by Dee Davis
Fate had spoken.
His pride had gotten in his way, his need to destroy Payton interfering with the divinity of their joining, the simple beauty of his plan. This, then, was the truth. The real path. The fates after all had been kind. They had delivered her to him.
And even better, Payton Reynolds would be forced to watch.
With a smile, J.T. reached out, setting eternity in motion with the flick of a finger.
SAM STOOD in the middle of the warehouse, calling Payton’s name. His car was outside, so she knew he had to be somewhere in the vicinity of the building. He had to be. The alternative was something she couldn’t contemplate.
The warehouse shook with the sound of the train rumbling past, and she turned slowly, her eyes darting around the burned-out building, searching every shadow for some sign of Payton. She’d tried his cell phone on the way over, but she’d been switched immediately to voice mail, which meant his phone wasn’t on.
When she’d arrived, she’d called Madison as promised and requested backup. Gabe should be arriving any minute, and Nigel and the others were no doubt on the way. If she’d been playing it by the book, she would still be waiting in her car, but she wasn’t used to sitting on the sidelines. So she’d waited all of about two minutes and then headed in here, certain that Payton was in trouble, that Riker had done something to him. But there was nothing here.
The warehouse was empty. There was no sign of Payton or Riker. Her heart stuttered at the thought that perhaps Riker had taken him somewhere, but then she rejected the idea. Payton wasn’t the type of man to go without a struggle and there was no sign of it here. Besides, Madison had said Riker liked to attack from a distance.
She turned to go, thinking that she’d try and call again. She’d left her cell phone in the car. So maybe it was providential. She’d wait for the team to arrive, and in the meantime hopefully get through to Payton.
“It’s too late now to leave.”
She pivoted at the sound of the voice, her gaze locking with a lanky man standing a foot or so away, the light from the window bouncing off the gun in his hand.
“Riker.” He was taller than he looked in his pictures, but the rest of the features were the same. The sunken eyes, the sallow skin and the receding hairline.
“You don’t remember me.” His tone was flat, with maybe a hint of disappointment.
“No. At least not beyond what I’ve learned about you in the past few days. I did know you. In Abilene, right?” she asked, playing for time. She didn’t think he’d shoot her, but she didn’t want to take the chance. “My memory is hazy.”
The train whistle blew again, the sound farther away. Sam could still hear cars passing outside, but the noise had changed, lighter somehow, the end of train approaching.
“I remember you,” Riker said, his mouth softening, as his gaze devoured her. “I’ve followed every moment of your career. Every triumph. Every failure.”
She thought of the photographs in his workshop and shuddered. “You’ve been stalking me.”
“How can you possibly think something like that?” he snapped, his anger apparent. “I’ve a right to your life, just as you have a right to mine. We are part of the same whole, Samantha. Surely you can see that. After everything that has happened between us.”
“Nothing has happened, Riker. It’s all in your head.”
“No. It’s here.” He pounded his heart. “It’s real. You just can’t see it. Your lust for Reynolds is clouding your vision.”
“What have you done with Payton?” She bit out the words, her own anger matching his.
“Nothing. Not for lack of trying I might add.” His smile broadened. “But in the end he provided us with the perfect ending.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She backed up a step, holding her hands up, trying to figure out the best way to make a break for it.
Riker shot, the bullet hitting her in the thigh, pain shooting like wildfire through her leg. Sam hit the ground, fighting for breath.
“I told you it was too late to leave.” He moved closer, kneeling beside her, a flash of regret crossing his face. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But you don’t have to worry. It’ll all be over soon.”
He reached out to stroke her hair, and she batted his hand away. “What do mean by that?” Even before she finished the words, she suspected the truth. Riker wouldn’t use the gun to kill her. He didn’t have to.
He smiled, rocking back onto his haunches, the gun still in his hand, but his finger slack on the trigger. “By my count we have about sixty seconds, and then we will be joined for all time.”
“So that’s what this has all been about. Some sick kind of sexual fantasy?”
“Of course not.” Riker’s eyes widened in horror. “The connection between us is far greater than anything physical pleasure can provide. It’s spiritual. I am you and you are me. One infinite circle. You are yin to my yang. Can’t you see, Samantha? We have no need of anything more than each other.”
“If you’re part of me, my other half, then how can you even contemplate killing me?” She spoke before she had time to think, her mind busy with a mental countdown, but she forced herself to focus as Riker’s face changed from one of certainty to one of doubt.
“It won’t hurt.” It was poor comfort and he knew it, his eyes searching her face, his frown indicating her words were something he’d never considered.
“It doesn’t matter though, does it? You’ll still have killed me.”
The gun dropped, and Sam scooted away using her good foot to propel her along. She’d made it about four feet when he caught up to her. “The bomb will only set us free. Allow us to unite in fire as one.”
“The bomb will destroy us.” She continued to move toward the open doorway, the distance to safety still seeming miles away.
He moved along beside her, making no move to stop her, his brow crumpled in contemplation. “But in destroying we will be released.”
“I don’t know where you’re getting all of this, Riker. But if the bomb goes off we’ll be dead. Finished. Kaput. Nothing more. I repeat—you will have killed me.”
His expression had changed to one of confusion. “You’re wrong. You just don’t believe.”
“There’s nothing to believe in, Riker. You’ve based your fantasy on delusion.” Now there was an understatement. “Stop the bomb.” She continued to crawl, knowing that she’d never make it in time.
“I can’t,” he whispered, his eyes reflecting the truth of his words.
She tried to force her muscles to respond, to convince her leg to move and support her, but to no avail, she couldn’t even feel it, let alone use it. “Then we’re going to die.”
Everything after that happened in a blur. She heard Riker yelling “No!” and felt the weight of his body as it hit hers, the sound of the blast reaching her before the floor shimmied with the resulting force.
Something splintered and it felt as if the floor had broken away, and she was falling—floating free—Riker’s body ripping away. She could see his face. See the horror in his eyes.
And then there was nothing but pain and fire and smoke, and as the blackness came rushing up to meet her—her thoughts reached out to Payton one last time, praying that he knew how much she loved him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE LAST TRAIN CAR passed the warehouse, just as the building blew sky-high. Payton could feel the heat of the blast from where he stood, his eyes locked not on the building, but on Sam’s SUV. He was in motion before his brain even had time to click into gear, his heart hammering not from exertion but from absolute fear.
Riker had played his last card, and it seemed that Payton had managed to fail Sam in the same way he’d failed Keith, allowing her to fall into a trap that had no doubt been intended for him. He’d talked to Madison, who’d explained about the setup, telling him that Sam was en route.
Obviously, she’d already arrived.
He reached the entrance to
the warehouse, timber blazing all around him, bits of debris still hurtling from the sky. There was no way anyone could have survived the blast, but he had to know for certain. He started in, but was stopped when an arm wrapped around him, the steely grip preventing forward motion.
“You can’t go in there.” Gabe’s voice sounded as tormented as Payton felt, and he whirled to face his friend.
“Was she in there?”
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know. I got here just after it blew. I didn’t see her. But there’s nobody here, so I’m guessing…” He trailed off, his eyes dark with anguish.
“No.” Payton spit the word out, breaking Gabe’s hold, dashing into the burning building before his friend could stop him. The air inside was thick with acrid smoke, and he pulled his shirt over his face to help him breathe.
It was hard to see. Even with the roof gone the smoke obscured the light, and Payton bent low in an attempt to escape the worst of it. A splintered beam from the ceiling broke free and fell, raining hot embers as it tumbled through the air. Payton twisted to the left, managing to miss the wood as it crashed to the floor.
“Sam?” His voice seemed unusually loud after the roar of the explosion. The sound of falling debris was muffled by a thick layer of dust, and he waited, forcing himself to breathe slowly and listen.
“If she was in here, she’s dead, Payton.” Gabe had materialized at his side again.
As if in testament to his words Payton stumbled over something, his eyes riveted to the charred remains of what was clearly a body. His stomach clenched, bile burning his throat, and automatically he steeled himself for the worst.
Gabe stepped around him, blocking his view. “Let me do it.”
Payton managed to nod, his throat so tight it was impossible to breathe. He wasn’t a devout man by any standard, but he sent up a prayer anyway.
Please, please, please don’t let it be Sam.
Gabe rolled the body over, shaking his head. “I can’t ID it. The face is gone. But it’s definitely a male.”
Air rushed into Payton’s lungs and he breathed again. “Sam,” he screamed. She had to be here. Had to be alive. There was no way this could happen again. Not again.
He rushed forward, searching through the smoke and burning debris. Looking for something, anything to indicate where she might be. “Sam? Can you hear me?”
The smoke was beginning to clear a little, and Payton could see Gabe on the opposite side of the blast, searching among the rubble. Their gazes met across the room, and Gabe shook his head.
Nothing.
“Sam? It’s Payton. Sweetheart, I need to know where you are.” He waited, listening.
Please, God, he prayed again, his cynical heart breaking. Please.
And then he heard it. A tiny whimper. So soft he thought, at first, that he might have imagined it. But it came again. Behind him, near where the other body lay.
“Sam?” he yelled, motioning for Gabe to be quiet. “Where are you?”
The whimper came again, this time a little louder, accompanied by a banging noise.
“Did you hear that?” Payton asked Gabe, not quite daring to hope.
His friend nodded, and the two of them followed the direction of the noise, stopping when they reached a gaping hole in the floor.
“Sam?” Payton dropped to his knees, searching the darkness for some sign of life. “Are you down there?”
“Here, Payton.” The words were weak, barely more than a whisper. “I’m here.” A shadow moved in the darkness. “Stuck.”
“I’ll get help,” Gabe said. “There should be rope and a flashlight in Sam’s SUV.” He sprinted away, smoke and dust still swirling.
“Sam?” Payton called, almost afraid to hope. “Gabe’s gone for help. We’ll have you out of there in no time. You’ve just got to hang on. All right, sweetheart? Just hang on.”
He waited for an answer, but everything had gone quiet, the only sound now the frantic beating of his heart. He fought the urge to plunge into the darkness after her, breaking a leg wasn’t going to help either of them. “I’m still here, Sam. I’m still here,” he crooned, not sure if he was trying to soothe her or himself. Not really caring.
Gabe was back in record time, Nigel and Harrison behind him. Payton didn’t even bother to ask how they knew to come. He was just grateful to have his friends there to help him. He grabbed the flashlight from Gabe, and let the light play over the collapsed floor and the basement below. There was debris everywhere, and at first he couldn’t find her, but then the light caught the gleam of her hair.
Sam.
Grabbing the end of the rope Gabe and Nigel had secured, he lowered himself into the hole, the flashlight hooked to his belt. He hit the ground with a thud, and made his way across the debris pile with adrenaline-injected speed, throwing the splintered and burning beams and boards out of his way.
Finally he reached her, his heart twisting at the blood on her cheeks and chest. A large chunk of rebar-encrusted cement lay across her legs, a blackened beam beside her acting as a buffer to keep the broken piece of support column from crushing her.
“Sam, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He knelt beside her, brushing debris from her face with gentle fingers.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he could see the spark of joy. “Payton,” she whispered.
“Can you move?” He already thought he knew the answer, but he was having trouble finding words, his only thought to get her the hell out of harm’s way.
She shook her head. “Took a bullet in my leg. Lost a lot of blood.” She spoke slowly, each word an obvious effort, and his concern deepened. “Something’s on top of me.”
“You’re caught between the girder above you, tumbled stones from the wall, and a beam.”
She nodded her understanding. “What about Riker?”
“He’s dead, Sam. His body is upstairs.” There was of course no proof of the fact, but Payton was pretty damn sure, and she needed to believe the bastard was dead.
“Good.” The word was little more than a breath of air, but he heard her.
“I’m going to need help to get you out. Can you hang on until I get back?”
“Hurry,” she said with a brief nod, her determination evident even in the shadows.
“Sam.” He leaned close, his gaze locking with hers. “I love you. And I’m not going to lose you now. Okay?”
She nodded again, her smile weak but genuine. “Love you, too.” Her eyes fluttered shut, but her chest was still moving.
Payton moved back to the opening above, calling up to Gabe, then waited for his friends to haul him up.
“She’s stuck between chunks of debris, the biggest pieces a stone girder and a fractured beam. It’s like a Chinese puzzle, each piece supporting the other. We move one, and the others are going to fall.” He didn’t finish the thought, but it was clear his friends got the picture.
“We could wait for the paramedics. They’re on the way,” Nigel offered, not looking as if he really endorsed the idea.
“No time. The bastard shot her in the leg. She said she’s losing blood, and I think she’s already going into shock.”
“All right then, we go down,” Harrison said, leaving no room for discussion. Gabe and Nigel nodded their agreement.
Ten minutes later, they were all in the hole, a variety of makeshift tools accompanying them.
“She’s out cold,” Payton said, his fingers reassuring him that Sam’s heart was still pumping.
“Probably for the best,” Nigel said, squatting down to examine the debris trapping her. “The more of this she can forget, the better.”
Nigel was right, of course, but her deathly stillness, coupled with the garish crimson of her blood frightened Payton more than he wanted to admit, and all he was seeing was the result of a gash on her head. It was hard to even contemplate what might be happening beneath the broken girder.
“I think if we can lever the beam up at this end,” Harrison was saying, his eyes narrowe
d in concentration, “then we should be able to slide her out without shifting the girder. But it’s going to be really heavy, so we’ll have to move fast.”
Gabe held up a crowbar. “I found this in the car. Think it will be strong enough?”
Harrison nodded. “If we combine it with this piece of rebar.” He held up a long length of metal.
“You really think it will work?” Nigel asked, shooting a doubtful glance at the chunk of girder.
“It has to,” Payton spat, not even considering the alternative.
“It’s all about the fulcrum,” Harrison said, ignoring Payton’s outburst. “I think we can do it.”
The building groaned as the debris settled, and a huge chunk of flooring broke free and fell to the basement floor, the pieces splintering like shrapnel. Harrison ducked, just missing the sharp edge of one flying missile.
“If we’re going to do it, I say we hurry,” Gabe said. “This place is ready to come down any minute.”
“All right,” Payton said, taking charge, focusing his mind on the task at hand, for the moment shutting out his fears. “Gabe, you and Harrison work the levers and then Nigel and I will pull her out.”
Harrison and Gabe moved quickly into place, Gabe shifting slightly on Harrison’s instructions. Nigel and Payton bent down to each slide their hands under Sam’s arms.
“On my count,” Harrison said. “Wait for the lift, Payton. One, two, three.”
The beam groaned as it was forced upward, its massive weight moving the cement above it fractionally. It was enough. They pulled Sam free, sliding her along the floor until she was clear of the beam and girder.
The minute she was out of the way, Gabe and Harrison released the crow bar and rebar, the beam dropping heavily back to the ground. There was a moment of silence and then the weight of the girder finally took over, splitting the beam in two, the cement hitting the floor in a cloud of dust.
Payton covered her as best he could, waiting for the dust to clear, then sat back to visually assess her wounds. The gash to her head had clotted, the worst of the damage above her hairline. It was already turning a mottled shade of purple, as were several places on her arms and chest. Nothing seemed to be broken, though. Her pants were torn and soaked with blood about eight inches above her knee.