His heart rate jacked up when the shaking increased. The descent seemed to take forever as the 737 approached the runway, dipped to the right, and overcorrected to the left. The landing gear touched the asphalt, bumped and skipped, then settled onto the runway. The pilot slowed the aircraft and taxied toward the terminal. Austin released the armrests and noticed the woman breathing a sigh of relief. He smiled.
When he turned on his cell, a text immediately came through from Zena Helms, a friend and someone he’d worked with at the FBI.
Anderson home in flames. Thought you’d want to know.
His pulse quickened.
Willow!
He scrolled to the next text.
Willow’s status is unknown. I’ll try to find out more.
Then nothing. No more texts. Zena probably thought he’d ignored her, but he’d been in the air. His heart thrashed against his rib cage and his breath hitched. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers affected his ability to return Zena’s text asking for more information. He tried to explain he’d been on a flight from Denver, and autocorrect wreaked havoc on his text.
As the plane taxied, he searched the internet for any news of the fire, but the loading pages took much too long. His patience ran out. He had to get off this plane—now.
Every minute counted.
After the aircraft was secured at the gate, the passengers stood, grabbed their things from the overhead bins, and prepared to disembark. Austin quickly reached for his carry-on and excused himself, pushing past the people in the aisle. One largish fellow refused to budge and remained in Austin’s way.
“Look, it’s an emergency. I need off this plane—now.”
“Wait your turn. We’re all in a hurry.”
Fuming, he bit back the angry response that entered his mind. That would only cause him more trouble, and he didn’t have the patience to disentangle himself. He’d bide his time and make a mad dash around the man when he could. His phone signaled another text.
Zena again.
She’s at Northwest Medical Center. Condition unknown.
Austin silently prayed for Willow. He would go straight to the hospital. On the ramp, he rushed around the large man who’d stood in his way earlier. The guy actually moved to the center as if he would stand in Austin’s way again. Jerk. But Austin was more agile and quickly skirted the man. He rushed by the few families, couples, men, and women who’d taken the red-eye, apologizing as he pushed his way past. Then he ran through the terminal and outside to the parking garage.
Brisk morning air greeted him, his light jacket feeble protection against the temperature in the fifties and the damp Seattle morning.
Inside his silver Acura, he peeled out of the Sea-Tac long-term parking and headed north toward the hospital. He drove as fast as the speed limit allowed, maybe a little more. He tried to call for an update or to be connected to Willow’s room but couldn’t get through.
He steered through the hospital parking garage, tires squealing, until he found a spot. Easy enough at this hour. He couldn’t care less that he’d taken up two spots.
If Willow had been hurt . . .
He hadn’t seen her in two years. Still, concern lashed through him. At the information desk, he stood in line behind grandparents who comforted a coughing, whining little boy. Austin took in his surroundings, making note of all the exits in the waiting room. A couple of guys wearing leather and sporting tattoos sat in the corner, waiting to learn their buddy’s fate, he presumed. Several family members huddled together with grim expressions.
The grandparents shuffled the child away and Austin faced the plump woman sitting at the desk. Willow was still in the ER, but in an observation room. He released a pent-up breath. Tension eased from his shoulders.
She’ll be all right.
Still, he rushed down the hall searching for her room.
As he neared the observation wing, something suddenly hit him. What if Willow didn’t want to see him? She might not like the intrusion. Someone else might be there to comfort and reassure her. Who did he think he was? He’d planned to try to see her tomorrow and offer his condolences for JT’s death, but now wasn’t the right time for that.
Regardless, he had to see for himself that she was okay. He found her room and hesitated. Through a crack in the door, he watched her. At that moment he wasn’t much different from a stalker. She focused on a television in the corner depicting images of the house fire. Tears pooled in her somber eyes.
Her sadness nearly undid him. Yes. She’d survived the fire. Physically, she would be fine. But psychologically? Not so much. Especially with the fire happening so soon after JT’s death.
He leaned against the wall and allowed his heart rate to normalize. Now that he’d seen for himself that she had survived, he should go.
But that was Willow in there. He could feel the draw of her presence from where he stood.
Chapter five
TUESDAY, 5:02 A.M.
NORTHWEST HOSPITAL MEDICAL CENTER
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
From her bed in the ER wing, Willow watched the early morning news coverage of her burning house. Though beyond exhausted, she was still unable to sleep after the trauma.
Dana had stayed with her for several hours but had left to grab Willow some clothes. She had also promised to purchase greasy comfort food. If she were still here, she would have insisted on changing the channel, but Willow couldn’t stop staring at the news.
Someone knocked on the half-opened door.
She started to tease Dana for taking so long, but in he walked, like a specter from a forgotten past.
Six foot one, dark haired, and gorgeous. Willow gulped air, then stifled the cough itching to get out. Why had he stepped back into her life? JT had wanted his help before he died, but that didn’t explain what Austin was doing here now in her hospital room.
She caught her breath. “Austin?” Then cleared her throat. “I mean, Special Agent McKade. What are you doing here?”
He closed the distance but remained at a couple of feet from her bed and crossed his arms. “It’s ex, actually.”
“Ex as in—”
“I’m no longer with the bureau.”
“Oh.”
But he still hadn’t answered her question. Why had he come? The usual awkwardness hovered between them, and she doubted he would. His gunmetal grays studied Willow but remained guarded. Secretive. He hadn’t changed much in that regard. He’d always been sophisticated. A company man. The perfect agent. What had happened to change that? Behind his dimpled grin she’d caught the edge of something feral—it had been the very thing to draw her to him. A challenge maybe? But she’d never been able to crack the shell and see what was beneath.
Saying nothing, he worked his jaw. He was agitated, definitely agitated. “I heard about what happened. I had to see for myself that you’re all right. I’m sorry about the house. But thank God you’re alive.”
Did he mean those words? The pain flooding his eyes confirmed that he did. “Thank you for coming. And, yes, thank God I survived.” A pang hit her—the images from the inferno remained too vivid and raw.
As if sensing her pain, he stepped closer.
But when he said nothing more, Willow had to ask. “You heard JT died, didn’t you?”
His features were somber. He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend his funeral.”
“It was a private graveside service. I didn’t expect you to be there.”
Hurt flickered in his eyes before he shuttered it away. “I know how much you must miss him.”
Averting her eyes, she nodded.
Miss him? She had yet to comprehend he was gone. Willow struggled with putting her feelings into words. That would be difficult on a normal day without Austin McKade taking up space in her personal bubble. His sudden appearance had thrown off her equilibrium—something she’d only recently found again after they’d gone their separate ways two years ago. And in that time, he’d resigned
from the FBI. Wow. Or had he been fired?
Why had he waltzed into her room and clouded her thinking? When they’d been an item before, the intensity of his presence could sometimes become too much. This was one of those moments. She stared at her hands resting against the bleached-white bedsheet and fidgeted, wishing he would go away and give her space so she could think. But then when he left, he would suck all the oxygen out of the room and take it with him like he always did. Willow could still vividly remember what it felt like to be deprived of oxygen. Had that only been a few hours ago?
She wanted him to go.
She wanted him to stay.
“I can see the wheels in your head are spinning too fast for either of us,” he said. “I was out of the country, Willow, or I would have been at JT’s service even uninvited. I could have hung back in the shadows, but I wanted to be there to show my support. I still care, you know.”
That jerked Willow’s attention back to his rugged face. Her gaze lingered there too long, taking in his strong jaw, his five-o’clock shadow, and his broad shoulders. The thick dark hair she used to run her fingers through.
Stop it. Just stop it. What was taking Dana so long?
“I had planned to come see you in person tomorrow to give my condolences. Then I heard about the fire when my flight landed, so I came directly to the hospital. I’ve never been so relieved in my life. When I heard the news, I feared the worst.” His voice cracked on his last words.
And the sound pinged against her heart. He did still care.
His transparency, unusual for such a guarded person, could break her. She fought the stupid tears, but they spilled onto her cheeks anyway. And Austin rushed to her and pulled her into his arms.
Oh no, not this.
It was just what she wanted. Just what she needed, and yet she shouldn’t want the comfort he offered. She couldn’t afford to let herself be vulnerable.
She sucked in a calming breath. If only she could push away the sturdy form that now held her. After she’d found the words and thought things through, she’d planned to tell Dana, but instead Austin had showed up and Willow needed to tell someone the suspicions burning through her mind. Except this man had too many secrets himself.
Still, protection poured off him as if he wore armor and held up a shield to defend her. She was absolutely certain he hid a fiery sword somewhere.
The words boiled up inside until she couldn’t control the eruption. “I think someone started the fire on purpose.”
Chapter six
He bristled at her words. Had the trauma made her paranoid? He almost pulled away to look into her eyes and make sure they weren’t wild or irrational, but he couldn’t let go of her. Not yet. The Willow he’d known before was solid and levelheaded. No, he’d need to take her seriously.
Footfalls announced someone’s approach, and Willow stiffened against him. He sensed the instant she disconnected, so he released her and took a step back to see Dana standing in the room with her mouth hanging open. She was holding up a couple of sacks from McDonald’s. His mouth watered. Unfortunately, he doubted he would be invited to share. But after learning about the fire that had destroyed JT and Willow’s home, and her near death, he could use the comfort too.
“I brought fast food just like you asked, and grabbed cheesecake from the all-night supermarket.” Dana had finally composed herself and lifted the bags high. She placed the paper sacks on the bedside table pushed out of the way against the far wall. “And I brought you some extra clothes for when they let you out of this place. They’re mine and too big but will do for now.”
“Thanks, Dana.” Willow sat up straighter and appeared to put her suspicions about the fire aside for the moment. She also looked eager to get out of there as soon as possible.
He didn’t blame her but focused his attention now on the assistant, who ignored him.
“Good to see you again, Dana,” he said.
The look Dana flashed him was clear. The feeling isn’t mutual. She likely blamed him for breaking Willow’s heart before. How could she know that Willow had been the one to break his? Did Willow know about Dana’s call to Emma, his assistant, letting him know his help was no longer needed? He had a feeling she didn’t. Then again, maybe that call had been Willow’s idea.
“And it’s good to see you, too, Special Agent McKade.”
“Ex.” Both he and Willow spoke the word simultaneously. He caught the edge of her tenuous grin. He wished he could see her flash her thousand-watt smile, but under the circumstances, that might be too much for either of them.
“I’d like to hear the story behind that.” Willow adjusted her pillow.
He studied her, trying to read a meaning behind her words that probably wasn’t there. “Some other time maybe.”
“Well, sounds like you two have been catching up,” Dana said, “but I think Willow needs her rest now.” She gave him a look that warned him to stay away.
What are you, her mother? He kept the words to himself.
He couldn’t blame her for attempting to protect Willow. He felt the same way. Except did she know that Willow suspected someone had committed arson? If so, she should be grateful for his presence. After all, he’d been a top cop. He still had skills and would use them when allowed.
“Well, I have to eat first,” Willow said. Was that her way of saying she wanted him to stay? He couldn’t be sure.
Dana busied herself with laying out the food, and Austin hung back.
He still hadn’t gotten over JT’s death, and now Willow’s near death . . . was there any merit to her comment about the house fire? If he wanted to think it through with any clarity, he needed sustenance after his long flight.
The smell of greasy food wafted up to him. Yeah. He definitely needed comfort too.
In fact, if he were being honest, he’d needed to hold Willow in his arms again to reassure himself that she was alive and he wasn’t dreaming. He still had his share of bad dreams after his on-the-job experience with the FBI.
He was grateful for Dana’s interruption and shouldn’t have let Willow affect him that way. He hadn’t thought that seeing her after two years would bowl him over like this. Maybe it had everything to do with the fact that she rested in a hospital bed with an IV tube coming out of her arm and an oxygen-level monitor on her finger.
Though her expression appeared haggard, she remained beautiful with her long, shiny black hair spilling over her shoulders and those sensitive, compassionate hazel eyes that could hold him captive. She was more stunning than he remembered, even with the deep pain of loss etched into her features and that hollow look in her eyes. A look that disturbed him in ways he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
I shouldn’t have come back.
He could have sent a sympathy card for JT’s death instead. She would have preferred that, he was sure.
Except if someone had burned down her house with her inside . . . if someone had actually tried to kill Willow, Austin was in the right place at the right time. And when had that ever happened? He might have stayed with the FBI if he’d been at the right place at the right time before.
Approaching the table, he hoped Dana would be generous and offer him something from the display of greasy comfort food, which would give him an excuse to hang out. Otherwise, he would have to insist on staying long enough to get some answers. Better that she offered than he demanded. The woman frowned up at him, but with one glance at Willow, her expression softened. Clearly, she loved Willow and realized that Willow wanted him to stay.
He breathed easier.
She held out a sack to Austin. “Egg McMuffin and hashbrowns? Sorry, no cheeseburgers. They only serve breakfast this early.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed it and dug out the breakfast sandwich. “I don’t think I’ve eaten McDonald’s in, oh, maybe a decade.”
“No way.” Willow’s laugh morphed into hacking again.
Abandoning the sandwich, he rushed to one side of the bed as Dana hurried to the othe
r side. After the coughing subsided, Willow rested her head against the pillow, exhausted. Seeing her like this felt like a dull-bladed knife was cutting open his insides.
What was he doing here? He wasn’t in her life anymore. She didn’t need him messing her up again. He had to get his own head straight first, if he ever could. But he couldn’t leave her. Not until he found out what had happened and made sure Willow was safe. If he left now and something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
Dana disappeared into the restroom. Maybe she’d decided it was best to let Austin have his time with Willow, but he doubted that would last long.
He moved to the table again and retrieved a cup with a straw, then brought it back to the bed. “I assume Dana got your favorite. Want some?”
Willow’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal her luminous hazel eyes again. She lifted her hand and took the soda from him. He helped her sit up to drink.
Watching Willow, he considered his next words. He didn’t want this to be real. “Why do you say someone started the fire?” he whispered.
Dana washed her hands at the sink against the wall and grabbed a paper towel, then approached the bed. “Wait. You think someone started the fire?”
She had good hearing.
Willow shut her eyes and breathed slowly.
Then she opened them again. “I overheard the firemen. They said no way the fire was an accident with the way it took over so fast.”
“So the firemen suspect arson,” Austin said.
Dana looked at him. He really wanted to like the woman, but he wasn’t sure he could get past the fact that she couldn’t stand him.
“Arson? Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourselves, the both of you?” Dana left the bed and munched on a hashbrown, like any good nervous eater.
He paced the room and rubbed his neck. Unlike Dana, he’d lost his appetite. “The fire chief will conduct an investigation and we’ll find out soon enough.” Austin would do his best to learn the truth even sooner. But it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. “Can you think of any reason why someone would want to burn down the house?”
Never Let Go Page 3
