Survive the Fire

by Diana Duncan

  She visibly wrestled with composure before again meeting his gaze. “I understand you feel responsible for me. But you’re only accountable for my physical safety.” Sadness husked her gentle voice. “I don’t want my emotional well-being to become another of your duties. It’s best for everyone if we keep it just business between us.”

  He donned a mental blast suit against the sting. Strapped a layer of Kevlar around his rioting feelings. “Business it is,” he agreed.

  But babe, the way I do business? I never walk away from a challenge.

  He’d treat Kate just like any other high-risk disarmament. He would—hopefully—eventually neutralize her doubts and fears, then they’d see if their connection was still viable. Lord willing, he’d end up with all his vital organs intact.

  The door swung open and a man dressed in blue surgical scrubs walked out of Aubrey’s room.

  Kate spun. “Dr. Vallano. How is she?”

  “She’s taken a turn for the worse.” The specialist’s face was grave. “Her despondent emotional state is adversely affecting her physical health.”

  While she conferred with the doctor, Liam leaned against the door frame. He could observe the frail child inside, but Aubrey couldn’t see him or Murphy, who napped across the hall.

  He’d expected Aubrey to be blonde like Janine and Daniel. Instead, she was a tiny mirror image of Kate. Her pixie face was a delicate, pallid oval, too thin for her wide brown eyes, her hair a baby-fine fringe of brunette silk. Even her stoic expression reminded him of Kate. Judging by the kidlets he’d seen at K-9 public service demonstrations, she wasn’t yet two. Just about the right age ...

  Queasy suspicion backhanded him and he staggered. Had they conceived a child that fateful night? He’d used a condom, but those didn’t always deter a determined swimmer.

  He gripped the door frame, struggling to inhale air that stung his throat like accelerant fumes. Had Kate given birth to his baby?

  Chapter 6

  5:00 p.m.

  The doctor hurried away, and Kate turned to Liam, her pretty, pale face baffled. She frowned. “Are you feeling sick?”

  He’d bet his beloved Mustang his complexion was the same color as the doorway trim—pea soup. “How ... how old is Aubrey?” His hoarse question was as uneven as his pistoning pulse.

  “She’ll be three next March. She was born in Riverside the night we met.”

  Not entirely convincing. Why was she sitting in a bar all alone instead of celebrating the birth of her niece? “She looks much younger.”

  “She’s small because of her condition.” She reached for him, caught herself. “What’s wrong?”

  “Okay. Makes sense.” The ice thawed in his gut and his bunched muscles relaxed. If he’d thought through the panic, he’d have known Kate wouldn’t abandon her own daughter. Especially to harebrained Janine.

  Aubrey isn’t my child.

  The last complication they needed was a kid thrown into the volatile mix. Yet an odd, unexpected sense of longing speared him.

  “Liam?”

  “I’m good,” he rasped.

  “You sound strange. And look seasick. Maybe you should go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite and some coffee.”

  “The pale pot calling the kettle peaked.”

  “I’ll eat later.” She absentmindedly rubbed her temples. A gesture she’d repeated dozens of times over the past few hours.

  O’Rourke, you wanker. He could kick his own ass for not honing in on the signal. “You have a headache. You’ve had one all day, don’t deny it. Did you take anything for the pain?”

  “I get migraines now, but I’m used to them. Don’t fuss.” She made shooing motions. “Go ... do something. I’ll be finished shortly, then we’ll both eat.”

  He couldn’t suppress a smile. “I don’t remember you being this bossy.”

  Her reciprocal smile was genuine, if frayed around the edges. “And I don’t remember you acting so maternal.”

  “Maternal? Just because a guy is concerned ... Hellfire, you might as well snap a frilly bra on me.”

  Her smile twitched into a droll grin. “Whatever blows your hair back.”

  He snorted. “I need to make a trip down the hall. I’ll be back soon. Stay in the kid’s room and don’t go anywhere else.”

  “Now who’s bossy?”

  “Just do it.” Leaving Murphy to guard the room, Liam loped down the corridor. He didn’t need to read the red-lettered signs warning against making cellphone calls. He was all-too familiar with RFI—radio frequency interference. RFI could detonate a bomb—purposefully or unintentionally—depending on the trigger mechanism. In a hospital, RFI affected vital functions like ventilators, monitors, pacemakers, and anesthesia equipment.

  At the nurses’ station, his badge and a little banter snagged him two ibuprofen for Kate and access to a landline. Liam phoned Grady, the only brother who wouldn’t be getting busy with a hot wife while off-duty. He gave him a full sit-rep and requested he fill in Aidan and Con—at an appropriate time—in case backup became necessary. He also asked Grady to run Daniel Tyler through NCIC, the National Crime Information Center. While Liam was at it, he contacted Alex and asked him to discreetly scrutinize Chuck Hanson’s performance evals and any citizen complaints. He didn’t think the FBI agent was bent, just relentless. But you never knew. Relentless was one step from fanatical.

  His dislike of both men didn’t figure into the equation—much. He planned to check out everyone connected to Kate. Serial bombers were cunning, usually sociopaths, adept at disguising twisted secrets behind “normal” personalities. Until an inciting incident provoked a psychotic break, they could work or socialize with the objects of their obsession without the victims having a clue.

  Often with lethal consequences.

  Her stalker could also be a casual acquaintance, or a complete stranger. Someone obsessed with her celebrity status because they thought she was Renée Allete’s confidant. Any Beatles or Selena fan knew that scenario never ended well.

  He’d have to constantly watch their backs. Nobody would hurt Kate while he was on guard duty.

  His next call was to Zealous Zoe, super-journalist. Since A-Man would pound him for interrupting their fun and games with a non-emergency, Liam dialed her work number and left a detailed voicemail. Grady could find out if Daniel Tyler had a record, but Liam’s new sister-in-law would uncover any dirt in Tyler’s private life ... since preschool. Liam didn’t even want to know how. With Zoe, a don’t ask, don’t get-your-ass-in-a-sling policy was always wise.

  He could also count on her generosity to provide free publicity for the auction.

  He hung up, bought a Pepsi from a vending machine, then strode to the doorway of Aubrey’s room. He peeked inside. Kate sat in a chair close to the bed where the tiny girl lay limp and unresponsive.

  She smoothed Aubrey’s hair back from her wan face. “Where’s my little sunbeam today?”

  Aubrey’s reply was barely audible. “I don’t feel shiny.”

  “I have grape bubble gum in my pocket. That usually helps.”

  “No fwank you, Auntie Kate.”

  Kate lifted a plastic cup from the bedside table and urged the child to take a sip from the straw. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  Aubrey hesitated.

  “You can tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Yeeess. Mommy was cwying again.”

  Kate stiffened. “She’ll be okay. She’s ... tired. Remember how you feel cranky when you miss your nap? Your mom feels that way.” Kate’s voice was calm, but her disjointed movements shouted distress. She set aside the cup of water. “Grandma took her home to have a nap.”

  “Auntie Kate?” Aubrey’s lip trembled. “I don’t wanna die.”

  “Oh, baby.” She bent and kissed the fragile little girl’s forehead. “You’re not gonna die.”

  “Mommy said Dr. Volcano said so.”

  A muscle ticked in Kate’s jaw. “She misunderstood. Dr
. Vallano said you’ll be better soon.” She clasped Aubrey’s thin hand in hers. “We have special plans, remember?”

  Aubrey nodded slowly, as if movement required extreme effort. “We’re gonna fwim. But I’m maybe not too stwong.”

  “You will be, soon. And then we’re going to snorkel in the tropics. We’ll see all the pretty fish, like the little orange and white striped guy in your favorite movie.”

  “The fishy gots losted ... and his daddy was sad. Will you cwy like Mommy if I die?”

  “That ...” Kate choked, cleared her throat. “That will not happen. After the operation, you’ll grow nice and healthy. Super shiny.”

  “I’m ascared, Auntie Kate. I don’t wanna go away.” Tears trickled down Aubrey’s gaunt cheeks. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

  Liam’s chest ached as if he’d stepped on a nail bomb and rusty spikes had pierced his heart. He walked inside the room. “Someone told me there was a princess in here.”

  Aubrey scrubbed drenched brown eyes with her fists. Dainty brows rose in surprise. “I’m not a pwincess!”

  “What if you are, and don’t know it?”

  Too-wise eyes solemnly tracked him from head to toe, then back. “My mommy isn’t a queen.”

  Drama Queen must not count. His glance snagged Kate’s, and he smirked. She bit back a chuckle. “You are so bad.”

  “Me?” He blinked, all innocence. “Didn’t say a word.”

  Aubrey’s glance settled on his gun and her face brightened. “A bwaster! Are you a Power Wanger?”

  He smiled. “No, I’m a police officer. My name is Liam.”

  “Ohhhh! Cops!” The tiny girl clapped her hands and chanted a theme song about bad boys.

  His brows lowered. “Isn’t Cops advanced viewing for a preschooler?”

  Kate smiled ruefully. “Aubrey’s not very active these days, and Janine keeps her occupied with lots of TV.”

  Queen Mum of the year. He handed Kate the ibuprofen. “Here ya go.” He passed her the can. “Plus a miracle caffeine elixir to perform amazing feats of healing on your headache and your blood sugar.”

  “I’ll bet my Leica you’ve kissed the Blarney stone.”

  “Aye, I have.” He adopted Gran’s Irish accent, which seemed to delight Kate. “As a wee lad o’twelve, I planted a big wet one on the rock.” He was a born mimic and had used the gift to his advantage during speech and drama classes. As a kid, he’d performed a bang-on rendition of his father that never failed to crack up his family, including Pop. He hadn’t had the heart to do it since Pop had been gone. “Sure, and you win that wager, lass.”

  Kate swallowed the tablets with soda. “Not much of a gamble on my part.”

  Aubrey struggled upright. “Ossifer Liam, I have weak kid’s knees. They don’t work, and make me sick.”

  “I know.” Liam took the other chair beside Kate. He leaned over to plump Aubrey’s pillows to support her back and his stomach tightened. She was so gaunt the outline of her collarbone showed above her pink Barbie nightie. “But I hear you’re getting a new kidney, soon.”

  “Yup. In a oper-operation. A twansplant.”

  He glanced at Kate, then nodded at the child, who was now slurping vigorously on the straw. “Advanced vocabulary for a wee one.”

  “She has a scary high IQ. And has been surrounded by adults all her life. She speaks French, too, I’ve read to her in both English and French since she was a newborn. She loves fairytales. I read to her every day.”

  Comforted by the empathy softening Liam’s expressive features, Kate stroked Aubrey’s baby-soft cheek. If only fairytales came true. But in real life, Princess Ella’s glass slipper shattered, and the handsome prince moved on to dance with dozens of other women. Over the past two-and-a-half years, she’d learned to settle for the hand—haha—Fate had dealt. Learned to squelch her yearning for dreams that had been snatched out of her reach forever.

  “I thought you lived in Paris,” Liam replied.

  “I do. Daniel’s the senior exec for my father’s environmentally-friendly cleaning products company. He travels constantly and Janine accompanies him. Mother says she already raised her children and doesn’t want the responsibility for another. My work is flexible, so Aubrey spent a lot of time in Paris with me.” She mouthed the next sentence at him, so Aubrey couldn’t hear. “She’s only recently become so ill.”

  She and Liam shared silent worry before Kate looked down at her niece. The tortured anxiety shadowing the innocent little girl made Kate’s stomach roll. No child should have to bear the wrenching fear of imminent death.

  Nor should their loved ones. Dread coiled inside her. She couldn’t lose Aubrey. Her funny, smart, brave niece was her one delight. A brilliant sunbeam in a black-and-white existence.

  Aubrey deserved a future. Kate would ensure she had one.

  Liam gently patted Aubrey’s hand. “Like stories, princess? Want to hear a true story?”

  Aubrey’s petite nose scrunched. “I like made up ones. You any good at twue stowies?”

  “I’ve been told I am.” Liam chuckled. “I have plenty of experience. My baby brother Grady used to be afraid of the dark, and I’d tell him stories to help him fall asleep.”

  “Okay.” Nodding, Aubrey leaned back against her pillows. “Auntie Kate says it’s ’portant to twy new fwings.”

  Enchanted, Aubrey listened to the misadventures of Murphy, the mischievous puppy, and the tense little body relaxed. Liam’s hilarious account of Murphy’s scrambling retreat from a hazelnut-hurling squirrel drew out the child’s sparkling giggle.

  Kate’s delighted gaze met Liam’s. Aubrey hadn’t laughed for weeks.

  Apparently, no females from three to ninety-three were immune to Lucky Charmer.

  Liam’s voice dipped low and quiet. “Close your eyes, princess.” Aubrey’s lashes fluttered down on nearly translucent cheeks as Liam’s soothing voice spun the story’s end. By the time Murphy the puppy fell asleep snuggled in a basket of baby kittens, Aubrey was also asleep, breathing even, tiny face serene.

  Kate could barely speak around the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My privilege,” he whispered in return.

  Stinging tears threatened. He’d given Aubrey the precious gift of peace when nobody else could. Something strange had happened as he’d woven his calming tapestry of words. As Kate had stared into his kind gaze, listened to his smooth baritone, he’d cast a spell. With tender compassion, he’d consoled Aubrey.

  And re-enchanted Kate.

  Just over two years ago, they’d shared the hot flare of carnal desire. Today, they’d shared the enduring, steady warmth of empathy. Both linked them in a unique bond she’d never experienced with anyone. And God, she wanted more.

  Liam stood, stretched, then prowled to the window. “Amazing view of the city.” He kept his voice low.

  “Don’t worry about disturbing Aubrey. Once she falls asleep, not even an earthquake could wake her. Especially after dialysis.” She got up and went to stand beside him. “I carry her over here sometimes so we can play ‘I Spy.”

  “I remember that game. I usually won, then Con would get mad and sock me. He inherited Ma’s temper.” Smiling, he propped a hip on the windowsill, his easy grace the opposite of his earlier discomfort. Some people couldn’t handle intense medical situations, especially with kids. However, the devil-may-care bomb tech was hardly likely to contract the queasies from a hospital. What had caused his distress?

  His tender glance drifted to the sleeping child. “She looks exactly like you.”

  “Much to Janine’s distress. She wanted a blonde baby doll.”

  He frowned. “As long as they’re happy and healthy, who cares?” He waited a beat. “Is your sister ... ah ... unstable?”

  How to answer that? “Janine was born with a heart murmur that corrected itself by age two. However, her infamous ‘episodes’ have incapacitated her since childhood with headaches, nausea, and sobbing jags. In spite of CAT s
cans, MRIs and gallons of blood-work, no doctor ever offered a physical diagnosis.” She sighed. “Mother suffered three miscarriages between our births, and my sister’s well-being is her obsession.”

  “Sis and bro-in-law are quite a pair.”

  “They deserve each other.”

  He studied her purposefully bland expression. “Was that meant to be as snarky as you were careful not to make it sound?”

  Kate started. Nobody read her like Liam. She could fool everyone but him. With him, her shell was clear plastic and he saw right through it, knew exactly what she thought and felt.

  Could he also see the frightened, uncertain woman—the opposite of the woman he’d made love to—beneath the capable façade she presented to the world? Horrifying thought. “Yes. Is that mean?”

  “Hell, no. Compared to my opinion, it’s charitable. I was afraid there was gonna be a nasty scene in the hallway.”

  “Like I’d make a scene.”

  His lips quirked. “Not you, me.” He enfolded her maimed hand in his. Unlike so many others, he wasn’t uncomfortable about touching her scars. Though her instinct was to hide the ugliness from him, she left her hand where it was. Seeing Aubrey in rapid decline terrified her, and right now she needed his matter-of-fact acceptance and comfort.

  His thumb stroked her palm in rhythmic circles that made her pulse stagger. “Your mother is devoted to your sister. How does your dad fit in?”

  “He’s immersed in his company. We barely see him.”

  He didn’t hide his dismay. “I’m sorry.” His mellow voice was low and intimate. As his stroking thumb moved to her wrist, petals of warmth blossomed inside her. “That’s rough on you.”

  Always self-reliant, she’d never questioned it. “Didn’t your baby brother get all the attention?”

  “Grady?” Liam snorted. “Google ‘independence’ and his dossier pops up. He’s the daredevil of the bunch and always busy with an imagination that never disengaged. He was constantly in a jam and often took me along for the hair-raising ride. Still does.”

  “You didn’t get all the blame?”