Chain Reaction

by Rebecca York

  “Uh-huh.” She seemed to be waiting for the real explanation, which he wasn’t going to give her. She already thought he was crazy. If he started talking about his new talent, she’d be even more convinced that his brain had snapped. So he skipped that part of the story and went on.

  “When I got down to the office level, I heard Morton talking on the phone. I can’t be sure who was on the other end, but it was someone connected with Cranesbrook. When the smoke bomb went off in the lab, it dropped me, and now they’re trying to cover it up. They even had a guy from Cranesbrook over at the hospital watching me.”

  “I was at the hospital a few days ago, and Morton said you were alternately violent and out of it. Is that true?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

  “Then how do you know you didn’t hit that maintenance guy with something?”

  “I…I…” He caught his breath and tried again. “I left him in the building. He was found dead in a toolshed. It doesn’t match up.”

  “Are you sure you’re remembering it right?” she pressed, bringing back his own doubts.

  “Stop making me question my own sanity,” he shouted.

  When she took her lower lip between her teeth, he leaned back in his seat and tried to tamp down his tension. He was on edge and worn out, and too recently out of bed for his present level of exertion. He needed to rest as soon as they got to the Wilson estate.

  Larry Wilson had hired Five Star Security to install a state-of-the-art security system at the mansion he owned in Harford County, partly because he was going to be out of town for several months. Gage hoped he hadn’t changed his plans and that he’d be safe there.

  He shook his head. Who was he kidding?

  He wasn’t safe anywhere.

  LILY KEPT her eyes on the road, but she was all too aware of the man sitting next to her. Her husband, Gage. She’d thought she knew him. Now he might as well be a madman who had grabbed her at random off the street.

  He’d always radiated an edge of danger. Tonight the danger was right there, front and center. Tension surrounded him like sparks snapping from the broken end of a downed power line.

  They’d been through some bad times together but she never would have predicted this.

  Or more accurately, she never would have predicted that she’d be afraid of Gage Darnell at a deep, gut-wrenching level. But she was.

  Her heart was pounding as she kept driving, waiting for his next direction. Too bad she didn’t have her cell phone. But he’d hustled her out of the house without anything besides the clothes on her back.

  Which argued for the theory that Gage hadn’t come home with the idea of abducting her. He’d just gotten caught by the cops and used her as a convenient shield.

  She shuddered. He’d held her at gunpoint, and she still didn’t know if he was crazy enough to pull the trigger. He sounded sane, but she’d heard that mental patients could sometimes do that—convince the doctors they were okay so they could get out.

  When he turned toward her again, she struggled not to shiver.

  “Just let me go,” she tried again.

  “Can’t do that,” he shot back.

  “Why?”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned Harford County. If you tell them about it, maybe they can figure out where I am.”

  “I don’t know where we’re going!”

  “Good.”

  She kept driving. Finally, she asked in a low voice, “Do you love me?”

  She found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “I want a chance to convince you I’m not a criminal.”

  She might have pointed out that his method wasn’t particularly sound. Instead, she clenched the steering wheel and continued on their one-way trip to hell.

  When he directed her onto the beltway, then to Exit 27 and Dulaney Valley Road, she suddenly had a better idea of their destination. While Gage and Bray were working for Cranesbrook, they’d taken a side job installing an alarm system in a mansion up here. Gage had told her that the owners were taking a round-the-world trip, which was why they wanted the property protected.

  So the house was empty. Gage knew it and he planned to hide out there.

  He confirmed her supposition when he told her to pull up in front of a metal gate blocking a long, private drive.

  Taking her with him, he climbed out, then pushed the intercom button. When nobody answered, he punched numbers on the keypad. She wondered how he knew the code, but moments later the gate swung open. After driving through, he closed the barrier, then continued up the driveway to an enormous stone structure that sat brooding in the darkness. As they got close, floodlights switched on, and she could see that the building looked more like a medieval castle than a home.

  Gage saw her eyeing the place. “It’s got ten bedrooms.”

  “So I should have some privacy,” she murmured, calculating her escape chances. If he’d just leave her alone, she could work out a plan.

  In the next moment, he dashed that hope.

  “I don’t think so,” he answered as he drove around the back. “I need to keep an eye on you.”

  He pulled the car around the side of the house, then let them in through a set of French doors. In response to the beeping from the security system, he hustled Lily to the control panel, where he disabled the alarm.

  She watched him press keys once again, but she didn’t bother to ask how he knew the right sequence. She figured he was unlikely to share that information.

  RICHARD FRANCIS leaned against the wall across from the utility closet in the wing of the building where Gage Darnell had been confined. He and Rand had been at the end of their shift when they’d caught this case.

  Richard had been up for twenty hours, and he needed some sleep. Instead he was back at Beech Grove, watching the crime scene technicians do their thing, and hoping they’d find some evidence that this was the murder scene, not the toolshed.

  He wasn’t sure why he was rooting for the closet, except that he didn’t like Dr. Morton. He suspected that the doctor knew more than he was saying. So what was he hiding?

  An hour ago, Richard and his partner had flipped a coin. And he’d won, if you wanted to look at it from that point of view. Rand was stuck with the grunt work—interviewing Five Star employees, searching for clues as to where Darnell might be hiding out.

  And Richard was back at the mental hospital checking out the story Darnell had given them, as well as the scenario that Dr. Morton had outlined.

  Richard would have liked to search the woods for evidence of the shots that Darnell had talked about. But that was better done by sunlight.

  A uniformed cop came running up, looking excited.

  “What?” Richard asked.

  “We found a hammer at the bottom of the kitchen trash bin. It’s got blood on the head.”

  “Great!” Richard turned to one of the technicians. “We may have found the murder weapon. Run it for fingerprints ASAP.”

  “You got it.”

  If it had Darnell’s fingerprints, that might prove something. And if it was wiped clean, that might prove something, too. Darnell had been in a hurry to get away. He probably wouldn’t have stopped to wipe off the hammer and stuff it in the bottom of a trash bin. But if someone was setting him up, they wouldn’t have left their own prints.

  GAGE TURNED AWAY from the keypad. Just like at the front gate, he had no idea of the correct security code. But while he’d punched buttons, he’d reached beyond the panel with his mind and disabled the system.

  He kept his gaze away from Lily’s accusing eyes. It made him sick to know that she was afraid of him, that she thought he’d killed someone. That she thought he might harm her.

  “When are you going to let me go?” she asked again.

  “As soon as I can figure out how to prove I didn’t murder anyone.”

  “Thanks,” she whisper
ed, and he guessed she didn’t think that would happen anytime soon.

  “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “To check the pantry.” He wasn’t really hungry, but he knew his body would crash if he didn’t keep it fueled.

  He took Lily by the arm and steered her down the hall toward the kitchen. She didn’t protest, but he watched her gaze darting around. Probably she was looking for escape routes.

  They reached the kitchen. Despite the circumstances, he heard her whistle through her teeth as she stared at the gourmet wonderland that boasted two Sub-Zero refrigerators, two professional-quality ranges, miles of granite countertop, and a rack displaying gleaming copper pots.

  “This is bigger than the restaurant kitchen. And better-equipped.

  “Yeah.”

  “Somebody here is a gourmet cook.”

  “Maybe they just want to show how much money they spent on remodeling.”

  When she lingered near the island, he wondered if she was hoping to find a knife to defend herself. He marched her across to the walk-in pantry, where he found an unopened package of fig cookies.

  “Want some?”

  She shook her head, but he took the package with him as he escorted her down the hall again.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she murmured.

  “Okay.”

  He stopped at the powder room near the den and looked inside. The window was small.

  “Sorry. I can’t close the door,” he said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I won’t watch.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  She gave him a dark look as she strode into the bathroom. When she came out again, he motioned her down the hall. “Go through the next door. Into the den.” When they were both inside, he looked around. “Sit on the sofa.”

  She obeyed without comment, but he felt her stiffen as he got a pair of handcuffs out of his duffel bag.

  “You’re not really going to do that, are you?” she whispered.

  “Sorry, but I can’t trust you,” he said as he cuffed her left hand to an ornate wooden sofa arm.

  His stomach clenched when he watched her huddle against the cushions. “I’ll be right back.”

  First he went out to the car and unloaded his duffel bag and the electronics equipment he’d brought.

  Then he moved the vehicle to the far end of the property.

  When he came back, he used the bathroom, then descended to the basement, where he checked out one of the features that he remembered from his previous visits to the house. Finally, hurrying as fast as he could, he went upstairs and searched for the linen closet.

  As he stood staring at the perfectly folded towels and sheets, he scrubbed his hands over his face.

  Everything he was doing with Lily was wrong. He should let her go and clear out of town. But he didn’t seem capable of doing the right thing, not when he’d trapped them both on a speeding train to nowhere.

  With a grimace, he picked up a couple of comforters and brought them down. When he came back to the den, his gaze shot to the sofa arm. It looked like she’d been trying to wrench herself loose. But the carved post had held.

  Their eyes met for a split second, and she looked away. Before he could comment, she tipped her head toward the bedding. “What’s that for?”

  “Sleeping upstairs could be dangerous. If somebody comes looking for me, I could get trapped. We’ll bunk down here.”

  “Who would come looking for you?” she asked, like she was hoping the cavalry was on the way.

  “Nobody, I hope. But I’m not taking chances.”

  “There’s nothing to prevent me from sleeping upstairs.” She looked like she wanted to add something, then changed her mind, probably thinking better of poking a figurative stick at the dangerous beast between her and the doorway.

  “I want you with me where I can keep an eye on you.”

  She glared at him as he spread one quilted comforter on the floor.

  He unlocked the handcuff. “Lie down.”

  She raised her chin. “Not with you.”

  “I’m not going to bother you. You can close your eyes and pretend I’m not there.”

  “Oh, sure.” Still, after considering her options, she did as he asked.

  When he started to refasten the cuff to the sofa leg, she hitched in a breath. “Have mercy on me. I can’t lie in one position all night.

  While he thought about his alternatives, he grabbed some pillows from the sofa and handed her one. Then he turned off the overhead light, so that only the lamp on the end table provided some illumination. It was enough to see his wife’s set expression.

  She propped a pillow behind her head and watched him warily as he rummaged in his duffel bag and brought out a length of rope.

  He ran the rope through the handcuff loop he’d left empty, then tied both ends to his own wrist. If she tried to get away, he’d know immediately what she was doing. But the arrangement did give him the opportunity to get a little sleep.

  With a disgusted look, she rocked back, flopping her head against the pillow. There was enough slack in the rope for her to roll to her side, with her back to him.

  Reaching over her, he turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

  As they lay next to each other, he could feel the ill will radiating off her. His mind flashed back to the early years of their marriage, when they’d always slept touching each other, her body warm and pliant in his arms. Now it felt as if he was lying next to a piece of hard, cold stone. He wanted to turn toward her and take her in his arms so he could soothe away all the tension between them.

  He stayed on his own side of the makeshift bed, thinking about how many changes they’d gone through in a very short time.

  A lifetime ago, she’d been angry with him for spoiling their weekend together. Then she’d been worried about him after the accident. And when he’d finally come home, it was with the cops hot on his trail.

  He wanted to make everything right between them. More than right. He wanted Lily on his side. And he wanted the comfort only she could give him. But he had no idea how to accomplish that goal. What if he told her about his new talent? Would that convince her something really bad had happened at Cranesbrook?

  And would she even believe him? Not without a demonstration.

  The thought of working some kind of parlor trick made a wave of fatigue wash over him. Using his new skill so many times in the past few hours had exhausted him. He needed to sleep. Then in the morning, he could show her some proof of what had happened to him.

  In the army, he’d learned to snatch shut-eye when he could get it. Closing his eyes, he went through one of the relaxation exercises he’d learned, then sank into an uneasy sleep.

  IN HIS NIGHTMARE, Gage was cold and naked and being chased through a forest. As he ran for his life, brambles reached out and scratched his flesh. Men came crashing after him, shouting for him to stop. Without turning, he somehow saw that one of them was Tucker, the janitor from the mental hospital. Like Gage, he was naked and blood was streaming down his face. Instead of a mop, he held a gun in his hand.

  “Stop. You can’t escape.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Gage shouted. But the cold wind carried his words away.

  He kept running, because that was his only option. Shots whizzed past his head and shoulders, and he braced for the impact of hot lead striking his body. If he could only make it to the safe house, he would be okay. Ahead of him he saw a stone mansion that was more like a medieval castle than a modern home.

  The Wilson estate. There he would find warmth and safety. And Lily. She was waiting for him there. Probably she’d cooked him a feast in the big gourmet kitchen. But they’d eat later.

  First he wanted to make love with her.

  Somehow, he was no longer in the woods. He was inside the castle, lying on a big bed with his wife. He was on his back, and she was propped on her elbow, leaning over him.

  She smiled dow
n at him, then bent to stroke her lips against his cheek. He couldn’t see one of her hands. Was it handcuffed or something?

  He couldn’t remember why. And he didn’t want to think about that now. Not when she was running her fingers down his body, playing with his belt buckle, then pressing over the erection straining at the front of his slacks.

  He responded with a shuddering breath.

  “I want you, Gage.”

  The way she said his name was like the old days when they’d been so in love that they couldn’t get enough of each other. He’d come home for dinner, and they’d end up in bed. Then it would be hours before they actually got around to eating the wonderful meal she’d prepared.

  He closed his eyes again, because this was so much better than reality. Now he ached for her, and she had come back to him.

  “You’re awake,” she murmured, her voice low and trembly in the darkness.

  He was. The dream had transformed into reality. But still, he was afraid that the warmth and sensuality would vanish.

  “Lily, don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t.”

  To seal the bargain she leaned closer so that her lips could slide to his mouth, pressing, urging.

  He didn’t need the seduction. And he didn’t question what was happening between them. All he could think was that Lily had realized they belonged together, and now she was fulfilling all his pent-up longing.

  The kiss was hot and urgent and familiar. She was his wife, and they had done this a thousand times, but she never failed to kindle an excitement within him that he had felt with no other woman. Yet as her tongue darted into his mouth, he sensed something below the surface of her desire, some secret emotion he should examine a little more carefully.

  He might have tried to continue with that line of reasoning, but the kiss drove rational thought from his mind. Then her hand drifted over his body again, stopping at his nipples. They were hard and aching, like his erection.

  She slid one hand lower, rocking her palm against that hard shaft, drowning him in a fog of sensuality. His hips moved against her hand, increasing the wonderful pressure.