Killing Secrets (44 page)

Skip didn’t look in the direction it fell, somewhere behind her. “Now, Rachel,” he said, pointing to the girder where she’d been tied only minutes ago.

Patrick turned and set her down directly on top of the wire cutters he’d used to set her free. He caught her gaze when the cutters poked into her butt and she gasped, but he didn’t say anything before he straightened and turned his back to her. He took a wide stance in front of her, blocking her from Skip’s view. “Let Rachel go,” he said. “She’s not part of this.”

“Oh, but she is,” Skip said conversationally. “The moment you fell in love with her, she became the one thing you can’t live without. I thought it was Thorne Enterprises, but I can burn this building down and you’d hardly notice. I burn it down with her in it, that’s a different story, isn’t it?”

“I won’t let you do it.”

Their captor snorted. “I’m the one with the gun.” He tossed something to the floor at Patrick’s feet. “Use the twist tie on her hands.”

“No.”

A bullet gouged a hole in the floor three inches from Rachel’s left thigh. She grunted when a wood splinter jabbed into her leg.

“You bastard!” Patrick’s hands clenched, but he stayed where he was, a wall between her and the monster.

“Last chance, Thorne.”

With a growl, Patrick picked up the twist tie and came back to her side. The sheer rage in his eyes tore at her heart and told her that what Skip said was true. He loved her and he was prepared to die to protect her.

She watched him kneel in front of her. He slipped his hands under her to scoot her closer to the girder. She felt the wire cutters he’d scooped from beneath her drop into the hidden folds of her skirt over her lap before he put the twist tie over her wrists and drew it closed. She glanced over his shoulder to see if Skip saw him supply her with a means to escape.

“Tighter, Thorne.”

Rachel stared at Patrick helplessly as he did as Skip ordered, snugging the twist tie around her wrists. “I love you,” she said, suddenly aware this might be her last opportunity to tell Patrick how she felt.

He froze, his hands clenched over hers. He stared at her for one agonizing moment. Then he leaned over, kissed her and, without a word, stood to face Skip.

“Your turn.” The man motioned with his gun at another girder ten feet away. There was a heavy duty wire wrapped around the metal post with what looked like a short leash, a twist tie partially closed at the end. “Put the tie on.”

Stalking to the pillar, Patrick sat down on the floor and cuffed himself. The rasp of the twist tie clicking inexorably closed in the silent building sounded like a death knell to Rachel. She’d suspected he had a plan. That was before he locked himself in Skip’s trap.

An awful thought entered her mind. Dear God, did Patrick expect her to set herself free and leave him behind to be killed? “No, Patrick,” she moaned.

Rachel looked at him with such horror, it was all Patrick could do to keep his mind on what he needed to do. Her declaration of love had nearly cut him in two because he knew she was saying goodbye, and this wasn’t over. Not by a damn longshot.

He longed to reassure her. Now that he was tied up like a goat ready for slaughter, he wasn’t feeling as secure with his plan. Breaking his bonds wasn’t the problem. He and Jack had watched a video on how to escape twist ties when they were teens and then practiced for weeks escaping each other in their own version of cops and robbers. There was still a screwdriver in his boot, a wrench at his back. That didn’t stop him from wanting his gun, lying in the shadows somewhere behind Rachel. He was taking a big chance Robby wouldn’t just shoot them.

If you screw this up or push Robby too far, you and Rachel are both going to die whether you have your gun or not.
Concentrate!
At least, one part of his plan was working. His brother-in-law was no longer looking at Rachel. “What do you want?”

“I want you to die.” Robby lowered his gun and put it on the cross brace of a nearby stud wall. Walking out of sight into the shadows, he came back with a couple of gas cans. He took off the caps, threw them away, and started splashing gasoline all over the surrounding stud walls and sub-floor, more than enough fuel to set the entire building ablaze.

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble, Robby,” he taunted. “Just kill me, and get it over with.” He only needed the bastard to come close enough without his gun to take him out.

Stopping next to Rachel, he looked at Patrick. “That would be too easy,” he said, a monstrous light in his eyes. “We want you to suffer before you die. You’ll watch her,” he soaked Rachel’s skirt in gasoline, “die first. Screaming”

“Patrick!” Rachel gasped his name, and then began hacking and coughing as Robby poured gasoline over her head.

Horrified by the unholy look on Robby’s face, Patrick realized the true scope of who he was dealing with. His brother-in-law had multiple personalities. It’s how Skip had fooled everyone for so long. He was Robby, and this monster, too. The real Angel Killer had just doused the woman Patrick loved in gasoline.

With a roar of rage, Patrick wrenched the twist ties from his wrists and leaped to his feet. He was almost within arm’s reach when Robby stood over Rachel with a Zippo lighter poised over her head. “Nuh-uh! One more step and she’s extra-crispy, Thorne!” He struck a flame to life.

Patrick froze, his brain working furiously. “Why, Robby? What did I ever do to you?” He knew, but he had to keep Robby talking, from dropping the lighter. If that happened, he’d never save Rachel. He couldn’t lose her and the baby, not this way!

Robby stared, and then his expression disintegrated with pain. “You took her from me. She was mine.
Mine!
” He stepped away from Rachel. “You touched my angel. I’ll kill you for that.”

Patrick showed his disgust, trying to draw him closer. One more step and he’d be within reach. “Karly was your sister, you sick bastard,” he grit out. “She could never be yours.”

Robby snarled, something feral and vicious in his eyes that startled Patrick, but before he could rush him, Rachel called out. “Skip! Stop!”

The man froze. “Rachel?”

For a moment, Patrick saw Skip look down on her with confusion. He also saw his arm lower, the flame getting closer to her soaked hair and clothes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother, Jack, sneak up behind Skip with a S.W.A.T. squad at his back, their intent clear.

Patrick threw himself past Skip on top of Rachel. Without stopping, he rolled with her as far as he could as Jack yelled, “Freeze, you bastard!”

Everything happened in slow motion then. Patrick heard Skip shout something, a gunshot, and then a terrifying whoosh that told him Skip’s lighter had fallen into the gasoline. A wall of flames rushed up behind them as Patrick rolled with Rachel to a standstill in what he prayed was a gasoline free spot. Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up and ripped off her soaked skirt and blouse, throwing them as far away as possible.

When she was standing there in her bra and panties, he began to pull her into his arms when he realized he’d rolled through gasoline. Stripping himself became problematic when he realized he’d have to sit down to take off his boots to get his jeans off, and there was a wall of flame screaming across the floor toward them. In less than a minute, it would close off their only avenue of escape and they’d be cornered.

“There’s no time,” he shouted to Rachel, picking her up in his arms. Checking his path in the growing pall of smoke, he dashed along the outside wall toward the last place he’d seen Jack.

Rachel screamed when flames cut off their escape. Seeing a hole, Patrick took a chance and leaped through it. He came down hard on the other side and fell to one knee on the smoking subfloor. Hard hands wrapped around his arms on both sides, yanked him to his feet, and dragged him and Rachel down the corridor toward the exterior stairs. The S.W.A.T. guys didn’t let go of them until they’d burst into the fresh night air outside the building and ran them to the parking lot forty feet away.

When they released him, Patrick sank to the pavement and sucked clean air into his lungs, Rachel still cradled in his arms. Hands tried to take her from him, but he wouldn’t let go. “No!” he gasped, choking from the smoke and gasoline in his lungs.

“Let us have her, sir,” a paramedic said. “She needs oxygen.”

Feeling Rachel convulse in his arms in a coughing fit, his arms tightened around her. “She’s pregnant,” he said shortly. “Been drugged. Gasoline.”

The paramedic looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve got her, sir. Let me help her.”

Patrick reluctantly let the man take her from his arms, and then collapsed in his own fit of coughing. Another paramedic helped him strip off his gasoline soaked clothes, wrapped him in a blanket, and tried to make him sit in the EMT truck. He shrugged the help off and walked to where Rachel sat on a gurney with an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

He took a seat next to her, picked up her hand, and threaded their fingers. He was never letting this woman go again. “You okay?”

Her eyes filled with tears. She nodded. She lifted the mask from her face to talk. “Were you burned?”

Even raspy with smoke, Rachel’s luscious Southern voice wrapped around his heart. His throat was raw and his eyes were burning from the smoke in the air, but he was fine. “I’m good,” he said.

“Patrick, I—”

As much as he wanted to hear what she had to say, coughing cut her off. He put his hand over hers atop the mask and put it back over her face. “Keep this on, sweetheart. Okay?”

Two ladder trucks burst onto the scene in a cacophony of noise and firefighters jumped into action to work on the fire eating a hole in the building they’d barely escaped. Looking at the fire rage on, Patrick knew it was a lost cause. He knew he should care, should hope they could keep the fire from spreading to the other two Southgate buildings. At that moment, he just didn’t.

The only thing that mattered to him was the way Rachel looked at him with her heart in her eyes.
She loved him.
The words wormed their way deep inside him and, for the first time in forever, he felt calm. At peace. He couldn’t wait to get her alone so he could tell her, show her….

A paramedic lifted an oxygen mask over his head. He scowled at the man, but didn’t take it off. The cool air felt good on his lungs.

“They tell me you’re both going to be okay.” Jack walked up to stand in front of them.

Pulling Rachel’s hand into his lap, Patrick nodded.

“Good,” Jack scowled, “because just as soon as you’re completely recovered, I’m kicking your ass.”

“I love you, too, bro,” he said, coughing into the mask. When he stopped hacking up his lung, he motioned toward the burning building. “Skip? What happened in there?”

Jack’s lips pressed into a fine line. “Skip threw the lighter down and ran for a gun he had in one of the stud walls.” He glanced at Rachel before he finished. “S.W.A.T had to shoot him.”

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“No. Got him through the shoulder. He’s been rushed to the hospital for surgery.”

Patrick sighed. “So, we won’t know everything until he comes out and you can question him.”

“We’re already taking a look at all of the people who’ve died suspiciously in his life right back to when his father disappeared. I’m laying odds we’re going to be digging up skeletons for a long time. It’ll take time to sort it all out. Now that we know who he is, we’ll ferret out all of his secrets.”

“That might be more complicated than you think.” Patrick took his oxygen mask off, waved off the nearby paramedics, and lowered his voice. “I think Skip has multiple personalities, he didn’t know what Robby was doing.”

“You’re joking, right?” Jack stared at him, then at the flaming building for a full minute. “What a clusterbang.”

“I gather you got the photo? That’s why you rode in with the cavalry?” Patrick asked. He wanted to know what had happened to Jack after they split up at the bottom of the mountain.

“Yeah. I got it.” Jack nodded. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

Patrick tilted his head and studied his hard expression. “What happened?”

Jack ran his hand over his face. “I called the team the moment I came off the mountain and hit the first tower, told them what we’d found. By the time I got to the station, they’d traced Karly’s name to a house rental on the outskirts of town and gotten organized.” He waved at the S.W.A.T. team milling around their truck twenty yards away. “We hit the house, hoping to find Skip. Good thing the house was close by.”

“Guess that was a wasted trip since Skip was planning our demise here,” Patrick pointed out dryly.

“It wasn’t a wasted trip. We found Jaymie Lindsey, the Angel Killer’s most recent kidnap victim. She’s alive. Barely.” He frowned. “She was locked in a room in the basement, unconscious. I don’t know what would have happened to her if we hadn’t shown up. When we found her, she hardly had a pulse. The paramedics said Skip overdosed her with whatever drug he was using to knock his victims out.”

Patrick felt Rachel jerk. Her hand tightened on his. He kissed her tenderly. He didn’t care what his brother thought. “You and the baby are going to be fine,” he assured her.

“Yes, she is,” Jack cut in, waving the paramedics back. “You two get to the hospital now so I can get to work cleaning up this mess. We can talk later.”