Burned Hearts (5 page)

“You think he'd come after her for the sport of it at this point?” Dane lobbed the question out there, but he didn't sound convinced Wayne would pursue this avenue without Vale to provide the directives.

Kyle said, “You didn't see Horton chasing us up the switchbacks with hairpin turns and no shoulder on her side of the car—just a forty-five-hundred-foot drop into Oak Creek Canyon.”

Dane's scowl deepened. “Don't think for a second that I'm letting him off the hook. Not after all the damage he's done. That asshole's on my list, believe me.”

“Dane.” I didn't like that lethal blade to his voice that sliced through me.

He was slipping back into that dark and dangerous place in his mind.

I knew he wanted vengeance. And he certainly deserved it. Yet it was what he was willing to do in the name of retribution that alarmed me.

“Kyle, you're on-watch,” Amano said as he gestured to Tom, then shoved his gun in his holster. “Don't touch the rifle. We don't want to smudge the prints on it.”

“You got this?” Kyle asked me of Dane's wound.

“Yes.” I bucked up. Forced my hands to steady.

Kyle crossed to the other side of the kitchen and said, “My GLOCK's in my room.”

“You'll survive.”

“Seriously, you're leaving me unarmed with him?”

“The man is unconscious, Kyle,” Amano stated in a flat voice.

“Or dead,” Kyle mumbled.

“He's still breathing. Just keep an eye on him. If he comes to, you know what moves to use on him.”

Kyle's chest puffed out a bit. “You got that right.”

Amano left us briefly, evidently to retrieve Dr. Forrester from the other side of the massive walls surrounding the estate, which sat in a secluded portion of a box canyon in Sedona. Though we were surrounded by breathtaking red-rock formations, I currently found no beauty in our grim world. Not with my insides twisted and Dane and Kyle bleeding. The scent and sight of it made me nauseous, but I tamped down the bile burning my throat.

I eyed Dane closely, seeing the rage burning within him. I had no doubt it took all the willpower
he
possessed—and then some—to keep from either shooting Tom himself or kicking the shit out of him. Good thing the man was already down for the count.

Forrester and his team arrived.

“Do something, quick!” I urged the doctor. “He's lost a lot of blood.”

“Ari, baby.” Dane planted his hand on my hip as I stood between his veed legs while still applying pressure to his shoulder. “I'm all right.”

This made the tears fall faster. “There was a gun pointed at your head.”

“There was one pointed at yours, too.” His gaze locked with mine, holding it unwaveringly, conveying a wealth of emotion that tore at me.

I nodded slightly. He understood exactly how I felt—he felt the same. Had been just as horrified when I'd been the target. He just controlled his emotions better, kept a cooler head.

“Okay,” I said, though my voice cracked. “I'll be calm.”

It was a lie, of course. And he knew it. But what good would hysterics do us at this moment? I also had the baby to think about. I hated bad vibes coming his way. So I took several full breaths.

Dr. Forrester had brought two assistants, who joined us. One saw to Tom. The other started in with stitches to Kyle's arm. Forrester himself took care of Dane, declaring it was indeed an exit wound.

Of course, Kyle could attest to that—and did with a smirk. Knowing my courageous and somewhat crazy best friend, he likely felt heroic for taking part of the bullet. That worried me substantially, but Kyle had superman qualities springing to life around every treacherous corner. There was nothing I could do about that.

I helped Dr. Forrester move Dane to a bedroom. The physician patched him up and hooked him to an IV to replace the blood he'd lost. Apparently, Dane donated regularly to his own cause and Forrester kept the supply on-hand for him, and traveled with all the necessary equipment. A haunting thought, yet a comforting reality.

Still quaking from head to toe, I washed up at the kitchen sink, and Kyle did the same while Dane rested. The assistants donned gloves, suits, and boots to clean the mess on the floors and the island. Then they disinfected, as though hazmat duties were just part and parcel of their jobs. I didn't want to know how true that might be, given their connection to Dane's network.

“That was a little too close for comfort,” Kyle said after they'd left and we were alone.

“You don't have to tell
me
that.”

“I hate to admit it, but if Dane hadn't been here…” Kyle grimaced. “Tom wouldn't have let me near you, and you would have been a bull's-eye in a wide-open space.”

A chill raced down my spine. “Nothing like one of your own turning on you.” What a fucking nightmare this had became. “I know Tom didn't want to harm any of us. But what other option did he have? He can't even be sure that the people
he
cares about are okay. This is just so bad and wrong, on more levels than I can even process.”

“I'm with you on all counts—including thinking that Horton might still be involved. Something has to be done about that douche.”

We stared at each other as we stood at the sink, fresh towels still in hand as we dried off.

I knew precisely what Kyle meant, what he silently implied. We'd had this discussion before—right here in this very spot, in fact.

We had a plan. It'd been formulated after Kyle had learned Amano had been tracking Wayne's activity to ascertain the extent of his involvement with Vale's kidnapping plot last year. Amano had kept tabs on Wayne's comings and goings. Kyle and I both knew the results, knew Wayne's patterns.

“It's not exactly far-fetched to ‘bump' into him here in town,” Kyle reminded me, “since Horton has been sticking pretty close so that he could move in on us whenever Vale snapped his fingers. We know his favorite places to hang. Cliff Castle Casino being one of them.”

“Dane would go through the roof that we're even talking about this,” I warned. Not that I changed the subject. “Trying to get a confession out of Wayne would put me in more danger. Dane'll throttle you if anything goes wrong. Amano, too, if there's anything left of you.” I rolled my eyes. “Dane would strangle you just for strategizing with me.”

“Goddamn it, Ari,” Kyle said under his breath. Although no one else was in the room, neither of us would be shocked if Amano lingered close enough to pick up on any scheme we might concoct to help with the investigations and do whatever we could to put an end to the reign of terror.

How could we not want to do whatever possible to help neutralize this situation?

Kyle continued. “As stealthy as Dark Knight is, Dane can't be in five places at once. There's still so much he has to do—he can't even get to the hard drive he needs that's sitting in a safe-deposit box in Switzerland, because he's supposed to be dead.”

“That cover's pretty much shot to shit now.” I cringed at my crappy choice of words as much as at how I feared the society might now know he was alive. With a shake of my head, I said, “We have to stick to whatever plan Dane and Amano devise, or we could throw everything out of whack.”

I believed that was the only reason Amano hadn't followed through on his threat to shoot Tom in the head. The reason Dane hadn't taken matters into his own hands when he'd had the chance—and the justification—to leave Tom Talbot a bloody mess on our kitchen floor.

Kyle kept at our confession-reaping scheme. “Even Dane conceded our idea was reasonable when he'd heard of it.”

Amano had not only put a stop to our plotting but also shared our tactic with Dane for good measure—knowing he would lay down the law that left no room for interpretation. We weren't to make any aggressive moves. Just follow his and Amano's lead.

He'd be pissed to high hell that we revisited this subject. Yet I was pissed, too. Had every right to be. And I wanted to do something about it.

Still, I hedged as I thought of Dane with a hole in his shoulder. It brought back too many excruciating and insidious memories of when I'd believed him dead—and when I'd seen him for the first time after months of suffering under that belief. He'd been severely injured and had the scars to prove it. I couldn't go through that again.

Bringing home the salient point that if anything went wrong on mine and Kyle's end it'd devastate Dane.

So I said, “I'm not stressing him out further, Kyle. My God. He took a bullet for me today. So did you.” I gave him a contrite look. “I would try to send you away one more time, but now I'm thinking it's better you stay close. You might be a sitting duck all on your own.” I tossed the towel aside and let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You're a sitting duck by staying with us.” This nearly shredded me. “Christ, Kyle. You could have been killed today.”

“Wouldn't be the first time I was on the ragged edge.”

“Don't act like this is some cool Vin Diesel movie,” I snapped, my nerves—and my concern for Kyle's well-being—getting the best of me. “That day on the switchbacks was seriously hazardous to our health.
This
was even worse.”

“Ari.” He gave me an unfaltering look. “You're wigging, and I understand why. I get it, okay? This was yet another full-on game of chicken that, fortunately, we once again won.” He gripped my shoulders and said, “Splash some cold water on your face and try to calm down. Then go see Dane. Just … not like this. Shit, you're all ghostly and traumatized.”

“Everything was going so well, working out the way it should. All this time and effort Dane has put into helping the FBI yielded results. And then,
bam
! Wayne Horton strikes back? Or Bryn Hilliard? That menace to the human race should be sweating bullets over his criminal indictment, not devising ways to send one through my skull.”

Kyle actually blanched. Not exactly a familiar expression for my steadfast friend. The flash of white against his tanned skin was a bit unnerving. “You can't imagine what it was like to see that infrared dot on your forehead.” He had to glance away and drag a hand down his face. It took several seconds for his gaze to return. “Ari, it scared the shit out of me.”

“I was scared, too. For all of us.”

“Damn it!” His torment ate at me. “I know there's no fucking point to venting, no sanity wrapped around it, but, Christ. Everything that's happened so far has been complete bullshit and I'm mad as hell. What we just went through—”

He whirled around. Stalked away. Then he pulled up short at the kitchen table where the trail of blood from the island had led to the chairs and pooled at the legs. All cleaned up now, but the memory didn't fade. My stomach roiled and more fat drops welled in my eyes.

Kyle spun back to face me. “I can't leave, even though I know I should. What purpose is there to staying? Sure, maybe I can protect you, too. Then again, maybe not. I'm not two steps ahead of everything the way Dane and Amano are. I'm reacting as the shit hits the fan, not before it's even been flung.”

“Don't gross me out,” I complained. “All that blood made me queasy as it is.”

He closed the gap between us. Kyle stared into my eyes, the way he had the night before, when I was all worked up over the diamondbacks. Only this time there was more than his perpetually tortured soul reflected in his blue irises.

“Dane's right,” Kyle told me. “This
is
getting worse. And you're stuck in the middle of it all. I just want to take you away from it, Ari. I want to put you in a car—if I could just get my fucking Rubicon back from the creek house—and drive you far, far away.”

My heart wrenched. “Kyle.”

“I love you, Ari.” The torment deepened. “But what the hell good does that do? What does it mean?” He stepped away once more, though I still felt his fury. “Not a goddamn thing.”

He turned and stormed off. The breath rushed from my lungs. My heart constricted. And more tears fell.

I loathed being the source of his agony. But it seemed inescapable.

How had one chance encounter between Dane, Kyle, myself, and a snake-tatted blond at a wedding nearly a year ago turned so twisted and mangled? So hazardous and painful?

If we survived this cyclone of evil, it certainly wouldn't be unscathed. Physically or emotionally.

Not for any of us.

 

chapter 3

I did as Kyle had suggested and composed myself before visiting Dane, upon Dr. Forrester's approval.

I entered the bedroom but halted just beyond the threshold when I got a good look at Dane, propped up against a mound of pillows, his left biceps and shoulder wrapped in white gauze and tape, his arm in a sling. He was much paler than usual. About as ticked off as I was used to seeing him. Still, I fought the gape.

“You look like hell,” I said, trying to keep my tone even.

“Well, I did just get shot,” he deadpanned. “And I've still got a mind to make Tom suffer more than a concussion.”

“I suspect that worrying about imminent imprisonment and the safety of his wife and daughter will be excruciating enough. Any word on them from the FBI?”

“No. And that's not my concern.”

“Dane.” I knew he was just being ornery. Of course he wouldn't want any harm to come to two innocent people. “Tom did what he had to—and his wife and daughter are going to pay the price?”

“Ari.” Dane sighed in frustration, because I pulled all the right strings. I knew him too well. With his good hand, he gestured for me to join him. “Are you expecting me to save the world?”

“No. I already told you that, because you've been the one to take on all the burden of an epic ordeal you didn't even start.” Sitting gingerly on the bed, I asked, “There is something you can do, though, right? For Candace and Ruby?”