phone, swiped the screen…
“Lund, stop. Don’t call. Please.”
“This could be serious, Val.”
“Oh, it’s serious. But it’s not what you think.”
He stared at her squinting up at him, his light shining on her face. “What are you saying?”
“I didn’t hurt myself, Lund. I have multiple sclerosis.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Val
With the Maglite blinding her adding to her vision problem, Val couldn’t see Lund’s expression, but it seemed forever before he moved.
He circled the tank, stepping over crumbling earth and debris. “It won’t hurt to lift you out?”
“No.”
He stopped above her. Stooping low, he reached out. “Grab hold of me.”
She put her hands in his, palms pressing, fingers gripping, at least the fingers in her left hand.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” she pushed out, her voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled her up the bank, to the rim, and when he set her on her feet, her leg buckled again.
Not waiting for her to fall, he swooped her off her feet and cradled her in his arms.
“I can walk.”
He carried her to her car, settling her into the passenger seat, then circled to the other side, and climbed behind the wheel.
“Lund, I don’t need—”
“Shh.”
It only took a minute to reach her house. He parked the car near the kitchen door and got out.
By the time she managed to open the passenger door with her numb right hand, he was there, lifting her out of the car.
“Lund, I—”
“Shh.”
He carried her to the door then stooped and held her near the security system keypad.
Val peered up at him, the light on the barn shining behind him, haloing his too long hair, the stubble on his jaw.
“Please?” he said.
She could refuse to punch in the combination, be a pain in the ass, but what good would that do either of them? Her secret was out. Her worst nightmare realized. And acting like a petulant child wasn’t going to change any of it.
Resigning, she punched in the code, twisted the knob, and pushed.
Lund carried her into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her and pausing while she locked back up. Then he walked through the first floor, switching on a light here and there as he went, and started climbing the stairs.
“I can handle it from here,” Val said.
He kept going.
“I’m not helpless. I don’t have problems often. Just now and then, when I’m stressed.”
“It’s okay, Val.”
“It’s not okay. I can’t do this.”
“This?” He reached the top of the steps and started down the hall. “What is this?”
“I can’t be a burden.”
She could feel the tears finally spilling over, streaking down her cheeks, dripping off her chin.
He didn’t answer, just carried her into her bedroom at the end of the hall. He set her down in the bed and adjusted the pillow beneath her head. “You aren’t a burden to me, Val. You never could be.”
“If you stick around, I will be. You don’t know, but eventually…” A spasm shook her, one sob after another. When she regained control, he was still there, still watching her. “My mother died from MS.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Chances are, I will, too.”
“Chances are, you have a lot of life to live before then.”
“My body doesn’t work. Piece after piece. Sometimes because the shower I took was too hot. Sometimes because I didn’t get enough rest. Sometimes for no reason at all.”
“Shh.”
“I won’t chain you to this.”
“And that’s been the big problem all this time? That’s why you pushed me away? Because I’m here with you, Val. To me, you’re worth whatever I have to give. More.”
She shook her head. He didn’t get it, and she had no idea how to explain so he would. “I don’t want it to be like that, you giving, me taking.”
“It won’t.”
“And no hovering like a concerned nanny.”
“That will be harder, but I won’t. I promise.”
“And no making my decisions for me, as if I’m incapable—”
“I’m afraid I got your bed a little muddy.”
Val looked down. In the dim light of the bedroom, the mud on her clothes looked like blood, some of it tinging the sheets. “I’ll just—”
“I got it,” he said. He started with her suit jacket sleeve. Lifting her wrist, he slipped the fabric over her hand, her arm, until she was free.
“Now I need you to sit up.”
Val opened her mouth to protest, but he was already coaxing her forward, peeling the jacket off her back, and then sliding it off her other arm.
He laid it on the hamper just to the right of her closet. “Your pants.”
“I can do this on my own, Lund.”
He shook his head, a peculiar look on his face. “Not tonight.”
His fingers slid down her silk shell, stopping at the waistband of her trousers. Seconds and he was slipping the slacks down over her hips, caressing as he lifted her left leg, then her right, easing them free.
He deposited the pants on top of the jacket, never taking his eyes off hers.
Val should tell him that’s enough, the mud was vanquished, but she didn’t say a word. She just watched him, scarcely able to breathe.
Lund sat on the edge of the bed beside her, as she had done in the hospital. His fingers found the hem of her silk shell. He slid the fabric up her rib cage, over her bra. Then slipping his other hand beneath her back, he lifted her with one hand, while sliding the silk over her head with the other.
He paused, eyes roaming her skin, as if memorizing her.
Val opened her mouth, then closed it. She had no idea what to say.
He didn’t look at her as if she was a burden.
He didn’t look at her with pity.
He looked at her with…
Heat.
Longing.
And all the things she was too afraid to feel.
He massaged her shoulders. He slipped his fingers under the straps of her bra, one side then the other, and eased them down over her arms. And when he smoothed his hands along her ribs and underneath to unlatch the clasp, she arched her back, and he uncovered her.
The cool air washed over her, tightening her nipples, taunting them. She breathed in and out, her back still arched, lifting herself to him like an offering.
He brought his lips to hers, then littered kisses down her throat. His tongue flicked over her skin, circling, lips nibbling. He took one nipple into his mouth, then the other, flicking, teasing, sucking, his mouth hot.
Val encircled him with her legs, tangling her fingers in his hair. She’d wanted this so long, that now it was happening, she half expected to wake and find it was all a dream.
He skimmed one hand over her skin, lower, lower, until he reached the waistband of her panties. She released him and let him glide the slip of silk down her thighs, over her knees, and off.
Gently, he spread her and settled his body between her legs. He brought his mouth closer to her center, his breath caressing her, and she spread wider, tilting her hips, reaching for him.
She felt the flick of his tongue, sudden and powerful, like an electric jolt.
Then another.
Another.
A moan rose from her chest. Then a whimper. And when he brought his mouth full against her, God help her, she let out something close to a scream.
He didn’t stop there, but swirled and sucked and ground into her, driving her over the edge, spasms clenching her muscles. It was amazing.
Breathtaking.
Stunning.
He’d done this before, the single time they’d made love. He’d focused on her, giving to her, never asking for anything in return.
And she had taken, because she’d been too weak, too needy to do anything else.
Val didn’t want that now. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, savoring the texture of his skin, then gripping his biceps, she guided him up her body.
Burned Too Hot: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 2) Page 14