July Flames

by Mari Carr

“We can hear you,” Miguel said through the earpiece. “Tuck your dick back in and focus.”

  Fergus chuckled, gesturing to the mic clipped to his shirt collar to clue her in that other ears were listening. “Microphone.”

  She laughed. “Let me guess. Miguel is jealous.”

  Miguel answered, even though Aubrey couldn’t hear. “Remind her I think she’d made a terrible mistake picking you over me.”

  “Gentlemen,” Aaron said, jumping into the conversation. “Can we keep the chatter to a minimum? Are you on the move yet, Fergus?”

  “We are now.”

  He wrapped his arm around Aubrey, and the two of them began what felt like the longest walk he’d ever taken. He noticed the undercover cops standing guard as he passed them.

  They entered the field beneath a long tent that kept Aubrey hidden as she approached the stage. There was a tall flight of stairs there that she would climb. Her entrance to the stage would start from thirty feet up, and she’d slowly descend another staircase on the other side as the music started.

  He followed her nearly to the top of the covered rear stairs, both of them remaining out of view until she was introduced. The roar of the crowd was deafening when it became apparent Aubrey was about to appear.

  “I’ll be waiting on the side of the stage,” he said, raising his voice to be heard. “Exit stage right.”

  Aubrey nodded. “Okay,” she said, though he read the words on her lips, the sound drowned out by the first strains of music.

  He squeezed her hand, and Aubrey leaned toward him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before wiping away the lipstick left behind with her fingers.

  He forced a smile. He was terrified, but he couldn’t let her see. He’d move heaven and earth to keep her safe. That was all she needed to know.

  Aubrey climbed the last few stairs alone, and if he’d thought the cheering had been loud before, he’d just been proved wrong as the stadium erupted.

  “I don’t have eyes on her,” he said, hoping someone, anyone, could hear him over the din.

  He quickly descended the stairs, taking up his position on the right side of the stage.

  Miguel, who was standing on the other side, gave him a thumbs-up. Glancing toward the back of the stage he could just barely see Landon standing behind a large speaker, guarding the rear.

  On a regular night, under normal circumstances, Fergus would have considered this one of the best nights of his life. He was standing backstage at a rock concert on the Baltimore Ravens field. This was the stuff teenage dreams were made of.

  Especially when Aubrey broke from her usual set to sing a song she promised would be on her next album.

  Fergus had heard bits and pieces of “Haunted Dreams,” but he didn’t realize she’d finished it. Then she confessed that while she’d shared the music with her band, they’d never performed it together, not even in practice.

  Fergus stood spellbound as she started singing. The song shared the dreams of two young lovers. The first verse was about a man, so far from home, fighting in a war he didn’t understand. The second was about the woman he’d left behind, alone and lost in a room that held nothing without him there.

  She looked at him as she sang the chorus the last time.

  Time stood still for just a moment as her gaze met his.

  He was looking at his future. His forever.

  He smiled, and she returned it before turning back to the crowd. The thunderous applause as she finished the song proved she had another hit, maybe the biggest of her career yet.

  Two hours later, he heard the familiar opening to her signature song. Glancing across the stage, he saw Miguel talking to Erick as he took his place, ready to fire the cannons. Tonight’s show was a little different because there were six additional pyrotechnicians at the rear of the stage, in position to set off a fireworks display the second Aubrey’s song ended.

  “Okay,” Aaron said in the earpiece. “Fire in the sky time. Everyone on alert.”

  They’d all agreed that if the stalker was going to strike, the most dangerous times were prior to the show or at the end. The noise of the fireworks was going to make it difficult for them to communicate with each other, so keeping Aubrey surrounded the moment she exited the stage was vital. Landon and Miguel both gave him the thumbs-up.

  Once the song ended, they were going to make their way toward him.

  “I’m here.” Finn touched his shoulder. He’d been stationed in front of the stage, but was part of the team escorting her back to the dressing room. “Aaron’s on his way.”

  Fergus glanced at his cousin and nodded. So far, so good.

  He recalled Aubrey’s comment about the stalker’s attacks being sucker punches. He scanned the area, searching for anything that might be amiss. Everything seemed to be going as planned.

  Which meant he was missing something.

  Something was about to happen. Fergus could feel it. Even Aubrey did. Twice she’d glanced his way, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought he could detect a slight quiver in her voice.

  He gave her a comforting smile, and his brave woman powered through it, the song building, her voice growing louder, stronger, as she reached the final high note.

  Fergus looked back across the stage, hoping to catch Miguel’s eye, to see if he shared this same feeling of dread. Miguel was doing the same constant scan he’d been conducting. Then the cannons started to fire.

  He glanced toward the board, surprised to find Erick had been replaced by someone Fergus didn’t know. He could only assume the head pyrotechnician—a role he’d assumed after Dave’s injury—had joined the team firing off the fireworks.

  Aubrey’s last note hovered in the air, and then the dark night was awash in color as the first of the fireworks lit up the night sky.

  Fergus watched the first one flash, then took a step toward the stage, hand outstretched for Aubrey.

  She turned toward him, and smiled as the crowd screamed and cheered, and a thousand cameras flashed in her direction. She gave them one last wave and then…

  She disappeared.

  Fergus watched in horror as the stage opened up and Aubrey fell through.

  He pulled his gun from the holster beneath his jacket and ran toward the opening, aware from the cheers that the crowd thought her disappearance was part of the act.

  The opening had been created for Hunter’s grand entrance, the trapdoor rigged mechanically so that he could be raised up slowly from beneath the stage, appearing through the effects of the fog machines and special lighting.

  The fireworks continued to light up the sky, a constant cacophony of sound.

  “I’ve lost her!” he screamed, racing to the opening and diving through, just before the trapdoor closed once more.

  It was strangely quieter under the stage. Not completely quiet, but the loud booms of the fireworks were muted.

  “Tell your men to stay back.”

  Fergus squinted in the near darkness, looking toward where the voice had come from. The stadium lights had been dimmed to allow viewers to enjoy the spectacle of the Fourth of July display. He could make out two figures, but he couldn’t see their faces. They were just silhouettes, more shadow than form.

  “Tell them!” the man shouted again.

  “Everyone hold your positions,” Fergus said.

  Aaron’s voice was frantic as he said, “You have her? You have her?!”

  “Negative.”

  “That’s enough. Take off the microphone, crush it with your foot.”

  Fergus didn’t want to give up his only means of communication, his only way to get help.

  “Do it now.”

  He pulled the mic off, crushing it with his boot.

  “And the earpiece.”

  Fergus took it out as well, tossing it next to the useless mic.

  The man’s voice was familiar, but Fergus struggled to place it.

  “Aubrey? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Fergus asked.

  “I’m fine,”
she said, her voice trembling. “He has a bomb, Fergus. It’s strapped to him.”

  Fuck.

  “Who?” he said.

  “Erick,” she answered. “It’s Erick!”

  Now he understood why he couldn’t place the voice. Though the sound was right, there was no stutter.

  “Erick,” Fergus started. He still had the gun in his hand. Either Erick hadn’t seen it or—perhaps more alarming—he didn’t care.

  The area beneath the stage began to lighten and the fireworks stopped, even though they should have continued for quite a bit longer. Aaron must have thrown up the alert. The stadium lights would already be flooding the field, every spotlight used for the concert turned up full force. As such, the area beneath the stage grew a bit brighter, though it was still dim.

  Now, instead of shadows, he could see Erick and Aubrey.

  What he saw made him wish for darkness again.

  Erick was wearing a vest of explosives, the detonator in one hand, while his other arm was wrapped around Aubrey’s throat, holding her in place before him.

  She was breathing rapidly, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.

  “It’s okay, Aubrey,” Fergus murmured.

  The light revealed his weapon, but Erick didn’t demand that he drop it. He probably believed Fergus wouldn’t fire it.

  Fergus understood that assurance. If his shot missed, he’d hit Aubrey or the bomb. God only knew if that would set the thing off—and Fergus was hoping to never find out.

  The front and both sides of the stage were solid wood, built to keep anyone in the crowd from slipping beneath.

  The only way to get where they were standing was through a curtained area at the rear, where most of the light was coming from. Erick had wisely placed his back against one of the solid pillars holding the stage in place, blocking any shot from that direction.

  The footsteps that had been racing across the stage faded away, proving Aaron had cleared it.

  Given the number of explosives on Erick’s vest, Fergus hoped Aaron was able to clear the stadium quickly. If Erick fired that detonator, he wouldn’t just take out the three of them. He had enough explosives strapped to him to take out a fair chunk of the stadium. Thousands of people would die in the blast.

  The light was just bright enough to reveal the detonator the man held wasn’t a dead man’s switch. That was probably the only damn thing Fergus could be grateful for at the moment.

  “What do you want, Erick?” Fergus asked in a calm voice, praying he could find some way to talk the man out of this suicide/murder/terrorist attack of his. And if not, Fergus needed to stall, to give the police a chance to formulate and enact a plan that would save them all or, barring that, give him an opening to take the shot.

  “I wanted her.”

  “Then you can have me,” Aubrey said, her voice still quivering.

  “Aubrey,” Fergus warned.

  “I’m right here,” she said, determined to draw Erick’s attention away from Fergus. “No one has to get hurt. Let’s just leave together.”

  “I made flames for you, Jenny. Sweet flames.”

  Fergus tried to come to grips with that. Erick had actually become a pyrotechnician to impress her? He’d only begun acting on his obsession during this tour…but it was clear his unhealthy infatuation had started a long time ago.

  Erick tightened his grip around her, but given the bulkiness of the explosives strapped to his chest, it was an awkward hold.

  “We’re going to be together, Jenny. It just won’t be in this world. You fucked that up when you fucked him! You didn’t need him. You had me. I was protecting you, taking care of those guys who hurt you!”

  “I see that now,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. It’s not too la—”

  Her word was cut short when he tightened his grip, her hands flying to her neck. Erick was cutting off her air.

  “She can’t breathe,” Fergus said as she continued to struggle.

  Erick didn’t seem to realize how tight his grip was. He loosened his hold, his arm moving lower, then his hand slipped into her dress, engulfing one of her breasts. “How does it feel, Fergus? To see your slut in the arms of another man?”

  Aubrey’s eyes closed tightly, and Fergus could see how hard she fought not to cry.

  “You were mine, Jenny. Mine!”

  Erick looked at Aubrey and saw Jenny Sweet, saw the girl from the show, the one he—like so many other young boys—dreamed of marrying one day.

  “Please, Erick,” she said.

  Hearing her speak his name seemed to spark the very thing Fergus dreaded to see in the man. Determination. Erick was resolved, ready to die.

  His thumb twitched.

  God. Time was up.

  “Aubrey,” Fergus called out quickly. “Trust me.” It was a tall order, but they were out of time. “Relax—now!”

  Mercifully, she understood.

  She went limp as Fergus lifted the gun.

  Her suddenly dead weight caught Erick unaware. The man tried to hold her up, even as the thumb of his other hand moved to the switch.

  Fergus fired, the bullet piercing Erick just above his right eye.

  Aubrey crawled away rapidly as Fergus raced forward. The detonator hit the ground a second before Erick’s body did the same.

  The sound of the gunshot prompted the police to action, and Fergus realized they’d gathered quietly on the other side of the curtain, waiting for their opportunity.

  Aaron grasped Fergus, taking the gun from him, pushing him away from Erick’s body. “The bomb squad is on their way. Get Aubrey and get the hell out of here.”

  Miguel and Landon were helping Aubrey to her feet. She was trembling uncontrollably when he reached for her.

  “Aubrey!”

  She fell into his arms, sobbing. He held her for just a moment, then half-carried, half-dragged her from beneath the stage. “We have to get out of here.”

  She made a weak attempt at walking, but whatever strength had kept her going when Erick held her captive was gone. Fergus stopped and bent to pick her up, carrying her as she clung to his shoulders.

  “I was so scared,” she whispered.

  “I know, Butterfly. I know. It’s okay now. I’ve got you.” He carried her back through the tent, though part of it had fallen—or the cops had torn it. The police had done an amazing job moving people out of the stadium, most of the seats empty already. They ran into Marcus in the hallway. He was yelling orders into this phone, but hung up when he saw them.

  “Thank God you’re okay, Aubrey!” he exclaimed. “The police said there was a bomb.”

  Fergus nodded.

  “This way.” Marcus led them down a secluded hallway to an exit not used by the public. A car was waiting there, the driver hopping out and racing around to open the back door for them. Fergus helped Aubrey in, climbing in with her.

  “To the hotel?” the driver asked.

  Fergus shook his head. “No. Pat’s Pub.” Too many members of his family had been at that concert watching the show, and he wouldn’t rest easy until he saw each and every one of them with his own eyes and knew they were safe. “I need to know my parents and the rest of my family got out of the stadium. That they made it home.”

  Aubrey lifted her head and gave him a small smile. “They’ll be okay.”

  “I know,” he said, praying that was true. He’d left his uncle Aaron, Miguel, Landon and Finn back at the field with the bomb. “Even so, there are too many of them still there with that bomb. Sunnie will kill me if anything happens to Landon.”

  He rubbed his eyes wearily, too many faces flashing before his eyes. He hadn’t fired a gun at another man since his time in Afghanistan. “Erick,” he started, stopping when he realized he didn’t have a clue what he wanted to say, how he could ever verbalize his feelings.

  “Fergus.” She cupped his face, her eyes searching his. “You’re remembering something, aren’t you? From your time in the Middle East.”

 
; He nodded. “Erick’s not the first man I’ve killed.”

  She wiped her face, trying to dry the tears that hadn’t stopped yet. “I’m sorry. Sorry you had to do it again for me.”

  He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, holding her close, breathing in the smell of her. Every emotion crashing down on his head—fear, relief, regret, hope, anger, happiness. The only thing keeping him grounded right now was having her here in his arms, safe, alive.

  They rode in silence the entire way to the pub. As they got close, he instructed the driver to pull up in the back.

  They unlocked the back door and he led her into the pub. As he’d expected, they had closed the pub, the only people gathered there his family.

  His whole family. Even those who hadn’t been at the concert.

  Like him, they were all worried, so they’d come here to wait together.

  “You closed the pub,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention to them.

  “This is closed?”

  If he’d been in a better state of mind, he might have laughed at Aubrey’s question. The place was more crowded now than it was during a lunch rush.

  His mom cried out his name when she saw him, racing across the room to hug him. “Fergus! The news…”

  He glanced at the television and saw the stadium, a “Breaking News” banner along the bottom.

  “They said there was a bomber at the stadium.”

  “There was,” Fergus said. “He’s dead.”

  Dad stepped next to his mother, reaching out to grip his shoulder, the strength in that touch fortifying him.

  “Aubrey,” Mom said, after releasing him, turning to hug her tightly. “We were so worried about you!”

  Fergus caught the brief glimpse of surprise on her face as his mother said exactly what a normal mom would in the face of such horrors.

  Aubrey lifted her arms, returning the hug, the tears she’d only just managed to stem flowing freely again. His mom, bless her, let Aubrey hold on for as long as she needed, offering her words of comfort until she was able to pull herself back together.

  Daddy placed a strong arm around her shoulders, guiding her to a table in the center of the bar. Fergus followed, and they sat down with Pop Pop, telling everyone what had happened and answering their questions. Hunter and Ailis had arrived at the pub just before them, so they’d already known that Aubrey had been taken, and that Fergus had been with her under the stage. Apparently, that was all they’d learned before Marcus had insisted they leave.