Her Heart

by Christa Wick

  The sweat dotting my forehead turned cold as my heart rate doubled.

  This was the evidence Gillie needed!

  I stepped further into the room, drawn by what I could see at the surface of the boxes—the distinctively banded red, white and blue satin bar of a Silver Star medal, a gold key chain and the loop it fed into on the pocket watch buried below.

  Damn it—the box would become evidence, stuck in a security locker for years. Even then, if it did belong to my family, I might not get it back. Everything in the main house had passed from my mother to Evan, didn't matter if the medal had been pinned to a James' chest.

  I stepped up to the box and removed the Silver Star medal. Holding it in the weak beam of light that reached the table, I read the inscription.

  For Gallantry in Action

  Jessup K. Towers

  My heart sank as quickly as it had jumped up—the name was unfamiliar.

  "Junkies bring that shit in like it's worth even a free hit." Evan moved from the shadows along the wall to block the rays of light in the doorway. The outline of a revolver with its long barrel gestured at me. "Drop the taser, little girl."

  With Evan beyond the range of the taser and a thick wooden beam between us, I started to place the weapon on the table.

  He pointed the gun straight at my chest. "I said drop it!"

  I released it with a jerk, the hard plastic casing bouncing off my toe before it landed more gently on the ground at my feet.

  "Kick it over here."

  I gave it an intentionally half-hearted shove with my foot so that it came to a stop at an almost equal distance between me and Evan.

  "You always were a sly little bitch." He crossed half the distance to the taser then waved the barrel of the revolver at me again. "Step around to the other side of the table."

  Buying time, I obeyed. Coming closer, Evan reached up, his hand waving aimlessly around until he found a metal chain and jerked on it. A single unshaded bulb flickered to life, its weak light fighting that from the doorway for supremacy.

  The extra light gave me a better look at the bottles. Most had only a little liquid in them, but one of the pop bottles had a thick, dark purple liquid with the consistency of sand on top of an even thicker, yellowish goo. This close to the makeshift lab, I could smell ammonia.

  Looking down at my feet, I noticed busted up batteries and more chemicals under the table. Brake cleaner, anti-freeze, paint thinner. An icy sensation flared up my spine as I recognized the ingredients Gillie had told me to be on the lookout for and to report if I saw them on the property.

  Evan moved close enough that, if we each extended our arms, our fingertips would touch. "Hand me one of them funnels."

  Not seeing a good enough reason to piss him off by disobeying, I reached for the funnel. Right before my fingertips landed on it, I stopped.

  He had lured me in here with bait that looked like it could have belonged to my father. He had only a small number of the ingredients of a meth lab and the chemicals probably hadn't been in the building uncapped like they were for that long. Otherwise, I would have smelled them as soon as I entered. And now Evan wanted me to hand him something when his own hands were gloved in latex.

  I traced the edge of one funnel with my fingernail and shook my head, softly laughing at him despite the cold fist wrapped around my heart. "It won't work, you know."

  "Oh, it'll work all right." He stepped a little closer, his gun arm extended, the barrel centered on my nose. "They're gonna find you here and see you were trying to set me up—and how you bribed that dumb shit John Gillie with kinky sex to frame the Cahill brothers."

  I raised both brows and closed my eyes in mock surprise at the level of his stupidity. "Just how long have you been dipping into the product to come up with a hare brained idea like that?"

  Pointing the gun in the air, he shot a round off then pointed the gun at my face. I couldn't help jump a little from the blast produced, but I managed not to shriek. Waiting for my throat to relax enough to speak, I glared at him.

  "Impressive, but your plan doesn't work if I have a bullet hole in me or my prints aren't on anything in here."

  An ugly grin crawled like a spider along his face. "Prints are on the silver star."

  Keeping the gun trained on me, he began to slowly circle the table. His free hand dipped into his pocket and pulled out a wooden matchstick. Fresh sweat broke out across my body. The stable was big enough with lots of space between some of the boards that discharging the gun had only presented a small risk of one of the chemicals combusting. The matchstick, once struck, would all but guarantee an explosion.

  The cold metal of the gun touched my cheek. I looked at Evan, his phlegmy eyes almost feverish. The barrel moved lower to the neckline of my blouse to molest the top swell of my breasts.

  "Fucking your mama was like fucking a bag of sticks." He pushed the barrel between my breasts, forcing a rough line up and down against the fabric. "And only in her pussy. I bet you let that Stark fella take you anyway he wanted, which means he definitely took that plump ass of yours, didn't he, little girl?"

  My breasts heaved, anger and fear thrusting them up then down. "Don't talk about my mother."

  "Oh, I'm talking about you, sweet Mia." The barrel's tip traveled over the curve of my stomach, down my lower stomach to rest against the jeans shielding my clit. "See, once they find your body, they're going inside the guesthouse, gonna find those expensive leather slut panties and a couple big toys I planted after I rubbed a few of your and Gillie's things over them—toothbrushes, used underwear—"

  Knowing I was dead if I didn't get out of there immediately, I bolted for the door. Wood splintered along the wall in front of me before I could cross half the distance.

  "I will fucking drop you, stupid bitch!"

  Keeping the gun trained on me, he circled back around the table then eased toward the door. Extending one arm for the door's edge, Evan did a double take, then fired his gun at something outside less than a second later.

  I heard a wet thunk that sounded like the hard, sudden penetration of flesh followed by a masculine grunt of pain before a second gun discharged. Evan moved too quickly, the bullet intended for his head embedding itself in the door frame he had just occupied.

  Before I had time to react, Evan backhanded me, the weight of the gun he held enough for the blow to send me sprawling to the ground. My eyes closed for a second or several as a dull roar began to build between my ears.

  Another gun shot, this one sounding like Evan's old revolver, shattered the single light bulb. I opened my eyes as the silhouette of a man rushed into the stable's dark interior.

  Collin—he hadn't left Keeling, or I was already dead and dreaming on my way to the afterlife.

  "Get out," Collin barked, his hand landing on my shoulder to thrust me behind him.

  "He took four—" Another shot from Evan's gun shut me up. Time slowed until I looked up to see Collin hadn't taken a hit from the last round fired.

  The shot Evan had fired standing in the doorway, however, had found its way into Collin's left bicep. Blood dripped from the cuff of the leather jacket.

  When I didn't move, just stared at the blood, Collin shifted his gaze from the darkness Evan hid in to me. A dull click sounded from the shadows. A misfire or an empty chamber, my brain didn't know the difference, but Evan launched himself toward us, a rusted, hooked iron poker slashing through the air in front of him.

  The metal tore through Collin's leather jacket to draw blood. Collin threw his arms around Evan, the momentum of the older man's jump and a last minute twist by Collin sending them crashing onto the table with its box of stolen goods. Collin's gun flew from his hand then slid across the cement floor and under a broken down stove.

  The table crashed beneath their combined weight, tipping the second table onto its side, the uncapped jugs and two-liter bottles hitting the floor. Liquids started to spread and mix, their vapors creating a small burn in the back of my throat. />
  Collin shouted as he grappled with Evan. "Out, Mia!"

  Like hell would I leave!

  I couldn't get the gun without lying in the pool of chemicals. I looked around for another weapon, something to hit Evan with...

  My gaze landed on the taser a foot from me. I scooped it up and turned to where the two of them still wrestled, only the cheap table beneath them keeping the chemicals from seeping into their clothes. With their bodies only half illuminated and my eyes and throat burning, I tried to make out my target. A punch landed in a face and I heard Evan groan in pain. Collin rolled.

  Head spinning from the fumes, I pulled the trigger on the taser, the thin threads shooting out to embed in Evan's skin and clothing. His body went rigid, a tremor running through it before he went still.

  I slid toward the ground, the overriding presence of ammonia forcing my submission. Collin's arms threaded under mine then wrapped around my chest. Charred breaths wheezed through his throat as he dragged me toward the door.

  We breached the threshold, fresh air flooding my lungs. Behind us, I heard the sound of one of the fluids igniting and Evan wheezing for air.

  His wheezing turned to shrieking.

  "Keep going," Collin pushed me forward then turned back toward the stable.

  "No!" I reached for him, my blurred vision making me miss and hit the side of the stable. "Don't go in!"

  His arm on fire, Evan rolled on the ground, his body and clothes collecting the chemicals that had spilled on the ground. Ignoring my plea, Collin shielded his face and went in. He tried to grab one of Evan's ankles. Looking toward the door, he saw me still standing there.

  "Clear the building, Mia!"

  No—if Collin wasn't coming out until Evan was rescued, I would have to go in and help him carry the bastard!

  Before my foot could cross the threshold, arms circled my waist. Someone lifted me off my feet, then dragged me screaming as another body rushed past me into the stable. I clawed at the arms dragging me. A short, single boom knocked us to the ground.

  Chunks of wood from the side of the stable rained down. The ringing in my ears turned to the sound of multiple sirens—ambulance, police, fire. I screamed Collin's name as the man continued to hold me down. The stable's roof slanted then collapsed as a smaller explosion popped.

  A man emerged from what was left of the building, Collin slung over his shoulder. He staggered under the weight, carrying him past us and across the lane. The other man stopped fighting me. Scrambling to my feet, I crossed the lane, my peripheral vision catching the flash of lights as the sirens continued bleating.

  I fell to my knees. Next to me, Collin's rescuer started to puke. I felt for a pulse on Collin, a small measure of relief loosening some of the tension in my chest when I felt its erratic beat. I dropped my head down by his mouth to hear the faint, scratchy flow of air.

  Acid had eaten at the leather jacket. His left hand, half covered in blood from the gun shot wound, looked like it had been burnt.

  Men swarmed around me, another set of hands urging me away to let the ambulance team help Collin and the man who had pulled him from the building. Numb, I looked up to find that it was Gillie guiding me away.

  "Is he going to be okay?" I asked.

  The words coming out of my mouth didn't sound like they belonged to me. My voice was raw, both from emotion and the chemicals I had inhaled inside the stable.

  "He's got the best ambulance team in the county working on him and a helicopter on the way." He sat me on the ground next to his cruiser and grabbed a first aid kit.

  I pointed to the man hovering over Collin's rescuer. "Are they Stark's or cops?"

  Gillie shrugged. "If they were cops, they'd have badges out by now."

  I nodded because it made sense.

  Gillie pulled some type of wipe from a red foil package and tested a spot on my hand that looked like I'd laid out in the sun too long. "That sting too bad?"

  I shook my head.

  "Good, close your eyes." He went to work with the wipe on my face.

  "How'd you get here so fast?" I asked, dodging my head whenever his body blocked my view of the ambulance team working on Collin. They had cut away his jacket and shirt, in part to get at the gunshot wound in his bicep, but also to treat the chemical burns.

  "Collin called, said he wasn't sure what was going on but he saw Evan taking an odd selection of things into the stable, including stuff to cook." He looked up, the motion alerting me to the faint sound of a helicopter.

  The sound was probably louder for Gillie, but phantom noise caused by the chemicals, gunfire and explosion still played inside my head. I looked at the man who had kept me from going back into the stable. A phone up to his ear, he paced beyond his team mate. His eyes met mine for a second, but there was no knowledge to pull from his expression or the way he held his body.

  "Evan baited me," I told Gillie after a few more seconds. My lightly burnt cheeks must have flushed a couple shades darker because I felt a fresh heat on them as I remembered what Evan had said about putting sex toys and DNA in the guesthouse. "He might have planted evidence at your place, about you framing the Cahill brothers—or something to indicate you and I were…having relations."

  His brow shot up, the look urging me to go on. I took a hard swallow, the spit more painful than soothing as it traveled down my raw throat.

  "He thought he could make it look like we were conspiring to get him off the horse farm."

  I paused. I wasn't about to tell Gillie everything. He didn't need to know about the outfits Stark had bought me, both before and in Dubai, or speculate as to why I had held onto them. But he deserved to know at least a little.

  "He wanted my prints on the funnels and some of the containers in there, to make it look like I blew myself up trying to frame him. He might have planted chemicals at your place or some clothes that look like they'd fit me."

  My cheeks flaming even hotter, I stared upward as the helicopter finally came into view. Stopping Gillie's attempts at first aid, I stood and moved closer to where the ambulance team lifted Collin onto a hand-held gurney. They did the same thing for the second man.

  Not wanting to shout over the helicopter, I put my mouth close to Gillie's ear. "Is Evan...you know?"

  He didn't answer, just pointed toward the stable. I followed the line of his arm and outstretched finger. I had been so intent on watching Collin worked on, I hadn't seen them carry Evan's body from the stable and drape a red cloth over it.

  "Sometimes they leave them inside until the investigator gets here," he said. "But not if the chemicals will eat at the corpse."

  I nodded, misplaced guilt and relief churning in my stomach. Not that I was happy my stepfather was dead. But I sure as hell felt relieved.

  "Can I go with Collin on the helicopter?"

  Another spike of guilt slammed into me as I saw a guarded expression flash across Gillie's face.

  "Medical staff only." He walked me toward the ambulance crew who had abandoned their two charges to the flight doctor. "You'll ride in the ambulance as they finish first aid on you."

  Shaking my head, I tried to brush his hand off me. "I'm fine, I—"

  "You're going to the hospital." He switched the hand holding my elbow then wrapped the other around my shoulder so I couldn't brush him off. "Your throat and lungs need checked. It could have been worse, but that was serious shit you inhaled in there, Mia."

  My head dropped as the tears I had been holding back started to flow. Whatever I had inhaled, whatever my skin had come into contact with, Collin had been exposed far worse—all to protect a woman who had turned him away.

  14

  Mia

  They took me to the same hospital to which the air evac team transported Collin. Just past the county line, it had more experience with meth lab explosions. Thankfully, our exposure was less harmful than it could have been because Evan either didn't know how to cook or he had decided framing me would be easier if it looked like I was ineptly
trying to frame him. Whichever reason, he had a number of the ingredients wrong according to Gillie, from the wrong kind of batteries to the wrong cold medicine. Although, for the pseudoephedrine, he probably didn't want his name on the buy list right before he murdered me in an explosion.

  My head spun at the convoluted logic and from the lingering effects of ammonia as I left the hospital exam room. The receptionist at the desk handed me an envelope with my name on it. I opened it to find my cell phone and car keys with a note from Gillie telling me where he had parked the vehicle.

  I called his private cell phone and was immediately shunted to voicemail. Hoping I hadn't killed our growing friendship with my reaction to Stark's injuries, I left a message thanking Gillie for his thoughtfulness.

  To the doctor's dismay, my blood pressure hadn't dropped to a normal range the entire time I was being examined. It wouldn't until I knew Stark's condition, so I went in search of information. I hit my first road block in the emergency room, which wouldn't even confirm he had been brought in. I tried the receptionist in surgery with the same result.

  Standing in front of the hospital directory trying to figure out my next move, a warm, feminine hand curled around my elbow.

  "Miss James?"

  I turned to find a fifty-something woman in scrubs with a name badge identifying her as Linda Parks, RN. I nodded and she immediately started tugging me to follow her.

  "It's supposed to be family only," she explained, pulling me through the doors to the recovery rooms. "But I'm going to have to sedate him if he doesn't calm, which I can't do until his surgeon is out of OR again."

  She opened the door on a private room to reveal Collin standing next to the hospital bed and scowling at his ruined pants.

  "You are not to remove your IV." Her hands found her hips and her shoulders squared like she was ready to tackle him.

  His scowl deepened for a second before he seemed to realize I stood behind her. Dropping the pants, he sat down, the scowl erased as his gaze remained on me.