Love Me to Death

FORTY-FOUR

Kate fell and crawled to the far end of the porch. Sean swore silently as he dove into the snow. Kate gave him a hand signal that she was all right, but Sean knew she’d been hit.

Sean moved as fast as he could through the snow, around the edge of the house, the porch blocking his body from view, but he didn’t go up the front steps. Instead, he pulled himself over the railing at the corner and flattened his body against the side of the house. He peered through a crack in the blinds and saw Miller standing by the back door, looking out through the drapes, toward where Kate had gone.

Sean bent low and walked silently to the front door. He carefully tried the knob. Locked.

In his earpiece, Hans said, “SWAT five minutes.”

Sean wasn’t going to risk responding and having Miller hear him. If he could get inside and to Lucy before SWAT set up, he could protect her and surprise Miller if he came down to the basement. He needed to get in.

Sean put his gun in his left hand, and with his right he quietly picked the lock. He prayed there was no interior dead bolt. He heard a faint click when the lock was sprung.

He waited, gun back in his right hand, and listened. He didn’t hear any movement. He pictured the interior of the house from where he’d observed it through the window. The entry area couldn’t be seen from the back door. If Miller was still there, Sean could get in. If not …

He whispered into his mic, “I need a distraction in the back.”

Hans responded. “Ten-four.”

A moment later a single gunshot went off from the trees where Hans and Dillon were. There was movement in the house—Miller ran past the front door and up the stairs.

Sean quickly opened the door and heard Miller running down the upstairs hall. A half-minute later he fired from an upstairs window.

Sean closed the door. “I’m in,” he whispered. “I’m going for Miller.”

“Negative,” Kate said.

Sean ignored her. Lucy was downstairs, Miller was upstairs. Sean was between them. Miller was the obvious target.

He flattened his back against the wall at the base of the stairwell. There was silence now, the final report of the rifle fading. Staying on the edge of the stairway, Sean started up, gun ready.

The staircase had a turn halfway up. Sean paused, then peered around the corner.

Clear.

He moved quickly, listening carefully, and suddenly Miller sprinted toward the end of the hall. Miller saw Sean at the same moment Sean said, “Drop it, Miller. Now.”

Miller dove through another doorway and Sean heard footsteps running downstairs.

Shit! There was another staircase.

Sean jumped over the stair rail and Miller shot at him from the kitchen. He missed, then reached for a door.

The basement.

Sean fired in rapid succession. He hit Miller in the hand and Miller dropped the gun.

Miller ran back the way he’d come. Sean said, “He’s on the move and injured.” Sean hesitated. He wanted to pursue Miller, but if he circled around, Miller might have yet another entrance to the basement. He would be leaving Lucy unprotected.

Sean opened the unlocked door and took one cautious step down. The basement was barely lit, faint light coming in from the narrow windows.

“Lucy?” he called, louder than he’d intended. Rescue operations might be part and parcel for the course in his brothers’ lives, but not his. He was the brains behind the operation, not the operative himself.

Except now he didn’t have a choice.

“Sean! Oh God, Sean!”

He closed the door at the top of the stairs so he’d know if Miller was coming through. He found the light switch, which lit only two fluorescent lights, one above the door and one in the center of the basement.

He saw the cage. And Lucy looking up at him through the bars.

Sean’s chest tightened with a rage so powerful he nearly stumbled as he ran down the stairs.

“Lucy!” He knelt next to her, and she reached out of the bars and grabbed his neck.

He kissed her, holding her face with one hand. Blood had dried on her cheek and matted her hair. She had a gash on her arm that looked deep, and her sweater was torn in multiple places. She was so cold, her entire body shaking. He looked at her bare feet; she had no shoes. He quickly took off his shoes and socks, and handed her his socks before putting back on his shoes.

“Where’s Miller?” Lucy asked as she pulled on the socks.

“I don’t know where he went. I shot him, but he ran to the back of the house. He’s not getting out without a confrontation—SWAT is almost here, and Dillon, Kate, and Hans are outside. But I need to get you out of the cage first.”

Lucy said, “And Carolyn.” She motioned toward the corner.

A blond woman stared at him with huge blue eyes. The resemblance to the younger Rosemarie Nylander, Miller’s ex-wife, was stunning.

Lucy said, “He really screwed with her head. This isn’t going to be easy.”

He assessed the combination lock on the cage door. He handed Lucy his lock pick and said, “Can you get out of the handcuffs?”

She nodded and started working on the cuffs.

Sean went over to the padlock. He put his ear to the lock and listened to the tumbler as he turned the knob.

“Sean, do you smell something?”

“Shh.” He had to concentrate or he’d miss the sound and feeling of the clicks.

One. A tumbler fell into place, and he turned the other way, all the way around, then listened very carefully …

Lucy freed herself from the handcuffs, then crawled over to Carolyn. “We’re leaving, Carolyn, and you’re coming with us. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Sean focused on the lock … except he then smelled what Lucy had smelled.

He glanced up the stairs. Smoke billowed under the door. Then the lights went out. Lucy gasped and Carolyn whimpered.

“Sean, you have to get out—go—”

“Not without you.”

“Sean—” She left Carolyn and reached for his hand.

“Lucy, I’m not leaving.” He kissed her through the bars. “Now, shh, I need to listen.”

Now he heard the fire growing quickly above him as he concentrated on the tumbler.

Click.

He had the second number. He was focusing on the third when he heard rapid gunfire upstairs.

“I need a gun,” Lucy said.

“My ankle,” he directed.

He felt Lucy unholster his backup gun, and she aimed it at the door.

He had to go slow because if he missed the click, he would have to start all over. But the noise overhead interfered with his hearing.

Lucy watched the door, since Sean’s back was to it. She heard shouts and voices, then the door opened, smoke billowing into the basement from the kitchen. The crackle of the growing fire terrified her. She didn’t know how they were going to get out. She aimed her gun, praying it was SWAT or Kate or someone …

It was Miller. He was bleeding, but he aimed and fired his gun at the same time Lucy did. Something stung her ankle, but she didn’t stop pressing the trigger of the nine-millimeter until there were no more bullets. Miller stared at her as he fell back against the railing and tumbled down the staircase, landing with a dead thud she heard over the crackling of the fire.

She twisted around to check on Sean. He was sprawled on the ground.

“NO!”

The lock was open and she pulled it off the cage, pushed open the door, and crawled out.

“Sean, dammit! No!”

“I’m. Okay.” His voice was weak.

“Where are you hit?”

“Vest.” He sat up, not bleeding but obviously shaken and out of breath, then pulled Lucy into a tight hug.

Lucy stumbled over to where Miller had fallen down the stairs when she shot him. She pulled away his gun, even though it was obvious he was dead.

“We have to go,” Sean said. “Carolyn!”

The girl didn’t move, just stared, nearly catatonic.

“Is she hurt?”

Lucy crawled back into the cage.

“Carolyn, we have to go now.”

Carolyn shook her head.

“He’s dead! I killed him. Please, Carolyn. You don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. We have to go!”

Carolyn hesitated, and Lucy grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out. Carolyn cried out in pain, but Lucy didn’t stop. She knew the girl was injured, but getting her out of the burning house was paramount.

“Sean,” Lucy said, “can you carry her?”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.” She didn’t know if she could. She touched her ankle and came away with blood. It hurt, but she thought she was only grazed. “Go, she’s really weak.”

Sean was obviously torn, but picked Carolyn up and draped her over his shoulder. Lucy pulled herself to her feet. She tried to walk, but her left leg crumbled beneath her. Sean turned around, panic in his expression.

“Go!” she said. “I’m coming.”

She crawled across the floor behind Sean. He went up the stairs and through the door. She was halfway up the stairs when the ceiling sagged above her and she screamed. The fire was so loud she knew no one could have heard her. The burning wood, the creaks and crackling—she coughed and reached for the railing to pull herself up. She hopped on her good foot, using the railing for support.

Fingers of flames reached through the open door. The wood railing, weakened by Miller’s fall, quickly caught fire. The stairs themselves creaked and she feared they’d collapse from the top, dropping her to the ground below with no way out.

At the top of the stairs, Sean emerged. He stepped onto the short landing and the stairs swayed dramatically. He stepped back.

“Lucy, hurry!”

She let go of the burning rail and crawled up the stairs as they swayed. She felt everything shift downward and she reached for Sean …

He grabbed her wrist as the staircase collapsed. He was coughing, his face black with soot, but he pulled her up, every muscle straining in his neck and arms. They collapsed on the kitchen floor, coughing. The heat from the flames devouring the house was intense.

“Luce,” Sean coughed as they slithered on their bellies through the smoky kitchen.

A figure dressed all in black came in. He wore a SWAT mask. He grabbed Lucy by the underarms and pulled her through the house and out the front door.

“Sean!” she cried.

“I’ll get him.”

Her eyes stung and she couldn’t see clearly, but she recognized that voice. Noah Armstrong. He ran up the stairs and into the burning house.

She stared, terrified she’d lose Sean, that Noah would die trying to save him. Miller must have used accelerant, and coupled with the age of the house and the old, dry wood, the fire had spread in minutes.

The roof caved in and the house seemed to shift as it swayed. She coughed, and Dillon was suddenly at her side, putting a portable oxygen mask over her face.

She took a couple of breaths, then pushed it aside.

“Lucy, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay.”

Dillon hugged her tightly.

“Sean—”

“Noah is getting him out. Are you really okay?”

She couldn’t answer. She stared at the door. Please, please!

The house continued to collapse in on itself.

Sean and Noah hadn’t come out.

“No,” she moaned. “No!”

Dillon hugged her, trying to shield her face, but she pushed him away. “Lucy—”

She’d been so cold in the basement; now she felt burned from the inside out.

The entire place was an inferno. Every plank of wood glowing in the hungry flames. Then the house crumbled as the weight of the second story forced the entire structure to collapse.

Her mouth dropped and she stared. Sean.

No. Oh, God, please.

Dillon squeezed her hand. “Lucy, you need medical attention. Please. You’re bleeding.”

She stared at the melting snow, saw drops of blood falling from her arm, her ankle, her head. Tears of blood, weeping over a loss she couldn’t comprehend. Hope for a normal future was severed by the cruelty of fate.

Kate knelt down. Lucy stared at her. “Why?” It was the timeless question she never had an answer for. And neither did Kate.

Dillon held both of them, but Lucy felt nothing. She was dying inside.

Hans ran over. “They got out the back!”

Lucy stared at him in disbelief. Was this an illusion? She’d seen the house collapse. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. Sean and Noah are fine. So is the girl you saved. She’s in the lifeline helicopter now.”

Two SWAT team members flanked Noah, who had his mask off, his face black with soot, and Sean, who now wore Noah’s mask, as they trudged through the melting snow toward the triage area in the driveway near the SWAT van. Dillon helped Lucy stand and she hobbled over to Sean.

He came right to her and held her tight.