by Kara Lennox
She glanced up at the balcony. No sign of Beau. And she couldn’t risk calling out now. David would hear her.
She set Sara on the ground behind the tree trunk, then sprinted toward David, moving from shrub to shrub. But his attention was so focused on the house, he never even glanced her way.
But he was still fifty feet away when he lifted his arm and, with an expression of pure, naked hatred, he pushed the button.
The house exploded with a deafening roar, sending a wall of heat that knocked Aubrey off her feet.
“No!” she screamed. But David didn’t hear her. He was in his car, heading down the driveway, intent on making his escape before the fire trucks arrived.
He roared past her, never seeing her.
One of the trees near the burning house had caught fire. David had to drive under it. Just as he did, a huge limb from the burning tree dropped directly onto the red Porsche. Aubrey watched in horror as the car careened wildly for a few seconds, then burst into flames itself.
Aubrey turned her face away. And then she was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The ground rushed up to meet them and the world went black.
Chapter Sixteen
Aubrey woke up lying on the grass, the smell of smoke thick in her nose even as she breathed oxygen through a mask. A chubby blond paramedic, whose name tag identified her as Ellen Riggs, was taking her blood pressure. Aubrey blinked her eyes a couple of times.
“You back with us?” Ellen Riggs said, her voice edged with concern.
Aubrey tried to sit up. Her mind felt full of sludge. Then, suddenly, one thought predominated. She grabbed the other woman’s arm. “Sara. The baby. Did you find a baby?”
“Your baby is fine. One of the firefighters found her crawling under some bushes. Not a scratch on her.”
“But the gas—she breathed in too much methane. She was unconscious!”
“She’s okay now. Really.”
“What about my uncle? And—oh, my God, Beau. There were two men inside the house when it blew!”
“There was a man in a car….” Ellen said, her face clouded with confusion.
“No, not him. Two others.”
“I don’t know about any others. They’re still fighting the fire.”
Aubrey sat up despite Ellen’s attempts to calm her down. She ripped the oxygen mask off. “I’m okay now. I have to tell them. I have to let them know to search for Beau and Wayne.” She pushed herself to her knees, then her feet. Her legs felt rubbery, but after a few false steps they supported her.
She’d been lying on the grass, some distance from the house. There were fire trucks everywhere, police cars, and dozens of bystanders just watching. A TV news van was just pulling in the driveway.
How long since the explosion? Aubrey wondered frantically.
She searched until she saw someone she knew— Craig. And he was holding Sara! Aubrey rushed up to him and grabbed them in a bear hug. “Thanks for bringing in the cavalry.”
“A little slow. I’m sorry, Aubrey. By the time I rounded up some uniforms, explained everything, and got over here, I was too late.” And there was such a profound look of grief on his face that he didn’t have to tell Aubrey the worst part.
“You didn’t find Beau? Or my uncle?”
“They were inside the house, then.” It sounded as if Aubrey had just confirmed his worst fears.
She nodded. “On the third floor, or the stairs leading up to it. They might be all right. Look, some of the house is still standing….”
Craig handed the baby to her, then put his arm around her shoulders. “Stay here. I’m going to go tell them.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Who was in the car?”
“David.” She grimaced, then swallowed back the very real lump of grief in her throat—grief for the cousin she remembered, not the desperate, cold-blooded killer he’d become. “I saw what happened to him.”
Looking grim, Craig turned again and continued with his mission. But as he neared the house, a commotion started somewhere inside the house, or what was left of it. She heard a lot of shouting. Then two firemen appeared carrying a person who was frighteningly still. Aubrey recognized the blue pajamas, looking oddly pristine. No burns or black smoke marks, which made her hopeful.
Ellen, the blond paramedic, took off like a shot toward Aubrey’s uncle. But Aubrey felt as if she were rooted to the driveway. She watched and waited…and waited.
And then, amazingly, she saw a man walking out of the fire. She held her breath, afraid to hope, afraid she was hallucinating. He wasn’t wearing a black-and-yellow fireman’s protective clothing. He had on black jeans and a black T-shirt and motorcycle boots. Blood streamed over his face, but he was upright, walking more or less under his own power, though he leaned heavily on one of the firefighters as the other man escorted him out of the burning house.
She knew she should stay back, out of the way, but she couldn’t stand there any longer. She broke into a run and didn’t stop until she reached him, skidding to a halt only when she realized that throwing her arms around him might knock him to the ground.
“Beau?”
He glanced up and saw her. His eyes shone with wonder. “You’re all right.”
“Yes, I’m fine. Sara’s fine. You’re not, though, you’re hurt.” She realized then he was soaking wet.
Beau dismissed the fireman. “I’m okay, thanks. Thank you.” The fireman returned to his duties, and Beau walked as far as the fountain, then dropped onto one of the stone benches. It was where they’d sat that night after the gas leak, when they’d made up after their argument—then promptly argued again.
Her fault, Aubrey silently acknowledged.
Ellen reappeared and quietly started mopping the blood off Beau’s face. She seemed to know enough not to intrude.
“You got soaked by the fire hoses,” Aubrey said, unable to think of anything else to say. The shock of the explosion had turned her thoughts to molasses.
“Not the hoses,” Beau said. “The explosion blew us free, clear into the swimming pool. It was the only thing that saved me. I had hold of Wayne. I tried to save him, Aubrey. Really.”
“I know you did.” She grabbed one of his bloodied hands and brought it up to her cheek. “That was the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen anybody do. You could have saved yourself, but you stayed behind to help him.”
He shook his head. His voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t think I succeeded.”
Ellen shook her head. “He was gone when I got to him. We would have worked on him longer, but he was wearing a DNR bracelet.”
“Do Not Resuscitate,” Beau clarified, though Aubrey already knew what it was. “Damn.”
Ellen handed Beau some gauze. “It’s just a small cut, on your forehead there. I think if you put pressure on it the bleeding will stop and you won’t need stitches.”
He took the gauze. Ellen gave Aubrey’s shoulder a final, sympathetic squeeze before leaving them.
“Please don’t blame yourself for Wayne’s death, Beau. You did everything you could. And he was dying anyway. Mary, his hospice nurse, said he only had a few hours left.”
They were silent for a few moments. The only one who made any noise was Sara, who had no clue what was going on and seemed to enjoy all the color and excitement swirling around her. She showed no ill effects from the gas.
“What about David?” Beau asked.
Aubrey pointed at the smoldering hunk of twisted metal that had once been a beautiful sports car. “He didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t think of anything else to say.”
“I’m sorry he tried to destroy so many lives, including his own,” she said. “He touched off the gas with the garage door opener. I saw him do it, right before he…he…” She couldn’t go on.
Beau slipped his arm around her. “It’ll be all right, Aubrey. I know you’ve lost a lot. But you’ve got Sara. And you’ve got me.”
“Do I?”
“F
orever. Eternally. Whether you want me or not. Maybe it took me a while to come to my senses, but when I realized you might still be in danger, it was like someone flipped a switch inside my head—inside my heart. I realized I was crazy in love with you.”
“But I was so horrible to you.”
“You love your brother, that’s all. And you can’t reconcile the brother you know with the facts I laid out. Maybe you’ll never reconcile them, but that’s something we’ll have to work around.”
She pulled away and looked at him. He’d forgotten to keep the gauze pressed against his cut, and it was still oozing blood. She took the gauze and did it for him, wishing she could tend to his other wounds—the emotional wounds she inflicted with her cruel words—as easily. “We don’t have to work around it. I believe you, Beau, as I should have all along. Gavin was desperate. Of course you wouldn’t have shot him unless you had to. No man who could behave so selflessly, risking your own life trying to save a dying old man, would have shot his best friend for money. That’s not who you are. I should have seen it before. I knew you, Beau. I’ve loved you a long time. I just forgot who you are for a while.”
He hugged her to him, including Sara in his embrace. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. If I died tomorrow I’d die happy.”
“You’re not going to die tomorrow, or any time soon. Don’t even talk about it. I won’t let you. No one else I love is going to die. That stops here and now.”
“Agreed, honey. If you promise to love me, I promise not to die. Not till I’m a hundred, at least.”
They sat entwined, the three of them, and numbly watched the firefighters extinguish the blaze. The house was a total loss. The paintings, the antique furniture, all gone, destroyed as thoroughly as the Clarendon family. But just as Beau had emerged, injured but still vital, from the flames and soot, Aubrey knew something good had come of the tragedy. She and Beau had found their way to each other. And they would start over, a new family, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
AT DAWN on a Saturday in late August, two months after the explosion, Beau and Aubrey were married in a simple ceremony in the rose garden behind the mayor’s house. Beau had wanted to elope to Las Vegas, but Aubrey had nixed that idea. “You just don’t want to wear a tie,” she’d said. “Besides, I want to wait until after Gavin’s parole hearing. It would be so nice to have him at my wedding.”
Beau had agreed. Then he’d moved heaven and earth to make sure Gavin made parole. He’d made sure everyone on that board was convinced that Gavin was a different man from the one who’d committed the crime. Or rather, that he was once again the man who’d been Beau’s best friend, before his addiction. He and Gavin’s lawyer had rounded up everyone associated with the addiction program Gavin had successfully completed, all of whom testified about how earnest Gavin had been, how badly he’d wanted to kick his habit, how hard he’d worked, how faithfully he’d attended the meetings.
Aubrey had cried with joy when Gavin had been granted parole. But her joy had quickly turned to bewilderment when Gavin had almost immediately withdrawn from all contact with her. He’d made his appointments with his parole officer, but he’d refused to talk to Aubrey.
“I’m not going to let it bother me,” Aubrey had declared to anyone who expressed concern about the situation. “He’ll come around when he’s ready. Maybe after two years of living in such close quarters with so many people, he just needs some time alone.”
Of course, Aubrey would assign the most innocent explanation to Gavin’s behavior, Beau thought. That was Aubrey. Beau didn’t want to point out that Gavin was probably staying away because of him.
He put that out of his mind the morning of the wedding. It was a comfortable seventy degrees as he drove his Mustang through the darkness, his last few minutes as a single man. He was marrying Aubrey, and nothing was going to dim his happiness.
She was an incredibly beautiful bride in her grandmother’s satin gown. As they stood before the minister, a slight breeze played with Aubrey’s lace veil. The sun rose over the horizon and peeked through the trunks of the surrounding trees, dappling her face as they exchanged vows. And as they kissed, one blindingly bright ray of sunlight found them, illuminating them in a natural spotlight as if the heavens were granting their approval of the union.
Though the hour was ridiculously early, they’d managed to assemble a small group of well-wishers to witness the event. All of the First Strike bounty hunters were there. Some of Aubrey’s fellow professors and teaching assistants from the University had made it. Her parents, of course. Beau didn’t really have any family to invite, but that was something he’d gotten over a long time ago. He was more than happy to let Aubrey’s family adopt him.
Mary, the hospice nurse who’d cared for Wayne, had come, too. She said that in her line of work she attended more funerals than she liked, so the wedding of a family member she’d grown close to was a real treat.
Then there was Sara, who had the nerve to sleep through the whole thing. Which was probably better than squalling.
After the brief ceremony, everyone moved to a large pavilion for the usual stuff—a fluffy white wedding cake, a sinful chocolate groom’s cake, this one in the shape of a Mustang. There was champagne and orange juice, and lots of toasts to future happiness. Beau took a lot of ribbing for his dove gray morning suit—complete with white tie—which Aubrey had shoehorned him into. But he’d have done anything to please her, because he felt privileged to be her husband. Just lucky as hell.
“So, you’re gonna do the daddy thing.” It was Lori, who was taking her turn holding Sara. Sara had awakened, and she was being unusually cheerful, charming everyone silly.
“Something like that,” Beau said, taking the baby from Lori and holding her with an ease he wouldn’t have imagined a couple of months ago. But he’d had a lot of practice the past few weeks, and he’d decided a baby girl was a lot better than a puppy. “Sara’s father decided she would be better off with us, though he’ll still be a part of her life.” Beau nuzzled the baby. “I’m gonna teach her how to play ball, and work on cars, and how to say no to all the boys. Ain’t that right, sweetpea?” He rubbed his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss.
Lori’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my gosh. I’ve never seen you with a baby.”
“And I’ve never seen your legs,” he said pointedly, glancing down at the appendages in question peeking out from her blue sleeveless dress. “Gawd, you even have nail polish on your toes. Pink.”
“I wear dresses,” she said defensively. “Just not to work. Ace would never let me do anything fun if I dressed like a girl.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” Ace joined them, looking almost dapper in neatly creased trousers, pinstriped shirt, and sober blue silk tie. He was on his third or fourth champagne cocktail and feeling no pain. He put an arm around Lori’s shoulders. “You look so…so cute!”
Lori stuck her tongue out at him. “I hate that word. I am not cute. Bounty hunters are not cute.”
“Aw, I dunno,” Rex chimed in, unable to resist a good opportunity to tease Beau. He’d donned his least worn pair of jeans and a T-shirt without any off-color slogans. “Maddox here looks pretty cute holding a baby.”
Beau was formulating a smart comeback, but someone approaching the pavilion caught his attention. He tensed, all his well-honed instincts coming into play. Though Aubrey’s enemies were no longer a threat, there were plenty of people walking around free who didn’t like him.
But his tension melted when he recognized the determined jut of the chin, and that brisk, no-nonsense walk, now with a slight limp.
Gavin Schuyler.
A different sort of apprehension speared Beau’s gut. Despite Gavin’s recent behavior, Beau knew his former friend loved his sister and would do nothing to hurt her. But Gavin didn’t necessarily feel the same about Beau. The fact Beau had been instrumental in Gavin’s release didn’t really make up for the fact he’d shot Gavin.
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Aubrey, who’d been busy dancing with every male in the place as Motown tunes poured out of a boom box, now returned to Beau’s side. She grasped his arm and squeezed until she just about cut off his circulation, and it was clear she saw what he did.
“Is that…it is!” She released Beau’s arm and ran down the walkway to meet her brother.
Beau watched as they embraced. Several other people had noted the new arrival, and conversation grew hushed.
“Who is that?” Lori asked.
Beau answered her. “Gavin Schuyler.”
Lori gasped again. “The one you shot?” Then she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That was tactless.”
“But it’s the truth.” Beau had been positive he and Aubrey, with their newfound trust and mutual understanding, could breeze through anything about Gavin that came up. But seeing him here, at their wedding of all places, still thin and pale from prison, gave him a moment of unease.
Then Aubrey dragged her brother into their midst. “Everyone, look who’s here!” she announced, as if news of his arrival hadn’t already spread through the small group like a brushfire. A moment of awkward silence followed her words. Then everyone was talking at once, and people were hugging Gavin and shaking his hand as if he were a returning hero instead of an ex-con.
For that, Beau was very, very grateful.
Then all at once he was standing face-to-face with Gavin, the first time he’d seen him since the parole hearing, when they didn’t talk to each other directly. And Beau didn’t know what to say. At least he was still holding the baby. Surely Gavin wouldn’t deck a man holding a baby.
Gavin looked at Beau, then Sara, then Aubrey. “Is this my new little cousin? Or is she my niece? I’m a little confused.”
“You and me both,” Aubrey said. “Gavin, this is Sara. I guess she’ll be your niece as soon as we adopt her. You want to hold her?”
