Vital Signs (15 page)

Something had to be done. A grant or something to be applied for. Even if they moved to another building, they might be able to fit it to suit their needs.

When he reached the chief’s office, though, he saw the man slumped in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting for calm.

“Knock, knock,” Corey said.

Chief looked up, his expression bleak. “You might as well come in and tell me your bad news too. Nothing can surprise me today.”

Shaking his head, Corey leaned against his usual corner of the desk. “I don’t have any bad news to relate.” Actually, since exchanging love words with Sarita, he’d been flying high. Things could definitely turn out right with her.

“That’s a bonus to my day, then.” Chief pivoted in his chair and propped his elbows on the desk.

“What’s going on?”

When Chief met his gaze, Corey read his worry loud and clear. “We’ve been working together for a decade, man. Just say it.”

“Mitchell Allancamp evaded capture last night. I guess they traced him when he’d purchased a burn phone at a convenience store last week using a credit card.”

The synapses leading to Corey’s brain seemed to harden into cement. Surely, that call he’d received hadn’t been Mitchell.

Yet, he knew it was. Allancamp had his phone number, probably after finding his mother with it and tying her up. Corey could easily ditch his phone and sever communication with the man forever, but doing so meant Mitchell couldn’t be tracked. Which meant the arsonist was still at large.

“Take a seat, Corey. You look stunned.”

He shook his head. “He called me last night.”

“What?” Chief shot out of his chair. “Why wouldn’t the authorities have shared this information with me? They’re watching that man’s every move and tracing his calls. They obviously knew he called you.”

At that minute, Chief’s phone rang. “Dammit.” He snagged the phone from the desk and brought it to his ear, barking his name as greeting. He listened for a minute, his eyes rolling over the files pertaining to the investigation scattered over his desk and then locking on Corey.

He lowered the phone and pressed a button to end the call without even saying goodbye.

Corey’s blood ran cold. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“They want you. To use you to lure him. It seems they’ve uncovered enough information about Mitchell to believe he’s lying in wait for you.”

Corey clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “What do I do?”

“They want to use you as bait. To trap him.”

A throaty cry sounded from behind Corey—a sound he knew well. He whirled to see Sarita standing there, her dark hair off her face in a ponytail and looking sexy as hell in her uniform.

But her brows were two punctuations over her angry glare. “You can’t go, Corey.”

Tossing a look at Chief, he caught Sarita’s arm and towed her from the room. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and searched his face. “You’re actually considering doing this thing? Letting yourself be used as bait?”

“The FBI is capable of watching my back.”

She looked about to run, her muscles coiled and her shoulders tense. “Then I’m going with you.”

“Like hell,” he ground out. His chest burned with the idea of her standing in the way of danger. Nothing had stopped or even railroaded Mitchell so far. He’d stop at nothing and bowl over anybody to get what he wanted.

“If you’re going, I’m going. Corey, we’re a team.”

Panic welled in him at the thought of her within a hundred miles of a fucking criminal like Mitchell Allancamp.

“We’re not a team in this. Why don’t you just go?”

Her tawny cheeks darkened with a blush he suspected was anger. But if he had to piss her off in order to keep her safe, it was a small price to pay. He just couldn’t lose her
,
and he’d never focus knowing she was in danger.

“Fine. Good luck.” She spun away from him and practically ran out of the station. He watched her sail out the door, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. But at least she wouldn’t be near when he laid this trap for the arsonist.

Chief’s hand came down on his shoulder. He looked back to find his peer and friend nodding. “You did right. Let her go and fix it afterward.”

Corey gave a nod of agreement he wasn’t certain he felt. She’d stood by him through the thick and thin, never leaning in the winds he blew her direction. But how far could he push her?

I’m about to find out.

»»•««

Sarita battled tears for two blocks before she broke down. She took a detour through an alley to keep out of the public eye. When she was alone, she let herself break.

Why don’t you just go? Why don’t you just go?

His words sliced her right through the heart. All this time, even after his declaration of love, he could push her away. How blind she’d been, believing their connection could see them through. Even when he didn’t want her at his apartment caring for him or forcing him out of his depression to go to physical therapy, she’d believed in the spark between them.

Now she didn’t.

She dragged in a deep breath and scrubbed the tears from her face. As she continued to walk to work, a voice in the back of her mind whispered that he hadn’t meant what he’d said. He was only protecting her. Didn’t want her with him when he trapped the arsonist.

But dammit, would he always shove her away? She had no doubt he’d meant his words. He really didn’t need a woman. A man of his age obviously got along fine on his own. Relying only on himself.

What a fool she’d been.

Anger replaced her tears and by the time she reached the EMT station, she was dry-eyed. Peter greeted her with a frantic wave. “There’s somebody here to see you. He’s been waiting about half an hour already.”

“Oh.” Her stomach dropped to her shoes. She knew very few people in this city and if someone were coming to speak to her, she feared the reason. Something could have happened to her
mami
or her sisters—

Peter ushered her into the break room where a man in khaki pants and a button-down shirt sat waiting. As she entered the space, he looked up with a slight smile.

“Ah, I do see the resemblance,” the man said, standing to offer her his hand.

She hesitantly took it, confused by his statement. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“My name is James Franklin. I represent Mr. Adelmo Martinez.”

Those tears she’d held at bay surfaced once more. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. James Franklin offered her a box of tissues from a corner of the break room. She took two and sat at the long table where she and her coworkers often shared pizza and Chinese takeout between rescues.

“Thank you, Mr. Franklin,” she said as she composed herself again. “I’m sure you’ve heard the bad news about Mr. Martinez.”

“Yes, I have. I have been commissioned to distribute his personal property at the time of his death.”

She stared at him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I’m doing a poor job of it, and I apologize. I’m here because Mr. Martinez had no living relatives he wished to leave his legacy to. His wife was deceased and they had no children.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“He has distant family he wasn’t close to, so he’s left everything to you.”

Blinking like an owl, she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. His legacy? His home had been solid but she couldn’t imagine it was worth much set in that section of town. “Are you telling me he’s left me his house?”

Mr. Franklin nodded. “That and more, Sarita. Mr. Martinez lived frugally his entire life, but he was a hard worker and a good saver. He has left you a nice little sum of money as well as all his earthly possessions. If you don’t mind my suggesting this, I believe you should have an auction of his belongings and put his house on the market. You won’t get much, but—”

“Wait.” She held up her hand. “He’s left me…everything? His home and money?”

“His life’s savings, yes. Here is the final sum if you’d like to take a look. It doesn’t include the house or contents.” He pushed a piece of notepaper across the table to her.

She stared down at the figure, and her jaw dropped. Shock tore through her. “I-I don’t deserve this.”

“He believed you do. He had a fondness for you because you reminded him of his wife, and from the photos I’ve seen of her, the resemblance is there. But I also know you took time out of your own life to help him when he most needed it.”

Tears poured down her cheeks, and she choked back a sob. “What a special man he was,” she choked.

“He was.”

And now she had enough funds to bring her mother and sister to the United States and set them up with a modest apartment. In time they’d find jobs and her youngest sister could return to school.

She cried harder. “But I don’t need this much.”

“There are ways to invest. I can give you a few names—”

Her gasp cut him off. “I can help East Street!”

He straightened. “The firehouse?”

“Yes, the building. Would I have enough to fix that building so they don’t have to move out of it?”

“I’m not sure what improvements need to be done, but I think you’d manage that and still have a small sum left.”

She tapped the tabletop with the flat of her hand out of sheer excitement. Even if she and Corey were through, she’d come to care about the fire company and all the heroes working in it. She didn’t really need that much money anyway. Helping would make her feel better about everything.

“Can you help me arrange this?”

“I can have a check cut for you to donate to East Street, yes.” His eyes shined. “It’s no wonder Mr. Martinez believed in you. You’re a good woman, Sarita.”

Right now she felt like one. Soon she’d have her family around her and her friends would have their station intact. All she could hope was that these things would carry her through, because without Corey, she felt the light inside her dimming.

»»•««

Corey pulled up in front of the Allancamp home. It looked as it did any other day—downtrodden and more than a little sad. What he knew of the people who lived there was even sadder. A young boy, neglected and abused to the point of snapping had turned into a man who didn’t give a damn for human life.

His earpiece was in place, but he didn’t touch it. He couldn’t let Mitchell know he was wired. He had to appear as if he was entering the house alone. Really a whole force of FBI agents was around him.

They knew Mitchell was keeping a close watch on the house. He’d been there for a short time the previous day but left before the agents could nab him. But after searching the premises they’d found Mitchell had rigged the place with his trademark chemicals and a fuse set to ignite it all.

A clever setup, Corey had to admit. But when he was the one walking into it, he wasn’t so generous with his praise.

Without hesitation he stepped up to the front door. After looking around himself as though he were checking to see if the neighbors would catch him, he put his shoulder to the door and broke in.

Heart pounding, he looked around. The scents of the chemicals were cloying in the air, and he breathed shallowly as he closed the door. And waited.

“I’m in,” he barely breathed so the FBI agent on the case would hear.

“You know what to do,” came the response.

Yes, he’d been drilled well on the course of action. Pretend he was searching the place for clues about the arsonist. Wait for Mitchell to come inside, and before he lit the fuse to send the place up in flames, the FBI would storm the house and grab him. Corey would be safe.

And then he could go find Sarita and make things right. Too late he’d realized how horrible his parting words to her had been. He’d spent the past few hours sickened with himself and vowing to make it up to her. To show her just how damn important to him she was.

She’d spent so many weeks ferociously claiming her place at his side and now thinking he’d lost her… His heart spasmed.

He walked through the house, searching for things that might help the case against Mitchell Allancamp. They practically had his prison sentence signed by the judge. But first, they needed the suspect in custody, and Corey was determined to help do that.

Each footstep sounded dull beneath his feet. As in the dungeon-type space, the floors seemed to be sticky. Years of filth accrued while Mrs. Allancamp sat in a drugged stupor and Mitchell was locked away.

Bile filled his throat, and he swallowed repeatedly to shove it down. As a man who lived on hope—that he’d save a person, stop more destruction, and walk away from his job every night to love Sarita—it was difficult for him to be here.

He had no idea if the place was rigged with video cameras, so he pretended to search drawers and cabinets. Plenty of dry things that would go up in smoke in a blink of an eye.

Or the lighting of a fuse. He heard a scraping noise. A quiet sound that was obviously picked up with his bug. Agent Strauss was in his ear immediately with, “We hear that too. He’s coming in through the back. Let him get inside so we can lock down our case.”

Corey hardly breathed. His heart hammered, each beat seeming to echo loud and exclusively for Sarita. He’d get out of this alive and make things right. He had to.

A small clicking noise. A whoosh.

The walls sucked inward and in seconds the front of the house was engulfed in flames. Corey dived for the back door just as it burst inward and agent after agent filled the house. The smoke fogged the space, but he made out someone sneaking along a wall.

“I got him!” The agent hit the suspect and they tumbled through the flames. Corey’s training hit. He couldn’t leave people in a burning building, no matter how much he wanted to escape.

Throwing his arm over his nose and mouth, he found the first hard object he could use as a weapon. Wielding the cast iron skillet, he swung and struck Mitchell in the back of the head.

The man collapsed on top of the agent he was fighting. Fire licked up the walls. Several people ran past him to the open air.

“This place is going up. As soon as those flames hit the chemical gases, it’s going to blow!” Someone caught Corey’s sleeve, but he pulled free and waved them to the only escape.