He found her on her knees, struggling to get up. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she attempted to scream at him around the gag he’d put in her mouth. Her wrists were already raw from the zip ties. A brutal kick to her stomach expelled the meager air she’d managed to draw in around the gag. She fell back and curled into fetal position, gasping like a fish out of water.
“Really, Sarah, you shouldn’t let all these newspapers collect down here. Don’t you know what a fire hazard they are?” He laughed.
The evil sound sent another shiver of fear up her spine. Tears poured down her face and mixed with the blood from her nose, the combination soaking the gag and making it even harder to breathe.
He shredded the paper and put loose piles in several places around the basement, then doused them with the fuel and added the few pieces of wood. He checked his watch. “We’ve still got twenty minutes or so before your boyfriend gets back. Can’t start the party too early. He has to think he can still get in here to save your ass.”
Don’t try to save me, Marjorie prayed. Save yourself, Lance.
Lenny squatted down next to her and grinned. “You know how we found you, right? Dear Old Dad blundered right into Bryan’s office with your picture. He’d made the rounds of every state senator and congressman trying to find the one you were supposed to marry. The man was a godsend. We thought you were dead.”
He chuckled again, the sound sending a hot ball of fury up her spine to melt the icy fear. If she got the chance, she’d kill him. No, she couldn’t kill him; she had to make him give up Bryan first. They both had to die for what they’d done.
“Tsk, tsk. Why didn’t you ever tell Bryan about your twin sister? Well, no matter now. You’ll be seeing her again soon.” Lenny wandered to her workbench. “This where you make that bling your father natters on about?” He picked up a few tools and tossed them down again. Then he took a handful of the silver castings she’d finished and scattered them over her. “Might as well be sparkly when you die, bitch.”
She shot daggers at him with her eyes, which only made him laugh all the more. He checked his watch again. “Okay, Sarah, we’re all set here. I’m going to go wait up in the kitchen for your lover-boy. Make sure you put on a good show for him, so I can knock him out when he rushes down here to save you.”
He went to the front of the basement. A few seconds later, Marjorie heard the faint crackle of flames. A thin stream of smoke wound along the ceiling. In a few minutes, the blaze would eat its way up the wall. Before long, the fire would spread to the next pile of paper. The smoke began to thicken.
Marjorie struggled more fiercely to free her hands but to no avail. Don’t save me. Don’t save me. She thought the phrase over and over. Stay away. But she knew it was hopeless.
Lance would die, down here, with her.
Because of her.
Her worst fears had come true.
Chapter 19
Lance cut Daisy’s walk a little short and picked up his pace on the way home. “You understand, don’t you, girl? I hate being away from your mistress for one second longer than necessary.”
The dog cocked her head at the sound of his voice and her pace increased. She inched ahead of Lance, and he grinned down at her. “I knew you’d understand, Daisy.”
They rounded the corner by the Silvercreek Gallery and almost ran Zoe over as she washed one of the front windows. Lance skidded to a halt.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” she asked, including both dog and master in her question. She gave Daisy a scratch on the head.
“Home,” he said, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face at the word. He glanced across the town square at the Inn.
Was that smoke he saw curling out of the basement window? He squinted against the bright sunlight. It was. The flicker of live flames danced behind the glass. Holy shit.
“Call 9-1-1,” he ordered Zoe. “Fire, ambulance, everything.” He dropped Daisy’s leash and tore across the green, fear adding wings to his feet. Daisy beat him to the front door.
Lance pounded up the steps to the porch and tried the front door. Unlocked. Shit. He took a second to pull the Sig from his back holster and unsnap Daisy’s leash. She bolted down the hallway and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.
Lance followed a few steps behind, his caution tempered by the desperate need to find Marjorie. He called her name. Again, louder this time. No response. Please, God make it because she’s not in here.
Daisy began to bark, the deep, snarling, sound of a dog on the attack.
Lance heard the yelp, then quiet descended on the kitchen, except for the crackle of the flames licking their way across the basement ceiling below.
A vision of Spike lying in a pool of blood flashed in front of his eyes. He blinked it away. He would not have a flashback now.
He bolted through the doorway, spinning to face the intruder, and felt the hit as the double electrodes penetrated. The pain was agonizing but he’d been too close to the man holding the Taser. The electrodes weren’t far enough apart to give him the full charge. He fired, center mass, and the man went down, red blooming from a hole just above his belt.
Lance ripped out the two electrodes, kicked the Taser from the fallen man’s hand, and ran to the basement stairway. Smoke was billowing up the opening now and he could feel the heat on his face. One side of the stairway had a few flames licking upward but at the bottom, Lance could see Marjorie, bound and gagged, curled into a ball.
He raced down and scooped her up. Her head lolled against his shoulder and her body felt limp and still in his arms. He bolted back up the stairs and out the back door, racing away from the building until he felt it was safe enough to lay her down. He felt for a pulse in her neck and found it, strong and steady. Thank God.
Then he tore back inside and picked up Daisy’s limp body. As he carried her out, she began to struggle in his arms. He put her down next to Marjorie.
He heard sirens, and ran down the driveway. Two firetrucks and a ladder unit, two ambulances and two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the house. Men poured out of all the vehicles.
Lance shouted at the fireman in the red hat. “Help! I need help out back. My fiancée. She’s unconscious.”
The fireman shouted orders. “Rescue One to the back.” The firemen were bunkered up with jackets, helmets, masks and breathing tanks on their backs. The only distinguishing characteristic was the red hat worn by the man giving orders.
Two firemedics grabbed their kits and hustled up the drive, while two more unloaded a stretcher from the back of the ambulance.
A white SUV screeched to a stop at the curb and a silver-haired man got out and strode up to Red Hat. “Frank, cut the gas and electric feeds at the street.”
“Done.”
“Get two streams going to the basement, and another team to scout upstairs. We might be able to save this place if it doesn’t blow up on us first.”
Red Hat yelled, “Bash, Dietrich, cover the basement. Carl, Henry, check for survivors upstairs.”
“Copy that.” The firefighters were fast, efficient and didn’t waste any time on unnecessary chatter.
The silver-haired man pointed to Lance, who was inching toward the back of the house. “You. Stop. You live here?”
“In the apartment over the garage.” Lance edged away from the firefighter toward the backyard. He needed to see how Marjorie was.
“Wait, mister. I need information. Is anybody else in there?”
“The bastard who started the fire and tried to kill us.”
“Where?”
“The kitchen. By the basement door. I shot him.”
Silver Hair raised a brow. “Don’t go anywhere. The police will want to take your statement. Until then, you need to back off, buddy.” He pointed to
the basement windows. “Until we get this under control you need to put some distance—”
Lance turned and pelted back up the driveway.
“Not that way!” The firefighter caught him in two strides and grabbed his arm.
Lance flung off the grip. “My fiancée is back here and I’m not leaving without her,” he yelled over his shoulder.
The battalion chief shook his head. He had bigger worries right now. This thirty-year-old wood-framed building was a disaster waiting to happen. The police could take care of the perp—if they got him out alive. His job was to stop the flames from getting a better hold on the structure. He spoke into his mike. “Frank, man down in the kitchen. GSW. Rescue Two, around back.”
Frank gestured. “Jake, Archie, with me. We’ve got another vic in the kitchen.” He pointed toward the back of the building.
In less than five minutes three streams of water were soaking the exterior of the mansion with two more concentrated on the basement.
Lance skidded to a halt on the grass next to Marjorie. There was an oxygen mask strapped to her face and one of the firemedics was starting an IV in her arm. He brushed the hair back from her forehead and uncovered a contusion over one eyebrow. Blood still leaked from her nose. Someone had cut the zip-ties from her wrists and the second firemedic wrapped a bandage around the right one.
“Is she . . .? Will she be . . .?”
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She gestured weakly. “Hi, Sir Lance. You saved me.” Her voice was hoarse and she coughed, tears streaming from reddened eyes, but her smile was worth a million dollars.
Lance took his first deep breath since he’d hit the front door. He kissed her temple, ignoring the firemedics’ requests to back away and let them finish.
“What about Lenny?” Marjorie grabbed his hand.
“Yeah, well, I shot the bastard.”
That got the medics’ attention all over again.
“Sorry I didn’t mention that sooner,” Lance said to the guy who had stopped bandaging Marjorie’s wrist. “I already told the lieutenant out front, but Marjorie’s the important one. The other jerk was alive when I brought her and Daisy out, but—” He shrugged. He didn’t really give a damn if the bastard was dead.
The firemedic punched his radio. “We’ve got a second man down inside the building.”
“Yeah, we’re on it,” came back the tinny response. The medic scowled at Lance.
“Listen, that guy tried to kill this lady,” Lance growled, and nodded at Marjorie. “He also tried to kill me and my dog, and started the fire. So if you’re expecting some regret here, you’re out of luck. As far as I’m concerned, the prick deserves a little heat.”
The firemedic nodded once. “Let’s get this lady into the rig and get her to the hospital.” He winked at his partner. “The guys from the second unit can take the other vic.”
Marjorie shook her head. “No. No hospitals. I’m fine. Really.” Six years of living in the skin of her disguise triggered the automatic response, until she realized she didn’t have to hide any more. The wave of relief that washed over her was so intense it made her dizzy. More coughs racked her.
The medic shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re going to have to take you in—”
Marjorie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You’re right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a pain. And please don’t call me ma’am. My name is Marjorie.” She felt something cool against her neck and turned her head to find Daisy’s nose sniffing her chin. She tried to pet her but the dog ducked away from her hand.
“The jerk . . . Lenny?” Lance asked, not sure if he got the dickwad’s name right.
Marjorie nodded.
“Yeah, well, Lenny conked Daisy with a two-by-four when she backed him into a corner. I think she’ll be okay, but I’ll take her to Dan’s place and have him check her out.”
Marjorie nodded. “Good.”
Lance backed away and the firemedics raised the stretcher. As the group trundled for the gate, a policeman ducked around a fire hose and headed in their direction.
While Lance had been busy with Marjorie, three firefighters had gone in the back door and brought Lenny out. The second rescue unit took over at that point, working rapidly to stabilize the man, and get him to the hospital. A plastic tube sprouted from his mouth now, and one of the men was squeezing a bag attached to the end of it.
Lance kissed Marjorie’s hand. “Excuse me a minute, Red. I think the officer wants to talk to me. I’ll catch up to you at the hospital.” He kissed her temple and tapped the oxygen mask. “Don’t give these guys a hard time, okay?”
“Right, Sir Lance,” she said with a weak smile, then dissolved into another fit of coughing. “Damn smoke,” she groused as they rolled her away.
The officer had his notepad out, pen at the ready, as Lance walked up to him. “I’ll need a statement, and the weapon you used.”
Lance unholstered the Sig from behind his back, removed the clip, and racked the slide to eject the bullet in the chamber. He handed it, grip first, to the policeman. “Let me make sure my lady is comfortable in the ambulance, then I’ll be happy to tell you what I know.”
The policeman nodded, and followed the parade down the drive.
A crowd had gathered out front, and as soon as a stretcher appeared, Zoe attempted to break through the yellow tape holding them back. “Let me through! She’s my friend! They’re my friends!” she yelled, as the officer holding the people back ignored her. She tried to kick him in the shin.
“Ma’am, I have to ask you to step back,” the officer, who towered over her by almost a foot and a half, said, with remarkable patience.
“No. You don’t understand. I— Lance!” She waved her arms in the air. “Lance, tell them to let me through!” she yelled.
Lance raised a finger to the patrolman, indicating he’d be right back, and went to the yellow barrier. “Officer, let this woman through, please. She’s my fiancée’s best friend and will want to ride in the ambulance with her, while I’m tied up here.”
The officer scowled, but lifted the tape high enough to let Zoe duck beneath it. She gave him a dirty look in return as she went by.
“Is Marjorie all right? Are you all right? How did the fire start? Who’s on the other stretcher? What the heck happened?”
Lance waited until Zoe had to stop for a breath. “How about if you go with Marjorie, while I talk to that officer over there. Once I’m done, I’ll meet you at the hospital. Marjorie is the one with all the details, but don’t badger her with questions right away. She’s pretty banged up.”
“Okay.” Zoe rushed to the ambulance and climbed in as they were closing the doors.
Marjorie woke to find Lance holding her hand and Zoe sprawled in a chair across the room. The evening sun slanted through the curtains and did its best to brighten the pale, tan walls.
Her throat was dry and sore, and her head throbbed, every heartbeat accentuating the pounding of the jungle drums that must have been implanted there while she’d slept. She groaned, and Lance snapped to attention.
“How are you, babe?” His eyes traveled over her, stopping on all the sore spots.
She smiled. “I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice giving lie to her statement. She sipped water from the straw Lance held to her lips. “Mmm, better, thanks. How long have I been asleep?”
“About four hours. By the time I got here, they’d treated all your cuts and bruises and given you a sedative. You’re not supposed to talk.”
“It’s all right to tell you I love you, though, right?” Marjorie saw his heart bleeding for her through his eyes.
“Right back at ya, babe.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
Her smile faltered. She straightened her ring finger. No ring on
number three. “Oh, no! My ring. It’s gone. If that God-damned rat-bastard took it, I’ll—” She began to cough again.
“Shh, shh. Language, Red.” Lance chuckled. “There’s the woman I know and love. Don’t worry about your ring, honey, I’ve got it right here. He fished in his shirt pocket and held it up. “The docs took it off in case your fingers swell too much from the, uh . . .” He made a circling gesture around her wrist.
Marjorie examined the bandages. “Wrists seem to be my weak point. I think in the future, I’ll wear cuff bracelets on them all the time.”
“In the future you won’t have to worry. About anything. Lenny-The-Louse is out of surgery, and handcuffed to his bed. The police have a nice cool cell waiting for him as soon as he’s well enough to be transferred.”
“And Bryan?”
Lance snorted. “I believe he’s been arrested in Oregon. Lenny gave him up first chance he got. This time all the pull in the world won’t get him a pass.” Lance leaned over and kissed her lips gently. “You’re free, Red. You can go back to being the real you.”
“Could you two stop being all kissy for a minute?” Zoe came to the other side of her bed and took Marjorie’s free hand. “I want to know everything.” She shot a dark glance at Lance. “But your fiancé has threatened me with bodily harm if I try to make you talk. So, for now, just get better, sweetie. I can wait to hear the whole story once you’re up and out of here.”
Marjorie smiled and squeezed Zoe’s hand.
“Now I have to go out, and let Amanda have her turn. The rules in here say only two visitors at a time, and she’s been in the waiting room all evening.”
Lance took the opportunity to kiss Marjorie again.
“How soon?”
“Until you get out of here?”
She nodded. They were getting good at finishing each other sentences.
Theirs by Chance Page 19
