Chapter 23
Pulling the last detonator out of the bomb on the second floor, Heather ran behind a pile of lumber checking if there was anything back there. Nothing. Hopefully she’d gotten them all.
Sound on the stairs told her Scott was probably on his way down. Good, maybe they’d have something left of this building after all. Once outside though, she didn’t see him. Where the hell had he gotten to? Had he run off to find a phone?
Glancing around, her heart beat loudly in her chest. He hadn’t gone back inside, had he?
“What happened?”
Heather whipped around to see Jian and a few of his men walking down the sidewalk toward her. “What are you doing here at this time?’
“Got word of something happening here. My men say it sounded like a small explosion. Holland charged me with keeping this place safe.”
“We were locked in the sub-basement by the guy who’s been sabotaging everything. He planted bombs all over, but I think we got most of them. I don’t know where Scott is. I thought he came out.”
Turning back to the building, she said, “I’m going back in to check.”
Jian grabbed her arm but she pulled away. She had to find Scott. If they hadn’t gotten all the bombs…
The windows above them shattered as a loud boom echoed through the early morning sky. Jian pulled her close to the building as shards of glass sprinkled down.
“Call nine-one-one and get them here,” she yelled, jerking out of Jian’s hands. No time to waste. If Scott had still been inside—she didn’t even want to think of what might have happened.
The stairs behind her groaned as Jian followed her up.
“You should let one of us check this out first. There could be fire or more explosions. Holland will have my ass if you get hurt.”
Not if he was already hurt. “The bombs were all set to go off at the same time. There shouldn’t be anymore.”
Her lungs burned as she raced up flight after flight. Rounding the top of the stairs, she cautiously approached the doorway. Windows and part of the roof had blown out or caved in. A small fire burned near the wall. Debris littered the floor, an arm sticking out from under one large pile.
“Scott.” Her cries bounced around the room as she sprinted over to him. She pushed aside the broken timber and reached for his neck.
“Please be alive. Please.” A deep sigh escaped as blood pulsed through his veins. Weakly, but there.
“Jian, he needs help. Now.” Her voice trembled in fear and panic.
The gang leader and a few of his men were kicking aside the burning timbers trying to put them out. “We already called.”
Not daring to move Scott, she simply hovered over him, caressing his face and whispering to him. “You need to be okay. Do you hear me? I promised you all sorts of things and I don’t renege on stuff like that.” She touched the cuts on his face, then kissed his cheek. “And you promised me you’d fight. Don’t you break that promise.”
God, how badly was he hurt? Just knocked out like they’d been after her house exploded? Or was it worse? Was she worrying for nothing and he’d wake up in a minute to say something snarky? Please, let it be that.
Sirens in the distance got louder, but she only looked at Jian, who nodded and sent one of his men to bring them up.
“Help is here. You’ll be fine,” she sobbed, anxious that Scott hadn’t woken yet or even stirred. Why hadn’t he woken up?
When the paramedics arrived, they tried to push her aside, asking if she was injured.
“I was outside when it exploded. He’s fine, right?”
“Let us do our job and we’ll know more in a few minutes.”
Jian helped her up then led her toward two officers who tried to herd her downstairs.
“No, I’m not leaving him.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood her ground, her eyes never leaving Scott. He still hadn’t come to.
As the cops asked her questions and she filled them in on Stokinger and his connection to Victor Cabrini, she carefully watched what was happening with the paramedics. They’d started an IV and were strapping Scott onto a backboard.
“Are they involved with the judge?” one cop asked, indicating Jian and his men who stood on the perimeter of the large space.
Shaking her head, she said, “They keep an eye on this place for us. They’re here because of the earlier explosion when we got out of the sub-basement.”
The dubious expression made her want to defend the street gang members, but the paramedics lifted Scott up and began to leave. No way they were going without her.
Trotting down the stairs after them, she remembered her first time here when she’d tripped. Scott had picked her up and carried her. Made some silly comments and set her on fire with his touch. Now he was covered in blood and unconscious.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked as they loaded him into the ambulance.
“We’ll know more when we get to the hospital.”
They started to close the door but she shook her head, desperate. “I need to go with him.”
“Not in here,” the paramedic answered. “If you don’t have a ride, I’m sure one of the officers would be happy to drive you.” He indicated the officer who had followed her down. The door closed and the vehicle took off, sirens blaring.
Go, yes, she had to go too. Her car was around here some place. Where the hell had she parked? Her mind was muddled and tears slipped down her face. She had to stay with Scott.
“Would you like a ride?” Jian said, taking her elbow and escorting her away from the building.
A ride, yes, she needed a ride. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything more than that. Jian steered her toward an SUV and helped her get in. Why wasn’t she able to function? She needed Scott.
“Is there anyone you should call? Holland’s family?”
“Call? Yes, um, I should call Jack. That’s his cousin.” Looking around, she patted the seat next to her. “I don’t have a phone.” She knew that. Why was it such a surprise? God, she needed to get a grip.
“Use mine.”
Taking the cell phone he handed her, she stared at it for a minute. Jack. Yes, she needed to call Jack. What the hell was Jack’s number? Callie’s house. She remembered that number. Her fingers moved automatically over the screen, and then she waited for the phone to connect.
“Hello?” Jack’s deep voice sounded cautious. It was an unfamiliar number. And it was close to five in the morning.
“Jack, it’s Heather.”
“What’s wrong and where have you been? Scott missed an appointment yesterday afternoon and Callie tried to call you all day.”
“I’m on my way to the hospital.”
“How bad are you hurt? Where’s Scott?”
“I’m fine.” Her tears made her a liar. “It’s a long story but we found out who’s been sabotaging the mill. There was an explosion…and Scott…he’s in an ambulance, but he hasn’t woken up yet and he was covered in blood. I’ve got someone driving me there. I thought you should know.”
Jack confirmed which hospital and said he’d meet her there. Good, she’d need some support. Eventually, though it seemed like time had stood still, they arrived. Jian walked her in then went off to find her some coffee while she spoke to the people at the desk.
“The ambulance just brought my fiancé in. I need to know how he is. They wouldn’t tell me anything.” So she lied and they weren’t engaged. But no way were they keeping her from Scott due to a technicality. She’d had that happen when Jonathan was hospitalized last year.
The woman at the desk took Scott’s name and told her to sit while she got the information. Wandering to a vacant chair, she sat and pulled her knees to her chest. He had to be all right. Had to be. He’d said he loved her and then…boom. There hadn’t been time to say it back. But she did love him. Had for some time. It’s why she’d been so afraid of him after their night in Vermont. He’d brought out too many deep feelings in her. Stupid fear. She could be independent and still be in love. They weren’t mutually exclusive.
“Thought you could use this.” Jian appeared in front of her and the scent of coffee filled her nose.
“You are a god. Thank you. And for bringing me here. And all you’ve done to help Scott. I know he’d appreciate it.”
“No worries. Holland will be fine. He’s made of strong stuff.”
Yeah, she had to believe that. Jian sat next to her, silent but supportive as she pulled herself together and attempted to stop the flood of tears that insisted on falling. When she thought she had herself under control, Jack and Callie flew in, Callie scooping her close for a hug. Or as close as Callie could get in her condition.
“How is he?” Jack all but demanded.
The flood started again. “I don’t know. No one’s told me anything yet.”
“I’ll go get some answers.” Callie sat next to her as Jack stormed off.
Jian stood, then bowed low. “You have family now. Here’s my number if you need me.” Handing her a card, he bowed again then left.
She was about to tell him she had his number in her phone, but then remembered Stokinger had taken it. Reaching for her hand, Callie moved closer and kissed her cheek.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
That was Callie. Always a good friend and supportive, but never overbearing. No wonder Jack loved her so much.
“Where’s Jonathan?”
“Believe it or not,” Callie said with a grin, “your sister came over to stay with him. He wasn’t awake yet.”
“Charlotte was up this early? My sister, Charlotte?”
“She was up once I called her. And she wants to know what’s going on as soon as we know anything. She was worried when you didn’t come home last night. She admitted she hoped it was because you were with Scott.”
“I was.” Her lip trembled and she bit it to keep it steady. “But we weren’t doing what she thinks we were.” Telling Callie about Stokinger and what had happened helped build her strength and keep her mind off the lack of information on Scott. Finally, Jack strode across the room, purpose in his step.
“They’re prepping him for surgery. He’s got some internal bleeding that needs to be stopped. They said there’s a separate waiting room for that. Come on.”
Helping Callie up first, Jack then held his hand out for her. She fell against him and his arms enveloped her. “He’s tough. He’ll make it, Heather.”
She couldn’t do more than nod as she followed him to the new waiting room. It was smaller and more comfortable than the big Emergency Room. One and only one other person sat there reading a book.
“Did they say how long it would take? What his chances were? Is he really going to be fine, or is he on the verge of death? I need to know so I can prepare myself.” She glanced at Callie. “You know how I like things planned and organized.”
Jack slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Oh, so not good. He was preparing her for the “Scott’s about to die” speech. She didn’t want that one. She wanted the “it’s just a routine procedure and won’t take long at all” speech.
“The doctor said he wouldn’t know until they got inside and took a look. He’s got a few possible fractures and a concussion. But he’s young and healthy and there isn’t any reason he shouldn’t pull through.”
“You’re quoting directly from the doctor, aren’t you? Sounds too practiced.”
“I’m not all that good with words. I need to borrow them occasionally.”
They sat in companionable silence and she rested her head against the back of the chair, closing her eyes, but refusing to sleep. She needed to stay alert for when Scott came out of surgery.
The sound of deep voices woke her. Had she fallen asleep? How could she do that with Scott under the knife?
“Did Stokinger confess once they arrested him?” Jack was asking Drew. When had Drew gotten here? Glancing at the clock, she saw it was after eight. Damn, she’d been tired.
“You got the judge?” she questioned, her nerves shot to hell. That man could not be allowed to roam free. Not after what he’d done to them. Drew moved to sit next to her. Callie had disappeared.
“They picked him up in Florida about an hour ago. How are you feeling? That was quite an experience you had.”
Ignoring his question, she faced Jack. “Any news on Scott?”
His negative shake had her curling in on herself, resting her head on her knees. Let them think she was still tired.
Drew patted her shoulder, then spoke to Jack. “Stokinger lawyered up once they got him. I still can’t believe what he did. He was a good friend of my dad’s.”
“He pretended to help Scott so he could save his own skin.”
“The bodies are being autopsied and they should have dental records to identify them soon.”
“They didn’t all explode? I definitely had a few skeleton parts fly on me when the bomb detonated.” Shivering, she tried to get her mind off that gruesome detail.
“Most of the skulls were still intact.”
“You must be starving, sweetie,” Callie said, walking in with a bag in her hands and a tray of coffee. “I would have gotten you something as soon as we got here but you nodded off. I figured sleep was more important than food at that point.”
Drew got up to make room for Callie and he and Jack drifted off to the other corner of the room. She wanted to know what they were discussing, but for the moment her stomach took precedence over her curiosity. It had been more than a day since she’d eaten.
“It’s only bagels and an egg sandwich. You choose first and I’ll take whatever you don’t.” Callie tipped her head to the side. “Unless you want them all. I can send Jack to get more.”
The egg sandwich had more protein. She grabbed that and practically inhaled it. Between sips of coffee and bites of the egg and ham combination, she told her friend more details about what had happened while they’d been encased in the chamber.
“It’s very Edgar Allan Poe and ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’ Remember we read that story in high school?”
Heather laughed. “Yeah, and I remember Kayla Reems saying she was going to do the same thing to Mr. Peabody.”
A scrub covered man entered the room, stopping them in their memories. Jack turned swiftly and Heather jumped up, heading over.
“Mr. Holland.”
Jack shook the man’s hand. “Scott?”
At Heather and Callie’s presence, the doctor introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Ruiz, the surgeon who worked on Mr. Holland. We managed to get the bleeding stopped but he had quite a bit of damage we had to fix. A ruptured spleen and a small puncture wound to his left lung were the worst.”
“He’ll be okay, though?” Heather needed to know.
“It’ll be touch and go for the next few days. We’ll keep him in the ICU so he’ll be under constant care. But barring any unforeseen circumstances, in time, he should make a full recovery. We got to him fast enough and managed to do an arterial embolization. As long as there aren’t complications with that, he should be fine.”
“I’m not even going to ask what that is.” Heather blinked a few times. “Can we see him?”
“He’s still in recovery, but he’ll be in ICU in about a half hour. It’s only family and no more than two people at a time. He needs rest more than anything. Get something to eat and then you can head up.”
As the doctor walked away Heather sank into one of the chairs. Jack settled beside her.
“Only family.” Tears filled her eyes again. Damn, when would these stupid things stop?
Pulling her close to his shoulder he said, “You are family. His fiancé, according to the nurse at the desk.”
Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him. If only that were true.
* * * *
Dull pain throbbed through Scott as he attempted to open his eyes. He’d been trying for some time. At least he thought it was a long time. He felt like he’d been drugged, or had a few too many shots. It had been college since he’d done any heavy drinking. Well, a few times when he’d first gotten home from Afghanistan, but not recently.
Medicinal smells set him on alert and he pushed his eyes open harder. Beeps from machines. Machines that seemed to be attached to him. An oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, IV jammed into his arm, and sticky things pulling at his chest hair. Definitely a hospital. Why was he here?
His foggy memory drifted back and it all fell into place. The mill. Being trapped in with the coffins. The explosion. Heather.
Struggling to sit up, he grunted at the pain in his abdomen. What the fuck had happened to him? Last he remembered they’d gotten out and were disarming the C-4. He hadn’t gotten to one in time. But what had happened to Heather? Shit, he needed to know.
A nurse walked in, frowning when she saw him trying to sit up.
“Mr. Holland, you need to lie back down. You could reinjure yourself. You don’t want to end up in surgery again, do you?”
He’d had surgery? Not important now. He needed to know.
“Heather.” He slipped the mask off and grabbed the woman’s arm, holding as tight as he could. Damn, he felt ridiculously weak. “What happened to Heather?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any information on anyone named Heather. This is the Intensive Care Unit. She might have been sent to a regular floor.”
“Has anyone been to see me? My cousin, Jack?” Jack was his emergency contact person and was listed in his wallet.
“I came on shift at three. The only person I saw was a tall, dark-haired man. Kind of intense.”
“Jack.” What about Heather? Had she gotten out of the building in time? Had she been near another bomb that had gone off? Closer than him. Close enough to—no, he couldn’t think that way. But he needed to know.
“Can I get a phone? I need to find out what happened to the woman I was with. Please.” He sounded desperate, but hell, he was desperate.
“I’ll see what I can—oh, maybe this friend can help you.”
When the nurse stepped aside, the air gushed out of his lungs. Heather stood there, her face beaming, eyes brimming with moisture. Relief, intense and strong, hit him, and he closed his eyes trying to catch his breath.
“Heather.”
“I guess you have your answer,” the nurse said as she left the room. “Try to keep him calm.”
“I’ll do my best.” Walking over to the bed, she took his hand then bent over to kiss his forehead. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared…I didn’t know if you were alive or…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
“Alive. And so are you. It’s taken you a while to wake up though. I was worried sick.” Her lower lip trembled so he pulled her closer until she rested on the edge of the mattress.
Squeezing her hand, he shut his eyes as he felt actual tears leak out of the corner. She was alive and so was he. They’d managed to escape from an almost impossible situation.
“I had surgery?” Now he was curious. Exactly how bad off was he? He felt like crap.
Nodding her head, Heather said, “Yes. Ruptured spleen and some other internal bleeding shit. You’ve got a few broken bones and another concussion. You’re kind of a mess.”
“Sorry.”
“But you’ll be good as new soon enough.” The tears in her eyes and the anxious expression on her face made him believe otherwise.
“You’re crying,” he accused. “So you’re upset about something. Did I make you miss a hair appointment?”
An unladylike snort erupted from her mouth, but he’d gotten the distraught expression off her face. Looking at her now, her hair was kind of a mess. Limp and tangled. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“How are you feeling? Did you get injured, aside from the knock on your head from Stokinger?”
“No, and I’ve eaten now, so I’m not as grouchy either.”
“Food, yeah, that would be nice.” When he took stock of his stomach and the nausea that resided, he thought he might wait.
Heather leaned down and rested her elbows on either side of him, her face so close he could almost kiss her.
“The cops were amazed at how we managed to get out. Said it would make a great book.”
“A book, huh? Are you getting into writing now?”
“No, we can hire someone to write it for us. Perhaps even get some movie rights.”
Her expression was much better now. The inane chatter had brought her back to the beauty he loved.
“Who would they get to play you?”
Her eyes lit up and roamed the room in thought. “Not sure. Someone totally hot, of course.”
“No one’s as hot as you, princess. Especially not with your infamous gymnastic moves getting that flashlight up to your hands.”
“You had the macho hero thing going on, picking up that metal and getting it to pick the lock.”
Another reason his abs hurt, he was sure. “We’re pretty badass, huh?”
“Totally badass. And Stokinger won’t be doing that again anytime soon. Drew said they picked him up in Florida.”
More tension left his body. “What happened to the building? How many bombs did we miss?”
“Only the one that got you.” Her voice cracked so she cleared her throat. “Blew out a few windows and part of the roof. I thought we could do cathedral ceilings and skylights up there anyhow.”
The laugh that escaped sent him into spasms of pain. Heather leaned closer and stroked his face, whispering, “Sorry, sorry. I promise no more jokes.”
Her expression was one of remorse and he never wanted her to feel guilty for making him laugh. “No, it’s fine. Good to know we’ve both still got a sense of humor.”
“Then you’ll really love this. My mom showed up here, mostly to give me a change of clothes and some real food. But she wanted to apologize for trying to run my social life. Since you rescued me—twice now—you’re on her good list of guys I can get naked with.”
“She what?”
“Well, that isn’t exactly how she worded it, but she did say that anyone willing to risk his life for mine was on the top of the list in her book.”
“Does she have an actual book?” From what he’d seen of Nicoletta Silva, she might.
“I’ll never tell. But I will tell you something, something I should have said much sooner.”
“I’m listening.” Why was she nervous? This wasn’t the big send-off, was it? No, she’d just made jokes about his being on her mother’s list of good little boys.
“Right before you blew up the wall, you said something to me.”
“I did.” He’d said he loved her. But would she want that kind of declaration from him?
“Did you mean it? Or was it merely heat of the moment shit?”
Shifting, he grunted at the agony of movement. Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips. “I meant it. Every word. Well, all three of them, anyway.”
Her smile brightened up the drab room and warmed his heart. Please let it mean she felt the same. Or at least relatively close.
“Then I have a little secret to share with you.”
“Do tell. I can hardly wait. Seriously, because I think these meds”—he pointed to the IV bags hanging beside the bed—“are putting me out again.”
Leaning closer, she nibbled on his ear, whispering, “I love you, too, Scott Holland. And I promise I always will.”
Her kiss was beautiful and gentle, but he couldn’t wait to get out of here and show her what real love could be like.
“You know you also promised I could chain you up and have my way with you.”
That smile again, the one that dug deep into his soul and brought peace, acceptance, bliss.
“You’ve got it, my hero. As soon as you think you can handle it.”
“I think the better question is, can I handle you?”