The Wrong Side of Dead (23 page)

“No. You see, this was supposed to be the room where that Millstone asshole shot himself in the head,” Jake claimed with doubt in his eyes.

“No it’s not,” Jess interrupted. “And who told you he committed suicide? Max was the detective on the case, and he killed the bastard…rescued all the kids here.” When all eyes in the room focused on her, she added, “It’s true.”

“Bullshit! You’re a liar,” Jake spat. “How do you know so much?”

“’Cause I was one of those kids,” she admitted with her voice shaky. “Millstone died in the basement. I saw it happen. He died at my feet.”

“Damn.” Jake shook his head, finally getting the picture. “We’re dead meat.”

“Well, I’m not waiting around until I become one big s’more.” Alexa ran for the door and tried her luck, kicking a foot into the wood. She yelled and pounded on the door again and again, “Somebody…help us. We’re in here.”

She braved pissing Jake off and went looking for her weapon on the floor. When she found it, Alexa only gave the bartender a threatening glance before she yelled, “Fire in the hole.”

Seth made an attempt at shielding his father with Jess’s help. And Jake covered his head, cowering in a corner. Alexa nodded over her shoulder, then shot a few rounds into the wood around the doorknob and tried the door again. It moved, but not much.

“Damn it, Jake. Someone really doesn’t like you,” the blonde said. “Hard to imagine.”

Scared as he was, Jake still wasn’t talking about his accomplice, but Seth smiled as he watched Alexa.

“I like her. She with you?” he asked, grimacing in pain as he tried to sit up. “Help me up, will you?”

Jess hauled Harper to his feet and wedged a shoulder under him. She helped him sit next to his father and noticed the pain in Seth’s eyes. Every move must have hurt, but he tried not to let it show. Looking at Max, he clenched his jaw and wiped away a tear from the old man’s face with a gentle stroke of his thumb.

Seeing the love Seth felt for his father should have made her happy, but it didn’t. All she could think about was the vile consequence of Danny Ray Millstone. The bastard was dead and still claiming victims.

She forced a smile and put on a brave front for Seth and Max, but the last place she wanted to die was on High Street.

When the smoke got so thick she could barely see, Sam got to her knees and crawled with her wet windbreaker tied over her mouth and nose. Her damp jacket had started to steam with the fierce heat. The only time she lifted the garment was to scream for Jessie, but it didn’t take her long to realize she had to conserve energy.

And with the fire getting worse, she was running out of time.

Everywhere she looked, the rooms glowed in blood-red amidst choking black smoke. Flames raged up walls and belched through doorways, consuming everything in sight. She felt the scorching heat on her skin. Even the hair on her arms singed when she got too close to the flames. And she smelled her hair smoldering.

But she forced her mind to focus on her search, despite her growing fear. Another danger posed a problem.

Not knowing what was burning, the closed-in structure made it a real possibility that superheated gases, carbon monoxide or hydrogen cyanide, might build inside the boarded-up house. A rolling structure fire could annihilate an old house in a hurry, but toxic fumes could kill anyone inside long before the fire got to them.

Panic ate at her resolve, but she kept going.

She had gotten through most of the first floor without a sign of Jessie or Alexa. A couple of back rooms were all that remained. With two floors above her, she had to cover ground without wasting time. And until she got upstairs, she had no idea how bad the fire was there.

She pushed herself farther down the hall, making her way to every door, but a loud sound caught her off guard.

“What the hell?” She raised up. “Jessie?”

Sam heard a bang. A series of loud splintering cracks. To her ear it sounded like gunfire, but with the noise reverberating in the house, she couldn’t tell which way it came from. As the heat intensified, she crawled faster and deeper into the old mansion, gagging and coughing. She almost turned back but scrambled toward the last open door. Whoever set the blaze must have done it nearby. The flames were more concentrated toward the rear of the first floor.

And a vaguely familiar medicinal odor was still in the air. She had smelled the odor before, yet couldn’t quite place it.

But as she neared the door, a man came running from the room. Low as she was, he didn’t see her. The man tripped over her, his knee nailing the side of her face. The blow shocked her, and her head snapped back. Shards of pain racked her body as she rolled.

Sam shook her head and blinked, noticing the man had taken a nasty fall. She pulled down the jacket she had covering her nose and mouth. And when her mind cleared enough, she yelled, “Police!”

Ignoring her, he struggled to his feet and turned to run, but the cop in her wouldn’t let him go. She reached a hand for his pant leg and toppled him again. This time when he hit the floor, the man grappled her from behind and choked her with his forearm.

She bucked against the death grip he had on her throat and pummeled him with her fists and elbows. But none of her blows did damage. Her muscles were growing weaker the more she struggled. In seconds, she lost feeling in her arms and legs. And her tongue had swollen, blocking any hope for air.

Sheer panic mixed with deathlike indifference as she thrashed against him. She couldn’t breathe at all now, and her lungs burned from the strain. Her world faded in and out of black, darkness marred only by spiraling pinpoints of light—her final trace of consciousness.

She was dying. And she knew it.

“Quiet!” Alexa cried, yelling at Jake, who had taken to incoherent rants. “I think I hear voices.”

She stepped closer to the doorway, listening. But when the sound faded to nothing, she pounded on the door. And after Jessie retrieved her Colt Python off the floor, she came to help.

“Hey…we’re in here. Help us! PLEASE!” They yelled in unison. To make their point, Alexa reached for her gun again and yelled a warning, “Get down.”

When the others ducked for cover, she fired a few rounds higher on the wooden door, angled toward the ceiling. She didn’t want to hit someone trying to rescue them.

But no one responded. No one was coming.

Alexa wiped her face with a hand. Her head ached as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. They had no more time, and she knew it. In desperation, she shoved her gun into the waistband of her pants and got to the floor on her back. She rammed both feet into the bottom half of the door in a mule kick. Once. Twice. The smoky air was making it harder to breathe, and she panted with the effort. And without a word, Jessie got down next to her and kicked with everything she had.

The door was stronger than she would have imagined and her legs stung with every jarring blow. Soon, the heat and thickening smoke would make it impossible to do much damage. The exertion would be too much.

Her thoughts turned to Garrett and the life he had opened her eyes to. She had only just begun to live the way she wanted—on the edge and without holding back for a tomorrow that might never come. It made her kick harder.

She didn’t want to die like this.

“Sam’s inside.” Ray Garza struggled against two firemen who held him back. “You gotta let me go.”

He and a CPD tactical team had arrived on the scene about the same time as the fire crew. Both teams wanted to take over and do their jobs, but that couldn’t happen. The potential hostage situation with an armed gunman trumped the urgency of the fire—at least for now. That left highly trained firemen frustrated and sitting on the sidelines.

And Ray knew exactly how they felt.

“No one’s going inside.” A third man stepped in front of him, someone in authority dressed in a fire-department uniform. “You won’t be doin’ your friend any good if you die tryin’ to save him.”

Ray glared at the man, letting his words sink in.

“Sam’s a woman. A cop,” he clarified. “She called it in.”

“I’m sorry.” The fireman gripped his shoulder. “Real sorry.”

Ray quit fighting the two men who braced his arms, and they released him. For Sam’s sake, he couldn’t afford to lose it. Normally, the fire department had control of a fire, but under a dangerous hostage situation, tactical would have command. Yet knowing cops had the authority hadn’t made the waiting easier. He had to let the men do their jobs and accept that he wouldn’t be a part of the rescue operation.

He took a deep breath and slumped against the hood of his unmarked police vehicle. Dressed in black BDUs, the tactical team had set up a perimeter to work the scene, but the blaze would dictate everything. A line of firefighters stood to his right. They could only watch as flames ravaged the old Millstone mansion. Each face had a grim expression colored by regret. He understood the anger of being forced to accept defeat before the fight had even begun.

Damn it, Sam! Why didn’t you follow protocol and wait for backup?

Dense black smoke tainted the air, and an intense red glow painted the night sky. Police and fire crews continued to arrive Code Three, with bystanders and news crews gathering at a distance. The scene looked and sounded chaotic, but nothing distracted him from imagining the horror Sam faced inside. He knew the minute he arrived and didn’t find her that she had gone into the burning building in search of her friend.

Now she might pay the price for going in alone, and he could do nothing to save her. Ray shut his eyes and prayed. He only hoped God would hear him.

A splintering crash brought Sam back, and spiraling heat swept past her. In a stupor, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. But when her eyes opened, billowing red sparks hung suspended above her head in clouds of swirling black smoke.

The man who’d nearly killed her had let go. And her body had slumped back. A rush of air sucked into her spent lungs, and the effort shocked her already fragile system. Urgent need outweighed the distress of breathing the fiery air. But the act of taking that first breath almost finished the job her assailant had started.

In a coughing jag, she gulped breaths in small measures, her eyes watering. She rolled onto her belly and peered down a murky hallway. The ceiling had collapsed behind her. And the man who had nearly taken her life had made a run for it, but not before he gaped over his shoulder, fixing his gaze on her.

A face blurred in and out of focus, but wasn’t clear enough for her to link it with a name, not in her condition.

The man grimaced as she stared back, but he didn’t stop. Dodging fallen debris, he disappeared into a wall of flames, leaving Sam alone. She pushed off the floor and sat back until her head cleared enough to stand. Her body had begun to fight her, but she ignored the pain and got to her feet.

Her confrontation had stolen precious time. Sam turned to run deeper into the fire shouting for Jessie between fits of coughing that had her doubled over. She heard another thunderous crash that roared through the old mansion and knew her chances of making it upstairs had run out. The place would soon come crashing down on her.

She’d stayed too long.

“Jessie!” Sam cried. “Where are…you?”

One open door remained ahead, and she made a run for it, her last-ditch effort to find her friend. When she looked inside the room, she noticed a strange door. With a makeshift closure, it had a metal pipe lying across steel brackets and was bolted shut. Gaping holes of splintered wood were punched through the closed door. The source of the gunfire. And the blaze had enveloped the walls around the doorjamb.

“Jessie!” she yelled.

Sam raced for the bolted door, careful not to stand in front of it. If someone inside still had a gun, she’d make an easy target. She stood to one side and called out again.

“Jessie…you in there?”

“Sam, is that you?”

She heard the muffled voice, and answered, “I’m here. I’m gonna get you out.”

Sam wrapped her jacket around her hands and inspected the metal bolt that had them locked inside. It looked hot, but she had no choice. She positioned her hands on one end and shoved. Even through the wrapping on her hands, she felt the trauma of her skin burning, and it sent a jolt through her—searing heat fused with the stark chill of shock. But the metal pipe crashed to the floor at her feet. And the door swept open.

In a blur she felt Jessie rush to her. Barely able to stand, Sam pulled her friend close and drew from her strength.

“Oh Sammie. You did it.”

Jess felt Sam collapse in her arms as the others gathered around them. But as her gaze shifted into the larger room and beyond, Jess’s mouth opened in shock. Fire had engulfed the house and consumed any hope they had of walking out the way they’d come.

And Sam had risked everything to save her. She clutched her lifelong friend tight, and whispered in her ear, “You saved my life, little sister.”

Despite the futility of their predicament, Jess had to return the favor—or die trying. When Alexa joined them, she grabbed Sam by the shoulders to make sure her friend was strong enough.

“Can you walk?” she asked. When Sam nodded, she glanced at Alexa. “It doesn’t look like the front door is an option out.”

“No way,” Sam agreed. “The ceiling caved in. And I’d guess anything upstairs is out, too.”

“This shit hole is comin’ down,” Jake shouted, “…and we’re gonna die. I can’t—”

“Shut up, Jake. You’re not helping.” Jess turned toward Alexa. “Max and Seth will need a hand. I’ve got an idea, but you’ll have to trust me. We gotta go now.”

What she had in mind would be a crapshoot at best, but she didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth.

Some people can sit on a sideline content to watch the drama of a game played out, but Ray Garza had never been like that. He had to get involved and make a difference—his way. That was why he’d joined the police force.

He knew that he should have let the tactical team do their thing. And the fire department would have their hands full once they got the go-ahead to move in. But leaving Sam to deal with a full-blown fire and a killer with hostages was too much to ask of a guy—especially a cop.

Ray waited until heads were turned and opened the trunk of his vehicle. A crowbar was the kind of passkey he needed to gain access fast. He headed down the block, away from the action, then doubled back toward the rear of the burning mansion through an adjoining property.

“Hang on, Coop,” he whispered. “Please.”

All he could think about was Sam’s sweet face—her crooked smile, the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, and the underlying compassion in her eyes that was never far from the surface. And the woman was gutsy, too. Real gutsy.

Even though he had taken issue with her close friendship with Jessica Beckett, he knew that was something he would never change or want to. She cared deeply for those she loved. And her loyalty was steadfast, another quality he admired.

The woman had gotten under his skin in a big way, but damned if he didn’t like it.

Ray had hopes for more time with her. He’d never been in love. The possibility of it had always scared him…until now. But Sam had opened his eyes to a life outside the job. And he wanted one with her.

“You’re not getting out of our bet, Sam.”

He forced a smile and picked up his pace. And as he ran through the shadows toward the fireball lighting the night sky, he prayed it wasn’t already too late.

“You won’t be needing this anymore.” Jess pulled the gun Jake carried next to his belly. The bartender looked as if he would object, but backed off. “And since you carried him in here, you’re taking Max out. Pick him up.”

“No, I don’t want him touching my dad,” Seth protested. “I’ll take him.”

Jess was about to put up an argument, but seeing the look in Harper’s eyes, she knew better. He tried to mask his pain with a stern expression that she’d never seen before. If there was ever a time that Seth had meant business, this was it.

She pulled him aside, away from the others.

“Take my jacket and cover Max’s face. The smoke will be bad where we’re going.” She squeezed his arm. “And if you can’t do this, don’t be the hero. Ask for help, or you’ll both die.”

“Got it.” He nodded. “I trust you, Jessie. Lead the way.”

She knew what a concussion felt like firsthand, and Harper was doing a pretty good job covering up. But with the extra load and in his shaky condition, he’d be pushed to his limits. He wouldn’t be able to stay low where his chances were better. Carrying Max would put them both at risk for smoke inhalation, but she didn’t see an alternative that Harper would tolerate.

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him,” Alexa reassured her and turned toward Seth, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get your father.”

In seconds, they were ready to go, with Jess in front, standing at the door.

“Stay as low as you can and stick close,” she said. “If you lose sight of the person in front of you…yell. We’re heading for the kitchen.” She waved her hand to show them the direction. “There’s a door to the basement below.”

“The basement?” Jake questioned, shaking his head. “Goin’ deeper into hell is crazy.”

“There’s a way out down there…but we’ll have to work at it. If that’s not good enough, Jake, there’s the door. You feelin’ lucky?” She glared at the man who had put them in this situation. When he avoided her eyes and kept his mouth shut, she added, “I didn’t think so. Now let’s move out.”

Jess looked into the eyes of her friends one last time, but when her gaze found Jake, she clenched her jaw and didn’t hide her resentment. She didn’t trust him, but like it or not, he was part of the group and would need her help out of Millstone’s inferno.

Sometimes it sucked to have a conscience.

After they cleared the room, the heat was unbearable. Staying low only made it marginally better. The conditions made her more worried for Seth and his father. She covered her mouth with her forearm and took shallow breaths, dodging fiery obstacles in her path, careful not to lose Harper. He followed her, but the smoke made it nearly impossible to see him. She felt his presence and kept moving. And she prayed the others were close behind. She had underestimated the noise. If one of them got lost now, she wasn’t sure she could hear their call for help.

Sam had been right about the upstairs. The staircase had been engulfed in flames, with part of the steps burned through. And the collapsed ceiling at one end of the hall made it impossible to head back the way they’d come in. Eerie sounds roared through the corridors until she heard the loud, splintering rumble of the old mansion coming apart above her. The noise intensified, and her heart beat faster. It sounded as if the second floor was about to come down on top of them.

Jess reached a hand out for Seth. But when she didn’t find him, she panicked. She flailed her hands into the murky black and leaned back until she touched something solid—Seth’s leg. He stopped, and she gripped his thigh, tugging at his jeans. She pulled him with her and took one step at a time.

She crept toward the back of the house, guided by her memory. Any familiar traces of the old mansion were burning, soon to be nothing more than charred rubble. But when she got to the basement door, it was open. And pitch-black smoke surged from its depths.

Damn it!
Fear twisted her gut when she saw how much smoke came from below. Had she led them to the basement for nothing?

Shaking, she grabbed for Seth again. Harper had trusted her with the safety of his father. Feeling him next to her now—still willing to believe in her—gave Jess comfort. She couldn’t let her friends down. Sam had been willing to sacrifice her life to rescue her. And without hesitation, Alexa had accompanied her into a hostage situation, knowing it would be dangerous.

But doubt was a powerful enemy.

Jess second-guessed what she had done and racked her brain, trying to think of another way out. Yet everywhere she turned, their predicament looked more hopeless. The fire had ravaged the ground floor, and the upper stories were ready to fall. And she knew Harper couldn’t stand much more.

She ducked down and peered through the door to the basement below. In the distance, fire reflected off the cement floor, but it was a pale comparison to what scorched her back. And the ceiling heaved with dense smoke, a swirling toxic surge that cut the room in half. But her instinct for survival forced her to take that first step down—back into Millstone’s torture chamber.

Danny Ray’s hellhole would be the key to their survival—or the death of her and those she cared about. The irony wasn’t wasted on her.