For one long second they stared at each other. Reflections of the flames danced over the weapon in Ormsby’s hand. He meant for there to be no survivors. The satisfied grin that spread across Ormsby’s fire-lit face stoked Jared’s fury brighter.
“Herbst.” Ormsby shouted over the growing roar of the fire. “Your man is here.”
Jared forced his gaze to remain steady on Ormsby. He didn’t dare search the yard for Frank. For Dee.
But his gut wasn’t going to be happy until he saw her.
“Dee.” Jared shouted her name. Once he knew she was safe, he could concentrate on the bastard in front of him. “Dee!”
Ormsby’s eyes lit like the fires of hell burned in them. He raised the gun, ready. “I imagine she’s quite warm now. If she’s still alive.”
Jared’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t be in there. She couldn’t. Unless Frank had managed to get out and was in the same position as him—trying to get past Ormsby.
This bastard had to go down and stay down so he could secure Dee.
“Give it up, Ormsby,” Jared shouted. “You’re not walking out of this one.”
A cocky sneer crossed Ormsby’s face.
“Your friends in Cincinnati already know you’re missing.”
Ormsby took a step back; his eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”
“I talked to Yancey on my way here. You’re done.”
Ormsby fired. The bullet grazed the top of the trunk, not three inches from Jared’s head.
The bastard was good, too good to take chances. Jared rolled beneath the back corner of the car, aimed, and returned fire. His shot slammed into Ormsby’s right shoulder, sending his weapon flying as he spun, then dropped.
Jared leapt from beneath the car. It wasn’t a kill shot; he hadn’t meant it to be. He had a second, maybe two, before Ormsby thought clear enough to find and retrieve his weapon.
He wasn’t going to get the opportunity.
Keeping his profile low, Jared raced across the open yard. Secure Ormsby; find Dee. This sick bastard would pay for what he’d done. All of it.
Jared’s weapon was up in a flash, his heart pounding against his ribs, as another figure stepped from behind a tree. In the flickering light, Frank dropped to one knee beside Ormsby.
A deep breath sighed from Jared’s lungs. He lowered his weapon to his side and straightened to his full height. “Where have you got Dee?”
The deck along the back of the house hadn’t caught as quickly as the front, but still the heat licked at Jared’s skin.
Frank rose, Ormsby’s weapon in one hand as he lifted his gun and pumped a bullet into Ormsby’s chest.
The shock of the discharge left Jared staggering.
Frank tossed his weapon behind him and shifted Ormsby’s weapon to his right hand. He turned, his thin face solemn, his dark eyes hard as he faced Jared.
Everything inside Jared shrank. “What the hell?”
Frank lifted Ormsby’s gun and pointed the barrel directly at Jared. “Drop your weapon,” he commanded.
“What are you doing?” Hysteria threatened to suffocate him. His mentor, the man who’d trained him from the very beginning, stood unmoving. He was dead serious.
One slow second ticked by, then Jared complied. His mind raced through options. Whatever was going on here, saving Dee was all that mattered. He was her only hope. “We don’t have time for this.”
An explosion of expanding wood sounded from the front of the house as if to punctuate his words.
“Come on,” Jared urged.
Frank shook his head slowly and stepped to the side, giving himself a clearer angle. “You shouldn’t have survived the crash.”
Jared’s brain took another hit.
“She wouldn’t have had to die like this.” Frank spared a glance down at Ormsby. “Or maybe she would have. But it wouldn’t have mattered. You wouldn’t have known anything about it.”
Frank’s grin, his words were pure insanity.
This was not the man he’d known and served under. Frank had lost his mind.
Jared fought the urge to yell at his commanding officer. Dee’s time was running out. He needed a break, the smallest chance. God, please!
The bright white light of headlights bounced across the woods. Trying to shield his vision, Frank lifted his arm.
Jared dropped to the ground, his moves the result of training as much as thought. He found his weapon. “Drop it, Frank.”
Frank shot, a random spray of gunfire.
Jared lifted his gun and discharged one, two, three rapid shots. The thump of a body hitting the ground had him scrambling forward, his body low, his weapon forward. Ready.
Frank was down, his eyes open and glazed. Bile burned the back of Jared’s throat. What the hell had just happened?
A truck door slammed behind him. “Where’s Dee?” Jack shouted.
A quick glance at Ormsby confirmed he would pose no problem.
Grief and confusion weighted Jared. “Call 9-1-1,” he said as he faced the burning house. “Tell them there’s an officer down.”
Whatever had happened with Frank, the worst was still in front of him. “Dee,” he shouted. He pushed every bit of breath in his body into her name. “Dee!”
Where the hell was his back-up? The fire equipment?
His eyes watered from the smoke and the heat, but he heard it. He’d swear he heard it, the single greatest miracle of his life: Dee’s voice coming from inside.
“She’s still alive,” Jared yelled. “It sounded like she’s in the bedroom.” Flames licked the steps and outer boards of the deck. Whoever spread the gas hadn’t bothered to go up and spread it against the back wall. Overconfidence and the recent heavy rain worked in his favor.
Jack came up beside Jared, an assortment of tools—shovels, a crow bar—in his hands.
Jared pointed to his left. “She’s beneath that window.” He took off toward the steps but was jerked to a halt by a fist knotted in his shirt.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jack demanded.
Jared twisted out of the grasp. “I can get through the back door and get to her. It’s just a little fire on the deck.”
Jack scowled. “You’ll never make it.” He tossed a shovel at Jared. “Throw some dirt on the flames. It’ll smother the fire.”
He didn’t have time. Dee couldn’t wait. But the heat of the flames was already pushing him back.
He sank the shovel into the ground and pitched the dirt on the steps. He repeated it a second time, encouraged to see the flames diminish.
A thick-fingered, calloused hand snatched the shovel from Jared. “Gimme that,” Ed Trumble demanded. “You go on in and get our girl.”
Jared glanced over his shoulder and saw Ed’s truck on the gravel drive. He’d never heard the big four-wheel drive diesel truck approach.
Jack worked on the deck beneath her window. “Go through the window,” he shouted above the growing roar of the fire.
Jared raced up the steps, his body pressed against the side of the house, away from the flames, and still his skin felt scorched. The lower edge of the window reached mid-chest. Getting in wouldn’t be easy. First, he’d have to break the glass then clear it.
As if anticipating his need, Jack slid the crow bar across the deck in front of Jared.
Without slowing, Jared scooped the heavy bar up and didn’t stop until he reached the window. “Dee.” The smoke-filled air tore like nails at the back of his throat. Pulling the rounded neck-line of his shirt over his mouth and nose, Jared tried again. “Dee, I’m coming. Get away from the window.”
His raw throat refused to utter another word.
Jared tapped the crow bar against the upper corner of the window. The pane exploded. He prayed the shards hadn’t hit Dee even as he felt tiny stings over his arms and forehead. A scorching lick of flames whooshed along the ceiling and out the window, then died back. Every movement took too long as he punched around the outer edges, removing the sharp glass.
The heat outside had been horrible. Inside felt like sitting on a grill. Even the floor was hot. Smoke kept him pressed low. “Dee?” He wasted a second orienting himself to the room. He could barely see three feet in front of him. Dee wasn’t beneath the window. He couldn’t see her along the wall.
“Dee?” Could she even hear him? The fire was deafening.
A thin strip of white appeared before him. The bathroom door. Hope spurred him forward. Covering his hand with the hem of his shirt, Jared reached for the doorknob and turned. The white tile of the bathroom provided a measure of light.
Dee sat huddled against the wall beneath a mound of wet towels.
Jared reached for her. “Come on, baby.”
He refused to despair when she didn’t move. There wasn’t time for niceties. His skin felt like it was melting.
He reached beneath the towels and grabbed. An arm? A leg? It didn’t matter. He tugged and tugged again until her body slumped along the wall in his direction. He dragged her closer, fought for strength he wasn’t sure he had, and hoisted her over his shoulder. He pushed up and stumbled the five steps necessary to reach what was left of the window.
A firefighter, suited up and with ax in hand, stood in the enlarged opening. He lifted his arms and engulfed Jared and Dee, pulling them toward the cool salvation of fresh air.
“Take her.” Jared pulled back, passing Dee off.
“You can’t go back in there,” the firefighter shouted.
“I’ll be back,” Jared responded.
“Is there someone else inside?”
Not someone, but something too precious to leave behind. On hands and knees, Jared made it back to the bathroom. Peeling back the now brittle, dry towels, he found what he had seen when he pulled Dee free. Big, dark, sleepy eyes looked at him beseechingly. “I’ve got you, Lucky.”
He cradled the pup in the crook of his arm and headed toward safety.
Chapter Twenty-one
“I’m coming,” Dee called as she stopped at the door to place a kiss on Lucky’s nose before closing the door and running down the stairs clutching a huge plate of homemade cookies. She climbed in the truck, and Katie backed out of the driveway.
“He looks like he’s doing okay,” Katie said.
Dee smiled, relief pouring through her. “He is. The vet gave him a clean bill of health today.”
The truck edged out onto the highway. This was the second Sunday afternoon potluck at Just One Moore. The second week of the remodel. The second time the group of friends gathered to clean the work site, and to volunteer whatever talents they had to the effort. “It feels like we’re starting a tradition,” Dee mused.
Katie laughed. “I think we’re creating a monster. The guys love all this home-cooked food a little too much. They’re going to expect it all the time.”
“At least every Sunday,” Dee grinned.
It had been four weeks since the fire. Four weeks since she’d moved into Jared’s house.
The man had been insistent, refusing to even talk about other options. Not that she minded. He was like a drug and she was an addict. She couldn’t get enough.
Despite his hip, which had taken a major beating from his heroics during the fire, he’d gone back to work early. With Frank gone, the force was impossibly thin, and Jared wanted an active part in this investigation.
After all, it centered around him.
He’d left the house earlier today with the promise he’d be at the bar this afternoon.
“So what’s happening with the case?” Katie asked.
Dee turned to her friend and smiled. Her friend. She was setting down roots here, developing relationships. Central Kentucky felt more like home than anywhere she’d ever been.
Even her family accepted it. “I can hear it in your voice,” her mom had said in what was the most civilized conversation they’d had in years.
“It’s slow going,” Dee answered. Jared’s confusion and pain at Frank’s betrayal hurt her deeply. “They’re still going through all Frank’s records, but they haven’t found any explanations.”
Katie frowned, shook her head. “How did he hide his real nature?”
Dee shrugged. “I’d been around him several times and never once suspected he was behind all the attempts on my life. Not until it was almost too late.” She shuddered.
Katie cast her a quick glance. “So now what?”
“They follow the money trail,” Dee quoted Jared. “They’re trying to find Frank’s motive for wanting Jared dead.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Katie said. “Why was he after you?”
Dee sighed, looked out the side window. “I was going to be the excuse to finally get Jared. Apparently he was going to take us both out.”
Suddenly all she wanted was to see Jared. She needed to see him. Now.
Dee’s hand was already on the door handle when the truck bounced into the gravel parking lot. Her gaze riveted on Jared’s darkly handsome face as he crossed the lot to reach her. He’d been waiting for her. Watching for her.
Shoving the plate of cookies in Katie’s lap, Dee bounded out of the truck. Launched herself at Jared, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face beneath his strong jaw.
He didn’t waste time with questions. Just locked his arms around her, lifted her, and held her tight. He twirled them both slowly as his firm lips rained kisses from her temple to her neck as if the same emotions burning in her scorched him, too.
“Dee.” He stopped moving, his dark gaze swept over her face, locked with hers. And everything ceased to exist but that soul-deep connection. His finger slid over her cheek as he slowly set her on her feet. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Dee found herself being hustled toward the door and through the bar. Scuttled past her friends with nothing more than a passing “hello,” his arm locked around her shoulders, pressing her close to his side.
Three women sat around a table, slightly apart from the crowd. The two younger women sat with rigid posture, their dark eyes searching Dee.
The woman in the middle was dwarfed by the others; their strong coloring overshadowed her paler complexion. Her straightforward slate gray eyes were ringed by lines of weariness, a woman who’d seen the harder side of life and barely survived.
Dee could sympathize.
“Dee,” Jared spoke as they stopped beside the table, “I’d like you to meet my mother, Teddie Ray, and my sisters Kara and Jodie.”
Dee’s stomach fluttered, her smile wobbling as she nodded her greeting. What was he doing? He should have told her, should have warned her. She’d have hidden. She’d have run away.
She glanced at Jared. No. Those days were over. She’d have been right here, palms sweating as she faced the women whose approval meant so much. Because until Jared told her to go, she was staying right here. As close to him as he’d allow.
“Mom, this is Dee Quinn. She’s the mastermind behind Ray’s remodeling and…” He turned to her, eyes bright with promise. With question. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “She’s mine.”
Dee’s pounding heart stopped. Just stopped. No words would form in her brain.
He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, his gaze searching. “I want,” he sighed, “I need to be with you.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m right here.”
He licked his lips. “I’m asking you to marry me. I want the whole thing. The house, the picket fence, the kids. But mostly”—he pressed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose—“I want you.”
Dee sank her teeth into her lip. She’d wandered into Kentucky and somehow found everything she never knew her heart was yearning for. She found work—a career she could build that would be both challenging and fulfilling. She found friends—a rowdy, delightful mix of people who welcomed her as one of their own. She fo
und love—rock steady and hers. All hers.
A tremulous smile broke free as she looked at him, all the love she was feeling poured from her eyes. “I’ll marry you,” she said, “but only on one condition.”
He chuckled, his arms wrapping around her. “Why did I not know this wouldn’t be simple?”
Dee rolled her eyes.
“Okay,” he said in humor, “name the condition.”
“That we get married here. In this place”—she glanced around the bar—“where we met.”
Jared stared at her, his face blank, assessing. Then, turning to the crowd he shouted, “Listen up, people. We’ve got a lot to do and very little time.”
THE END
Dear Reader:
Thank you for reading Jared and Dee’s story. I’ve always been fascinated by construction and construction sites, even as a child. And heroes who are willing to overcome their own prejudices to ‘save the day?’ Yum!
Authors, and their books, live and die by reviews, so I hope you’ll take a moment and return to your vendor and leave a review. If you’re looking for more Maystown stories, you can check out Just Deserts—Thorn and Maureen’s story, or Just One Moore—Ray and Hollis’ story.
I’d love to hear from you, too. You can find me on Facebook at ‘Lisa Tapp Author; twitter @lisa_tapp, or email at [email protected].
Happy Reading!
Lisa
About Lisa Tapp
Lisa lives in Kentucky with her trusty dog and one or more ghosts that rattle through her house in the early morning hours. She’s been making up stories since she was in sixth grade and sees no reason to stop now. You can find her on FB at Lisa Tapp Author, on twitter @lisa_tapp, or email at [email protected].
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