Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (7 page)

Through the gray smoke, she could make out Stone fumbling in his pocket. A second later he leaned over her with a key.

He must be Superman, for the cuff attached to the bed was off in an instant and she was in his arms. Not wanting to lose hold, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sobs of relief tore through her chest. She tucked her chin to her neck and squeezed her eyes closed.

Stone sped out of the bedroom, down the stairs and across the living room. She coughed as tears of joy mixed with the smoke.

“Hold tight,” he said.

He grabbed the car keys off the counter with one hand and raced out the front door.

Once across the porch, she gulped down the cool, clean air.

The second he hit grass, he set her down. Without saying a word, he ran to the car, opened the back door, and was back by her side seconds later.

“Are you okay enough to walk?”

Dazed, she looked up at him.

He gently pinched her.

“Ow.”

“Good. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

* * * *

Stone paced the hospital waiting room for a good three hours while the doctors treated Susan. The attending nurse wouldn’t tell him anything other than the physician would stop by when he was finished. He’d seen enough fire victims to know inhaling hot air could burn the esophagus lining, causing death. She wasn’t unconscious when he found her, but her unhealed wounds could get infected. Too bad Susan didn’t remember how much time she’d been in the burning room before he’d arrived.

His chest tightened. He should have checked the batteries on the smoke alarm. He should have asked for a key to the neighboring town houses in case the furnished apartments were occupied by some squatter who’d dropped a lit cigarette, and he should have checked the area when they came back from the beach, but dammit, every time he turned around, someone was calling to tell him another juror had died or Susan was turning him on, twisting his mind.

Excuses. Rationalizations. He hated them. Bottom line, he hadn’t been there for her.

He’d failed her.

Guilt and anger rippled through him. He should have been more cautious, should have checked up on her during the night. Maybe he had no right to be a bodyguard. Too late now. He’d not make the same mistake again.

Stone glanced at the wall clock for the tenth time. The fire marshal said he’d have a preliminary report of what happened by tomorrow morning. Given the Feds hadn’t come up with even a fingerprint around any of the other crime scenes, he knew the local marshal wouldn’t discover any incriminating evidence at the town house.

Frustration bit at him. Add in being scared for Susan, together with no sleep, and he was ready to punch the next person he saw.

A large woman with a sleeping baby wrapped in a pink blanket stared hard at him as he strode back and forth across the small waiting room.

“Sorry.” He took a seat and dropped his head in his hands.

He was no fire expert, but houses did not spontaneously combust. Someone had found out where they were. Damn it. How? Peter couldn’t have given away their location because he didn’t know where they were. Or did he?

His stomach grumbled. Anxiety always fueled his metabolism. He needed food. Susan probably did, too.

“Mr. Watson?”

Stone jerked up his head. “Yes?” He jumped out of his seat and closed the gap between him and Susan’s attending physician. “How is she?”

“Stable, but I want to keep her here overnight for observation.”

The muscles in his shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s no problem.” He doubted anyone would try to harm her here. “Is she in much pain?”

“She didn’t sustain any burns, and the smoke damage seemed minimal, but the full extent of her condition isn’t easy to detect right away. Given her other injuries, she’s in more danger.”

“I understand.”

“We’ll need to get some information on Mrs. Watson.”

Mrs. Watson. He never thought he’d hear that name, even if it wasn’t real. When he’d raced in with Susan in his arms, he was aware that hospital records could be hacked into, and his name was the first that came to mind.

He didn’t want anyone to trace credit card records to find her location. “I’m afraid all of our insurance information and other paperwork burned down with the town house. Do you guys take cash?”

The doctor smiled. “Never a problem.”

Perfect. He’d stop at an ATM and withdraw the money. Good thing the FBI had high withdrawal limits for this type of situation.

Stone scrubbed a hand over his jaw and studied the young doctor. He showed his badge, but the doctor’s face remained blank.

“I’m afraid my wife is part of an ongoing investigation. No information should be released on her condition.” He paused to give the doctor time to absorb the information. “To anyone.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, Agent Watson. We have a police officer on staff who can stand guard outside her room if you wish.”

Stone nodded and returned his badge to his pocket. “I intend to stay by her side also. I’d appreciate if only medical personnel are allowed in. With ID.” While he figured a local cop wouldn’t be in cahoots with the killer, he wanted to stay in charge.

“I’ll inform the hospital.”

* * * *

When Susan opened her eyes, it was déjà vu all over again. She was in a hospital bed with Stone by her side, only this time her protector looked a little worse for wear. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her. The doctor who checked her over said she hadn’t sustained any burns and that she was lucky Stone had come in when he had.

Amen.

He leaned over her and smiled. “Welcome to the world of the living.”

Despite the sooty streaks painted across his cheek, he was a handsome man. She, however, was a whole different story. Her hand flew to her hair to pat down the tangled, sweaty mess. She inhaled, and the strong smoky scent assaulted her nostrils. How could anyone stand to be near her?

“I would give anything for a long, relaxing shower right now.” Stone needed one, too. The instant pleasantly intense image of them sharing the small, confining space shocked her. Getting sidetracked by Stone wouldn’t be good.

Stone waved a hand. “You look fine.”

“I don’t feel fine.”

His smile disappeared. “What hurts?” He pulled up the chair from the end of the bed and sat.

That one act of caring did more to bolster her spirits than any smile could. “Nothing more than what was injured in the explosion.” She rubbed her chest. “I have a little trouble breathing, but the doctor said that’s to be expected.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear you yell sooner. I was conked out.” The drawn lines around his mouth told her he was telling the truth.

“It would have helped if you hadn’t chained me to the bed.”

He squared his shoulders. “I had no choice, and you know why.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Are you done tying me up?” She rubbed her bruised wrists.

He cocked a brow. “If you give me your Girl Scout promise you won’t try to escape, I’ll consider your request.”

She rolled her eyes. “I promise.” A wave of pain raced up from her chest. “When can I get out of here?”

“The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation.”

Her body tensed. “Because?”

“Smoke is insidious. It can cause harm even when you can’t see its effects.”

A knock sounded on the door. Susan’s pulse jumped ten beats and her hands clutched the spread. The young man standing at the door might have on a cop uniform, but anyone could wear a costume. He waved to Stone and moved back out of sight.

She jerked her gaze back at Stone. “Who’s he?”

He leaned over and clasped her hand. His tender touch ignited a warmth in her belly she had a hard time identifying. He released his grasp, and emptiness claimed her.

Stone leaned back in his chair. “I told the doctor you were under FBI protection, and he offered a hospital security guard to stand watch.”

“That was nice of you to ask.” The added personnel would allow her to sleep better.

“I was hoping you’d see it that way.” He pushed back on the chair and stood. “Now that the guard has arrived, I’m going down to the hospital cafeteria. I won’t be long.”

“Do you have to leave?” She hadn’t meant for her plea to slip out.

“I can stay a few minutes. You want to talk about what happened?”

“The house caught on fire, that’s what happened.” If she got into a discussion about who-dun-it, Peter’s name might surface, and she wasn’t sure anymore that he was guilty.

As an attorney, she never budged from her convictions and always fought for what she wanted. But what if she were wrong this time? Were principles more important than her life? Her dad claimed they were, but look where that got him—dead.

“We’ll discuss it another time.”

“Sure.” Her stomach grumbled. “I’m starving, and these people won’t give me anything until the doctor gives some nebulous all-clear order. Can you sneak in something good to eat for me? I’d kill for a juicy hamburger.”

* * * *

Stone had just stepped outside the hospital to find the world’s best hamburger when his cell vibrated. “Christ.” He didn’t need any more bad news. It was his boss. “Watson.” He crossed the street to his parked car.

“It’s Thomason. How is Susan doing? Loving the warm weather, I suspect.” Part of his job was to check up on those in hiding.

“You didn’t hear? Someone set the town house on fire. I barely got her out on time.” A car’s brakes squealed, forcing him to jump to the sidewalk. He better get his head back in the game or Susan would be left without a bodyguard.

“Holy shit. Is she okay? Are you?” Richard’s voice rose.

“We’re at the hospital now. No burns, just smoke inhalation. I’m good, but I’m worried about Susan, or rather Taylor, given her previous injuries.”

“She has been through so much. Do we have any idea who did this?” Stone could imagine Richard pacing, tugging on his perfectly knotted tie, rearranging the items on his desk.

“Fire Marshal is working it.”

“Christ. We don’t need this. I’ll get right on finding you a new place. Obviously, he’s found you.”

Stone reached his car and got in. He waited to start the engine until their conversation ended. “At least we know it’s not Peter Caravello. I heard he was in jail.”

Thomason didn’t answer for a moment. “Who told you?”

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to let on he knew. “Don’t remember.”

He turned the key in order to lower the windows. He needed air, pissed he’d nearly mentioned the information Tom told him. Tom was not usually privy to the FBI information, yet somehow the guy knew everything.

“Caravello could have pulled the strings from the inside,” Richard said.

Richard used Susan’s logic. Relieved he didn’t press where his knowledge came from, Stone relaxed in the seat. “Perhaps.” He didn’t want to be discussing his theory about Peter’s lack of guilt with the Head of Security. “I’ll take you up on your offer to move as our town house is basically gone.” He chuckled, though only for effect. Stepping into another “safe” house was one step from stupid.

“Good, but I’m afraid I had another reason for calling.” The deadly low tone meant the news wasn’t good.

“What?” He gripped the wheel tight and sat up straight, scanning the parking lot to check if anyone had followed them to the hospital. It didn’t take a high IQ to guess they’d come here.

“Juror number six was killed.”

He slapped a hand on the steering wheel. “When?”

“Sometime before midnight.”

“How?” Sweat beaded his chest.

Papers rustled in the background and phones rang. Richard must be moving across the office. “Gunshot to the head.”

Damn. A different MO could mean a team of assassins was at work. “Who was it? I know Taylor will want to know.” Given she spent close to a year on the case, she’d gotten to know the jurors, even if recalling them took her a minute.

“Travis Simmons.”

His hand shook at the ramification. “Thanks.” He’d been about to hang up, when Richard called his name. “Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this. I put two people in a safe house and now both are dead. I don’t know what to do.” The man sounded sincerely distraught.

Stone wanted to say,
find the mole
, but wasn’t sure he’d be wise to voice his opinion over the phone. “You’ll find a way to stop this guy.”

“I hope. I’ll call you when I have an exact address for the new place to stay.”

* * * *

Richard Thomason had just hung up with Stone when his cell rang. Thinking it might be Watson again, he answered without checking the caller ID. “Yes?”

“Where’s the girl?”

His insides shot to liquid. He recognized the blackmailer’s distorted voice. He never should have given the bastard his cell phone number, but he’d figured his personal cell couldn’t be traced. “I don’t know.”

“You’re the head of the goddamn relocation program. If you don’t know, who does?”