Her face flushed and she knocked his hands off her shoulders. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. Can’t you wait for backup?”
The sound of breaking glass drifted up from downstairs.
Ryan stiffened. “Whoever’s down there is probably armed, and he knows we’re up here. We can’t wait for the police.” He looked over at Ward who was silently watching them. “Do you have any weapons?”
“No.” He cursed and shook his head. “I don’t keep weapons at home. I don’t want to risk my grandkids getting hold of them when they come over.” He gave Ryan a sour look. “Until you came along, I thought my security system would keep me safe.”
Jessica cupped Ryan’s face to make him look at her. “What if Stuart is down there? He has special-ops training, just like you. What if he set some kind of trap?”
He raised a brow, looking as arrogant as when she’d first met him at the courthouse.
“I trained Stuart. He’s good, but I’m better.” He glanced around the room, his gaze settling on the desk by the window. “Help me move the desk to the other side of the room,” he told Ward. “You can use it to block the door after I leave.”
Jessica pursed her lips and snapped the battery into the phone. She punched the buttons far harder than necessary. While she tried to explain to the operator what was happening, the men heaved and shoved the heavy desk across the thick carpet to the door. When they were finished, Ryan drew his gun, and slipped into the hallway without a backward glance.
Why was he being so stubborn? Why couldn’t he wait for help? Jessica gritted her teeth.
Ward flipped the lock and scooted the desk until it was snugged up against the door.
Another crash sounded downstairs, followed by a terrifyingly familiar dull roar. The blood rushed from Jessica’s face as the faint smell of gasoline and smoke leaked into the room. Her gaze shot to Ward and her hand tightened around the phone.
“The house is on fire,” she told the 9-1-1 operator, before tossing the phone on the desk. “Help me get the door open. Hurry.”
Together she and Ward shoved the heavy desk back enough so they could fit through the opening.
“Hold it.” Ward grabbed Jessica’s arm when she tried to squeeze past him. “I should go first.”
She didn’t waste time arguing. She had to get to Ryan. Every second counted.
Please. Let him be okay.
As soon as Ward cleared the doorway, Jessica whipped around him and bolted down the hallway. Panic squeezed her chest when she saw the orange glow ahead, casting flickering shadows on the two-story wall from the foyer below.
At the top of the stairs, she stumbled back in dismay. Fire had already consumed the bottom half of the stairs. Greedy flames licked at the railing, steadily creeping toward the second floor.
“Jessie!” Ryan appeared in the smoke below, standing in the middle of the marble floor, the only part of the foyer that wasn’t on fire.
“Up here!” she called out.
“Where’s Ward?”
“Over here.” He stumbled forward, aiming a baleful glance at Jessica.
“Is there another staircase?” Ryan ducked and jumped to the side when a chunk of burning wall crashed down beside him.
“This is the only way down.” Ward coughed violently, looking pale and fragile.
Flames whooshed into the air as another section of staircase caught on fire.
Ryan ducked away. “Tie some curtains together, bedsheets, whatever you have to do. Climb out a window and get out of here. Hurry, the entire front of the house is going up.”
“No.” Jessica frantically shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you.”
The deafening crack of a gunshot echoed in the foyer. Ryan dove to the floor and rolled to the other side of the staircase. Ward shoved Jessica down on the floor.
“Ryan!” Jessica shook Ward off her and squinted through the railings into the smoke below, but she didn’t see him anywhere. “Ryan!”
Ward pulled her to her feet and tugged her away from the railing. “There’s a dormer in the master bedroom. We can get out on the roof, lower ourselves to the garage. Come on.”
They both leaped back as flames reached the top of the stairs, spilling onto an area rug where the wooden floor met the staircase. The fire quickly spread to a nearby decorative table. A vase on top of the table exploded, raining shards of glass down onto the floor.
Jessica coughed and stumbled back from the heat. How could Ryan survive this? Was he shot? Was he lying on the floor, already dead? Hot tears tracked down her cheeks.
“Miss Delaney, please, we have to go.” Ward tugged her away from the flames.
“There has to be another way. Maybe we can lower ourselves over the railing—”
“If we stay much longer, we’ll both die.”
“Go on without me.” She tried to run back toward the stairs, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I’m not leaving you, Miss Delaney.”
Her gaze shot to his and she read the truth of what he’d said in his eyes.
The tears fell harder now and she had to blink to clear her vision. She glanced back toward the banister again, but it was already engulfed in flames. Ryan had proven time and time again how capable he was. No matter how bad things looked, he usually came out on top. But this time, she was terrified his winning streak might have finally run out.
“All right,” she said, her voice breaking. “Let’s go.”
* * *
RYAN CROUCHED DOWN beneath the curtain of smoke. He held his gun out in front of him, making wide sweeping arcs as he searched for whoever was taking potshots at him. From what he could tell, there was only one intruder, but he’d started fires all over the front of the house. The only reason Ryan wasn’t roasting alive was because of the massive expanses of marble floor, acting as a fire barrier.
He clenched his jaw as he looked back at what had once been the stairs. Jessica had proven that she was a survivor, a fighter. She’d make it out of the house. She’d be okay.
He had to believe that.
A shoe squeaked off to his right. He dove to the ground and squeezed off two quick shots.
* * *
WHEN THEY’D REACHED the single-story roof of the garage, Ward slipped and fell, dragging Jessica with him. He’d landed on the shrubs below, and Jessica had landed on top of him. She was scratched up and bruised, but he was in far worse shape.
She helped him limp a safe distance away because he couldn’t put any weight on his right ankle. From the way Ward seemed pained every time he drew a breath, Jessica suspected he had at least one broken rib. She eased him back against a tree, and helped him slide down onto the grass.
Jessica glanced back at the house, and started to get up, but Ward wouldn’t let go of her arm.
“Uh-uh. You’re not sneaking past me this time. You’re not going back to that inferno. It’s too dangerous.”
Several loud bangs sounded from the house. Renewed hope surged through Jessica. “Those were gunshots. That means Ryan’s still alive, and he’s fighting for his life. I have to help him.” She twisted violently, but Ward held on with surprising strength.
“He wouldn’t want you to help him.”
Ward was right. Ryan was stubborn about her helping him, and in truth she’d been more of a hindrance than a help in the past, but she couldn’t sit on the lawn and just hope that he was okay.
“Let me go, or I’m going to have to hurt you,” she said.
He smiled. “Oh, I don’t think you would—”
Jessica punched him in the groin.
Ward gasped and hunched over, clutching himself.
“I’m so sorry,” Jessica yelled back, as she tore off across the sweeping lawn toward the house. The ruined front doors sagged open. Beyond them, flames seemed to cover every square inch of available space, belching out thick, black smoke. Ryan was in there somewhere. She had to get him out.
She remembered what he’d said, about the front of the house
going up. Maybe the fire hadn’t reached the back yet. Clinging to that hope, she sprinted across the grass to the side yard and around the corner to the back of the house. Smoke seeped from around the windows and doors, but she didn’t see any flames.
She yanked at the doors, but they were locked. Grabbing a clay pot from the patio, she heaved it toward one of the sliding glass doors. The pot shattered, pouring black dirt and winter flowers onto the patio, but the door remained intact.
Every curse word she’d ever said as a teenager came pouring out of her mouth. She frantically looked around for something else to throw. Nothing but more pots, too large and heavy for her to pick up.
There had to be a way to get inside! She raced along the back of the house to the other side, nearly weeping with relief when she found a French door with a latticework of delicate-looking glass panes. As expected, the door was locked, but several well-aimed kicks to one of the glass panes shattered it into tiny pieces that sprinkled down onto the floor inside.
She reached her arm through the hole and unlocked the door. Yes! She was inside, racing through the kitchen and out into the main hallway. Super-heated air blasted at her. Burning embers rained down from above.
Her shoes slipped across the soot-covered floor. She raised her hands to shield her face from the heat. Struggling to keep her balance, she rushed toward the back of the house, away from the flames.
The marble floor acted as a fire break here. A smoky haze filled the air, making her cough and choke. She pulled the neck of her shirt up and covered her mouth and nose to filter out the smoke.
Raised voices sounded off to her right. She followed them into what must have been the family room, dotted with couches and chairs. Stuart and Ryan faced off in the middle of the room, fifteen feet apart. Jessica ducked down behind one of the couches, and peeked around it. Stuart was pointing a gun at Ryan’s chest.
Ryan was unarmed.
Where was his gun? There, on the floor, a few feet away from him. Stuart must have surprised him and forced him to drop his weapon. Damn Ryan for being so arrogant and running downstairs when he could have stayed upstairs with her and Ward. If he had, he’d be outside right now. He wouldn’t be staring down the barrel of a gun.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Help was finally coming, but would they be too late? Jessica fisted her hands on the floor. There was no way she could reach the gun—not without being seen. Maybe she could distract Stuart and give Ryan a chance to grab his gun. That hadn’t worked out so well back in the mountains. But what else could she do? Stuart was about to shoot Ryan. He didn’t have a chance unless she did something. She inched back into the cover of smoke.
“Why didn’t you just kill me when you picked me up in the mountains?” Ryan’s voice rang out. “Or at the motel?”
“It’s cleaner this way. The director has a lot of enemies.”
“Oh, right.” Ryan sneered. “That’s your preferred game. Frame other people for what you did. Tell me it wasn’t for money. Please tell me there was another reason, anything.”
“I was about to lose my house.” Stuart’s voice was laced with bitterness and regret. “It was easy money. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“You sabotaged the mission, killed four of our fellow soldiers,” Ryan snarled.
“They saw me talking to Rivers. I didn’t have a choice.”
“What about Aamir? Did he have a choice? Was he in on it with you?”
“He figured everything out. He was going to tell you. I had to stop him.”
Ryan swore. “All this time you let me believe he’d betrayed me.”
Jessica crept forward. She could see them both again. Just a few more feet.
Stuart’s knuckles whitened where he gripped the gun. “I was trying to protect you by giving you someone to blame for what happened. Why couldn’t you just believe my story? Why did you have to keep digging? You’re the last person I wanted to hurt. You’re like a brother to me.”
Ryan took a menacing step forward. “You’re no brother of mine.” He took another step, as if he didn’t care that Stuart was pointing a gun at him. “Did it even matter to you that Jessica Delaney had to die to make your little plan work? When does it end? How many more lives will you sacrifice to satisfy your greed?” He took another step, crouching down as if he was going to launch himself at Stuart, even though he was still at least ten feet away.
“Stop.” Stuart’s face flushed and he took a step back. “Don’t come any closer.”
What was Ryan doing? He was deliberately baiting Stuart. Jessica had to do something before it was too late. She inched forward, emerging from the smoke just a few feet to the side and slightly behind Stuart.
Ryan’s eyes widened, then they narrowed and every line in his body went rigid. He’d obviously seen her, even though he didn’t look directly at her. Jessica could tell he was furious. He would never want her to deliberately put herself in danger.
Tough.
She’d hidden beneath a desk when DeGaullo killed Natalie. She was not going to cower again and let Ryan die. She’d rather die herself than live knowing she might have helped him but she did nothing.
Flames raced across the far wall, finally reaching this section of the house. The wallpaper ignited like a torch. In a matter of seconds the entire back wall was consumed. Flames curled around the windows and the glass exploded.
Stuart ducked and raised his arms to protect himself.
Ryan rushed forward.
Stuart cursed and swung his gun around, firing a shot. Ryan slid to a halt on the polished floor and raised his hands in a placating gesture. His jaw tightened when he glanced at the arm of the chair, just inches away, where the bullet had lodged.
“I didn’t want to do this.” Stuart’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “Forgive me.” He steadied the gun, aiming at the center of Ryan’s chest.
Jessica shouted and leaped forward, knocking his gun arm just as he fired. The bullet whined harmlessly into the ceiling above as Jessica fell to the floor at Stuart’s feet.
Ryan dove for his gun.
Jessica scrambled to get out of the way, but Stuart grabbed her. He yanked her in front of him as a shield just as Ryan came up with his gun.
Ryan’s mouth twisted with disapproval, his dark eyes staring directly at Jessica for the first time. “Stupid woman. Didn’t you learn anything from the confrontation with Rivers?”
She stiffened with shock at his contempt-filled words, but when his gaze dipped to the floor, she realized he was trying to give her a signal without alerting Stuart. She gave him a slight nod, letting him know she understood.
Stuart shoved his gun against her temple. “Drop your gun, Ryan.” He backed toward the gaping hole where the windows used to be. Flames, hungry for fresh air, licked eagerly at the opening.
Ryan laughed harshly. “Do you honestly think I care what happens to her? She’s a criminal, a mafia whore. She disgusts me.”
Jessica jerked back against Stuart. Ryan’s words cut like a knife. Was he just trying to make Stuart think he didn’t care what happened to her? Or did he really mean those awful words? He certainly sounded convincing.
Stuart must have thought the same thing. He turned his gun back toward Ryan.
“Now, Jessica!” Ryan yelled.
She picked up her feet and dropped right out of Stuart’s arms.
Ryan fired once, twice, running forward and scooping Jessica up before Stuart’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
He leaped through the hole where the windows used to be and didn’t stop running until he reached the cool grass, far away from the devastation behind them.
He dropped to the ground, coughing violently, before pulling Jessica onto his lap. He cradled her against his chest and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Did Ward make it out?”
She drew in a shaky breath, still reeling from the words he’d said to Stuart. “I think he cracked a rib, or at least broke his ankle when we fell off t
he roof, but he’s—”
He yanked her back to look at her, his face pale. “You fell off the...” He squeezed his eyes shut and crushed her against his chest again. “Why did you run back into the house? You should have waited outside.”
“And let you die? I don’t think so.”
He pulled her back again and stared down at her. His face was drawn. His whole body was shaking. He looked like he wanted to strangle her.
“Drop your weapon!”
Ryan jerked around at the sound of the voice.
“Drop it now!”
Two policemen stood a few feet away, both of them pointing their guns at Ryan. Back toward the house, a caravan of fire trucks and police cars wound their way up the drive, their red and blue lights flashing.
“Federal officer.” Ryan slowly raised his hands, pointing his gun up in the air.
“Toss the gun away,” one of the policemen ordered.
Ryan pitched the gun onto the grass.
While one of the policemen trained his gun on Ryan, the other one ran forward, kicked the gun out of the way, and grabbed Jessica, hauling her back several feet.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Jessica tugged her arm out of his grasp. “What are you doing? He’s a U.S. Marshal.”
“Holster your weapons, gentlemen.” A man in a dark business suit strode across the grass and stopped beside one of the cops. “I can vouch for Marshal Jackson.”
The policemen gave him a curt nod and put their guns away.
The man in the suit reached down and hauled Ryan to his feet. “Hell of a mess, Jackson.”
Ryan gave him a rueful grin. “Jessie, this is my boss, Alex Trask.”
Alex raised a brow at Ryan’s use of the nickname, but he turned and offered his hand. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Miss Delaney.”
“An honor?” Jessica echoed, shaking his hand.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who had the courage to stand up to DeGaullo.” He grinned. “And you’re probably the only person in the world who could punch the director of the CIA in the groin without getting hauled off to jail.”
Jessica flushed as Ryan’s incredulous gaze focused on her.
The Marshal's Witness Page 18