Beyond the Fire

by Cheryl Pierson

  In the next few seconds, she crossed the space between them, and he caught her to him quickly. He saw she was scanning his face to see if he was angry with her. He gave her a slow smile, and her anxiousness melted away. She snuggled close to him, both of them taking comfort from their mutual warmth.

  “We’ve got to do something,” she whispered urgently, stiffening in his arms as Jason’s strangled cry came again.

  “I know. But I want you to go to the cave—get somewhere safe.”

  “I couldn’t stay in the attic,” she whispered. “Not with knowing you were here and...I might never see you again.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you didn’t listen that time.”

  She glanced up, questioningly.

  “They’re gonna torch the house.”

  “No. They can’t! It’s everything I own!”

  She moved as if to step away, but he held her, putting a hand over her lips quickly. “Shhh. We’ll try to stop it if we can, Kendi, but the main objective is getting out of this alive—all of us, including your brother. Would you trade the house for his life?”

  Kendi was silent. He removed his hand.

  “If you’d asked me that two hours ago,” she whispered, “you’d have gotten a very different answer.”

  He could see she didn’t like having to admit it, but Jason was still her brother. She still cared about him. And it was going to be nearly impossible to save him. Jack knew he had to try, no matter what the outcome.

  “All right, then. Let’s finish this.”

  She nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Can you work your way back up into the woods?”

  Kendi’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. But why would I want to do that?”

  “If they catch us together, that’ll be the end of things. If we’re separated, we might still have a chance to even things out some.”

  After a slight hesitation, Kendi nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  Jack gave her the slow smile that always melted her heart. “I want you to start a fire.”

  “Okay,” she answered without hesitating. “Where?”

  “Go back a ways from the house. Get it burning quickly. Even if they can’t see it right away, they’ll smell it. If I don’t manage to get them all, you know how to use that gun, Kendi. Don’t hesitate.”

  Kendi’s body was nerveless for a moment. Kill or be killed—that’s what it had come to. These drug dealers were ruthless, and they certainly wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. She felt for the lighter she’d pocketed earlier. She put her right hand up to touch Jack’s cheek. Would Fate allow them a future, or would death come for them tonight?

  As if he read her unspoken uncertainty, Jack turned his head to kiss her palm. “We’ll do our best. That’s all we can do.”

  She nodded. “I hope it’s enough.”

  “Me, too.”

  Kendi kissed her fingertips and touched them lightly to his lips as she turned away. But he pulled her back, crushing her to him, his mouth coming over hers in a hot kiss that left her breathless when he released her.

  “Jack—”

  He shook his head slightly, an odd expression on his face Kendi didn’t understand at first. “Better get going,” he whispered huskily. “Don’t ever forget.”

  Kendi’s heart twisted. He was afraid it was going to end, too. There was nothing she could say to make it any different. It is what it is, she thought. “I love you.”

  He watched her in the dim light for a moment, as if memorizing her features. “Go start the fire, Kendi. Make it a big one.”

  “Pine trees burn fast,” she answered. “The smell will travel quickly.”

  She turned away again, and this time Jack let her go. She could feel his eyes on her in the twilight, until she disappeared into the edge of the forest, heading purposefully toward a section of the woods where there was a small stand of pine trees.

  From far behind her, Jason’s muted cry of pain assailed her. He was her brother, but it was hard to forgive the sadness he’d caused their parents...and her. Still, she had to help him, if she could. If the house burned too, there was no help for it, but at least, she and Jack would have done everything they could to save their lives, and Jason’s.

  If it ended here, tonight, for all of them... She shook her head. She wasn’t prepared to think about losing Jack and this new love they’d found. She ran now, to the pine trees just ahead of her. Sanchez, the bastard, was not going to have any of them without a fight.

  ****

  “What’s that?”

  Jack had been impatiently waiting for Sanchez and the others to take note of the smell of the burning pine that drifted in the early evening breeze. Barely visible in the twilight, a plume of smoke rose upward above the dark trees into the clear fall sky, just beginning to glitter with the brightest of the stars.

  “Smoke!” Sanchez’s voice was a gruff snarl in response to Bull’s question. The other men muttered unintelligibly, and one of them gave a short laugh. “Boils, Bull—check it out,” Sanchez commanded.

  “Yes, sir,” Bull responded immediately.

  A long pause hung in the air before Boils grudgingly said, “All right.”

  “Problems, Boils?” Sanchez asked silkily. “Because, if there are, I can fix them quickly. It makes no difference to me how many bodies I leave behind.”

  “I’m going,” Boils responded sullenly.

  Bull preceded him out of the barn, turning to look back impatiently. “Let’s go.”

  Jack watched them go from where he crouched. Bull carried the gas can, swinging it at his side in jaunty rhythm.

  Bierly said something in a low tone from just inside the door, as Jack strained to hear, but the words were unintelligible.

  The hell with this! Tamping down his impatience, Jack carefully walked the length of the barn, searching for a crack in the wood structure wide enough for him to see through. There was none. Kendi’s father, or whoever had built this place, had done a thoroughly professional job of it. Disgusted, he rounded the back corner cautiously. The snow had started to form a crustiness that could give away his presence if he became careless.

  His gaze swept the area behind the barn, then the back of the building.

  “Thank God,” he breathed. A thin stream of dim lantern light fell on the ground in front of him, the result of a knothole in one of the pieces of lumber. He glanced around again, then bent down slightly to look through the hole.

  The lighting was low, but he could make out the figures of the five men inside. His partner lay on the floor, not moving. Jason’s face was turned toward him, but they were too far apart for Jack to make out his condition.

  Mickey Bierly lounged against the wall near the barn entrance, Tom Granger just opposite him. Sanchez sat on an ancient hay bale, the lantern perilously close to the tendrils of straw that escaped around the sides of the rectangular shape. Watson paced, looking anxious.

  Sanchez watched him in silence for a few moments before he spoke. “Why are you so nervous?”

  Watson stopped, looking at Sanchez, then at Granger, who had turned around at Sanchez’s question. Granger stiffened slightly, and Jack took note. What is going on?

  Watson’s grin was uneasy. “Hell, I reckon we’re all nervous, Boss. Somebody out there’s got a fire going.”

  “So…what does that mean to you?” Sanchez shrugged, his lower lip thrusting out.

  “It means what it means to everybody, I figure,” Watson responded levelly. “It means I’m not crazy about there being somebody out there, and us not knowin’ who it is.”

  “You think it’s Taylor?” Sanchez’s thick lips stretched in a grin. “Could be...could be. Maybe trying to save his partner...” His voice trailed off as he turned to eye Jason’s inert form. “Bull will take care of him. And I’m thinking, maybe it’s time I take care of you.” Sanchez came to his feet, his gun pointing at Watson’s midsection. />
  Jack had figured it out, too. He didn’t know who Watson was working for, but it wasn’t Benito Sanchez’s operation. He cursed softly. If only he’d known before all this came down! He could’ve used some help from Watson. Now, the man was at Sanchez’s mercy, just as Jason was. Jack wanted to let go a string of curses that would turn the air blue. Typical of government agencies, the right hand didn’t know what the left hand was doing. Was Watson FBI? Some branch of state agency? Did he have a partner, too?

  Jack’s gaze arrowed to Granger, and he found his answer. Granger’s fingers were wrapped tightly around the framework of the barn door. He wasn’t prepared to stand by and watch Sanchez murder his partner. But, like Jack, he wasn’t sure Sanchez had it figured out completely yet.

  No matter what, Watson and Granger could be enough of a help to turn the tide for them all. But there were still Sanchez and Bierly to contend with. If Jack shot Bierly, Sanchez might pull the trigger on Watson.

  Watson put his hands out. “What’re you talking about?”

  Sanchez nodded at Bierly. “Get his gun.”

  Bierly moved quickly to comply.

  Jack knew this might be his only chance. When Bierly walked between Sanchez and Watson, Jack fired, hitting Sanchez in the shoulder. Sanchez turned with a cry of pain, falling to the floor of the barn. Granger’s gun was in his hand in an instant, but he didn’t have a clean shot at Bierly, or Sanchez, for the split second it took his partner to get out of the line of fire.

  Jack had to make his shots count. There would be no time to reload. Sanchez crawled to the dark side of the barn, into the shadows, Jack hitting him again before he gained the dark recesses. Brad Watson hovered near Jason, his gun drawn. Bierly lay dead on the floor. Granger ran across the barn after Sanchez.

  From where he stood, Jack’s vantage point wasn’t good. He couldn’t do any more from here, and the sound of the gunshots would bring Bull and Boils back from their search of the woods.

  He ran around the side of the barn, coming to a halt just as he reached the entrance. Two shots rang out, and Granger yelled unintelligibly.

  He cursed low and harsh. Had Sanchez gotten lucky and hit Granger? Or had Granger managed to kill Sanchez? Either way, they were all going to be targets for Bull with his damned gas can. Even if they took cover in the barn, Bull could burn it down around them, without firing a weapon.

  “Granger! Are you hit?” Jack shouted.

  There was a sharp gasp of pain from the darkness, and Watson gave Jack a desperate look over his shoulder.

  “Granger!”

  No answer.

  “Tom!” Panic edged Watson’s voice. He stood up and stumbled toward the darkness that enveloped Granger and Sanchez. A flash of fire erupted from the black depths, and Watson shrieked in pain, spinning before he fell a few feet from where Jason lay, unmoving.

  “Watson!” Jack swore again under his breath. What in the hell was Watson thinking?

  Jack had to settle this quickly before Bull and Boils had time to return. He squeezed off a shot toward where the flash of gunfire had come moments earlier and was rewarded by a sharp cry and a curse in Spanish. A slight grin of satisfaction touched his lips.

  “Sanchez, are we done here?” he called.

  “They said...you were...dead.”

  Sanchez’s voice was thin and breathless, though Jack could hear how he tried to disguise how badly he was hurt. “Well, obviously, your sources were wrong.”

  “Your partner died for it.”

  Jack didn’t answer immediately. He needed to keep Sanchez talking to gauge how lucid he was and pinpoint where he was. But the possible truth of his words stole Jack’s breath completely away for a moment. As a federal agent, it was a risk they all took from the moment they accepted an assignment. But it shouldn’t have happened the way it did. It had been so unexpected. So sudden—like everything else that had come about over the last couple of days.

  The thought of Kendi’s love assailed him, flooded him, and a feeling of bittersweet loss washed over him. If Jason really was dead, Kendi couldn’t help but blame him—the partner who couldn’t save her brother. She’d been mad as hell at Jason, and hurt by what she viewed as his betrayal. But Jack knew she still loved her brother. Jason’s death could only open a chasm between the two of them.

  Jack slipped around the corner of the door into the barn. A shot rang out near where he’d stood only moments earlier.

  “Not so steady, are you, Sanchez? The pain getting to you?” He moved again, quickly, working his way toward the back of the barn, into the shadowy depths.

  “I...I can...take it.” Sanchez’s voice cracked on a raw rush of air, giving lie to his words.

  “Candy-ass. Need a tissue?”

  There was silence for a moment, the silence of rage building until there was no way to contain it. A guttural choking sound began, changing to a cry of mingled uncontrollable anger and desperation. In an instant, Sanchez came charging out of the darkness into the circle of dim light cast by the lantern.

  His eyes were wide, his gun held at the ready. “Come out here, you bastard! Let me see you!” His voice shook with the volcanic rage he could no longer contain, a familiar characteristic Jack had pinned everything on.

  “Are you real? Or are you a ghost?”

  Jack kept quiet.

  “Are you dead? I have to know!”

  A thin smile touched Jack’s lips at the high-pitched whine in Sanchez’s unexpected pleas. It was gratifying to know he’d inadvertently managed to scare the mortal piss out of him.

  Jack raised his gun and pointed it at Sanchez’s chest. Sanchez had killed Jason, Granger, and Watson. He’d almost killed Jack, and he’d taken more pleasure in torturing him than any human being ever ought to be capable of. He could kill Sanchez from the dark, but Jack wanted him to see it coming. He wanted Sanchez to look into his eyes and see his own death, reflected there.

  “Oh, I’m real, all right,” he said in a low tone. Sanchez jumped, then bared his teeth as he tried to peer into the shadows.

  Jack moved a precautionary few feet to the right.

  Sanchez grimaced and stumbled forward, unable to hold his gun in a defensive stance any longer. Blood stained his sleeve, and another wound blossomed red at the top of his right thigh. His breathing was jagged and shallow.

  Jack stepped forward slowly as Sanchez’s head came up. Jack watched, prepared for whatever trick Sanchez might pull out of his sordid bag. Sanchez made no move. His hand lowered another fraction, his fingers moving to tighten around the gun in a desperate bid to hold on to it.

  “You’re...alive, then?” Sanchez’s black eyes were glassy.

  “Very much alive.”

  “How? Bull...said...”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m here.”

  Sanchez tried to raise the gun, but Jack noticed it was more a defensive gesture than anything.

  “Well, get it over with, Americano,” Sanchez spat.

  “No. I’m taking you in.”

  “Prison?” Sanchez’s lips twisted. “I don’t think so.” He bent over, then slowly went to his knees. But he never let go of his gun.

  Jack came into the dim light, and Sanchez gave a low laugh. “I did a good day’s work today. Three federal agents...dead. With luck...you will be the fourth.”

  “Your luck just ran out, Sanchez.”

  “I don’t...think so...” He lifted the gun, determinedly, but before he could get it into position, Jack pulled his own trigger.

  Sanchez fell backward on the dirt floor, his eyes staring sightlessly at the rafters above.

  “I did a good day’s work today, too.” Jack came forward and reached for Sanchez’s Glock. Relief flooded him at the knowledge he had more firepower at his disposal, but the .38 had served him well, so far. He slipped it back into his waistband and strode to where Jason lay motionless, a few feet away.

  He moved to be able to keep the door in sight, kneeling beside his partner as his gaze scanned the openin
g for any movement. “Jason?” He reached for Jason’s wrist. The pulse was there, but faint and thready. He gently turned Jason over, his heart pounding at the amount of blood his partner had lost on the barn floor.

  He needed to finish off Bull and Boils. Make sure Kendi was safe. But he couldn’t leave Jason like this, not even for five minutes. His wounds were critical, at best. Fatal, if Jack couldn’t do something for him immediately.

  Jason’s eyes were closed, his face pale and waxy.

  Jack pulled his partner’s bloody shirt open. The bullet had gone in his back, just below the right shoulder blade, and exited cleanly through his breastbone. Blood still leaked in a thin trickle across his skin, leeching into the already-soaked cotton shirt he wore.

  Jack put his hand over the hole and pressed down. Probably too late to do any good. Jason couldn’t stand to lose one more droplet of blood.

  “Jack...”

  Jack whirled at the sound of his name. Granger lifted his head slowly from where he lay a few feet away.

  “Tom—how bad are you hit?”

  “Bastard got me good.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I shouldn’t’ve...rushed him.”

  “I’m gonna call for help—”

  “Call my boss...will ya? He’ll be pissed...we let DEA get the collar on an FBI bust.”

  Jack smiled at Granger’s half-hearted joke.

  “My phone—” Granger tried to reach for his pants pocket, but couldn’t manage it.

  “Lie still. I’ll get it.”

  Jack released the pressure on Jason’s chest and stood up. He retrieved Granger’s phone and dialed DEA regional headquarters in Dallas. After insuring help was on the way, he turned to Granger. “Are you gonna make it? If I dial 911, can you talk? It’s gonna take our guys at least a half-hour to get here.”

  “Ours would make it...in fifteen—” He broke off, coughing.

  Jack was already dialing. He couldn’t be in two places at once. Kendi may be in trouble, and he’d wasted precious minutes, as it was. Tersely, he told the operator the location, but had no idea of the physical address.