by Debra Webb
She cried out.
A hand clutched her forearm.
Halted her fall with a jerk.
Dangling in thin air, Jayne stared upward.
Heath's grip on her left arm was all that kept her from following her father's descent.
Her heart thundered in her throat, the ache of it swelling against her brain. If his grasp slipped…"God, don't let me fall."
Heath lay on his stomach flat against the ledge. He strained to grab on to Jayne with his left hand. If he could just get a hold of her with both hands he could pull her up.
"Please, Heath," she begged, "pull me up."
The panic hit him like a runaway train. Slammed into his gut. Paralyzed him. He'd been here before. His grip the only thing standing between the woman he loved and certain death.
The understanding in Jayne's eyes told him she knew what was happening. That he was helpless.
"You can do this, Heath. I know you can."
She swung her right hand up and snagged a handful of his parka sleeve.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn't move. If he moved a single muscle she would fall…he was certain, he'd done this before. He'd reached with his other hand and she had fallen.
A rush of weakness swept over him and he shuddered. Stephens had hit him in the side and in the thigh. He'd lost a lot of blood, wouldn't be able to hold out long. He couldn't save her.
"Reach for me, Heath," Jayne urged. "Reach with your left hand, too. Pull me up."
"You'll fall." Nausea churned in his gut.
"I trust you, Heath," Jayne whispered. "I know you can do this."
She hadn't listened…wouldn't reach up to him when he'd begged her to. That's why she'd fallen. God…that's why he hadn't been able to save her. Heath clenched his teeth hard, pushed past the fear and memories, reached toward Jayne with his left arm. His right arm trembled with the strain. He fastened onto her with both hands and pulled with all his might.
He howled with the pain and effort, his body trembling with the fatigue sucking at his ability to stay conscious. He didn't stop…didn't let go.
Suddenly she was up and over…falling onto the snow with him.
"Thank you." She gasped the words over and over.
He hugged her close, relief gushing through his veins. "If I'd lost you," he murmured against her cheek.
She drew back, touched his jaw. "You're not going to lose me."
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "You were right. I…" She let go a heavy breath, the ragged sound tearing at his heart. "I should have seen the truth before now."
Before he could respond, pain screamed through him on the heels of the receding adrenaline. "You're going…to—to be okay." He closed his eyes against the burn in his side. His leg had already gone numb.
She scrambled up and grabbed the radio clipped to her parka.
Heath closed his eyes and struggled to relax…to ignore the pain. In the background he heard her telling Snyder to send the Chinook but the sound kept fading and then coming back. He didn't want to pass out. She might need him. Stephens hadn't gotten here by him self. His buddies might show up.
"Heath." Jayne moved down next to him. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't manage. "Heath, help is on the way. I'm going to try and stop the bleeding. Stay with me, okay?"
He moved his lips but wasn't sure he actually spoke.
"Stay with me, Heath."
She sounded far away…in a tunnel or a cave.
"Heath…"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Heath gasped.
He opened his eyes. The room tilted, went blurry, then came back into focus.
White walls.
He moved his head slightly to the left—IV pole and bag.
Hospital.
Then Heath remembered. He had been shot. Stephens was dead.
"Jayne." His voice sounded rusty. His mouth and lips felt dry. He licked his lips and tried to sit up. A stab of pain sliced through him, forcing him back down. He groaned, his senses becoming suddenly aware of in tense pain radiating through his entire body.
"You're out of surgery and stable, Murphy."
He opened his eyes to find Cole Danes standing over him.
"Where's Jayne?" He licked his lips again.
"She's just outside the door. I have a few questions and then you can see her."
"Stephens is dead. What else do you want?" If Heath hadn't been in such extreme pain he would have climbed out of the bed and beat the hell out of the guy.
"Correct. His body was identified one hour ago. The Chinook from Fort Carson that brought you and Miss Stephens off that mountain encountered a civilian helicopter en route to your position. I'm assuming the two men inside were Stephens's cohorts."
Heath bit back a groan. He'd be damned if he'd let Danes see his agony. "That's probably right. He mentioned something about them picking him up. We think he stole a helicopter from a local."
"Yes, a Thurman McGill. The sheriff found his body shortly after you arrived at the hospital."
"I want to see Jayne now," Heath insisted, uncertain how long he could handle this level of pain without passing out. He balled his hands into fists and struggled with the urge to just let go and pass out. Damn. Was it supposed to be like this?
"I need to know exactly what Stephens said to you," Danes instructed. "Don't leave anything out."
A realization somehow skirted its way through the fog of pain. Heath focused his weary gaze on Danes. "I was right. Something about this was personal between you and Stephens."
"Answer the question, Murphy." Danes's intent expression never wavered. He had his agenda and nothing was going to stop him. "I know you're in pain. Don't waste energy pretending otherwise."
A hiss of pain slipped past Heath's tightly clenched teeth. "He knew it was you," he growled. "He…" Heath clenched his teeth again as a new wave of pain crashed through him.
"Tell me the rest, Murphy," Danes urged.
"He…" Heath swallowed as best he could. "He said you'd signed your own death warrant. That you wouldn't get away with it."
"Thank you, Murphy. You did well."
Heath clutched the bed rail with his free hand and lifted his head, defying the pain. "You risked too much, Danes," he accused. "Jayne could have been killed. How could you take that kind of chance?"
Danes paused at the door and looked back at him. "It was the only way."
He walked out without further explanation.
Heath collapsed, gasping to get air into his lungs.
When he got out of here he intended to tell Victoria just exactly what kind of man the Colby Agency had hired to conduct this internal affairs investigation.
If anyone could get this situation back under control, Victoria could.
"Heath?"
He knew an instant's relief at the sound of Jayne's voice. She rushed to his side and took his hand in hers.
"He wouldn't let me see you." Her eyes were red from crying.
For him, Heath thought, then he remembered she'd just lost her father.
"I'm sorry it had to happen this way, Jayne." She would hate him when the excitement had faded. When she'd had time to think. She would never want to see him again.
She squeezed his hand. "Let's not talk about that right now." She stared down at their hands a moment. "I'm still torn about my…about him." Her gaze settled back on Heath's. "I have to come to terms with that. It'll take time, I know." She smiled, but as sweet as it was, Heath saw the sadness just beneath the surface. "Right now all I'm worried about is you." She blinked uncertainly. "And us."
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, ignoring the pain vying for his attention once more. "We're good," he assured her. There was so much more he could tell her that might help her get over her father faster. Like the fact that he'd killed at least one other man she'd cared about in the past, but what would be the point? She'd heard and seen more than enough. He wouldn't add anything else.
She shr
ugged, then swiped at her eyes. "I'm not sure I could ever leave this place."
He reached up, gritting his teeth against the pain knifing through his side, down his leg, and touched her cheek. "You don't have to worry about that. I don't think I'm cut out for investigative work anymore. Maybe Walt can use another guide."
The hope that sprang to life in her eyes almost undid him completely. "You're sure you're up for this kind of life? I know being here has been especially hard on you. I know about what happened on the Moses Tower."
That was a part of Heath's past that he would never forget, but the past few days had taught him that he couldn't go back. Couldn't change anything. He was only human, had made a terrible mistake. He had to try and move past it. The past belonged exactly there, in the past.
"I'll work it out." He cupped her soft cheek. "We both will. Time is all we need."
She bent down and brushed her lips against his, giving him another moment's reprieve from the agony. "I care very much for you, Heath." She swept the hair back from his forehead. "I think I might be in love with you." Her lips trembled.
He smiled, his heart brimming with emotion. Thank God he wasn't in this alone. "Remember, I said you weren't going anywhere without me?"
"I remember."
"That's a promise I intend to keep."
* * *
COLE DANES STOPPED at the nurses' station a few steps from Murphy's room. The head nurse glared at him as she rose from her chair like a warrior ready to do battle. Though they'd clashed once already, she still took the time to take in the length of his hair and the earring with a blatant look of distaste.
"I assume I can administer Mr. Murphy's pain meds now," she snapped, her expression furious, her voice scathing.
"You may."
She pivoted on her heel and hurried to do her duty. He respected vigilance even when it was at odds with his own.
Cole turned to the elevators directly across the corridor and depressed the call button. There was no point in explaining to the good nurse that he'd needed Murphy alert to answer his questions. Had he had his way he would have questioned him before surgery but Jayne Stephens had won that battle.
Only because Cole had allowed it, however. Even he wasn't without a respectable amount of compassion.
The cell phone in his jacket pocket vibrated. He moved slightly away from the area of the nurses' station as he took the call. "Danes."
"I want an update on Heath," Victoria Colby-Camp demanded with as much decorum as one could expect after all she'd heard this Sunday morning.
"His condition is stable," Cole told her without bothering with small talk since she hadn't. Small talk, polite conversation, that wasn't his style in any event. "The surgeon expects a full recovery."
"Thank God." The enormous relief she felt echoed across the line as clearly as her words.
A beat of weighty silence filled the air.
"What happens now, Mr. Danes?"
Her question was just shy of curt. Cole smiled. She didn't like him. Understandable.
"Now I return to Chicago to finish this."
"You're certain you've made no mistake."
The hesitancy in her tone was no surprise.
"Ask Lucas. He'll tell you. I never make mistakes." He moved back to the elevator as the doors glided open.
"Trust me, Victoria, this investigation will be over soon and you will know why your most trusted employee betrayed you."
Cole dropped the cell back into his pocket and depressed the button for the lobby.
That was the thing about his line of work, he simply couldn't make it clear that there were no happy endings, only solved cases.
When he was finished there would be no more unanswered questions.
There would only be truth.
FULL EXPOSURE
This book is dedicated to a young man who is tall, dark and handsome—the epitome of a romance hero. The woman who captures him one day will be a very lucky lady indeed.
This one is for you, Robby, nephew extraordinaire.
Love, Aunt Deb.
CHAPTER ONE
Winnetka, Illinois, Monday, 10:15 a.m.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
The tip of the gun barrel bored into her skull. She shuddered at the harsh words. Dear God, please help me! Don't let him kill me until I know she's safe.
"I don't know what else you want from me." The words echoed hollowly from her throat. A defeated sob tore loose from her trembling lips before she could stop it. "I've done everything you asked."
"You're pathetic," the evil man hovering above her hissed. "The least you could have done was fight, but you just dropped to your knees like a spineless pup pet." He laughed, the sound cruel, mocking. "Don't you know it's people like you who make the few and strong like us so powerful?" The cold steel drilled harder into her head.
She didn't have to look up to know he stared down at her, the truth in his words glaring like a humiliating spotlight. He would kill her, she didn't doubt her fate for a single moment. And he was right, she was worse than pathetic…less than nothing. She closed her eyes and pictured her sweet baby in her mind. Who would take care of her now? There was no one else.
And it was entirely her own fault.
"Maybe…" the hateful voice offered slowly as the pressure on her skull lessened ever so slightly. "There might be one last use for you."
For the first time since she'd fallen to her knees, pleading for mercy, she looked up at him. "Any thing." She moistened her brutally dry lips. "I'll do anything. Just—" she swallowed hard "—just don't hurt her."
"You gave us a name." One side of the man's vile mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile. "We want him."
Dread expanded in her chest once more. "I don't know what else I can do." She'd done everything they had asked already. He'd promised to leave her alone. But the man who'd made that promise didn't appear to be in charge anymore. Another, even more evil man apparently had control. She couldn't trust this one. Though she'd never met him before today, somehow she knew with complete certainty.
This man would kill her.
She didn't even care anymore. If only he wouldn't hurt—
"Bring him to us," he ordered, a new kind of chill in his tone. "We want him to pay for what he has done."
Confusion spiraled into her already fragmented thoughts. "I—I'm not sure—"
"We want to teach him a lesson first, then he'll pay," he explained, an eerie look of anticipation in those icy gray eyes. "Yes." He nodded succinctly as if having weighed the merit of his suggestion he found it worthy.
"Perhaps if you did this for us, we could spare her."
A glint of faltering hope sent a new wave of emotion brimming against her lashes. "Please." She lifted her hands in supplication. "Please don't hurt her." She struggled to draw in an agonizing breath. "I want to help you. I swear I do, just don't—"
"You have forty-eight hours. I'll be in touch with specific instructions. Bring him to us or she dies."
Terror squeezed her heart. "Please." God, please don't let him do this… "How can I bring this man to you when I don't even know him? How am I sup posed to find him?"
The man wielding the ultimate power of life and death over her world snickered. "Don't worry, Cole Danes will find you."
CHAPTER TWO
Inside the Colby Agency, Monday, 10:30 a.m.
Cole Danes watched Lucas Camp enter the office of Victoria Colby-Camp, head of the Colby Agency. Cole had anticipated this meeting. He'd known when he turned in his final report that his conclusions would not sit well with his employers on this assignment.
No one liked the truth when it hit too close to home.
He'd been summoned to Victoria's office this morning, however, she had insisted on waiting for Lucas's arrival before starting the meeting. Cole hadn't argued. His findings were conclusive. Whether she wanted to believe him or not was strictly her decision. Lucas, however, would surely look upon th
e situation with a bit more objectivity. He, after all, had been the one to hire Cole. Lucas Camp would not second-guess Cole's work.
Lucas, his trademark limp scarcely noticeable to anyone unaware of his past, moved to the wing chair adjacent to Cole's and nodded once to his lovely wife as he sat down. He propped his distinctive cane against the chair and leaned back, his full attention settling onto Cole.
"Mr. Danes," Victoria began, her voice stern yet with an underlying fragility that Cole found intensely curious, "I have reviewed your report very thoroughly and I must say that your documentation of evidence is rock solid."
Cole inclined his head in agreement with her assessment. "I'm certain you expected nothing less."
He studied her during the moment of uncomfortable stillness that followed. Strong, capable. Victoria was both of those things. He knew from the dossier he'd compiled upon Lucas's request that he consider this assignment, that she had suffered greatly in her life, had every reason to falter, and yet she had not.
Until now.
The uncertainty—the utter vulnerability—he saw now surprised him. Had his findings somehow served as the final blow that would crumble her already heavily burdened emotional fortress?
"Having recognized that undeniable fact," she continued, surprising him once more with the sudden burst of strength in her tone, "I will, without reservation, stand behind this member of my staff in unconditional rejection of your charges."
Impatience trickled through Cole. His record was irrefutable. He never failed to complete an investigation and his findings were always infallible.
Her denial, he admitted, was not completely unexpected. Though strong and capable, Victoria Colby-Camp operated with one weakness that Cole had long ago conquered, human compassion. A crippling emotion at best.
She cared deeply for her agency and those she employed there. Too deeply, it seemed, to see the truth now.
"I understand your hesitation, Mrs.—"
"No you don't." She leaned forward, braced her arms on her polished mahogany desk. "I've spoken at length with Heath Murphy since his surgery barely thirty-six hours ago. Some of his accusations against you were corroborated by the medical staff at Aspen Valley Hospital. So don't pretend to understand how I feel, Mr. Danes. I'm of the opinion that feeling is something you're quite incapable of."
