by Lori Wilde
Leo looked uneasy. “He wouldn’t do that to us.”
“He’s doing it to me, an officer of the law. Why wouldn’t he do it to you?”
Mikos and Leo both gave Petruski the stink eye.
“Don’t listen to him,” Petruski scoffed. “He’ll say anything to stay alive. I got you out of jail, didn’t I?”
Leo and Mikos traded glances.
“C’mon, boys,” Petruski said. “Let’s deal with this mess first, and we’ll straighten out things between us later.”
“We want more money,” Leo said.
“We’ll discuss it.”
“A lot more money.” Mikos nodded.
“You boys aren’t going down for this.”
“Then who is?” Leo asked.
“Excellent question, Leo.” Tucker waved his gun.
“Throw down your weapon, Haynes.” Petruski cocked his revolver. “I’m not kidding. Do it or I’ll put a bullet through the girl’s head right now.”
Growling in anger and disgust, Tucker tossed his firearm at Duke’s feet.
“Get the suitcases,” Duke Petruski said abruptly to Leo and Mikos. He gestured toward the door with his head. “My truck’s outside.”
“What about these two?” Leo Stravanos asked.
“Leave them to me.”
Oversized zip ties bit into July’s flesh.
Her wrists were lashed to Tucker’s. Lieutenant Petruski had bound them back to back in the two wooden chairs. He’d also turned all the gas burners on the stove to high, opened the oven door, and blew out the pilot light. On the kitchen counter, not far from the stove, a candle flickered.
Already, the room stank of gas.
July’s heart beat so fast, she figured she stood a good chance of dying of a heart attack before she blew up in a gas explosion. “Tucker,” she said. “I am so sorry I got you into this.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t taken up with you, you wouldn’t be involved in this.”
“I’m the one who invited you to breakfast.”
“I should never have accepted your invitation.”
“I was a pest; I insisted.”
“July Johnson, you are in no way responsible. The last three days I spent with you…” He paused. “Were three of the best days of my life.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So you weren’t just kissing me to get in my good graces so that you could spy on the Stravanos brothers?” she asked. “Because it sure seems that way.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Getting chummy with you did let me stake out their apartment from a warm spot.”
Disappointment tasted sour in her mouth. She’d been nothing but a tool for him to use to get what he wanted.
“But, July, it quickly became so much more than that. You mean a lot to me.”
“Oh, Tucker, you mean a lot to me too.”
“Good, now let’s get out of this mess so you and I can figure out where we go from here.” Tucker shifted in his seat, and the zip tie twisted tighter around her wrist.
“You think we’re going to make it out?” she whispered.
“I’m trying my best, July. I don’t intend on losing you just when I found you.” He wrestled with the zip ties.
“Ouch,” she whispered as the plastic pinched her skin.
“Did I hurt you?” His tone changed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. They were going to die here.
“It’s up to us to get out of these zip ties.”
“Before the apartment blows up. All those innocent people.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just like you to be worried about everyone else. Let’s worry about ourselves first. If we save ourselves, we save everyone else.”
“I can’t believe your boss is such a bad guy.”
“Honestly, me either.” Tucker sighed. “Can you get your hands out of the zip ties? Your wrists are a lot smaller than mine.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m tough.”
Not near as tough as he pretended to be. Behind that formidable exterior lurked a small child who had never received the love due him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a policeman?” July asked, wriggling her fingertips across the plastic ties. Petruski had pulled the ties tight without an inch of give.
“I never wanted you involved in this, July.”
The back of her head rested against his. His neck muscles tensed, and his breathing quickened. Even without seeing his face, July knew Tucker was racked with remorse.
Love for him filled up her heart, and as she worked to get free of the zip ties, a montage of their time together flashed like a kaleidoscope in her mind.
Tucker, standing on her doorstep, a bag of Chinese food in one hand, her black lace panties in the other. Tucker, unselfishly rescuing the little Muldoon girl from the falling ladder. Tucker, forcing himself out into the ice and cold when he feared his desire for her might lead to things they could not control. Tucker, bursting through the door of the Stravanos brothers’ apartment, gun drawn, compromising his own safety to protect her.
Her heart flip-flopped in despair. Much as she loved him, much as she might yearn for this sexy lawman, she had to face the truth. They had no future because they were going to die right here together.
15
July was going to die because of him.
Tucker had failed her.
Epically.
Every time her slender fingers rubbed against his, the ache deep inside Tucker expanded. It took the threat of losing her to realize how much he cared about her.
He felt helpless and angry. Angry with Petruski, angry with himself for not catching on that his boss was setting him up.
Some lawman he was. He couldn’t save the one woman who’d shown him kindness and unconditional acceptance.
He longed to snap the zip ties like the Incredible Hulk, turn around, scoop her into his arms, carry her out of here, and make love to her all night long.
Tucker shook his head. Time to center his attention on getting free from this predicament. Think, think, think. They didn’t have much time.
Petruski had bound their feet with zip ties as well, hobbling them to the chair legs and preventing Tucker from standing up with July still lashed to his back and simply walking out the door.
“Brace yourself, July. I’m going to get some friction going over the zip ties. If I hurt you, tell me, and I’ll stop.”
“Okay,” she whispered so quiet and small that the sound lanced his heart.
He began rubbing their co-joined wrists against the wooden chair slat. Plastic bit into his skin. The chair squeaked with his back and forth movements.
July didn’t utter a sound.
Tucker kept working, attempting to erode the zip ties. “Honey?”
July’s shoulders shook.
“Are you crying?”
“N-no,” she denied, but he heard the reedy wobble in her voice and knew she was lying.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.” Stronger this time. Firmer. “Keep trying.”
“You are crying. Why?”
“It is all my fault we’re in this mess,” she said. “I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong. It’s my greatest failing. If I had turned a blind eye that night Leo Stravanos fell on the ice, I would never have discovered what he had in that box.”
“Being concerned about other people isn’t a failing.”
“And then when I discovered you had a gun, I thought you were mixed up with them. I never once considered you might be a cop. How could I have been so stupid?”
“You had no way of knowing,” Tucker reassured her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“And because of me, they got away, and now the whole apartment complex is going to blow up.”
She had a point about the blowing up. He could
hear the stove hissing, the smell of gas growing stronger.
The candle flame danced dangerously close to the stove. How long did they have? Ten minutes if they were lucky? Five?
“Don’t you start taking credit for their escape. Petruski is powerful, and he has the El Paso PD at his disposal.”
“Everybody’s right. I am a nosy Rosy.”
“July,” he chided. “Stop it right now. There’s no time to feel sorry for ourselves.”
She giggled, then hiccupped.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are giving me a pep talk.”
A warm, fuzzy sensation coursed through him at her muted laughter. She could laugh in the face of all this? He adored her more every single minute he was around her.
“This isn’t working.” He grunted.
“What?”
“Trying to snap the ties by rubbing it against the chair slats. I’m just hurting us both.”
“Yes,” July agreed.
Think, think, think. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Tucker’s mind picked up and discarded a dozen different options, none of them viable. He shifted his butt in the chair, at the end of his rope when he felt it…
The cigarette lighter in his back pocket. He’d stuck the lighter in his pocket without thinking after they’d lit the candles in her apartment when the electricity had gone off. Salvation.
The lighter was a way out.
But a method filled with lethal danger.
The smell of gas swamped the room. The candle flame licked higher. Sooner or later the flame was going to trigger an explosion. They had to hurry. There was no other choice. It was a risk they had to take or face certain death.
Tucker’s head throbbed, and his wrists ached, but that didn’t matter. “July, I’m asking you to do something really brave.”
“What is it?” Her voice quavered. “I’ll do my best.”
“Can you fish the cigarette lighter out of my back pocket?”
She sucked in her breath and coughed. “You want me to burn through the plastic zip ties.”
“Yes.”
“But what if the spark—”
“There’s already a flame burning. There’s not enough gas in the house yet to ignite the flame. That’s why we have to do this now. The longer we wait, the more likely a spark from the candle or the lighter will blow us up.”
He could feel the fear in her body. She didn’t say anything.
“July?”
Her fingers tickled his rump. Tucker gulped. Sweat beaded his brow. She was going to try. He was so damned proud of her.
“Which pocket?” she whispered as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would set off the gas.
“Right.”
He shifted onto his left hip to help her get into his pocket easier. She fumbled for a moment, each movement sending shock waves of tension hammering through his body.
“I don’t feel it.”
“Lower,” he said. “You’re getting there.”
Her fingertips grazed the top of the lighter, pushing it farther down into his pocket.
“Shoot, I can’t get ahold of it.” Her voice was a thin high string.
So were his nerves. He had to keep her on task. Couldn’t let her lose hope. “You can save us. Keep trying, sweetheart. You’re the positive one in this relationship, remember?”
Keep trying, sweetheart.
Tucker’s words gave her wings. Shook off the despair gripping her.
You’re the positive one in this relationship.
As if they had a relationship. As if they had a future.
Mmm, not if they blew up.
Urgency and hope spurred July on, but the zip ties cut into her wrists, and she felt her skin tighten and swell. Wincing, she curled her index finger inside Tucker’s pocket and went fishing.
The clock on the gas stove ticked. Tock, tock, tock. Counting off the seconds that they had left to live. Each movement brought a new ripple of awareness. Only a layer of denim separated her hand from his bottom.
Get ahold of yourself, July Desiree. Focus.
She kept going. This time she was able to grasp the lighter between her thumb and index finger.
Tock, tock, tock. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
She worked the lighter back and forth, inching it up his back pocket.
Gas hissed.
Tucker grunted.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Keep going.”
After what seemed like an hour, but was likely less than a minute, she tugged the lighter from his pocket and palmed it.
“I’ve got the lighter,” she crowed, but her triumph was short-lived as she realized what she had to do next.
“This is going to be the hard part, sweetheart.” His voice was strong and steady, the exact opposite of how she felt. “You’ve got to burn through the zip ties around my wrists.”
She knew that. Dreaded it. “What if—”
“Then we’ll die together,” he said.
“If I have to die today, Tucker Haynes, I’m glad it’s with you.”
“Me too,” he whispered. “But we’re not going to die today. We’ve got too much to live for.”
He sounded so certain that she believed him.
“What if I burn you?”
“Then you burn me. I’ll be okay. Just do what you have to do, July. It’s a worthy trade-off.”
“Okay, here goes.” Clenching her teeth, cradling the lighter in her palm, she closed her eyes. Heard everything in the room as if it was inside her skull in surround sound. The tick of the clock. The hiss of the gas. Tucker’s breathing, even and controlled.
Her own breathing, crazy and erratic.
July gathered every last scrap of courage she had inside her and flicked the lighter switch with her palm.
Nothing happened.
“Stupid child safety device,” she mumbled. “How do I deactivate the thing?”
“There’s a little nipple under the switch.”
Nipple.
Despite the incredible tension of the moment, the word made her giggle. Okay, it was official; she was hysterical.
Tucker laughed too.
Then they were both laughing like loons. Together.
“I’m trying again,” she said against the tears born of laughter and terror. In that moment, she felt more alive than she had in her entire life.
Adrenaline coursed through her body. Perspiration dripped down her face. She was hot and cold and sort of insane with it all.
Get a grip. Now!
She ran her finger around the head of the lighter, looking for the nipple. Found it. Bit down on the inside of her cheek. Flicked the nipple to the side and hit the switch with her thumb. Felt the heat from the flame.
It had caught!
And they hadn’t blown up.
Air rushed from her lungs, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. “Got it.”
Tucker let out an audible breath.
She inhaled deeply, tasting the gas. Small victory, but it was not enough. She kept her thumb on the switch to keep the lighter lit.
“Move your wrist to the right,” she said. “But slowly, carefully, I’m doing this all by feel.”
Tucker moved his hands, and blindly she fingered the zip ties with her left hand while she held pressure on the lighter switch with her right and did her best to position the flame underneath the plastic zip ties at his wrists.
“Ouch!” He hissed. “Lower.”
She grimaced. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Just do it.”
She tried again. This time the scent of burning plastic drifted up. July’s thumb grew numb and slipped off the switch igniting the flame. Oh no, she was going to have to turn it on again. Fresh risk of this flame being the thing that ignited the gas.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I think you burned through the zip ties enough that I can break them now.”
She prayed that was true. Prayed with all her might.
“I’m going to raise our hands up and try to rub the zip ties against the chair slat again. You with me?”
“I’m with you.”
The zip ties cut into her flesh as he raised their joined wrists. The movement shoved tingly pain up her spine and into her shoulder blades. She braced herself. It was okay. Pain meant she was alive.
“It’s working,” he said triumphantly. “I can feel the zip tie starting to give.”
And then the plastic broke, and their hands were free and for the first time since Tucker’s police lieutenant had tied them up, July’s hopes bloomed.
They were going to get out. They were going to make it. They were going to save the entire complex.
She brought her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists. Now that they were separated, Tucker could hobble with his feet tied to his chair. July turned in her chair to watch. Frantically, he clomped over to the stove, the chair dragging behind him. He blew out the candle and turned off the burners. He slumped back in his chair for a couple of seconds then dug around in the kitchen drawer for a knife and cut himself free.
Immediately, he dashed over to free July’s ankles from the ties holding her to the chair. He got down on his knees in front of her, his wrists savagely slashed with burns and abrasions. He gently rubbed her ankles. Pain shot clean through to her shins as the blood supply returned.
His hair was in disarray. Worry lines creased his forehead, but July had never seen a more beautiful sight.
He looked up at her from his place on the floor. Her heart thumped, excruciatingly slow. Her skin heated like water in a saucepan. Her stomach contracted. How she wanted to kiss that rugged mouth, run her tired fingers through his dark hair, gaze deeply, longingly into those amazing brown eyes.
“You did it,” he gasped. “You saved us.”
She fell into his arms. He kissed her hard and long, and it was the best kiss she’d ever had in her entire life. A kiss of joyous reunion. They had been through hell together and survived.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
She nodded, overcome with emotion.
“Open the windows and let the gas out. Call 911 and ask for Sheriff Forrester. Tell him what happened. Go from apartment to apartment warning people to get out. The gas is still dangerous. It could still ignite.”
