by Rebecca York
“Someone’s shooting?” Grace gasped.
“Yeah. Stay down.”
She pressed herself against the floor, coughing. “What are we going to do?”
He looked around. Through the smoke, he saw there were windows on either side of the living room.
The fire crackled in the hall, creeping closer to them, and he wondered whether they were going to get broiled or shot.
“This way. The window on the left,” he gasped, crawling across the floor, then stopping to make sure Grace was behind him.
When they reached the side of the room, he bashed the butt of his gun against the windowpane.
The fire had made it to the end of the living room, and they were both breathing hard when he broke the window, then kicked the glass out of the way.
“I’m going to lay down a…burst of…fire. Run…for the woods…” he told Grace. She was about to climb out the window, when he saw a gunman coming around the side of the house.
His low curse was followed by a coughing fit. When he fired, the guy jumped back, but he knew that his head was getting muzzy and his aim was off.
“Stay here,” he managed to gasp out.
“We can’t.”
“I’ll go out shooting. You follow me.”
“You’ll get hit.”
“Got a better suggestion?”
Before she could answer the question, he heard a siren coming rapidly toward them.
The fire department. Maybe the cops. Silently he thanked the neighbor lady for calling 911.
The man closing in on them hesitated, then touched his ear, and Brady knew he was listening to directions.
When the gunman backed up and disappeared into the woods, Brady let out the breath he was holding. Still, he didn’t know if the first person out the window would get nailed.
But one thing was certain: the fire was licking relentlessly across the floor toward them and up the walls. Next the ceiling was going to come down on them or the floor would give way.
Throwing a sofa cushion onto the sill to shield himself from the glass, he climbed out the window, then breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t feel a bullet slam into him.
“Come on.”
Grace leaned out, and he grasped her around the waist and lifted her down. He could already see a fire truck coming up the driveway. Making a split-second decision, he wiped his gun off on the tail of his shirt and tossed it into the weeds.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting caught with a weapon isn’t the best strategy at the moment.”
Both of them staggered into the front yard, just as a fire engine pulled up in front of the house and men in protective gear piled out. His impulse was to get the hell out of there, but in this case, he figured the authorities were the better choice.
Taking Grace’s hand, he stepped toward the fireman. The one in the lead took in the soot and plaster dust clinging to their clothing.
“What happened?”
“An explosion,” Brady answered. “I don’t know from what, though.”
“You live here?”
He shook his head. “We came to visit a friend.”
“An ambulance is on the way.”
“We’re okay,” Grace said, her voice raspy.
Brady put a hand on her arm. “I think we should be checked out.”
She gave him a questioning look, but when he shook his head, she clamped her lips shut.
As the firefighter joined the rest of the crew, Brady turned to Grace. “The safest way to get out of here is to let them take us to the hospital.”
She nodded.
“Are you okay?”
Her face looked stark. “Yes, but…”
“There was nothing you could do for Karen. That bomb went off right beside her.”
“I’m trying to come to grips with that.” She gave him a sick look. “The police will see she was handcuffed to the bedpost.”
He nodded.
“They meant to kill her.”
“And us. They lured us here.”
“Lured me.”
“They knew you were with me. I think it’s a twofer.”
CHARLES HANCOCK didn’t like to keep any set schedule. He was actually due to fly to his farm in upstate New York, but the current crisis had changed his plans. He was still in the DC area where he could keep his finger on the pulse of the operation. For all the good that was doing him. Had something gone wrong at the house in Frederick?
Reaching for the remote, he turned on the television, but there was no local news at the moment. And the cable networks were all wound up with the president’s latest speech on the war. As if talking about it was going to fix the problem.
Unable to sit still, he climbed off the leather couch and walked to the window, where he stood staring out at his koi pond and the landscaped acreage beyond. An artificial stream flowed into the pond, which was edged with natural rocks. It was all so well done that you could believe you were in a wilderness. At this time of day, the sun made a harsh glare on the water—fitting his mood.
When the phone rang, he spun away from the window and strode across the room. Snatching up the instrument, he asked, “Well?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“It was a partial success.”
“Partial?” he asked, hearing the dangerous edge in his own voice.
“Karen Hilliard is dead. Lockwood and Cunningham got away.”
“Why?”
“The bomb must have been defective. It didn’t kill them in the initial blast.”
Hancock fought not to swear. He’d always believed that if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. Yet there were jobs he couldn’t take on personally.
“They were inside the house. We had them pinned down, and they would have burned up in there, but the fire department arrived. We had to leave.”
Struggling to control his anger, he asked, “Where are they now?”
“The fire department is here. I assume an ambulance will take them to the hospital.”
“Then go to the hospital and scoop them up. They’re a danger to us. They have to be eliminated.”
BRADY STEADIED GRACE as he stated the obvious. “You do know that when they find a woman chained to the bed, they’re going to think we’re the ones who put her there.”
Grace gasped.
“We’re the only ones here, which makes us the chief suspects. And I’ll bet they’re not going to find any fingerprints inside the house besides ours—if there are any left to find.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the ambulance.
EMTs hurried toward them.
The lead man looked at the burning house. “How long were you in there after the fire started?”
It had seemed like centuries. “Probably only a couple of minutes.”
“I’d advise lying down while we check you out,” one of the medics said.
Brady wanted to stay on his feet, but he figured that the more he acted like a normal victim, the better. So he and Grace eased onto stretchers, then were fitted with oxygen masks.
As one of the men gave him a quick examination, Brady’s mind went back over what had happened at the house before the explosion. From the way they’d interacted, he’d swear that Grace and Karen knew each other pretty well, and he was going to make her explain what was going on. As soon as they were alone again.
He and Grace were wheeled to the ambulance for the ride to the emergency room. He’d told Grace that the ambulance was the best way to escape the fire scene. As soon as they arrived at the hospital, they had other problems.
Before anybody could ask for identification or insurance information, he moved to Grace’s side.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Away.”
“They said they were going to check us for carbon monoxide and hydrogen cyanide poisoning.”
“I guess we’re going to have to ta
ke a chance on that. I’m going to call a cab,” he told her.
He eased the door open and stepped out. As he walked toward the front of the waiting area, he saw a tough-looking man enter the E.R. He recognized him as the shooter who’d tried to keep him pinned down in the burning house. And Brady was pretty sure he hadn’t come here to get a splinter removed.
His heart pounded as the guy crossed the patient area, headed for the exam rooms.
A nurse stopped him. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for my sister. I dropped her off an hour ago, and she hasn’t come home.”
“You’ll have to wait in the front.”
The man looked annoyed, but he stepped back to the seating area.
Turning, Brady hurried back the way he’d come. When he looked for Grace, she was gone.
Panic surged inside him. Had another one of the thugs already scooped her up?
Then he saw her emerge from the ladies’ room, putting her phone back into her purse.
Who the hell had she called?
Someone who had sent the goon he’d just seen? It didn’t seem likely, but he couldn’t discount the possibility that she’d set the ambush up somehow. But she’d almost gotten killed. Maybe her friends had double-crossed her.
And maybe he should just leave her here.
That might be the most logical course of action, but the idea made his stomach muscles knot. He wasn’t going to leave her. Unless he had solid evidence that she’d set him up.
Reaching her, he said in a low voice, “Keep going. Toward the back.” At her questioning look, he explained, “One of our friends from the house has followed us here.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and let him lead her away from the entrance. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m thinking.”
He wished he knew the layout of the hospital. They’d come in through the ambulance door, but he was sure the bad guys had covered that escape route.
There were offices along the hall, but none of them had windows. Finally they came to a storage room.
Brady looked around and saw shelves with packages of scrub suits and other supplies.
“In here.”
He turned on the light and gestured toward the hospital garb. “Put some of those over your clothing.”
She touched his face. “You’re covered with soot.”
“Damn.”
“Try to brush off your clothes.”
He unwrapped a scrub suit and used it as a rag to dust himself. Grace did the same. Then she picked up a bottle of water and poured some on another set of scrubs. She dabbed at his face until the soot washed off.
“You too,” he said as he took more scrubs from the shelf. He was fairly successful cleaning her up.
“How do I look?” she asked in a quavery voice.
The way she struggled to hold her voice steady un did him.
“Grace…”
He pulled her into his arms, and they clung together, like two survivors of a shipwreck who had finally washed up on solid ground. Only it was an unknown island, and neither one of them knew what dangers lurked in the lush green jungle that started where the sand ended.
He barely knew her. He didn’t trust her. He should ease away from her before it was too late.
Too late for what? To get involved? They were already involved in ways he couldn’t spell out, and he found himself tightening his embrace, aware of every sweet curve of her body—her breasts, the feminine roundness of her hips, the indentation at her waist.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. Instant heat flared between them. They’d just survived certain death. And the power of that realization was as much to blame as anything else.
They were alive. And, at least at that moment, the experience had bonded them.
His lips moved over hers, urgently and none too gently. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her mouth warm and welcoming.
She opened for him, and his tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a passion that shocked him. It had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman—wanted a woman—but need flared white-hot inside him.
He pulled her closer, lowering his hands to her bottom, his hips moving urgently against hers. He had stopped thinking about anything besides the woman in his arms and the way she was responding to him. Mutual passion fueled his need for her.
“Brady,” she murmured into his mouth.
The throaty sound of her voice abraded his nerve endings.
They were in a very private place. No one was likely to disturb them here. His free hand slipped under her shirt, stroking across the silky skin of her back. He was on the verge of doing something very foolish and he was helpless to stop it. Until he moved to brace his back and bumped against the shelves, sending a pile of scrub suits raining down on them.
Her startled exclamation made his eyes snap open. When he remembered where they were—and why—he muttered a curse under his breath.
“Sorry.”
“We’re both…off balance,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Yeah,” he agreed. One minute he was wondering if he could trust her, and in the next, he was getting ready to make love to her—in a supply closet.
He wanted to ask her whom she’d been calling when she emerged from the ladies’ room with her phone in her hand, but he understood that doing it now would be a defense mechanism.
She stepped away from him and began picking up the packages. He did the same, shoving them back onto the shelves. Then she unwrapped one and pulled a blue scrub suit on over her jeans and shirt. Hurriedly, Brady also donned medical garb, including a cap to go over his hair.
When both of them looked as if they were ready to step into the operating room, he gave her a closer inspection. With her face cleaned up and her hospital outfit, she didn’t look much like the woman who had come in here, but he couldn’t be sure the disguise would hold up under intense scrutiny.
Opening the door a crack, he saw that the coast was clear.
“We’d better not walk together.”
“Okay.”
“The main hospital entrance is probably our best bet for getting a cab. Wait a couple of minutes before following me.”
She nodded, and he checked the hallway again. Still clear, and he stepped out the door, wondering if he was going to see her again. If she wanted to escape from him, this was a good chance. Or had she figured out that she was safer with him than anywhere else?
GRACE WATCHED BRADY leave, thinking that this might be a good time to disappear—and make sure he could never find her again. But then what? She was still in bad trouble. Someone had killed Karen a little while ago—and tried to take Grace and Brady with her. She had no doubt they would try again.
Was she safer with her new bodyguard than without him? And what about that kiss? She was still tingling from the aftereffects and still wondering why she hadn’t pushed him away. She should have done that. She was getting involved with Brady Lockwood on too many different levels. It could be that her attraction to him was a good reason for running.
Of course, that might be backward reasoning.
She pressed her fist against her mouth. She’d been lying about a lot of things since he’d saved her from the goons in the alley. If she stayed with him, he was going to keep questioning her. And eventually she’d have to tell him the truth about herself. Was she prepared to do that?
More to the point, was she prepared for his reaction?
Glancing at the clock, she saw that two minutes had ticked by. Not entirely sure what she was going to do, she pulled open the door and saw a man striding rapidly down the hall, looking into rooms. She didn’t need a positive ID to know this was the shooter from the house. He was searching for them—so he could finish what he’d started.
After easing the door closed, she turned toward the shelves, grabbed an armful of the scrub-suit packages and pretended that she was replacing the stock. The whole room smelled like smoke. W
as that going to give her away? Scanning the shelves, she found a bottle of alcohol, unscrewed the top and sprinkled the pungent liquid around the supply closet, praying that would mask the fire odor.
When the door opened, she tried not to stiffen her body as she kept working.
Chapter Nine
Grace could feel the man’s gaze boring into her, but apparently he didn’t recognize her from the back in this outfit.
After a moment, the door closed, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
She wanted to flee the little room, but she forced herself to stay where she was. The guy had already checked here. He wouldn’t come back, would he?
BRADY SPOTTED a sign pointing toward the front lobby, then kept his head down as he walked rapidly along the corridor.
He hated leaving Grace back there. For a whole lot of reasons. Like, could he trust her to meet him?
He needed more information from her, which was a good reason to stay with her. That was an excellent rationalization. Although it was true, but he knew he had his own reasons for keeping her close.
Thinking it wasn’t a good idea to wait in the open, he paused and scanned the area, then saw an administrative office a few yards from the lobby entrance. As though he had some business to conduct, he stepped inside and held the door open a crack, looking out.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked.
He pivoted to face her. “I told my wife I’d meet her here.”
Her brow wrinkled. “This is isn’t a public area.”
“I realize that. I’m sorry. But we’re new here, and she doesn’t know the hospital well.” Embroidering the story, he added, “She wants me to look at a house the real-estate agent showed her.”
He turned again and looked out the door. To his relief, he saw Grace walking rapidly along the hallway, her gaze fixed on the lobby.
“Found her,” he said to the woman at the desk as he stepped out of the office and started toward the main entrance, assuming that Grace would follow.
He had just reached the door when the man he’d spotted earlier stepped into view. The guy gave the lobby a quick look, then turned to scan the covered entranceway outside.
