Burn

by HELEN HARDT

Always the knife, every time someone mentioned Gina. Every damned time. “I don’t know.” And I didn’t, though I could surmise.

  “Doesn’t really matter now. She’s dead. A fucking corpse because of you.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Fuck, no, I didn’t know her.”

  “Then why does this matter to you?” Of course I knew why. Money. But he was talking, and that was good.

  “Not your concern.”

  “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Are you saying you can’t be bought?”

  That got a laugh out of him. “You know better than that. But I wouldn’t stay in business for long if I weaseled out of a job for more money. No one would trust me.”

  A hired gun with ethics. Interesting.

  “Besides,” he continued, “you don’t have any money. You’re bluffing.”

  I was bluffing. I made a good living and had a good retirement account started, but I didn’t have the kind of money he wanted.

  However, Jonah Steel did.

  Would he give it to me to ensure my safety? He was obviously mad at me for running out on him, but he’d wanted me to stay.

  I let out an audible sigh. I had no way to get in touch with Jonah. His number was in my phone, but I didn’t have it memorized. I couldn’t call him even if I had the capability. The masked man certainly wasn’t going to help me.

  I was on my own.

  Alone.

  Just like Gina had been as a child. Just as Talon had been, in that dark, cold basement.

  The masked man opened the car door and started the engine. Instinctively, I took a deep breath—my last breath of clean air.

  He reached toward the passenger door, locked it, and then stood, locked the driver’s side door, and slammed it shut. “Time’s up, Doctor.” He pushed me toward the car.

  I fell against the driver’s door, unable to keep my footing. I slid down, the door handle jabbing into my back, and ended up on the floor, my ankle burning.

  He stared at me from the door leading to the house. “All locked up tight. Good-bye. See you in hell.”

  The door shut and clicked quietly.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, going back to the essence of life…breathing, and—

  No! This was one time when the essence of life wouldn’t help me. The more I breathed in, the quicker I’d lose consciousness from the carbon monoxide.

  I trembled, still lying on the concrete floor next to the car. No time to panic. I had to act, and I had to act quickly. My ankle still throbbing, I scooted on my ass toward the shelving on the other side of the garage.

  And then I saw it.

  Chapter Three

  Jonah

  “What the fuck?”

  A chill pulsed through me. Melanie’s door was roped off with police tape and locked with a padlock. What the hell was going on? Had her home been burglarized? I hoped that was it. She had to be all right. I quickly pushed the doorbell.

  No response.

  Don’t panic, Joe. This didn’t necessarily mean anything. She could be at work. Her office wasn’t too far from here. No—she wouldn’t be at work. She had taken a three-week leave of absence. She could be out on an errand. Or—

  A swift spike of envy gored me. Maybe she was out with Oliver Twist.

  I shook my head. God, yes, I’d rather she be out with Oliver than in some kind of trouble. As much as I didn’t want to face it, police tape meant trouble. Was she hurt? Was this why she hadn’t returned my calls?

  I’d thought she was punishing me for not returning her first call. What had she expected when she sneaked out of my house after I’d invited her to stay? Hell, I’d wanted her to stay. I heaved a sigh and then pounded on the door. No one answered, but a door several yards down the hall opened.

  “What’s all that racket?” A young woman with short hair stood in her doorway, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said “Kiss me, I’m Irish.”

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’m looking for Melanie Carmichael. Do you know what’s going on here? Why is her door taped off? What happened to her? Is she all right? Have you seen her?”

  “Slow down with all the questions. No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. She wasn’t here when the police came.”

  My heart pounded. Okay, that was good. It was probably a simple burglary, and Melanie was okay. Still, where was she?

  “What happened? Why were the police here?”

  “I’m not really sure. They forced their way in and then taped off the place. I was around, and I came out when I heard the noise, but I couldn’t find anything out. They weren’t here for long. I figured her alarm went off or something.”

  The young woman was, well, young. She was a cute little thing, wearing that T-shirt. She looked Irish. She had blondish-red hair and blue eyes. She was also no help at all.

  “When were the police here?”

  “Two nights ago.”

  “Two nights ago?” The night Talon and I had driven to Denver. “Have you seen her since then?”

  “I haven’t, but she and I don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

  Damn. If she’d needed me, she would have called, right? I kept telling myself that. “If you do see her, could you tell her I’m looking for her?”

  The young woman smiled again. “Sure, I can do that. But you’ll have to tell me who you are first.”

  “Oh, of course.” I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket, opened it, and pulled out one of my business cards. “Jonah Steel.” I handed her the card.

  “And will she know what this is about?”

  I nodded.

  The woman held out her hand. “I’m Lisa O’Toole. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” I shook her hand quickly and then turned.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?”

  I turned back around, and she was smiling, her hips tilted in a seductive pose. Really? She was going to try flirting with me now?

  “I have a friend waiting for me at the bar across the street. Please, just tell Melanie I’m looking for her. And that I’m worried about her. I need to know she’s okay.”

  “Will do, Jonah Steel.” Lisa winked.

  She must have been a trust fund baby to live in Melanie’s building. Or maybe she was older than she looked and had a job.

  I was one to talk about money. My brothers, sister, and I had never had to worry about money. Still, we worked hard, running the ranch. We could’ve sold it if we’d wanted to and pocketed enough money to support the next several generations of our family. But both my grandfather and my father would no doubt be rolling over in their graves had we done so.

  So her loft had been burglarized. She was probably staying at a hotel. She would have called if she wanted to, or at least answered my calls. Clearly, her sneaking out of my house had been a message. She didn’t want me.

  I’d live with it.

  I had to.

  Still, something niggled at the back of my neck—that bizarre feeling when something wasn’t right.

  I swished it away with a gesture. Nothing a martini couldn’t solve. I walked to the elevator, descended, and then strode over to meet Bryce. I spied him right away sitting at a cocktail table, a beer in his hand. A martini sat at the empty spot. Good man. I ambled over to join him.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  I picked up the drink and took a sip. Not CapRock but not bad. “It didn’t. She wasn’t home, and her door was blocked off with police tape.”

  “What?” Bryce set his beer down without taking a sip. “Is she okay?”

  “As far as I know. I talked to her neighbor. Melanie wasn’t there when the police came, so it was probably a burglary. Why didn’t she call me, though?”

  “Didn’t you tell me she sneaked out of your house a couple days ago? Maybe…”

  “You can finish the thought. Maybe she didn’t want to call me.” I took a long drink of my martini. “I can fucking handl
e it.” Though I wasn’t sure I believed my own words.

  “Well, just keep calling. She has to answer eventually. Maybe.”

  “I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right.”

  “So she’s not home. She’s probably at work.”

  “No, she’s not. She took a leave of absence.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I don’t know all the details.”

  I did, but I didn’t feel at liberty to divulge Melanie’s business. I hated lying to Bryce. I’d gotten pretty damned good at it, though. Here I was, having already convicted his father in my mind, and I hadn’t told my best friend about my suspicions. I needed some more concrete proof before I could act.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Bryce said. “She’s probably out shopping or something.”

  Melanie didn’t strike me as much of a shopper. She could get beige cotton panties anywhere. And though her clothes were nice, they were deliberate and professional. Sexy as hell on her, but not anything she couldn’t get from an online catalog.

  Of course, the woman did have to eat. She could be somewhere as simple as the grocery store.

  “You’re probably right.”

  Too bad I didn’t believe myself for a minute. Maybe she truly didn’t want to talk to me. If that was the case, I would make peace with it. Not like I had any other choice.

  “So what did you think about today?” Bryce asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About our visit with Larry.”

  Of course. My mind was so full of worry for Melanie. I had all but forgotten about the visit with my uncle. “I’m not sure we got anything new.”

  “You still think I know one of the attackers?”

  I wished I hadn’t voiced this theory to Bryce after our first visit to Larry, but that had been before I found out about his father’s potential involvement.

  “I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I know shit about anything right now.”

  “You could be right, though. His words did seem to indicate that. I just don’t know who the hell it could possibly be. I don’t know anyone like that.”

  I opened my mouth, not having a clue what was going to come out, when my cell phone buzzed. Saved by the bell, literally. I looked at my phone. “You mind if I take this? It’s Marjorie.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Marj.”

  “Joe, you have to come home.” Her voice was high-pitched and shrill. Something wasn’t right. “I have to talk to you now.”

  “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I think.” Now her voice shook. “I saw something today.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

  “Can’t you talk to Talon and Ryan?”

  “Ryan’s too busy to get away, with all the winemaking. I can’t ask him. And Talon… No, I can’t talk to Talon. Not now. Not…yet.”

  “Where’s Jade?”

  “She’s at work.”

  “I’m in the city, Marj. Bryce and I are—”

  “Oh, God. Bryce…”

  “What? Bryce is here. He’s fine.”

  “He’s with you?”

  “Yeah, right here. We’re having a drink.”

  “Then where’s Henry?”

  “Probably with his parents.”

  “Oh, God…”

  “Marj, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Ask Bryce if his mother has the baby. Now.”

  “Marj—”

  “Now. Please.”

  I looked at my friend. “Henry’s with your mom, right?”

  Bryce nodded. “Yeah.”

  I got back on the phone. “Henry’s with Evelyn. He’s fine.”

  A heavy sigh met my ears through the phone. “Thank God…”

  “Marj, what the hell is going on?”

  “Just come home. I’ll be waiting for you at your house.”

  This didn’t sound good. And the fact that she was concerned about Henry… It could only mean one thing.

  I ended the call, downed the rest of my martini in one swallow, and turned to Bryce. “I need to get home.”

  Chapter Four

  Melanie

  A piece of white PVC pipe was lodged between the bottom of the shelving and the wall. If it was hollow—and pipe usually was—and if I could find a tiny crack somewhere in this seemingly impenetrable garage, I could breathe through the pipe and live. Better yet, I could use the pipe to break the car window and turn off the ignition. An older-model car like this one probably didn’t have shatterproof glass. At least I hoped not.

  The problem was unwedging the piece of pipe. All I could do right now was hop around with one foot pulsing with pain, and I had to use my hands.

  My adrenaline was pumping, and energy surged through me. I was scared, as scared as I’d ever been, but I needed to act quickly. I hopped along one side of the garage, examining the walls as closely as I could, inspecting every crevice. I needed something—anything—that I might be able to use to unbind myself. Searching like a hawk, I looked for any type of hole in the structure where I could breathe in fresh air. When I got to the back wall, I examined the door to the outside. It was solid wood, as far as I could tell, with no windows, and locked, of course. No chance of escape there unless I had an ax, and free hands to use it.

  I hopped next to the side of the garage that contained the door that led into the house. I knew that was locked. I couldn’t try the knob anyway, with no hands. I scanned the wall as high as I could go. Something had to be there. Something had to give me a way to escape.

  Still nothing.

  I hopped to the front where the garage door was. It was painted white, and it looked solid. From what I’d been able to gather, this was an older home. The garage door was probably wood instead of aluminum. At least that’s what it looked like from this side. I eyed it from all angles as best I could, looking for any deterioration, any crack that I could possibly get oxygen through. Any small crevice in the structure.

  The weather stripping attached to the bottom of the garage door was a possibility. If I could pull it off, the seal would no longer be airtight. But I had no hands. I slid down to the floor, my back to the garage door, and tried to grasp the stripping.

  Damn!

  I’d need my hands free.

  I gazed back at the garage door. Something was off. Three-quarters of the way up the door the color changed slightly from white to an even starker white. A closer look, and—

  Glass! The entire inside of the door had been painted white to throw me off, but this wooden garage door had glass windows.

  Glass that I could break to let in fresh air! My head was already starting to ache. Dizziness and nausea would come next, followed by confusion and drowsiness, and…

  There had to be a way.

  My adrenaline still pumping, I willed my mind to churn, my synapses to fire. How could I get free and break this glass?

  I hopped back around to the other wall and leaned against it.

  Something poked into my lower arm.

  What the hell? I turned, and—

  A nail, no more than a quarter of an inch shooting out. Painted over, and nearly invisible to the naked eye. Whoever had gone through this garage had missed it. So had I, upon first look, and I would’ve missed it again if I hadn’t leaned at exactly the right spot and felt it on my arm.

  Quickly I turned around and started rubbing my duct-taped wrists against the nail. If only the sharp end was pointing out, but that would have been unlikely. Who would hammer a nail into the wrong side of the wall?

  What a silly thought. My head was beginning to feel fuzzy.

  The duct tape was thick, and nothing much happened except that I poked my wrists.

  Damn.

  I turned to the shelving next to me. It was old, cheap metal shelving, and upon closer look, it would never hold my weight, even if I were capabl
e of climbing on it.

  I slumped my shoulders. What had I been thinking?

  I’d never get out of here alive.

  I’d never be able to tell Jonah how much I loved him, how much he meant to me.

  Numbness swept through me. I slid down to the floor, needles piercing my sore ankle, until—

  “Ouch!”

  Something bit through the gray fleece on my upper arm. I turned to the shelving once more. A jagged edge had poked me, enough to tear into the fabric.

  If it could tear through fabric…

  I stood, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and turned, my back toward the sharp edge. I rubbed the duct tape against it hurriedly. Nothing much happened except several gashes to my hands. But I felt no pain in my quest for freedom. Thank God for adrenaline.

  I pushed my bound wrists against the edge and punctured a hole through the duct tape. Yes! I could pop it through and make little holes one after the other, cutting the tape.

  Although the shelves were nailed to the wall, they weren’t very stable. I had to act quickly and carefully. This had to work. It had to. I lowered my wrists slightly, punching another hole. I had to go quickly, and my heart was jumping out of my chest. Come on, come on…

  This was taking too long. Quickly, I began rubbing the duct tape up and down, as I had when I began. Now, with several holes already in the tape, this worked better. I couldn’t see what I was doing, and I scratched and pricked myself more than once, eliciting an “ouch.” But after the initial shock, no pain, only my adrenaline rushing through my veins, making me work harder and harder to release myself.

  I looked over my shoulder. My blood stained the silver-gray shelving. I didn’t care. Carbon monoxide poisoning would kill me. A few cuts would not. I’d need a tetanus shot, but it was a hell of a lot better than dying here.

  Faster and faster, I rubbed against the metal. “Come on, damn it! Come on!” When I could move my wrists farther apart, I screamed in triumph. With all my strength, I pulled my wrists apart, but it still wasn’t enough. The tape was still connected at the top. Frantically, I rubbed some more, scratching my already bloodied hands and forearms.

  Joy surged into me. I was getting somewhere! My arms were braced, ready to break free when—