“I know it’s crowded, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of some of this stuff. Most of it belonged to my mom or my dad.” Olivia climbed over a dusty trunk and knelt in front of a long box.
Reyn looked around at the accumulated piles of boxes and old clothes and noticed one wall where Broadway-style posters were propped or stacked, all framed neatly, some autographed. “Rigoletto…La Boheme,” he read. “Those are operas, right?”
Olivia stopped rifling through the box of papers and looked up at him. “Mmm-hmm, my mom was a big fan. She sang too. Beautifully. She could have sung professionally, if she’d wanted to, but—” She ducked her head, leaving her statement hanging.
“But what?” He stepped over the same dusty trunk and squatted beside her.
Olivia went back to shuffling through the box of papers as she explained. “She won the chance to audition at the Met. Her life’s dream. But…a week before she was supposed to go and sing in New York, she found out she was pregnant. With me. My mom and dad had wanted to start a family and had just settled in this house and…” She paused, sitting back on her heels, and glanced over at him. “Well, to make a long story short, she didn’t go to the Met. She chose to stay home. It was more important to her to be here, with my dad, with her pregnancy, starting her family.”
He scratched his chin and regarded Olivia’s solemn face. “Do you think she had any regrets? Later, I mean…for giving up her big opportunity?”
“She said she didn’t. She said her family was worth it. She always put us first, and she thrived on being a good wife and mother. She fulfilled her love of music by directing the church choir and singing at local events.”
A face flashed in Reyn’s mind. “Was she a tall lady? Long blonde hair?”
Olivia lifted a startled glance. “Yeah. How did you—?”
“I remember her. From church. I think she sang at my mom’s funeral.”
Olivia gave him a heartbreaking smile. “She probably did.”
The memory, the shared connection to the past, set an intimate mood that unsettled him. The dim light from the single bulb cast Olivia’s face in shadows, but the glimmer of tears in her eyes was unmistakable.
He understood her melancholy and ached to brush the dampness from her eyes. But he didn’t dare. He knew her skin would be as silky smooth as it looked, knew touching her face would make it harder to resist kissing her. He knew forming bonds with her, commiserating over shared losses was the last thing he needed if he wanted to protect her from future hurt. He needed to be able to walk away from her with a clear conscience when the time came.
No strings. No emotional ties. No risk of breaking her heart.
But, damn, her mouth was tempting. Her full, ripe lips curved slightly in a bittersweet smile. Desire pumped through him like water from a hydrant, knocking his breath from him with the force of spray from a fire hose.
He cleared his throat and pulled his attention back to the box in front of her. “Is this where you found your dad’s files?”
She blinked as if he’d pulled her out of deep thought as well. “Yeah. This area around here is all his stuff.” She indicated the floor around them with a sweep of her hand. “When he died, my mom just stuck his things up here without sorting anything. She couldn’t handle it. She was in shock, you know?”
He didn’t want to ask, but the question formed on his lips anyway. “How did he die?”
“Hunting accident. They said his gun misfired or went off when he dropped it or something. I was too young to be clear on the specifics, and Mom wouldn’t talk about it. Not even later when I was older. I just knew I didn’t have my daddy anymore.”
Reyn cursed under his breath. He knew how unbearably it had hurt to lose his mom. But Olivia had lost both her parents. He began forming a picture of the woman across from him, drawn from the bits of information he’d gleaned in the past couple days. In light of her losses, her mother’s choice of her family over her dream of singing opera, and her half-sister’s special needs, he understood Olivia’s fierce defense of her family, of Hank. He just hoped her family loyalty didn’t get her killed.
He saw her strong bond with Gram in a new light as well. Perhaps Olivia needed Gram as much as Gram needed the attentiveness of her thoughtful and caring neighbor.
Olivia thrived on family, just as her mother had. One more reason why he had to keep his distance from her. Family, commitment, a future were things he couldn’t give her. His track record spoke for itself, and he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Olivia the way he’d hurt his last girlfriend, Liz. The way he’d failed Gram and his mother.
They spent the next hour sifting through family pictures, news clippings and old case files. Nothing seemed to relate to his mother’s death, however, and Reyn’s frustration grew.
“Oh, well. Looks like the file I found is all there was. I’m ready to call it a night.” Olivia stood and stretched her arms behind her. As she did, her blouse pulled tight, calling attention to the swell of her breasts.
Arousal fired in his veins, and his skin, already sticky with sweat from the stuffy attic, prickled with the heat of his desire. It would be so easy to lay her across one of the beds of old clothes, unbutton her blouse and fill his hands with her creamy flesh. Just imagining his mouth on her skin, sucking a nipple between his teeth sent a rush of blood to his groin.
Slowly he raised his gaze from her breasts to her face and met her eyes. She seemed to realize the direction of his thoughts and self-consciously eased her arms down.
But the fire in her gold eyes told him she’d fulfill his imagined scene and anything else he wanted. He had no doubt she’d make love to him if he initiated it.
But he was just as certain she was the type of woman who gave her heart when she shared her body. He couldn’t let her involve her heart, her emotions, when he knew he had nothing to offer in return. Sex, plain sex with no promises attached, was one thing. But what were the chances Olivia would settle for sex for sex’s sake? Slim to none.
“Yeah, let’s call it a night.” When he stood as far as the low ceiling allowed, Reyn’s muscles protested having been cramped in the same position for the last hour. He made his way back to the ladder and waited for Olivia to turn off the light.
He took her hand as she found her footing on the ladder, and even that casual contact stirred crazy longings inside him. Her hand belonged in his. It fit. With stubborn determination he fought down the surge of possessiveness, the flare of protectiveness. He had no claim on her and couldn’t afford to forget that basic fact.
Olivia peeked in Katy’s room as they passed the little girl’s room, and the maternal gesture caused a strange ache in Reyn’s chest. Another reminder of what he had lost years ago, what he could never have again.
When they reached the front porch, he stared out at the dark lawn. Lightning bugs blinked, and the humid air hummed with all forms of gnats, mosquitoes and moths. A plethora of bugs was part of life in Louisiana.
Reyn fingered the coins in his pocket, restless energy vibrating through him. Frustration over their failure to find anything helpful in Olivia’s attic and sexual tension strung him tight. He sensed more than heard her move up behind him. He turned to her, and she stepped close.
“Good night, Reyn.” Olivia slid a hand over his cheek, letting her fingers linger on his chin. His already jangling nerves overloaded when she touched him.
Swallowing a moan, he moved out of her reach. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Any time.” She smiled and backed toward the door.
“Olivia.”
She stopped, tilting her head so that the porch light made her hair shine with a fiery sheen.
“Be careful.”
She nodded. “You too. See you in the morning.”
He waited until she turned out the porch light before making his way toward the edge of the woods. Even with a bright moon out, the woods were dark and shadowed. Like his thoughts. If Olivia’s father was right, Clairmont harbored a mur
derer. Someone who’d threatened to kill again to protect his secret. Reyn cut through the murky woods toward Gram’s house and swore to himself to find that someone before he had the chance to strike.
Chapter Six
As agreed, Reyn stopped by the house to drive Olivia to work, and while she washed the last of the breakfast dishes, Katy chattered to him, obviously excited about seeing her new friend again so soon. She asked a myriad of questions about Reyn’s job and the fire engines the department used. He answered Katy’s questions patiently, with good humor and, more importantly in Olivia’s opinion, he didn’t talk down to her sister.
“Do you slide down a big pole?” Katy asked, her eyes bright with enthusiasm for the real fireman. Olivia considered reminding her sister that Hank served as a volunteer fireman for the local department in addition to his regular job as a car mechanic, but she kept quiet. Katy’s hero-worship amused her.
Reyn gave Katy a crooked smile that made Olivia wonder if part of Katy’s fascination wasn’t simply a crush. Lord knows Reyn made her own pulse race.
“Well, the station where I work only has one floor, so we don’t need a pole.” He glanced at Katy and winked. “Sometimes I wish we had a pole, though. That’d be fun, don’t you think?”
Katy bobbed her head, her eyes bright.
Olivia smiled to herself, and warm satisfaction filled her chest, seeing the two get along so well.
Although she’d made sacrifices, such as delaying some of her classes in order to live at home with Katy, she never regretted the choices she’d made regarding her half-sister. Commuting to class was small potatoes compared with what her mother had willingly sacrificed for her family. Olivia would do no less. After cancer claimed their mother when Katy was a baby, Olivia had assumed the role of caregiver and never looked back.
When she finally pried Reyn away from her sister, they got on the road, headed toward the town. She gazed out the window at the central Louisiana countryside and sipped the mug of coffee she’d brought with her. Above the line of loblolly pine trees, Olivia noticed a small cloud of black smoke billowing into the air. She frowned.
“Dang it,” she grumbled quietly. “There’s a burning ban on. Why do people insist on burning their trash during a drought?”
“Come again?”
She pointed out the dark smoke. “Looks like someone’s burning leaves despite the parish-wide ban.”
Reyn ducked his head and leaned toward her to see the smoke out her side window. The crisp scent of soap and his freshly laundered shirt wafted to her, making her stomach do a little happy dance.
“That’s too much smoke to be someone burning trash. Something big’s on fire.”
Olivia sent him a querying look. “Like what?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.” He punched the accelerator, and the truck rocketed forward.
She grabbed the armrest and held on as they bumped along the cracked pavement and bounced over the narrow bridge crossing Clairmont Creek. The closer they came to the source of the smoke, the more a chilling suspicion took shape in her mind.
“Reyn,” she said quietly, almost afraid to voice her concern, not wanting to believe it could be true. “The smoke’s coming from the Russells’ farm.”
He didn’t answer, but his expression darkened. He inched their speed up another notch.
When they rounded the last turn, passing a copse of trees that had blocked their view, their fears were confirmed. Black smoke poured from the kitchen window of the Russells’ house. Hannah Russell, a cordless phone in her hand, ran down the driveway toward Reyn’s truck. The woman’s face reflected horror and panic.
Olivia opened her door and hopped out, even before Reyn had brought the truck to a full stop.
“I can’t find Sara!” Hannah sobbed, grabbing Olivia by the arms. “I thought she’d gotten out when the fire started, but now I can’t find her!”
“Have you reported the fire?” Reyn asked as he darted around the front of the truck to join them.
Hannah nodded, and her body shuddered. “I think she went back inside. I can’t find her anywhere!”
Reyn’s head snapped around, his gaze hard. “Who went back in?”
“My baby!” Hannah screeched, near hysterics.
Olivia pulled the woman into her arms. “Her name’s Sara, Reyn. She’s seven.”
“Which window is her bedroom?” Reyn’s tone was sharp and urgent.
Hannah pointed a shaky finger. “Second floor at the end. Oh God. Get her out!”
Jerking open the passenger’s door of his truck, Reyn dug under the front seat and pulled out a duffel bag. He unzipped the duffel and grabbed a small towel from what was presumably his gym bag, leaving the other contents spilled on the seat in his haste. Next he took a tire iron from the toolbox behind the cab.
“Wet this down.” He tossed the towel at Olivia and sprinted toward the house.
“You’re going in there?” Olivia asked, aghast. “But she’s called the fire department. They’ll have the right gear and—”
“And in the few minutes it takes them to get here the girl could die,” he barked over his shoulder, not slowing his pace. “I can’t wait for them.”
Her nerves jumping and adrenaline churning inside her, Olivia scanned the side of the house for a spigot. After soaking the towel, she hurried to find Reyn again and give it to him. Heat poured from the house, and smoke choked her. She could hardly imagine how bad it would be inside for Reyn. The sound of shattering glass greeted her as she came around to the front of the house in time to see Reyn swing the tire iron at the living room window.
“What are you doing?”
“Ventilating the house.” He swung again then moved to the next window, shattering it as well. “This will help clear out the smoke faster.”
Dropping the tire iron, he snatched the wet towel from her and pushed her back as he jogged toward the front door. “Get back to the truck. And make sure an ambulance is on the way.”
She stood rooted to the spot, a wave of terror washing through her. She watched him take the porch steps in one leap then feel the front door with the back of his hand. Stepping back, he kicked the door in, leaping out of the way as soon as it flew open. Thick, dark clouds billowed out, and Reyn dropped to his hands and knees. Holding the wet towel over his mouth and nose, he crawled inside. In seconds, he disappeared in the smoke and shimmering waves of heat.
Staggering back from the blast of fumes and hot air, Olivia could do nothing now but wait. And pray.
Reyn prayed his assessment of the fire was accurate. He judged that only the kitchen and living room were involved at that point, leaving the foyer and stairs toward the bedrooms clear. But by the time he found the girl and needed to get back out that could change. Probably would change. Already flames licked at the entrance to the living room a few feet away.
The heat was intense. Blistering. Hot enough to singe the hair on the back of his hand. The bite of burns stung his ears as he edged past the dancing flames. He squeezed his eyes closed, avoiding the irritating fumes from the smoke, and for just an instant he was ten years old again.
Come in if you dare, the demon fire crackled. He hesitated, remembering the numbing fear that had paralyzed him as a boy. The fear that had cost his mother her life.
Coward.
He pressed the damp towel over his mouth and nose. Groping along the wall to find his way, he blindly crept up the steps with only one hand free. When he opened his eyes a crack to check his progress, all he saw was black. Smoke made the interior of the house as dim as night, as black as tar. As dark as fear.
The flames taunted and jeered at him, writhing in a macabre dance that hypnotized him. Just like before.
Twenty years kaleidoscoped until the past and present blurred. He’d let his mother down. She’d needed him, and he wasn’t around. He’d been hiding in the woods. She’d needed him, and he’d been too scared to go inside the burning house to save her. She’d needed him, and he’d le
t her die.
Coward, the demon mocked again.
“No!” Never again. He’d never walk away, never let someone get hurt or die because of his cowardice again.
Adrenaline shot through him, firing his determination not to fail. Never again.
Despite the towel, smoke filled his lungs, choking him. The heat pounded him with wave after scorching wave. Still he inched his way to the top of the stairs then down the hall, listening, fumbling through the darkness. When he reached the last door, he heard a peep like a kitten mewing. He scrambled into the room, energized by hope.
“Sara!” The effort to talk reduced him to a fit of coughing. He crawled quickly to the outside wall and found the bedroom window. Standing long enough to open the window, Reyn poked his head out and gasped for a deep breath. The smoke filling the room rolled out the opening and cleared the air inside somewhat. No much, but every little bit counted.
Then he heard the whimper again and groped in front of him until he reached a bed. Lifting the edge of the dust ruffle, he peeked through the thick smoke under the bed.
Sure enough, a small girl lay curled in the fetal position, hugging a stuffed animal.
“I’m gonna get you out, Sara. You’re gonna be okay,” he said hoarsely and coughed again.
The girl didn’t respond.
Grabbing her ankle, he dragged the child’s limp body from under the bed. Reyn knew how quickly the deadly gases from a house fire could kill an adult. And Sara was half the size of an adult. He had to get her out quickly. Get himself out.
Draping the girl over his back, he crawled back toward the bedroom door. Impeded by the weight of the girl and the thickening smoke, he struggled down the hall. His lungs ached for air. His towel had lost most of its effectiveness as a filter, but he didn’t dare drop the only protection he had from the deadly smoke.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he gazed down to the first floor. His gut twisted. Just as he’d feared, fire blocked his escape through the front door.
Reyn's Redemption Page 9
