The Best-Kept Secret

by Adrianne Lee

  “No. It’s handled.” She gave Tia a smile of appreciation. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Well, then, we’ll see you tonight.”

  Not wanting to pass the lab, Tia took the stairs to the third floor and hurried back to Mac’s office, more anxious to see him than ever. To her relief he was there. He looked awful. Like the loser in a war.

  The acid in her stomach doubled. “Was the problem mechanical?”

  He shook his head. “No. You were right.”

  She spotted a smear of lipstick on his crisp collar, and her throat constricted. She wanted to rush to him, to brush it away, as she couldn’t brush away the pictures filling her head, twisting her heart. “Are you…okay?”

  “Better than Gwen.” His eyes glazed over like a soldier looking inward, seeing some internal horror. “She’s not too pleased about ‘my’ refusal to break up with you until after the toy is launched. She threatened and cajoled and—”

  He broke off, the tips of his ears pink. “I’m not sure if she believes my lie.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’d think by now I’d be getting better at it. It feels like my whole life is one big fabrication.”

  Tia bit back the sympathetic smile that sprang to her lips. “I don’t think it’s an art you want to develop.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. The warmth issuing from his eyes reached inside her and chased the chill from every corner of her being. She felt her blood heating. Felt the dangerous sizzle of attraction that existed between them sparking with new life.

  His eyes darkened. Did he feel it, too? “Where were you?”

  She ran her tongue across her lips, stemming the tide of unbidden feelings his very glance aroused. She explained her findings among the phone records and what she’d discovered on the second floor.

  He blew out a huge breath. “Well, this is getting us nowhere fast.”

  “Maybe you should question Suzanne. I swear she was as nervous as a cat about something. Her face went bright red when I told her there were no phone calls to Mexico. Something isn’t right about that, Mac.”

  The fine lines of worry around his eyes deepened. His wonderful mouth tensed. The stress of this launch weighed heavy on him. And Tia feared the deceptions ran deeper than either of them suspected.

  “Come on, then.” Mac gestured for her to join him. “I want to talk to Fred about that warehouse shipment, anyway.”

  Before they reached the door, the interoffice phone rang. Mac hurried to it. “Yeah?”

  His face drained of all color. He cursed.

  Tia lurched toward him, her stomach dropping like an axed tree. “What—?”

  He waved her off, disconnected the caller, then immediately poked a series of buttons on the phone. A second later his voice rang through the intercom system. “Everybody. There’s a fire on the first floor. This is not a drill! Stay calm and get out of the building! Now!”

  He dialed 911. Shouted for a fire truck, then grabbed Tia and herded her into the hall.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Mac, wait!” Tia wrenched from his grasp. Her eyes were wild with shock. “The phone records—we might need them.”

  He frowned, reaching for her again. Anxiety clawed his gut. They were running out of time. “I thought you had them.”

  “No.” She started back toward the office door. “I left them on the worktable.”

  “Well, they weren’t there when I returned.” He caught her hand and pulled insistently. “Forget them. We need to leave. Now.”

  “Yes, of course.” She shook her head as though trying to clear it. She quit fighting him.

  But he could still see panic in her eyes.

  She gulped as though choking. “You said the fire is on the first floor. How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Stewy hadn’t said. There hadn’t been time. “I’ll worry about that once everyone’s safely outside.”

  They hurried past Nancy’s office. The door stood wide open. Mac glanced in, relieved to see no one was inside. Will’s studio was also vacated. The new artwork stood vulnerable to this latest attack by

  Grant’s killer. It hadn’t been ready to mail yesterday. Would it be destroyed by the fire raging on the first floor? As the morning’s output of bears was now being destroyed?

  His body flushed, but Mac shoved the thought away and rushed Tia into the stairwell. It reverberated with the slap of descending footfalls and anxious voices, but was fortunately free of smoke.

  A woman’s sobs skipped up to them. Below, Mac spotted Nancy and Will. Nancy was stumbling down the steps as though her legs were made of rubber. Will struggled to keep her erect, moving, clasping her arm and urging her forward. He was stronger than he appeared. His high-pitched voice cut through her terrified wails. “Nan, could you step it up?”

  Mac and Tia took Will’s advice, clambering down the steps, quickly catching up to them. The second-floor crew jammed the stairwell ahead. All six were still dressed in the sterile lab suits. Clutching Tia’s hand tightly, Mac hauled her past Will and Nancy. He craned his neck, searching over the tops of the lab workers, seeking Gwen. The staircase curved, making it impossible to see to the bottom landing.

  Tia felt as though she were being tugged along like a toddler’s pull toy. With every downward step, her terror escalated. Her mind screamed for her to run. But her legs felt leaden, uncontrolled by her brain. Was the fire just beyond the last door? Would they be trapped, forced to retreat to the higher floors? She’d never wanted out of a building more than she wanted out of this one now. If she could climb over the crush of bodies between Mac and the exit, she would.

  The realization shamed her. Shocked her back from the edge of hysteria. Calm down, she chanted to herself. But despite her best effort, her pulse careered out of control, and her hand was slick inside Mac’s. She’d escaped being burned to death last night. She might not be that lucky today.

  As though he’d read her thoughts, Mac gave her hand a squeeze. And she thanked God he was here with her. At least she wasn’t facing this alone.

  “Gwen!” Mac shouted over the heads of lab workers.

  “I’m here, Grant!” They couldn’t see her, but the tenderness in her voice rang through the crowded stairwell. She sounded as though she’d forgive “Grant” in a heartbeat. Despite the terror of the situation, Tia felt a pang of jealousy.

  He answered, “Are you sure there’s no one left on the second floor?”

  “I have all my people and no one was in the lunchroom!”

  The lab workers moved farther down the steps.

  “Bijou?” Mac asked, pushing closer to the exit.

  “I didn’t see her!” Gwen hollered. “Her office was empty!”

  “She said something about cutting out early to attend to some last-minute details for the party tonight,” Will said.

  Nancy’s pretty face was streaked with mascara and her eyes were too wide. She’d stopped sobbing, but was trembling so hard Will’s golden hair shivered.

  “Grant!” Gwen shouted again. But Mac could see her now as the dozen of them jammed near the bottom landing. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed with anxiety. Her keen blue eyes behind the glasses were narrowed in fear. “Smoke’s seeping in beneath this door.”

  Gasps ran through the crowd, and Nancy wept anew.

  Terror raked cold fingers of fear through Mac. “Don’t open it!”

  “Well, we can’t just stand here.” She spun toward the door, reached out and gingerly felt it. “The surface is cold. The knob is cold. I’m going to open it.”

  Everyone seemed to suck in air at once. The silence in the stairwell was thick enough to slice. Tia heard the roar of her pulse in her ears. But above it, the click of the disengaging door mechanisms sounded like a rifle shot. Gwen swung the door open.

  Ugly black smoke raced inside, setting off the detectors in the ceiling overhead. Over the nerve-jarring bleats, Mac hollered, “Get down, everyone! On your knees. And turn to the right the second you’re over
the threshold and follow the wall to the outside door!”

  As quickly as space allowed, people fell to all fours and began crawling with the speed of a centipede. Tia felt Mac behind her, but feared she’d lose him in the dense smoke. She could see nothing. Could only hear people coughing. She felt as though she were being sucked forward like snow sliding off a sun-warmed cabin roof.

  Why weren’t they going faster? The acrid stench stung her nostrils. And no matter how low she ducked her head, she couldn’t elude the stinging mist that bit at her eyes. She held her breath. Her lungs burned, pleading for one gulp of fresh oxygen. But she didn’t exhale or inhale until they were outside in the crisp December air.

  Then she gulped in several deep breaths. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Or felt so delicious. Except for Mac’s arms snaking around her now, pulling her tight and snug into the safe harbor of his embrace. Except his whispered, “We made it, love.”

  She hugged him back, melting in the security and contentment that being held by Mac gave her. She wanted to shout with joy, but was too overcome. Her nerves shivered, then steadied. She was alive. Mac was alive. Life was far from perfect, yet at that moment nothing seem insurmountable.

  But reality shattered the moment as their awareness of others intruded. Several people were coughing, wiping at their eyes, moving rapidly away from the building. White lab suits were soot-streaked. Tainted. The smoke rolling from the building was quickly turning the sweet air acrid. Bitter.

  Mac seemed not to notice. He had released her and was counting heads, making sure his employees had made it out alive. People first. Things later. Tia’s heart swelled with love. How could twins, so alike on many levels, grow up to have such opposite values? With Grant, it was things first, people second. Mac held his brother in high esteem, but Grant couldn’t touch Mac in a single way that counted with her. Grant was the one who couldn’t fill his brother’s shoes.

  In the distance she heard the unmistakable shriek of fire engines and ambulances approaching. The sound galvanized Mac. He took off, running around the building to the shipping docks. Tia followed, then hung back. Smoke was rolling from the open bays. Suzanne Chang and her staff, along with the daytime security guard, milled outside, watching in horror. Only Stewy seemed to be trying to put the fire out. In the midst of the blaze, he was spraying frantically with a large fire extinguisher. Mac scrambled up the steps and into an open dock, found another extinguisher and began helping.

  Within seconds the firefighters arrived. They ordered Stewy and Mac outside and soon had the fire out. Paramedics worked diligently, checking Coy Toys employees for smoke inhalation, treating them for irritated eyes, treating the minor burn Stewy had gotten on his leg in his efforts to douse the flames.

  Mac stood to one side, looking stricken, as though his whole world were a burned-out, watered-down mess like the pile of ruined boxes. Tia’s heart ached for him. The day’s output of bears would be as sooty as Santa’s boots. Even if they could get back into production by morning, they’d lost product and time.

  This was a staggering blow to the launch. The point of sending the whole shipment out on Friday was that it would arrive in stores across the country this weekend and be put on sale everywhere by the following Wednesday, the date promised in all the campaign ads.

  It hadn’t cost them the launch, but it meant making adjustments in the shipments. It meant angering longtime customers. Blackening Mac’s hard-earned reputation. She supposed his customers would understand, under the circumstances. But that wouldn’t make Mac feel any better. She edged closer to him and slipped her arm through his.

  He curled his hand over hers, his mouth easing as he gazed down at her. But there was such incredible pain in his eyes.

  “Don’t look so worried, boss man,” Stewy said. “It was only the empty boxes that burned.”

  Mac nodded, knowing he should be grateful. Tia was with him. Safe and sound. None of his employees had suffered serious injury. The fire chief had just assured him there was no structural damage to the building; the fire had been contained to the boxes.

  A slight breeze blew through the open bays, chasing out the lingering wisps of smoke. As soon as the fumes lessened, it would be safe to go back inside. A cleaning crew could make short work of the soot.

  All this should have cheered him, but he felt defeated. Frustrated. Anger, that alien emotion, churned like a tornado inside him. “I know, Stewy, but this morning’s output of bears is lost”

  “Yeah.” Stewy sighed, shaking his head wearily, his gaze on his wounded leg. A second later he jerked his head up as though he’d been slapped. His eyes were wide and he pointed to the parking lot. “No. No, they’re not, dude. We got both trucks loaded for the warehouse. All the bears are out there. The new arrivals won’t be here until this afternoon.”

  Mac gaped at Stewy. What had he said? The bears were not in the building? He struggled to pull in a breath. His lungs resisted. He felt more stunned than ever at this stroke of good luck. “Are you saying…nothing was actually damaged?”

  “That’s right. Might have been if Fred and I had already left for the warehouse and the fire’d gone undetected. But Fred told me to wait in the truck while he saw a man about a horse, you know?” Stewy glanced at Tia and looked embarrassed. “He was gone forever. So I came looking to see if he’d keeled over in the john. Dude eats way too many Twinkies. Anyway, that’s when I noticed there was smoke everywhere. I buzzed the security guy. He bopped after the Chang gang. Hustled ‘em the hell out of there. I called you and started with the extinguisher.”

  The fire trucks pulled out of the parking lot. Mac glanced around. The Medic One van stood to one side. A woman in a blue uniform was speaking to one of “the Chang gang.” But not Fred. He tightened his grip on Tia and glanced at Suzanne, found the guard and Gwen and Will and Nancy. A frown twisted his brows. He scrutinized the group of milling employees behind Tia. Dismay grew inside him. “Where is Fred?”

  Stewy shrugged, repeated the quick scan of the crowd Mac had just done. His own eyes widened. He swore. “You think he’s still in the john?”

  Mac released Tia. Stewy and he sprinted for the open bay and scrambled into the building. They arrived in the washroom together. “Fred!” Mac shoved inside. Smoke hazed the room, clawed at his eyes. He peered into the single stall. “He’s not here. Try the women’s washroom.”

  Stewy darted out. Mac met him as he exited the men’s.

  “He wasn’t in there, either.”

  “What the hell…?” Mac’s gut boiled with worry. And suspicion. Had Fred set this fire and then disappeared? No. That was ludicrous. He’d have left with Stewy, taken the trucks to the warehouse. Let the whole plant go up in flames. Then where was he?

  Tia had followed them. Her eyes were round with anxiety. “Did you find him?”

  “No.” Mac’s nerves ticked. He opened the elevator. It was empty. “We’d better check his desk and Suzanne’s office.”

  The three of them headed back toward the shipping area. As they passed the pile of charred boxes, Mac heard a noise. He froze. Caught Tia by the arm. “What was that?”

  Stewy stopped, too. He shook his head. “I didn’t hear nothing, dude.”

  Tia shook her head, too.

  Mac gestured them both to silence, then strained to hear another sound. The moan came again. Soft. Almost inaudible. “Over there.” He spun toward a mound of blackened, water-damaged cardboard. With the speed of his accelerating pulse, he knocked the top layer aside. On the cold concrete floor lay a hand. Mac grabbed another layer of wet cardboard and heaved it aside. “Get a medic in here.”

  Tia raced off.

  Stewy stood to one side watching Mac in horror. So quick at leaping into action when he’d discovered the fire, he now seemed as incompetent as a statue. “I-is it Fred?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is…is he…alive?”

  Mac recalled the low groan, but he didn’t like the color of Fred’s skin. Before he could answer
Stewy, however, Tia and the paramedic, a young woman, arrived. Mac pulled Stewy out of the way. He could feel the young man’s shoulders trembling. He knew exactly how Stewy felt. His own insides were mush.

  If not for Tia stepping to his side, making him vitally aware of her presence and support, he might drop to the floor and buckle under the heartache ripping at his soul, at his spirit. But she was a constant reminder of what he’d already lost to their nemesis. Giving up was not an option.

  The medic was quick and efficient. She checked Fred’s airway and breathing, then his vital signs. Her partner arrived with a wheeled stretcher. Together they stabilized Fred. Mac, Tia and Stewy watched like a small audience at a slow-motion movie.

  The silence was too much for Mac. “Is he burned?”

  The medics lifted Fred onto the stretcher. The woman said, “Doesn’t appear to be.”

  “What happened to him?” Mac felt cold inside and out. “Why is he unconscious?”

  She clamped a securing strap across Fred’s chest. “Can’t say. Could be smoke inhalation. Could be the lump on his head. They’ll run tests at the hospital.”

  Minutes later Fred was in the ambulance. The siren cried through the early afternoon, rushing him to Valley General. Mac’s nerves felt raw. His nostrils stung with the stench of smoke. He wanted to hit something again and again and again, until the anger inside him dissipated.

  “Should one of us go to the hospital with Fred?” Stewy asked.

  “No.” Mac couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “We can’t do anything for Fred but pray. We have business that needs taking care of right here.”

  “You want me to shovel these ruined boxes outside?” Stewy rubbed his hands together anxiously. He seemed to need some way to release his pent-up worry. Maybe giving him a few new responsibilities would help.