Even on land, the wreckers knew their job.
Suddenly Mathew spied a familiar face in the front of the bucket brigade. Rief’s brother was shouting orders and frantically passing buckets.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Mathew ran over. “Have you seen Rief?”
Cole whirled on him, the fires of hell blazing behind him. “What are you doing here?”
Not expecting such a fierce greeting, he recoiled, then quickly composed himself. “Your brother, where is he?”
“I should ask you, Weston,” Cole sneered, snatching the bucket from a man behind him. He threw the water on an undamaged part of the warehouse while the fire above raged, lapping and devouring Rief’s life with savage hunger.
Having no idea the source of the man’s anger, Mathew fought unsuccessfully to control his temper. He threw the bucket still in his hand to the ground. “I asked you, where is Rief? Tell me at once!”
Cole swept him with a contemptuous glare. “I saw that painting. The drawings,” he hissed, spitting at Mathew’s feet. “This is divine retribution for your depraved ways!”
For a flash, he was too thunderstruck to reply. With all the confusion around them, had anyone else heard Cole’s vengeful declaration? And how had Cole seen the painting? Did Rief know?
Rief....
His very name was like a beacon of light, shining through the darkness, obliterating fears that had kept Mathew under their influence for far too long.
In that solitary instant, everything became clear.
All of his life, Mathew had been afraid, scared to be revealed as a sinner, a sodomite. At parties and school, men had shown interest in him, but he’d always been careful to avoid them, terrified to start down a path of no return. No one had ever been worth the risk of exposure. Fighting to keep his nature hidden and depressed that his life was destined to be full of secrets and lies, Mathew had given up any hope of happiness.
Until he met Rief.
Rief had become his life, his future, and his home. Others might never understand. Hell, they might hate him and try to harm him or steal everything he had, but suddenly, discovery held no more shame. His pride, vanity, his fortune—none of it mattered.
Nothing mattered but finding the man he loved.
“To hell with what you know,” Mathew growled, grabbing Cole by the arm and shaking it hard, a veritable David taking on Goliath. “Where is Rief?”
Cole shoved him back, knocking Mathew’s top hat into the mud. “Just leave! You’ve ruined enough already.”
Wanting to pound some sense into him, Mathew opened his mouth to curse the stubborn fool, but another shout moved through the crowd, halting him mere seconds from striking Cole.
“Someone’s upstairs! Someone’s in the fire!”
Mathew turned his gaze toward the second floor window.
Through the smoke, a single shadow moved behind fingers of orange flame.
A terrified sweat slicked his mind.
“Rief!” he screamed, rushing past Cole. “Rief!”
“Dammit, boy!” Cole seized his arm, stopping him.
“Get off me!” Mathew fought like a feral animal, but somehow Cole managed to hold him back. “Rief’s in there!”
“You’ll die if you go in there!”
Issuing a sharp elbow into his gut, Mathew escaped his clutches. Raring with fury, he pointed in the bigger man’s face. “You may not care if your brother lives or dies, but I do!”
Before Cole could try to stop him again, Mathew tore off his frock coat. He spied a horse trough nearby and shouldered through the men filling buckets. He plunged his garment into the water, soaking it through. Throwing it over his head, he bolted for the stairs.
“Somebody stop him!” a voice cried.
But God himself could not keep Mathew away from Rief.
He took the steps two at a time, heat scorching his body the higher he climbed. The crackle of wood splintering as it burned drowned out the sound of the men in the street below. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t escaped the building and the stairs were stable.
For now.
Smoke billowed around him, stinging his eyes. There was no time to waste. All those paints, oils, paper, and canvases made Rief’s house a veritable tinderbox.
A death trap.
Frantic, Mathew grabbed the door handle, recoiling when he burned his hand.
“Rief!” He kicked at the door, and when it opened, a burst of hotness rushed out. Covering his head with the wet jacket, he waited a single heartbeat, then sucked in a deep breath and ran inside.
The temperature overwhelmed him, steaming the wet fabric of his coat almost immediately. Squinting into the flames, he tried to pinpoint Rief’s location, but the heat made it almost impossible to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. He tried to get his bearings, recall the layout of the room. Smoldering on the floor and thickening the air with smoke, was the pile of drawings of Mathew that Rief had spent over a decade making. The sail blocking the bed where he’d first tasted love was nothing but a wall of fire, dripping in tattered pieces of red and orange flame.
“Rief! Where are you?” he called out, the hot air choking his lungs.
“Matt!” was the answering cry from somewhere within. “Help me! I can’t find him!”
Heedless of his own safety, Mathew ran toward the sound of his voice, ignoring the threat of the flames consuming everything around him. The heat singed his face and hands, the wet coat only helping so much.
In the back corner of the studio, he spied Rief, scrambling and pushing aside broken pieces of furniture. Mathew almost sobbed with relief.
“I can’t find him!” Rief cried, panicked.
Cursing under his breath, Mathew realized he was talking about the cat. He joined the search but soon realized visibility was nigh impossible, and it was only getting worse. All the chemicals and paints were fueling the fire fast, and Mathew swore the blaze had already grown taller. The pungent, oily smoke made it difficult to breathe, so he pulled the wet coat over his mouth, and it steamed around him. “He’s not here, Rief! We have to get out! There’s no time!”
“I can’t leave him!” Rief shouted, the hopeless terror in his voice making Mathew’s heart skip. “I have to find him!”
If we die because of a cat....
No, that was not going to happen, even if Mathew had to grab Rief and drag him out by his hair. He rushed forward, intending to do just that, but a burst of flames flared up, blocking him.
A sudden crumbling sound filled the air.
Part of the ceiling collapsed in a cloud of fire and ash, knocking Mathew to the ground. A scream of pain echoed around him.
Horror worse than what he’d experienced drowning consumed Mathew. “Rief! Are you hurt?”
There was no answer.
“Rief! Are you all right?” A hairsbreadth from hysteria, he managed to get back on his feet. He’d lost his jacket and now had to wave his hands in front of his face in a futile attempt to find fresher air to breathe. “Answer me, dammit! Rief!”
Over the snapping and growl of the fire, he heard coughing. In a frenzy and blood pounding, he stumbled his way through the roasting heat toward the sound. Breaking through a veil of smoke, he saw that a large ceiling beam had fallen, trapping Rief underneath.
Pain twisted Rief’s face as he struggled to break free.
Hurrying forward, Mathew dropped to the floor beside him and hooked the heels of his boots under the beam. “We’ll get you out of here! Push!”
Mathew threw all of his strength into it. His hands dug into the wooden floor as he braced himself, splinters digging deep into his palms. If they could manage to shift it enough, Rief would be free.
“Damnation!” He let out a defeated wail when another attempt barely moved it an inch.
“It’s no use.” Rief collapsed back, weak and spent from the exertions. “Go! Save yourself!”
“I’m not leaving you!” He pushed harder, but no matter how much he t
ried, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Rief was at the wrong angle to get the proper leverage, and Mathew was too small to lift it on his own. After several more fruitless attempts, he cursed violently.
“Matt,” Rief said very calmly.
A hand brushed his cheek.
He looked up.
“We can’t move it, and I think my leg is broken.” Rief’s voice was oddly calm as the wicked flames of hell devoured their once private haven. The blaze had grown hotter, higher, and the pop and crackle of wood burning more intense. Those beautiful eyes were full of pain, sweat and ash staining him and tearing Mathew’s heart in two. “If you keep trying, we’ll both die. Please, save yourself.”
“You damn fool,” he hissed, tears pouring down his face from both smoke and emotion. “I told you that I’m never leaving you. I love you!”
Rief smiled. “Say it again, please?”
“I love you,” he cried, grabbing Rief’s hand and pressing it to his lips. “I love you, Rief!”
“I’ve always loved you,” he whispered, his words cut off in a fit of coughing. Catching his breath, he gave Mathew’s hand a shake, watering eyes wide with sudden passion. “And I love the real you more than any drawing. Never forget that.”
“Then don’t give up,” he begged. This can’t be happening.... “Help me get you free!”
Rief shook his head. The orange glare of the fire reflected in his sweat, highlighting his desperation. “There’s no more time, Matt. Just go. I can die knowing I had you for a little while.”
“Never!”
“You don’t need to die for me! Go!”
“No!” An agonized wail tore from his lips.
This was not how it was supposed to end! Rief didn’t spend all these years drawing Mathew, waiting for him, just to die before they ever had a chance.
Impassioned determination filled Mathew and he began pushing on the beam with his feet again. “I’ll never leave you! And when we get out of this, I’m not going back to London. I’m staying, and I’ll never leave your side!”
“You’re talking crazy. You know we cannot do that, people—”
“To the Devil with all of them!” he cried, caught up in a wild fervor and pushing harder. “I love you, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you hear me?” Dammit, why won’t it move! “I’m never leaving! Do you hear me? Never!”
“Matt—”
A shout from behind them cut him off.
“Rief, are you in here?”
They both looked over Mathew’s shoulder and Rief’s eyes widened in shock. “Cole?”
“Over here!” Mathew shrieked, frantic with sudden hope. “Rief is trapped! Help me!”
The giant of a man burst through the blaze. Mathew didn’t know what had changed Cole’s mind but he’d never been happier to see another soul.
Cole took in the harrowing scene, then grabbed something from the ground.
A table leg!
He wedged the solid piece of wood under the beam, using it as a lever. “C’mon! On the count of three!”
“Bloody hell, why didn’t I think of that?” Mathew groused, putting his feet under the beam while Cole counted.
Rief chuckled. “Because you were too busy telling me that you loved me and you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me.”
Sniffing at the ill-timed humor, Mathew readied himself to push.
“Three!” Cole shouted.
Strength renewed by the unexpected arrival of help, Mathew pushed with everything he had. There was a creaking sound and Rief’s scream of agony rent the air. Mathew’s legs quivered from the exertion of holding the beam with Cole, but he managed to extend his hand. Rief grasped it and scrambled out from the wreckage, collapsing at Mathew’s side.
Once he was clear, they let the beam fall in a shower of sparks.
Quickly Mathew assessed the injury, dismayed to discover Rief’s leg twisted at an unnatural angle. There was no way it could bear any weight.
“I’ll help you,” Mathew said, getting on his knees and throwing Rief’s arm around his shoulder.
“No time for that,” Cole said, brushing Mathew aside. “Come on, little brother.” He reached down and grabbed Rief by the underarms. When Rief cried out in pain, Cole ignored it and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Move it, Weston!” he growled, racing toward the exit. “We gotta get out before the stairs collapse!”
Shielding his face with one arm, Mathew barely noticed the fire as they ran to freedom. He burst into the night, the cooler air painful inside his lungs after all the smoke and heat. Ahead of him, he spied Cole halfway down the stairs. Thankfully they were still solid and Mathew was able to safely descend a few paces behind them.
A great flurry of action surrounded them once back on solid ground. Dazed and hacking, Mathew tried to suck in clean air. His eyes watered, and his face felt tight and sunburned. Someone slapped his back, and he wasn’t sure if they were putting out a fire or congratulating him. The men in the bucket brigade were still struggling to extinguish the blaze, which, by now, had taken over the entire building.
“Where is Doc Jones?” Cole roared into the crowd. “My brother’s hurt!”
Not letting Rief out of his sight, Mathew hurried after them. Just as Cole placed Rief on the ground against a hitching post, gentle drops of water splattered Mathew’s brow. The clouds that had been threatening rain all evening had finally consented to drop their burden.
Cole glared at Mathew. “Don’t you ever do something so stupid again! You could’ve gotten us all killed.”
“To hell with you,” he snapped, brushing past the big ox and kneeling at Rief’s side. “I’d run into a million fires to save him. I’d like to see you and the Devil try to stop me!”
Rief managed a faint smile of appreciation, his hair ashy and matted. Sweat and the arrival of rain made streaks through the soot on his face, and a scarlet trickle of blood joined the mess.
Away from the heat of the inferno, cool air kissed Mathew’s cheeks, allowing his heart to calm, the frantic tempo easing. He took Rief’s hands in his, concerned by the weakness of his grip. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” He dropped his head back, his entire body shuddering as he coughed. He winced, the motion hurting his leg. It broke Mathew’s heart, seeing his twisted leg, but he appeased himself with the knowledge that Rief was alive.
Blessedly alive!
From above them, Mathew felt the weight of Cole’s unsettling stare.
Enough clarity had returned that a twinge of embarrassment settled in his stomach. Cole knew the true nature of their association. After seeing the painting Rief had made, the sensuous way he saw Mathew in his mind, Cole knew they were lovers. The man had gazed upon the real Mathew, the secret person he could only be with Rief.
Knowing someone besides the two of them had seen the painting felt like a violation of his soul. As if Cole had caught him in the middle of pleasuring himself. Yet much like being exposed to Maggie, there was nothing he could do to change the path they’d landed on, no way to alter the prejudices and hatreds that they would now face. Cole had already cursed them for their “depraved ways,” declaring this fire their comeuppance. Though he felt naked and vulnerable, Mathew refused to be ashamed of their relationship. The mere idea seemed like a betrayal against the man he loved.
Rather than look up, he squeezed Rief’s hands tighter, keeping his attention solely on his lover. Their eyes locked, the fireside confessions playing out between them. Could they possibly make this work as Mathew had impetuously declared? Could they really stay together despite the whole world conspiring against them?
In that instant, holding Rief’s hand while the flames devoured a sad past, Mathew knew the answers to those questions.
For years Mathew and Rief had been living in the shadows but the very paintings that were now being destroyed had foretold an end to the sadness. With those oil and canvas promises all but a memor
y, they needed to create a new future. Only together could they maintain that happiness, the light Rief had been drawing for them all this time.
Rief gave him a tight-lipped smile, his countenance threatening to shatter. They did not need words to know they would give their love the best chance they could, come what may.
“I gotta help with the fire,” Cole announced. “The rain won’t stop it.”
Mathew glanced heavenward. Though the rain wasn’t heavy enough to extinguish the blaze, the drops were refreshing on his scorched skin, a blessing across his brow. Behind him, the orange inferno had gotten taller, sending out rolling waves of heat. The men had given up on the warehouse itself, and instead were saving the goods inside and focusing the rest of their attention toward keeping the buildings nearby wet.
“Take care of him,” Cole said, the subtle change in his tone startling Mathew.
Before he could reply, the man slipped into the crowd. If those words held a deeper meaning, he didn’t allow himself to get too excited. It was unfathomable to imagine Rief’s brother would ever understand or accept a love such as theirs. The best he could hope for was that he would not be as vengeful as Father.
“It was your father,” Rief choked out when they were alone. He wiped his face with the edge of his shirt, smearing blood and soot.
“What?”
“He knows about us,” he whispered in a voice hoarse from smoke.
Mathew clutched his hand, suddenly remembering his mission. “That’s what I planned to tell you,” he whispered fast. “But how did you—”
“He was in my house when I came home,” Rief interrupted. “We argued and he attacked me.”
“My father did this? He set the blaze?”
Rief shifted into a more comfortable sitting place, wincing from the movement. “It could’ve been no one else. He was waiting for me, looking at the painting and the drawings of you. He threatened to expose us if I didn’t testify to the judge that our company took advantage and deceived your captain on the reef. After what I heard in the Bloody Hog, I figured that he and Torino were up to no good. I told him to go to hell and that I knew he hired Torino to run your ship aground on purpose.”
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