Killer Love (65 page)

She groaned and let her head fall back against the wall. Son of a bitch. What now?

He slipped a hand in his pocket and when he pulled it out, he held an object that he waggled back and forth. Her cell phone.

“I’m taking this with me, so if you were thinking...” He shrugged. “Well, you know, forget it.”

He put the cell in his pocket and lay the flashlight on the ground. Picking up the can of gasoline, he twisted the lid off and shook the liquid over the pile.

The pungent odor of the fuel wafted over her, so strong she could taste it in the back of her throat. Eyes watering, she coughed and spat, trying to rid her mouth of the taste.

He dropped the can and turned to her, his gaze almost sympathetic. “I really don’t want to do this, I hope you understand. I have no choice. God be with you.” He didn’t look back as he hurried up the stairs and opened the door. She had a few seconds of precious sunlight before she was once more left in the dark with the meager beam of the flashlight.

****

Sam must have lost consciousness for a few seconds, because she suddenly jerked awake. Fear returned with a vengeance when she realized the day hadn’t been a bad dream. Her entire body trembled with the horror of her situation. Not only was she going to die, but so would numerous others.

She had to do something. But what? Her leg was starting to burn like hell and she was growing weaker by the second. She looked toward the stairs that led to the door. If she could reach them, maybe...

Maybe what? The door would be locked, right? Even if she managed to drag her body up the stairs? She gritted her teeth and let out a hiss of breath. She had to try.

She squirmed around to her side, inching along the ground toward the basement steps. It was slow going, excruciatingly slow...and painful. The mall opened in an hour. So, she had an hour?

Then it hit her. No, not an hour. Most workers surely arrived at least half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, before the mall opened. She had no time at all. She stopped, resting her head on the hard concrete, willing back the tears that wouldn’t quite go away.

Think, Samantha, think
.

Something rolled out of her pocket and landed on the ground in front of her. A cigarette. The one she planned to smoke when she solved the case.

Well, you solved the case.

She let out a laugh that wasn’t quite sane and with it sucked in a mouthful of the gasoline infused air. The laughter turned into a sob and tears streamed down her face, partly from the fuel, partly from despair.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

A sudden thought penetrated her panic.

The lighter.

She reached into her pocket with her bound hands and gripped the lighter.

If she could get to the kindling, she could start the fire now. Before there were people in the mall. Right now, there could possibly be a security guard, maybe two, but they would have an excellent chance of getting out alive, unlike a crowd of shoppers. Even though it was Monday, there would be a lot of people here. There always were. Not as many as on a weekend, but enough. If there were security guards inside, and if they died, it would be horrible, but not as bad as a whole crowd of people dying...innocent men, women, and children.

Of course,
she
would die. That was a given. With her injury and the wooziness from the pain medication, there was no way she could escape the fire.

But it was the only way.

She didn’t want to die, even though she didn’t have a lot to live for other than her family and her job.

Wasn’t now, when facing the end of her life, the time she was supposed to think about regrets? She wasn’t sure exactly what she regretted. Not having children? Spending all her time and energy on her career? One thing for sure, she regretted giving Shane the five-hundred bucks. What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t owe him shit.

She thought of Hawkins and knew one more thing she regretted. Perhaps nothing would have come of it, but she wished she’d given him a chance. Wished she could know what it felt like to fully give in to the desire between them. It was more than just physical, though, at least on her part. She felt something for him she hadn’t wanted to examine.

She examined it now. Was it love? Maybe. Or something close to it. Not that it mattered. She’d blown it—treated him like
he’d
been the one to screw her over. She knew Dex wasn’t the same guy she’d thought at first. Wasn’t like those other jerks she’d known. She’d typecast him in that role from the moment she saw him and hadn’t let anything sway her.

She pushed those thoughts aside. She had other things to worry about now. Like her own imminent death. If she had her piece, she’d end it quickly, because she sure as
fuck
didn’t want to die by burning to death.

“I’m sorry, God,” she murmured a hasty apology. It probably wasn’t a good idea to use the ‘F’ word just before you went to meet your Maker.

She wasn’t absolutely sure she was going to heaven, anyway. She believed in God, always tried to do the right thing...well, mostly. But she certainly hadn’t been a saint. All she could hope for was that this final sacrifice might earn her some celestial brownie points.

Gripping the lighter, tears streaming from her eyes, she began the slow, painful crawl to the kindling.

Each centimeter was agony. The pain was an enraged beast, ripping, tearing, shredding her with its razor sharp claws. But she had to, just a little more.

As she drew closer, the smell of gasoline grew stronger and the tears increased, blinding her.

She was within a hairsbreadth of her target—close enough that she was sure she could toss the lighter into the pile and start the fire—when she locked up, just froze.

She couldn’t do it.

Hysteria welled inside her, strangling her as sure as the fumes of the gasoline.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Was that a prayer or had she taken his name in vain? She wasn’t sure, she was so confused, hurting, terrified.

You’re going to die,
a voice inside her brain insisted,
and you’re going to let a lot of innocent people die with you. Is that what you want? Is that the way you want to leave this world?

No, it wasn’t. A pervading calm overtook her. She felt surprisingly serene, accepting.

She struggled those last few inches.

Her thumb swiped the flint wheel.

She tossed the lighter onto the pile.

Chapter Fourteen

Todd eased the door open and looked around. The parking lot was empty. The detective’s car was on the other side, away from the busy road the mall sat on. Now, he just had to make it to the little tavern where he’d spent many hours drinking.

That would be his alibi. When they questioned him, he’d inform them that she changed her mind about taking him to the station. He’d tell them she’d rambled on and on, saying she was going to do something big to get everyone’s attention, then she’d offered to drop him off somewhere. He’d asked her to take him to the bar, because he needed a drink.
She was really freaking me out
, he’d say,
I was glad to get away from her
.

Ducking his head, he started toward the street, hoping it wouldn’t take long to catch a cab to take him to the bar. He was so intent on rehearsing how the rest of this would all play out, that he didn’t notice the motorcycle right away.

The first thing he became aware of was the rumbling sound. He looked up and saw the massive bike, with the man he and the detective had bumped into sitting astride.
Oh, shit.
This was not part of the plan.

The motorcycle bore down on him, stopping only inches from where he stood. With his hand in the pocket of his jacket, Todd let his fingers close around the butt of the gun.

“Where is she?” the man demanded. “I saw her car, so don’t bother to lie to me.”

He was a large man, well over six feet tall. Todd was squat, flabby, out of shape.

But the gun was an equalizer.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” the stranger roared. “Where the hell is Samantha?”

“I’m sorry,” Todd said, pulling the gun from his pocket. “But I can’t—”

He didn’t see the man move, but he felt the impact. The man’s booted foot stomped Todd’s leg, right below the knee. A biting pain, like someone was wrenching his leg apart at the kneecap, clutched him.

Todd screamed. The gun fell from his numb fingers. Bloody bone extended through his pant leg as bile surged through him, moving like the agony that ripped at his body. And then he was falling, and he knew he was about to pass out, hoped he was, because the pain...

“Where is she?” the giant demanded again, looming over Todd where he lay writhing on the pavement.

Todd wanted to tell him, but pain and fear had cut off his air supply, rendering him unable to speak.

The giant lifted his head and looked toward the mall. He must have noticed what Todd only just now did. Smoke, coming from the basement entrance of the mall. The detective had figured out a way to start the fire early. He didn’t know how, but she must be pretty damned resourceful. Not to mention brave...and stupid.

Todd didn’t care how she’d done it, he was just glad she had, because now the man was running toward the building, leaving Todd alone.

Soon, the police would come. And maybe they’d get to him before the giant returned.

****

The temperature was unbearable. Sam never would have thought she could feel such intense heat without actually being on fire. Which, she very well could be, because she smelled the unmistakable odor of burning hair.

She looked at the stairs through the increasingly thick haze. Tears streamed from her eyes and nose, but now she didn’t think she was crying, she thought maybe it was from the smoke.

Her odds of making it to the stairs were not good. Her leg was hurting like hell, and she would most likely be overcome by smoke before she could reach them. The odds that she’d actually pull herself up the stairs if she did reach them were even less. The odds of the door being unlocked, if by some miracle she did make it that far, were pretty much zero.

In spite of her fatalistic prognosis, her survival instinct overrode her left-brained logic and she began to use her upper body to pull herself toward the exit.

She coughed, feeling like her throat and chest were clogged with ashes. In some part of her terror-numbed mind, she wondered how the hell she’d ever enjoyed smoking.

The heat seemed to reach out to her as she inched toward the stairs. She’d lost a lot of blood. She was growing weaker and her leg now throbbed with raging pain.

After a few seconds, she raised her head to check her progress and she began to cry. She had moved mere centimeters. Maybe she was even further away, although she knew that wasn’t possible. A frightening, self-defeating realization came over her. She wasn’t going to make it. No way in hell. She was going to burn to death.

The thought barely had time to take hold when there was a sudden brightening in the room. Not from behind her, where the fire still burned, reaching ever higher toward the insulation in the ceiling, but from above. From the top of the stairs. She sensed a burst of fresh air and looked up.

Dex stood in the open doorway. When he saw her, he rushed down the stairs. She had time to think of something she’d heard about how firemen...what was it? They rushed into buildings most people are rushing out of? Had that been from a movie? She couldn’t remember and she didn’t have time to think about it any more because Dex was there, lifting her in his strong arms.

She cried out as a sharp pain stabbed through her leg, but it was the best pain she’d ever felt, because Dex was carrying her up the stairs and toward the bright sunlight, the fresh air, toward safety.

He ran until they were several feet from the building, then gently lowered her to the ground. Brahern lay nearby, gripping his knee and whimpering.

Not bothering to ask what had happened, Sam stared up at Dex. She knew how she must look—her face covered in soot, her hair singed, her flesh and eyes probably cherry-red—but she didn’t care. She was alive and Dex was here.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his beautiful eyes darkened with concern.

“I guess not if they sent the ME,” she said, then coughed, long and painfully.

He didn’t smile at her joke, barely paying attention to what she said as he examined her for injuries.

“Jesus,” he muttered. He unwound Brahern’s bandage, yanked off his shirt, and tied it around her leg.

He pulled out his cell phone and punished the keypad, calling 911 for an ambulance. When he hung up, he pointed accusingly at his Harley parked a few feet away.

“I can’t take you to the hospital myself,” he said in disgust. “Your car is all the way on the other side of the mall and all I have is that damned motorcycle.”

“That’s a
Harley
,” she corrected, and it brought on another fit of coughing, but that was okay, because it made him smile and she got to see his dimples.

Then, she once again saw blackness.

****

Sam woke briefly and realized she was lying on something soft. She wanted to find out what it was because it felt so good, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She loved this something soft, whatever it was. Before her eyes drifted shut, she noticed Dex sitting near her, looking worn out and worried.

“You’re here,” she whispered, even though it hurt to say it. It took her a moment to figure out she had a tube inserted in her throat.

A look of relief crossed his face and he straightened in his chair. “Yes, I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

“They always leave,” she said on a sigh, then drifted away.

She woke up some time later and Dex was still in the room, but now he was pacing.

“Hey,” she croaked.

She felt more like staying awake than she had before. She was still lying on something soft. She now knew it was a hospital bed. It wasn’t as soft as she’d first thought, but compared to the cement of the mall’s basement, it felt pretty damned good.