She was crying now, quietly. "I knew she was up there. I just knew it. But I didn't know what to do."
"Yes, you did. And you did it." Ry patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Inspector?" Milano strode out, the usual scowl on her face. "I got you a pass to see your lady, not that you'll bother to thank me for it."
He was on his feet. "She's okay?"
"She's stabilized, and sedated. But you can look at her, since that seems to be your goal in life."
He glanced back at Deirdre. "Are you going to wait?"
"Yes. If you'd just let me know how she is.''
"I'll be back." He headed off after the quick-stepping doctor.
Natalie's room was private, and dimly lit. She lay very still, very pale. But her hand, when he took it in his, was warm.
"Are you planning on spending the night here?" Milano asked from the doorway.
"Are you going to give me a hard time about it?" Ry returned without looking around.
"Who, me? I aim to serve. It's not likely she'll wake up, but that's not going to stop you. Neither is trying to sleep in that hideously uncomfortable chair."
"I'm a fireman, Doc. I can sleep anywhere."
"Well, fireman, make yourself at home. I'll go tell your friend in the waiting room that all's well."
"Yeah." He never took his eyes from Natalie's face. "That'd be good."
"Oh, you're more than welcome," Milano said sourly, and closed the door behind her.
Ry pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and sat with Natalie's hand in his.
He dozed once or twice. Occasionally a nurse came into the room and scooted him out. It was during one of those short, restless breaks that he saw Boyd rushing down the corridor.
"Piasecki."
"Captain. She's sleeping." Ry gestured toward the door. "There."
Without another word, Boyd moved past him and inside.
Ry walked into the waiting lounge, poured a cup of muddy coffee, and stared out the window. He couldn't think. It seemed better that way, just to let the night drift. If he focused, he would see it again, the terror on her face, the fire around her. And he would remember how he'd felt, carrying her down flight after flight, not knowing if she was alive or dead.
The burning on his hand made him look down. He saw he'd crushed the paper cup into a ball and spilled the hot coffee, over his bandaged hands.
"Want another?" Boyd said from behind him.
"No." Ry tossed the cup away, and wiped his hand on his jeans. "You want to go outside and pound on me awhile?''
With a short laugh, Boyd poured coffee for himself. "Have you taken a look in a mirror?''
"Why?"
"You look like hell." Experimentally, Boyd sipped. It was even more pathetic than precinct coffee. "Worse than hell. It wouldn't look good for me to start swinging at a guy in your condition."
"I heal quick." When Boyd said nothing, Ry shoved his hands in his pockets. "I told you I wouldn't let her get hurt. I damn near killed her."
"You did?"
"I lost it. I knew it wasn't just Clarence. I knew there was somebody behind it. But I was so… wrapped up in her. I never thought about him getting another torch, or trying something himself. The phones, damn it. I heard the phones ringing."
Intrigued, Boyd sat back. "Which means?"
"A delaying device," Ry shot back, whirling around. "It's a classic. Matchsticks, soaked in accelerant. Tape them to the phone, call the number. The phone rings, the ringer sparks the match."
"Clever. But you know, you can't think of everything all the time."
"It's my job to think of everything."
"And to have a crystal ball."
His voice was raw from the abuse his throat had taken, tight with the emotion he couldn't afford to let loose. "I was supposed to take care of her."
"Yeah." Acknowledging that, Boyd sipped again. "I made a lot of calls on the flight from Denver. One of the perks of Fletcher Industries is having a private plane at your disposal. I talked to the fire marshal, to the doctor who treated Natalie, to Deirdre Marks. You got her out, carried her down every damn step in that building. How many stitches have you got in that arm?"
"That's hardly the point."
"The point is, the fire marshal gave me some idea of what you were facing up there on the forty-second floor, and what kind of shape you were in when you got her outside. Her doctor told me that if she'd been in there another ten minutes, it isn't likely she'd be sleeping right now. So, do I want to punch you? I don't think so. I owe you my sister's life."
Ry remembered how she had looked when he laid her on the ground next to the engine. How she looked now, pale and still, in a hospital bed. "You don't owe me anything."
"Natalie's as important to me as she is to you." Boyd set his coffee aside and rose. "What did you do to tick her off?"
Ry grimaced. "We're working it out."
"Well, good luck." Boyd held out a hand.
After a moment, Ry clasped it with his. "Thanks."
"I figure you're going to be here awhile. I've got a little job to do."
Ry tightened his grip, and narrowed his eyes. "Deirdre told you who's responsible."
"That's right. I also spoke with my counterpart here in Urbana while I was in the air. It's being taken care of." He saw the look in Ry's eyes, understood it. "This part's up to my team, Ry. You and yours just make damn sure you hang him for the arson."
"Who?" Ry said between his teeth.
"Donald Hawthorne. I got it down to four likely suspects two days ago." He smiled a little. "Some background checks, bank and phone records. Sometimes it pays to be a cop."
"And you didn't pass the information along to me."
"I intended to, when I narrowed it down a bit further. Now I have, and I am."
Boyd knew what it was to love, to need to protect, and to live with the terror of seeing your woman fight for her life.
"Listen," he said briskly, "if you kill him—however much it might appeal to both of us right now—I'd have to arrest you. I'd hate to throw my brother-in-law in a cell."
Ry unfisted his hands long enough to stick them in his pockets. "I'm not your brother-in-law."
"Not yet. Go on in with her, get some sleep."
"You'd better put Hawthorne somewhere where I can't find him."
"I intend to," Boyd said as he walked away.
Natalie stirred at dawn. Ry was watching the way the slats of light through the blinds bloomed over her when her lashes fluttered.
He bent over her, talking softly, quickly, so that her first clear thoughts wouldn't be fearful ones. "Natalie, you're okay. We got out okay. You just swallowed some smoke. Everything's all right now. You've been sleeping. I'm right here. I don't want you to talk. Your throat's going to be miserable for a while."
"You're talking," she whispered, her eyes still closed.
"Yeah." And it felt as though he'd swallowed a flaming sword. "That's why I don't recommend it."
She swallowed and winced. "We didn't die."
"Doesn't look like it." Gently he cupped her head and held a cup of water so that she could sip through the straw. "Just take it easy."
There was a fear lurking deep inside her. But she had to know. "Are we burned badly?"
"We're not burned. A couple of singes, maybe."
Relief made her shiver. "I can't feel anything, except—" She reached up to touch the bruise on her forehead.
"Sorry." He pressed his lips to the lump, felt himself begin to tremble, and drew back again. "You got that when I tackled you."
She opened her eyes then. They felt weighted. Her whole body felt weighted. "Hospital?" she asked. Then her breath caught as she focused on him. Scratches on his face, a bandage at his temple, and a larger one that started just below his shoulder and nearly reached the elbow. His hands, his beautiful hands, were wrapped in gauze.
"Oh, God, Ry. You're hurt."
"Cuts and bruises." He smiled at her. "Singed my hair a l
ittle."
"You need a doctor."
"I've had one, thanks. I don't think she likes me. Now shut up and rest."
"What happened?"
"You're going to have to move your office." When she started to speak again, he held up a hand. "I'll tell you what I know if you keep quiet. Otherwise, I'll just leave you to stew. Deal?" Satisfied, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Deirdre tried to call you in Colorado," he began.
When he finished, her head was throbbing. Impotent fury ate away at the remnant of the sedative until she was wide awake and aching. Anticipating her, Ry laid his hand over her mouth.
"There's nothing you can do until you're on your feet. Not much you can do then. It's up to the departments—fire and police. And it's being handled. Now I'm going to ring for the nurse so they can take a look at you."
"I don't—" Her protest turned into a spasm of coughing. By the time she'd regained control, a nurse was gesturing Ry out of the room.
She didn't see him again for more than twenty-four hours.
"You could use another day here, Nat." Boyd crossed his feet at the ankles as he watched Natalie pack the small overnight case he'd brought her.
"I hate hospitals."
"You've made that clear. I need your word you're taking a full week off, at home, or I'm calling in the troops. And not just Cilia, but Mom and Dad."
"There's no need for them to fly all the way out here."
"That's up to you, pal."
She pouted. "Three days off."
"A full week. Anything less is a deal-breaker. I can be just as tough a negotiator as you," he said with a grin. "It's in the blood."
"Fine, fine, a week. What difference does it make?" She snatched up the water glass and drank. It seemed she could never get enough to drink these days. "Everything's in shambles. Half my building's destroyed, one of my most trusted executives is responsible. I don't even have an office to go to."
"You'll take care of that. Next week. Hawthorne has a lot to answer for. The fact that he didn't know you and Ry were in the building isn't going to save him."
"All for greed." Too angry to pack the few things Boyd had brought her, she paced. Her body still felt weak, but there was too much energy boiling within to allow her to keep still. "Draining a little here, a little there, losing it on speculative stocks. Then draining more and more, until he was so desperate he risked burning down entire buildings just to destroy records and delay the audit records."
She whirled back. "How frustrated he must have been when I told him I had duplicates of everything that was lost in the warehouse fire."
"And he wasn't sure where you kept them. Fire destroys everything," Boyd pointed out. "So, he'd take one of the buildings, and hope. If he didn't hit, the confusion in the aftermath would keep everyone so busy, you wouldn't get around to the audit until, he hoped, he'd managed to replace the siphoned funds."
"So he thought."
"He doesn't know you like I do. You always get things done on time. The office was his last shot, and the most desperate, since he had to do it himself. When we picked him up and he found out you and Ry had been in there and that he was facing attempted murder charges, he gave us everything."
"I trusted him," Natalie murmured. "I can't stand knowing I could be so wrong about anyone I thought I knew." She glanced up as the door opened.
"Good to see you, Ry," Boyd said, and rose. This looked like his cue to make a quick and discreet exit.
Ry nodded at Boyd, then focused on Natalie. "Why aren't you in bed?"
"I've been discharged."
"You're not ready to leave the hospital."'
"Excuse me." Boyd slipped toward the door. "I have a sudden urge for a cup of bad coffee."
Neither Natalie nor Ry bothered to say goodbye. They only continued to argue in raspy croaks.
"Do you have a medical degree now, Inspector?"
"I know what shape you were in when you got here."
"Well, if you'd bothered to check in since, you'd have seen that I'm recovered."
"I had a lot of details to tie up," he told her. "And you needed to rest."
"I'd rather have had you."
He held out the flowers. "I'm here now."
She sighed. Should she let him off the hook so easily when she'd been pining for him for so long? And why shouldn't she make him pay a bit for dumping her for the most ridiculous reason?
"Why don't you go take those daffodils to someone who needs them."
He tossed them on the bed. "I'm going to go talk to the doctor."
"You certainly will not talk to my doctor. I don't need your permission to leave the hospital. You didn't ask me for mine. And I did not need rest. I needed to see you. I was worried about you."
"Were you?" Encouraged, he lifted a hand to her face.
"I wanted you here, Ry. Dozens of other people came, but obviously you didn't see the need—"
"I had work," he shot back. "I wanted to get the evidence on that sonofabitch as soon as possible. It's all I can do. I'd kill him if I could get to him."
She started to snap back, then felt an icy chill at the look on his face. "Stop that." Unnerved, she turned her back on him, away from the murder in his eyes, and tossed a robe in her case. "I don't want to hear you talk that way."
"I didn't know if you were alive." He spun her around, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "I didn't know. You weren't moving. I didn't know if you were breathing." Suddenly he dragged her against him and buried his face in her hair. "God, Natalie, I've never been so scared."
"All right." She brought her arms around him, to soothe. "Don't think about it."
"I didn't let myself, until you woke up yesterday. Since then I haven't been able to think about anything else." Struggling for composure, he eased away. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for saving my life? For risking your own to keep me from being hurt? You shielded me from the explosion. You carried me through fire." She shook her head quickly, before he could speak. "Don't tell me you were doing your job. I don't give a damn whether you want to be a hero or not. You're mine."
"I love you, Natalie."
Her heart softened and swelled. Carefully she turned and picked up the daffodils. It was foolish to waste their emotions on anger. They were alive. "You mentioned that, before we were interrupted."
"There's something else I should have mentioned. Why I pushed you away."
Staring down, she flicked a finger over a bright yellow trumpet. "You listed the reasons."
"I listed the excuses. Not the reason. Maybe you could look at me while I grovel?"
She turned back, trying to smile. "It's not necessary, Ry."
"Yeah, it is. You haven't decided whether you're going to give me another chance yet." He reached out, tucked her hair behind her ear. "I could wear you down eventually, because you're crazy about me. But you deserve to know what was going on in my head."
She stiffened automatically. "I don't think arrogance is very appropriate, so why don't you-—"
"I was scared," he said quietly, and watched the heat fade from her eyes. "Of you, of me. Of us." He let out a long breath when she said nothing. "I didn't think I could say it. Admit it. Not until I realized what it was to be really scared. Down-to-the-bone scared. It makes being afraid of being in love pretty stupid."
"Then it looks like we were both stupid, because I was scared, too." Her mouth curved a little. "You were more stupid, of course."
"My whole life," he said quietly, "I've never felt anything like what I feel for you. Not for anyone."
"I know." Her breath trembled out. "I know. It's the same with me."
"And it just keeps getting bigger, and scarier. Are you going to give me another chance?"
She looked at him—the bony face, the dark eyes, the unruly hair. "I probably owe you that much, seeing as you've saved my life and come clean, groveled and apologized." Her smile spread. "I suppose I could give us both another chance."
"Want to marry me?"
The flowers drifted to the floor as her fingers went numb. "Excuse me?"
"With you feeling generous, it seemed like a good time to push my luck." Feeling foolish, he bent down and gathered up the daffodils. "But it can wait."
She cleared her aching throat, accepting the flowers again. "Would you mind repeating the question?"
His eyes shot back to hers. It took him a moment to find his voice again. It was a risk, he realized. One of the biggest risks he'd ever faced. And he had to leave his fate in her hands.
"Will you marry me?"
"I could do that," she said, and let out the breath she'd been holding, even as Ry let out his own. "Yes, I could do that." Laughing, she launched herself into his arms.
"I've got you." Dazzled, Ry buried his face in her hair. "I've got you, Legs, from now on." And kissed her.
"I want babies," she told him the minute her mouth was free.
"No kidding?" With a grin, he pushed her hair back so that he could read her face. What he saw made his heart leap. "Me, too."
"That makes it handy."
He scooped his arms under her legs and lifted her. "What do you say we get out of here and get started?''
She managed to snag her overnight case before he headed to the door. "That'll make it nine months from today." She kissed his cheek as he carried her from the room. "And I'm always on time."
In this case, she managed to be eight days early.
--5 Night Shield (09-2000)--
Chapter 1
He didn't like cops.
His attitude had deep roots, and stemmed from spending his formative years dodging them, outrunning them—usually—or being hassled by them when his feet weren't fast enough.
He'd picked his share of pockets by the time he'd turned twelve and knew the best, and most lucrative channels for turning a hot watch into cold cash.
He'd learned back then that knowing what time it was couldn't buy happiness, but the twenty bucks the watch brought in paid for a nice slice of the happiness pie. And twenty bucks cannily wagered swelled into sixty at three-to-one.
The same year he'd turned twelve, he'd invested his carefully hoarded takes and winnings in a small gambling enterprise that centered around point spreads and indulged his interest in sports.
Books by Nora Roberts Page 423