Exposed (6 page)

“He might,” Jake’s wife, Sami, said, thrusting a squirming little girl into his arms. “But not Abby. The caterers are taking care of everything as part of their fee. So, we’re free to get our kids home to bed. Even Nicky’s had enough partying for one night.”

Everyone turned to see the eleven-year-old slumped over at one of the tables. The couple bid everyone good night and headed to collect their son. Dave headed to where his wife Judy was gathering up their three kids.

“I guess I’d better call for a cab.” Sydney slipped her camera back in the carryon bag and set it at her feet. She searched through her bag on the other shoulder for her phone.

“You don’t need to do that. We’ll be happy to give you a ride home,” Katie offered, then let out a loud yawn.

“Thank you, but if I call now, the cab should be here by the time I have my stuff together.”

“It’s getting dark. We can’t leave you out here waiting for a cab by yourself,” Katie glanced at her husband, then let out another long yawn.

Sydney shook her head, as she finally pulled her phone out of the bag. “No, it’s really okay. Besides, you look like you’re as ready for bed as Nicky.”

“I’ll take her home.” A rough voice sounded behind her.

She turned to see Castello standing there, the dim light of dusk shadowing his features.

“It’s really okay if I take a cab.” Pulling up the internet app on her phone, she searched for the number of the cab company she’d used earlier. The last thing she wanted was to feel indebted to the surly marshal for anything, even a ride home. He’d made his opinion of her very clear earlier in the day. She wasn’t about to add mooching rides to the list of evil things photographers did.

“Get your other bags,” he said. “I’ll be back with my car in a few minutes.”

She looked up to see him striding away...carrying her camera case.

“Hey! Bring that back!” She hurried after him, moving as fast as the damn heels she’d put on for the wedding would allow her. With his long-legged stride he was across Long Street and the crosswalk had changed to
Don’t Walk
by the time she got to it. From the opposite side of the busy road, he stopped to look back at her.

“That’s stealing!” she yelled.

“I call it motivation,” he called back, a slow smile spreading the corner of his lips. “Get your other bags and be ready when I pull up.”

“Grrr.” She stomped her foot, but he didn’t see it. He was already walking away, swinging her bag like it was full of gym clothes instead of thousands of dollars’ worth of cameras, equipment and film.

“Large and in charge, that’s our man Castello,” Matt said, pushing the walk button and taking his wife’s hand in his.

“I’m not one of his witnesses, or a criminal,” Sydney said, watching the back of the man move farther away. “He doesn’t get to order me about.”

“You might as well give in,” Katie said from beside her. “When Frank makes a decision, there’s no talking him out of it.”

“Fine. I’ll get my stuff, but I’m not letting him take me home.”

The pair shared a smile, then waved as they headed across the street. Sydney whirled and stalked into the pavilion to get her travel bags before the staff inside locked the building down.

The gruff lawman might think everyone would jump when he told them what to do, but she wasn’t about to give in. She’d act like she was getting in his car, but she’d grab her camera bag instead then call for a cab anyways. She didn’t need his halfhearted offer of help. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Despite what he believed, she’d traveled all over the world. Compared to some of the places she’d been, standing on a dark street in Columbus wasn’t nearly as dangerous.

Five minutes later, she returned to see a black SUV parked by the curb, and Castello leaning against the passenger door, hands in his front pockets, his bow-tie unfastened. Dark, sexy, all man. Once again, her stomach did a little turn, and her heart hit an extra beat. He might be infuriating, but she couldn’t deny the pull of attraction he caused.

She stopped a foot from the car as he opened the door for her. Looking inside, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Where’s my camera bag?”

“In the trunk.”

She pressed her lips in a tight line and gave him her most you’re-pissing-me-off look. He arched a brow that said, you’re-not-winning-this-battle.

“Humph.” She shrugged and stomped to the car, dragging her bags with her. “I’m only doing this because you’re holding my personal property hostage.”

“Bags.”

He held out his hand. With another narrow-eyed look, she dropped her travel bag onto it, and released her hold on the rolling suitcase. She shoved her purse onto her shoulder then climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” Marshal Castello asked, as he slid in behind the steering wheel a few minutes later. He’d deposited her other bags in the trunk with her cameras.

“The Italian village,” she said, then focused her attention out the window at the darkening summer sky.

He pulled out and headed east up Long Street. The area she lived in was just east of the restored Short North area, which lay just north of downtown Columbus. It was one of several neighborhoods that had gone under recent renovations and many young urbanites were moving into the area.

“Where did you come from?” he asked, after they’d traveled a few miles and stopped at a red light.

Well, there was this egg and sperm…
Yeah, she doubted he’d appreciate that sarcastic comment.

“I’m sorry?” she said just as vaguely as his question.

“When you got out of the taxi earlier, you said you’d just come from the airport. Where did you fly in from?”

Sydney bit the side of her mouth to keep from smiling. She’d forced the man to speak two complete, multi-word sentences in a row. “I was on a photo shoot for a new designer.”

“Really?” Doubt rang in his voice.

She turned to see him looking at her with that raised eyebrow again. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“You were wearing hiking boots.”

The man not only remembered what she’d said, but what kind of shoes, er…boots, she’d had on? Normally, she’d be flattered that she’d gotten that much of a man’s attention, but she suspected it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him. In his line of work, even the smallest detail could mean life or death.

The light changed to green and he pulled out.

“Not that I have to prove to you that I was telling the truth, but we were doing an outdoor shoot in the mountains of Vermont for the past five days.”

“What kind of fashion shoot happens out in the woods?”

“The kind where the newbie designer decides she wants the models dressed in silks and fine linen juxtaposed against the harshness of nature,” she said with as little snark as she could manage.

“Your description or hers?” he asked, but she heard a hint of humor in the question this time.

“Oh, definitely hers. I haven’t used the word juxtaposed since my last art class in college.”

“You had to take art for a degree in photography?”

“Photography is a form of art. My degree is in art and photography with a minor in business. And before you ask, yes, business. I knew I was going to be my own boss and run my own business when I chose to be an independent, so I figured I’d better learn how to keep my records, market my craft and keep from being dirt-poor the rest of my life.”

“Smart woman.”

The compliment was nice, but she couldn’t take all the credit.

“I owe some of the credit for adding the business classes to my stepfather,” she said. “He ran a fortune five-hundred investment group for years, and sat me down for a serious heart-to-heart when I started college. I simply listened to what he said and signed up for some classes.”

“Like I said. A smart woman.” He turned north onto Fourth Street. “What’s your street?”

“Hamlett, just south of First.”

“Those new townhouses built to blend in with the early nineteenth-century homes nearby?”

She shifted her gaze to him, unable to hide both her pride and surprise. “You know the area?”

“I’ve been interested in the different restoration projects going on around town. The Italian Village caught my attention. I almost invested in some property here.”

“Investing in property? Like in a home?”

“Not exactly.”

She couldn’t hide a smile.

“What?” he asked, glancing her way before focusing on the road once more.

“I don’t see you as the landlord type.”

“You’re right.”

Now he had her curiosity. “If you’re weren’t planning to buy a home and weren’t planning to rent the property out, why would you want to buy in my area? It’s all residential.”

“Safe houses.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“To house witnesses before high-profile trials.”

“Oh, safe houses.” Heat flushed her face, and she was thankful the darkness hid her embarrassment. Of course, he’d need places for the witnesses. “Why do you invest in the safe houses? Doesn’t your agency and the government pay for them?”

He slowed for the light and made a left turn onto First Avenue. “Ever since Katie’s identity was blown, I’ve held a few safe houses off the books around the district. Places only I know about where I can hide my witnesses. Which way on Hamlett?”

“South.” She wiggled in her seat to face him more. “You don’t trust your own people?”

“I trust them, but even the most seasoned veteran can give up information if they’re tortured.”

“Was that how Katie’s new identity was blown? Someone was tortured for it?”

A slight twitch in his jaw and throat was the only indication of his reaction to her question. “My late partner, Pete Halloran. He died trying to protect her.” His hand tightened, then relaxed, on the steering wheel. “In the end, he couldn’t hold out.”

She wanted to ask him more, but as they drove onto her street, they found their way blocked by fire engines and police cars.

“What’s going on?” she asked, leaning over to try and see around the crowds milling about the area. Everything in front of them was lit up with the flickering of flames against the night sky. The acrid smell of burning wood seeped into the car.

“From the number of fire trucks, I’d say a house fire.” He turned to her, his face tense and his eyes full of concern. “What’s your house number?”

Something in the way he was looking at her sent fear slithering down her spine.

Ian
.

The darkroom. Chemicals.

Oh, God!

Without answering Frank’s question, she bolted out of the car. Pushing past the gawkers, she rushed down the sidewalk.

“Sydney!”

She heard her name called from behind, but she couldn’t stop. She had to find out. She had to see if Ian was there.

Rounding the big firetruck, she slid to a stop.

It
was
her house. Engulfed in flames.

Firemen everywhere. Hoses laced the street and pointed to the rear of the house, dousing it with high-pressure water. Others were spraying the homes on either side of hers. More sirens sounded in the distance.

“Step back, ma’am.” A fireman in his bright-yellow coat and hat stepped in front of her.

“You don’t understand, I have to get him out.” She tried to run past him.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind. “Sydney, you can’t go in there.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks from the smoke as much as the fear, she focused on Castello—the one thing that made sense in this nightmare. “Ian,” was all she could manage past the huge lump in her throat.

“Who’s Ian?” he asked, slowly pulling her back to the sidewalk.

“Are you saying there’s someone inside the building?” the fireman asked.

“I don’t know. Ian. My brother,” she stopped to cough past the tears and smoke. “He was staying here while I was out of town.”

“Maybe he’s not there,” Castello said. “Why don’t you try calling him?”

“I didn’t even think…” She pulled her phone from her bag that she’d still had slung on her arm when she’d climbed into Frank’s car.

“Please do, ma’am. I need to know if our men need to try to breech the house for a possible rescue. Their initial sweep didn’t show anyone inside.” The fireman paused, and stared straight into her eyes. This man wasn’t going to pull his punches. “Most of the back of your home was in flames when we got here.”

Her fingers shaking, it took her a minute to pull up Ian’s number and hit dial.

Please, please answer. Please God, let him answer.

“This is Ian. You know what to do. Name and number, I’ll call back…maybe.”

Her legs wobbled and she would’ve sunk to her knees on the brick sidewalk if Castello hadn’t gripped her elbows and pulled her up against his body. “It went straight to voice mail.”

The look of resignation crossed the fireman’s face as he hit the button on the radio attached to his shoulder. “Captain. This is Wilson. We may have a victim inside.”

Crackling sounded, then a voice came across. “
Any idea where
?”

The fireman looked at Sydney expectantly.

She shook her head. “He could be anywhere. What if he’s unconscious?”

Then something he’d said earlier hit her. She grabbed the man’s arm. “Did you say the fire was in the back of the house? You have to tell your men my darkroom’s back there. There’s chemicals.”

“Did you get that, Captain?” Fireman Wilson asked into his radio.

“Got it. Everyone be sure you’re using your SCBAs. No excuses. Wilson, get those people back.”

“SCBAs?” Sydney asked, as the fireman moved to help the police push back more of the crowd, trying to film the fire with their cameras.

“Self-Contained Breathing Apparatuses,” Castello said, still holding her close. “It’s what protects them from breathing in toxic fumes.”

Suddenly, a loud BOOM shook the area, nearly knocking them to the ground. Debris flew in all directions like shrapnel.

What was left of her home shot up in flames.

CHAPTER SIX

“What the hell?” Castello said, pulling the trembling Sydney farther away from the flying debris.