Slow Burn (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“Déjà vu.”

Those were the first words out of Kiera’s mouth when she was finally allowed to see her sister. Kate had been taken to the Silver Springs hospital and had just been moved to her room and helped into her bed when both her sisters came storming in.

“Haven’t you been there and done that already?” Kiera asked with a worried smile. She was so overcome with joy that Kate hadn’t been seriously injured there were tears in her eyes.

Isabel was beside herself. “You could have been killed. Why do you have to do things like this?”

“She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Kiera said.

Isabel was shaking her head. “That’s it, Kate. I’m not going to ever let you leave the house again. I’ll even give up college and stay home to make sure you stay put and out of harm’s way.”

“Isabel, you’re not being reasonable,” Kiera said.

“Reasonable?” She sounded frantic now. “Is it reasonable to get yourself blown up twice in one week? Is that reasonable?” She looked at Kate, pointed a finger, and stammered, “You scared me.” She burst into tears and turned her back on Kate. “I mean it. I’m not going to college.”

Kiera walked over to the bed. “She’s been like this since we heard, but now that she knows you’re fine, she’ll stop crying.”

Kate’s head was killing her, and it was difficult to follow the conversation. She was in a dark room, but when Isabel pulled the drapes open, Kate winced. Isabel noticed and immediately closed them again.

“You were really lucky. Your skull should have been split wide open.”

“Oh, that’s a picture I won’t soon be forgetting, Kiera,” Isabel snapped. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.

“Jordan’s called a couple of times,” Kiera said, ignoring Isabel now. “She’s worried about you.”

“How did she know—”

“She called to say hello and Isabel told her what happened and how the fire department had to pry you out of your car. It’s totaled, by the way.”

“You should be thankful I didn’t call Aunt Nora. She’s only now unpacking, I bet, but she would have dropped everything and come back here. She’d make sure you didn’t take any more crazy chances,” Isabel said.

Kate closed her eyes. “When can I go home?”

“Tomorrow at the earliest. The doctor may want to keep you longer.”

Isabel’s voice shook. “Your face looks sunburned. It’s probably from the fire. Kate, do you have any idea how close you came to being killed?”

“You aren’t going to start crying again, are you?” Kiera asked.

“Sorry. I can’t be a robot like you and keep my emotions all bottled up.”

Kiera didn’t respond to the comment. “We should go and let you rest,” she said to Kate.

“Wait,” Kate whispered, surprised her voice sounded so weak. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

She started to shake her head and quickly changed her mind. Pain shot up to the top of her skull.

“They think it was a gas leak,” Kiera said.

“We heard it on the radio on the way over,” Isabel said. “It must have been a gas leak because it’s taking forever to put out the fire.”

Kiera changed the subject. “You were fortunate the neurologist was here,” she said. “I talked to him, and he said he was happy with the scans. It appears you’re going to come out of this without any serious injuries.”

“Kiera was concerned you jarred something loose in your brain,” Isabel said.

“No, you were concerned,” Kiera countered.

“Okay, it was me. The doctor was so cute. You know what, Kiera.”

“Oh God, here we go again.”

“I was just going to say that he would be perfect for you. I know what you’re going to say,” she rushed on before Kiera could stop her. “He’s not interested in you, but you can’t possibly know if he is or not until you . . . you know.”

“No, what?”

“Make a move. Talk to him.”

“Can we not have this conversation?”

Isabel ignored the request. “Maybe if you put on a little makeup and did something about your hair . . .”

Kiera folded her arms across her waist and said, “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“You need to get a good haircut and not one of those five-dollar places, either, and you should get some concealer to hide those dark smudges under your eyes. You’re sleep-deprived, and you know what? I blame it all on medical school.”

“At the risk of sounding like you . . . duh.”

Kate started to laugh and then groaned. Her head fell back against the pillows and she closed her eyes. “Stop making me laugh, and take your discussion someplace else. I just want to pull the covers over my head and pretend today didn’t happen.”

“But Kate, you still haven’t told us why you were at that warehouse,” Isabel said.

Kate opened her eyes. She started to answer and then stopped. “I don’t remember. I mean, I feel like I do, but I can’t think right now.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

Kate took a long minute before answering. “No,” she whispered. “Isn’t that odd?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll come back to you. Get some rest now. I’ll be here later to check on you,” Kiera said.

Isabel wasn’t ready to leave. She went to the side of the bed and asked, “Do you remember going to Boston?”

Kate smiled. “Yes, I do. And I remember coming home. There was a car . . . at the airport . . .”

Isabel patted her hand. “Yes, there was a car,” she said. Her voice was soothing, and she was acting as though she was trying to reason with a three-year-old. “You’re remembering your car. You drove to the airport.”

Kate looked to Kiera for help.

“Isabel, would you hand me the phone before you leave?” Kate asked. “I want to call Jordan.”

“Do you remember her phone number?”

“Isabel, the bump on her head didn’t turn her into an idiot,” Kiera said.

Isabel shrugged. She handed the phone to Kate and patted her hand again. “Tell Jordan we said hello,” she said. “And if she wants to come see you, you better tell her not to,” she added. “With your streak of bad luck, someone might run over her before she gets to the airport.”

“It has been a horrible week, hasn’t it?” Kate said.

“It can only get better,” Isabel assured her as she followed Kiera out the door.

Kate hoped she was right. She turned onto her side and fell sound asleep.

A couple of hours later she called Jordan. She tried her best to be cheerful, but it took effort. The attempt didn’t work. Her friend could hear the stress in her voice.

“Tell me about that first explosion again,” Jordan said. “Now that I’m not worried about bumps and lumps I can concentrate. Someone was trying to kill that artist, right?”

Kate went through it all again, and when she was finished with that incident, she told her about the crazy teenager joy-riding in the airport parking lot. Last, but certainly not least, she told her about her latest mishap.

“I don’t remember the explosion at all,” she said. “But I keep thinking about coffee. Isn’t that peculiar?”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“I know. That’s what makes it peculiar.”

“How hard was that hit on your head?”

“Just hard enough to give me a headache. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was trying to kill me.”

Jordan laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve just had a bit of bad luck, that’s all. Do you want me to come down there?”

“No, I’m fine. Besides, maybe this bad streak isn’t over, and I don’t want you hurt in the fallout.”

“Don’t let your imagination get the better of you. Remember, you’re not a superstitious person, so don’t overreact. Could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did something happen between you and Dylan?”

Kate nearly dropped the phone. “Why do you ask?”

“He called here looking for you, and when he found out you’d left, he wasn’t happy.”

“I can’t imagine why. So you really don’t think someone might be trying to kill me?” she asked, searching for anything that would steer the discussion in a different direction.

“No, I don’t think anyone’s trying to kill you. I do think you’ve got an overactive imagination. Get some sleep and call me tomorrow when you’re lucid again.”

Jordan disconnected the call and immediately dialed Dylan’s number. The second he answered she blurted, “Someone’s trying to kill Kate.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dylan wasn’t in the best of moods. He’d just finished another grueling hour of physical therapy for his shoulder, and that had hurt like hell. The muscles were still throbbing, and though he had a prescription for painkillers, he wasn’t going to take any. He wasn’t trying to be macho. He had tried a couple of the pills last week and had hated the way they made him feel. The pills did dull the pain, but they also dulled his ability to think. He’d felt as though he was moving around in a thick fog. No, thank you. He’d take the pain over the fog any day of the week.

He was about to strip out of his clothes and get into a hot shower when Jordan called.

After checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and said, “What do you want?”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

He smiled. “You’re out of the hospital now. I don’t have to be nice. And since when have I ever been a nice guy? You’re getting me mixed up with Alec.”

“No way I’d confuse the two of you. Alec’s a slob and you’re a neat freak, which is why you two made such perfect roommates growing up, but unlike Alec, you can be a real grouch sometimes.”

“If you’re finished with the compliments, I’d like to get into the shower.”

Jordan was on a roll. “I’ll bet you’re real nice to the women you want to sleep with, aren’t you?”

“Jordan, for the last time, what do you want?” he asked, deciding her comment about his sex life didn’t merit a response.

“Kate’s in trouble. The problem is, I don’t think she realizes she is.”

“In trouble?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Listen to me.”

She quickly explained what she knew about the first explosion and said, “If that wasn’t enough for poor Kate, when she returned from Boston, someone tried to run her down in the airport parking lot. And then . . . Dylan, are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound like you are.”

“For God’s sake . . .”

“I’m right,” Jordan continued. “Someone is trying to kill her. There’s more, too,” she added.

Before she could tell him about the second explosion, he said, “What exactly do you want me to do about it? Talk to whoever is in charge of the investigation? I doubt the detectives in South Carolina would want me looking over their shoulders.”

“No, I don’t want you to call. I want you to go to Silver Springs and check it out. You’re on leave from the department, so you’ve got the time, and I know you’re bored. I can’t believe you’re hesitating. This weekend you . . .”

“I what?”

“You saw Kate. What is it with you? Out of sight, out of mind?”

Yeah, right, he thought. He hadn’t been able to get Kate out of his mind since he’d touched her, and that bothered the hell out of him. She was messing with his mind.

She obviously wasn’t giving him a second thought. She’d left Boston without a word, so their night together had been what he and she had wanted it to be, recreational. That attitude should have pleased him. No commitment and no messy good-byes. One perfect night, no doubt about that, with no regrets.

So why was he so irritated she’d left without telling him?

He shook his head. She wasn’t easy to forget, and that was all there was to it. It might take a couple of weeks, but then he wouldn’t give her another thought.

“Dylan, are you going to go to Kate or not?”

“I’m thinking . . .”

He was in a strange predicament. He’d never been dumped by a woman before, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. No, that wasn’t true. He knew how he felt. Damned angry.

Had he ever treated a woman like that? Spent the night with her and then vanished? He shook his head. He hoped he hadn’t. But had he?

He suddenly pictured her sitting by his bedside in the hospital. To this day she didn’t know he was aware of her. He had opened his eyes and looked at her just as she was drifting off to sleep. He remembered he liked her being there.

But then he liked women, he told himself. Still, she’d been there for him, so shouldn’t he do the same for her?

Jordan’s patience ran out.

“If you don’t go, I will.”

“Ah, hell. Okay, I’ll go.”

“When?”

He sighed. “Soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, okay. Tomorrow.”

“Cheer up, Dylan. If I’m right, you might get to shoot someone.”

Chapter Fifteen

Roger Mackenna had some badass friends. They were “casino friends” who’d slithered up to him at the gaming table, introduced themselves, and became his best buddies almost overnight. When Roger won, they helped him spend his money. When his winning streak ended, however, his new best friendsturned into sniveling and conniving snakes. They introduced him to a loan shark named Johnny Jackman, and when Roger was over two hundred thousand in debt at fifty percent interest, his friends wooed him back to the tables to lose even more.

All the sharks in town had a hands-off policy toward Roger because they knew, like everyone else in the gambling world who’d run a background check on him, that when Roger’s uncle Compton MacKenna died, Roger would inherit millions of dollars. If anything happened to Roger in the meantime, none of the sharks would get a dime.

Johnny Jackman had quite an investment and had his own crew tailing Roger at all times. This was an asset he wasn’t going to let out of his sight. He didn’t want Roger reformed either, so when he became infatuated with a pretty little thing named Emma who talked him into attending a Gamblers Anonymous meeting, Jackman became concerned. The next evening sweet little Emma was taken out of town.

Roger was told that Emma had been in an automobile accident. He went to the hospital, took one look at her bruised and swollen face, and went running back to the casino. Emma left town as soon as she was released from the hospital. Roger sighed with relief. He had felt such terrible guilt that he couldn’t stomach the sight of her, but now that she was out of his life, he could forget about her. He could also forget all about ever attending meetings for his gambling addiction.

By July, Johnny Jackman was getting nervous. Roger had racked up a debt of an even seven hundred thousand dollars, and if it wasn’t paid to the casino by the first of September, Jackman would have to pay it.

Jackman decided he couldn’t afford to be a patient, nice guy any longer. He took Roger to dinner that night at Emerald’s, let him drink a bottle of expensive wine, and then told him that if he didn’t find a way to repay every dollar with interest within thirty days, Jackman was going to start taking body parts as collateral. He toasted Roger and told him he was going to start between his legs.

He made sure Roger knew he wasn’t bluffing.

Three packs of cigarettes and a bottle of gin a day had aged Roger. He was only thirty-four, but he looked sixty. His hair was thinning and gray. His complexion was just as gray from all the years he’d spent in dark casinos and backrooms.

His nicotine-stained fingers shook as he lit another cigarette. “Where am I going to get that kind of money?” he asked. “You know I’m good for it, but not until my uncle dies. He’s sick. It shouldn’t take long. According to . . . my source, the old man is dying.”

“Who’s the source?”

“Someone real close to him. I’m not going to give you the name.”

“Okay,” he said, deciding not to press. “But your uncle could linger a long time, now couldn’t he? If it’s more than thirty-one days, you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

“If you’ll wait, I’ll pay you a bonus. And there’s a good chance I’ll win big the next time I hit the tables, right?”

Jackman shook his head. “Your credit is used up,” he said. “You’re not welcome at any table until your debt is paid in full. Thirty-one days,” he repeated. “If you don’t come up with all of it, you’re no longer a man. You understand me? You won’t get a sip of booze to dull the pain. My associates will take you out in the desert, hold you down, spread your legs, and . . . snip, snip.” He made his fingers move like scissors. “I might even tell them to put your balls in your mouth to stop you from screaming while they work on your penis. You do have balls, don’t you, Roger?”

Jackman was the most successful loan shark in the city, and when Roger stared into his cold, flat eyes, he suspected that a real shark had more feeling. He didn’t have any doubt at all that Jackman would do what he promised. He wasn’t a man who bluffed.

Roger began to hyperventilate. He overturned his chair in his haste to bolt from the table. He made it to the corridor before he threw up. Jackman followed him, laughing.

“You’re going to get me my money, aren’t you, Roger?”

“Yes. I’ll get it.”

He grabbed his arm and jerked him back. He whispered close to his ear, “Your uncle’s going to die real soon, isn’t he?”

Roger began to cry. “Yes, he is.”

Two hours later Roger took a cab to the airport and flew home on the red-eye. He was too scared and too sick to drink anything. He knew he had to get clear-headed. When he got back to Savannah, he was going to have to pay a visit to his uncle Compton to see for himself just how far gone the old man was and to assure himself the money would be coming soon.