From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two (35 page)

Chapter 45

Finn Carson

“There!”

The winding back roads were a labyrinth of dead ends and deserted hunting cabins. Even though they’d made record time, they were still wandering around blind.

The chopper had yet to report a sighting of fire, which meant maybe they weren’t too late.

A small break in the trees revealed a ghostly funnel of smoke winding up to mingle with the night sky. One blink, and then it was gone, but the call of the fire was strong, beckoning him to the heart of the flame. Joselyn was there.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.” Archer asked the question but whipped onto the gravel road before Finn could respond. The thick wall of towering pines blocked what lay ahead.

Dispatch kicked in over the sound of rocks spraying like a gunfight. “We’ve located the fire.” The precise location followed.

This is it
. Anticipation and terror raged in his chest.

Archer stomped his foot down on the accelerator, and a torch of vibrant light began to peek out through the dense trees otherwise shrouded in darkness. Finn unlatched his seatbelt and grasped the door handle, ready to charge. They drove as far as the road would allow until they were blocked by the swell of the forest.

Before the car came to a complete stop near the Honda, Finn had tumbled out and was in an all-out sprint toward the burning shack some 300 yards ahead.

“Finn!” Archer’s scream was muted by the descending whir of helicopter blades.

He had no doubts Archer was in pursuit, but Finn’s adrenaline enhanced his stride, leaving everyone behind.

The heat sliced through the icy air, spiking with each step until the heat of the sun crashed into him. He charged ahead driven by a reckless kind of love. The kind that could move mountains, part seas, sacrifice it all.

“Come on. Come on.” Finn chanted to himself, the sound of his words siphoning away as the taunting flames screamed with laughter.

And then he heard it, piercing through the night air, shattering the hope rising within him.

A gunshot.

“Joselyn!” His scream was wasted as the roar of the fire snatched away his panicked cry.

But for the first time since the Monroe fire, Finn found that his courage hadn’t left him. There was no hesitance. No fear of the fire. His armor held strong—stronger than ever.

His heart, however, was crumbling fast.

Launching up the three steps, Finn kicked down the burning scrap of the door. The splintered wood disappeared into the consumed shack like a scrap of paper lost in an instant to the blaze.

Before his shoe could cross the threshold into the fiery hell, something lunged at him. He stumbled back, his heel teetering on the edge of the small burning stoop.

And like an angel cutting through the curtain of Hades, Joselyn barreled into him.

Despite the torment of the fire on his face and the blistering touch of his prize, his relief was so great that he let them fall.

Before he could take inventory, he swept Joselyn up, cradled her to his chest, and ran like the fire might chase after them.

When he was sure they were safe, he let his pace slow and looked down to the soot-stained beauty in his arms. “Joselyn.” Leaning down he pressed his mouth to her cheek. “Joss, wake up!”

Taking a moment to look over her still and lifeless form, his blood became sluggish, and nausea washed over him until his legs nearly buckled.

Crimson red blood—the exact hue of her dress—drenched one side of her face and neck, yet he couldn’t discern a bullet wound. The arm not pressed against his chest was covered in ash.

“Help!” The dehydrated word croaked from his throat, and even before emerging in its entirety, someone was snatching Joselyn from his arms and spreading her on a stretcher. It was then he saw the awkward angle of her wrist and the sagging joint of her dislocated shoulder that had been crushed into him.

His body shook when he thought about how much he must have hurt her by merely touching her.

Finn stepped toward the stretcher, but one of the medics forced him away, each of them working methodically to tend to her injuries, or keep her alive. Finn couldn’t compute what was happening.

He needed answers. Right now. But no one would talk to him. Helpless, he took a few steps back to let the medics work and saw Archer step away from the team setting out to scour the area for Devore. Archer marched over to Finn, pulled him into a tough hug, and held him for a long moment. Then slapping his back, he set Finn an arm’s-length away and let his hands rest on Finn’s shoulders. “You got her, buddy. It’s over.”

Archer’s eyes didn’t miss a thing. They were assessing Finn’s stability, weighing his thoughts on wiretap in his FBI brain, and calculating the actions bubbling up through Finn’s firefighter rationale.

Finn released a pent up-breath, dragged a cool, cleansing breath of oxygen into his stricken lungs, and willed his heart to reboot.

Archer was right, he got her. But with Joselyn being carried away on the stretcher, it still seemed far from over. Faced with a momentary decision, Finn shrugged out from Archer’s grasp and ran full out to catch up with the retreating medics.

“Wait!” He sprinted until he caught up with the chopper. “Let me ride along. Please.” Without a thought, he reached out and covered Joselyn’s cold, little hand. It moved, and his heart frogged to his throat when her fingers curled around his.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m here.” The oxygen mask hid her mouth, but her eyes slivered open and seemed to almost smile. “I thought I lost you.”

Tears of relief and joy poured down Finn’s face. He was a mess, but he didn’t care who saw. Joselyn’s thumb stroked his hand, and he knew everything would be all right.

“Okay, fine. One ride along,” the medic said.

“Then it’s going to be me.” The accented voice cut in a moment before the whirring blades of the helicopter thumped out an ascending rhythm.

Declan Whyte.

“No way. I’m not leaving.” Finn shouted his challenge and slid in beside Joselyn.

Joselyn’s father was not easily deterred. Against the medic’s protest, Declan shoved through the door. Joselyn’s fingers tightened on Finn’s hand, strengthening his resolve to stay, though he had no need for additional persuasion.

“Listen, Finn, you did your job. Your check will be in the mail tomorrow. Now please, let me be with my daughter.” What might have been a smirk played across Declan Whyte’s mouth.

Joselyn’s eyes widened. He sensed her body tense, but her fingers grew lax in Finn’s hand.

“Joss, it’s not what you think.”

The sound of the blades intensified. Tears slipped from the corners of her beautiful pale blue eyes, smearing a white line through the smudge of soot coating her temples. Her hand pulled away.

“The money. I can explain.” Finn tried not to yell over the roar, he reached for her hand again. The pain in her eyes ripped a hole through his chest. “It’s not—”

“Which one’s it gonna be?” The medic shouted; the pilot anxious to lift off.

Turning away, her head angled toward her father. Though her eyes rested shut, the medic took that as her decision. It was plain enough that in spite of everything, Declan was her choice. Which wouldn’t have shredded him if her father had been anyone else. Or if there’d been even a flicker of faith in him in her eyes after Declan played that cheap hand.

Only moments later, Finn stood alone, bereft, watching his future lift away without him. Knowing the most important thing right now was getting her to the hospital didn’t dull the pain of her doubt. And his need to set the record straight. The funneling winds of the chopper faded until all that was left was the bitter chill of the December night, and the frozen wasteland of his empty heart resounding with an odd sense that he’d just lost her all over again.

“Come on, Sadie, you have to help me.” Finn pleaded his case. It had been four days since the rescue, and he’d yet to see Joselyn. Her father had her room in the hospital on lockdown for the first night, and then the next day he had her transferred to the estate with his own private concierge physician keeping watch twenty-four hours a day.

Finn hated everything all broken and unresolved. If she would only listen to him, give him a chance to explain about the payment, she would see that it was all a big misunderstanding. After all, it hadn’t been his idea. Declan Whyte had insisted that no one does something for nothing.

What was Finn supposed to do, tell the man he’d been in love with his daughter since high school? At that point, Finn hadn’t known that those feelings had survived ten years of perfected disdain. He’d been trying to protect his sister from losing another best friend and resurrect his courage in the process.

The money wasn’t important. And the solution had been perfect.

But as each day stretched between them, Finn wasn’t sure his motives would ever be heard. Of if they’d even make a difference.

“Finn, you should’ve been honest with her. I’ll do what I can, but she’s pretty upset. One way or another, people have treated her like she could be bought and sold because of who her father is. Money was all they saw.”

“I’m upset too. Don’t you see how her father manipulated the situation?” He heaved a sigh, spoke to himself, “I can’t believe this is happening again.”

Finn raked his hand through his damp hair, amazed still that he’d taken the opportunity to shower given the distress of the past few days. He’d pretty much stalked the hospital and Declan Whyte’s estate every waking moment until today. Desperate to see her, to tell her the truth, he’d foregone sustenance, sanitation, and sanity until it became pathetic, and quite frankly hazardous to his health, to keep camping out on her lawn.

“Give her some time.” Sadie seemed torn, and Finn hoped he could wear down her defenses in light of the lovey daze of her upcoming nuptials. In less than a week Finn’s baby sister would be married.

“She’s hiding out, hasn’t left her room, and even cancelled
Mamma Mia
! But she
will
be at the wedding.” Finn didn’t need to see his sister to see the wheels turning in her head over the phone. “Perhaps it would be a good time to, uh, you know … bare your soul.”

The beginnings of a plan started to take shape in his head. Oh, yes. The idea had promise. A gamble for sure, and his track record gambling with Joselyn wasn’t all that comforting. But love was worth the risk.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? It is your big day. I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.” Even the thought of what he was planning made him break out into a cold sweat. But if he was going to win a prize like Joselyn, he had to go big or go home.

Sadie laughed. “If it will get you to stop bugging me, and make two of my favorite people happy, I’m all for it. What did you have in mind?”

Chapter 46

Joselyn Whyte

“All right, almost finished. Hang in there, Your Highness.”

The crooked smile that had once seemed charming now made her want to kick his teeth in. But that would hurt worse than enduring another hour of mindless small talk about medical conventions and the downfall of great American medicine.

Joselyn gritted her teeth and rested her head back on the pillow. Maybe if she looked away from the blinding white grin that was oblivious not only to her agony but also the intense irritation that his presence elicited, the violent urges would subside.

Max droned on and on while he debrided and rewrapped each one of her feet with all the speed of the “underground” walker races Yia-Yia used to run in the closed wing of the nursing home.

Frustration scratched beneath her skin. Her nervous system wasn’t only revolting from the excruciating tenderness of the second-to third-degree burns on the soles of her feet—you know, the ones the good doctor was very casually scraping with his medieval torture devices—it was also on high alert because her father was up to something.

First with that comment about Finn’s payment in the chopper. Even in her dazed state of monumental pain she still saw the twisted glint of satisfaction in her dad’s eyes as he outed Finn.

No doubt the master manipulator received some sort of sick pleasure in hurting them both with his ill-timed words. The man was cruel when it suited him. In this instance, she didn’t get his angle. What would motivate him to do that right then? Sure, she knew very well what motivated Declan Whyte to bribery. He liked lording his wealth over others like a trump card of superiority and power. But choosing to hurt her in that moment was an undeniably low blow.

After that, the suspicious activity continued when he hired a private physician to dote on her during her recovery. And of all the docs in all the world he handpicks Max Dickensen, Joselyn’s former next-door neighbor and one-date wonder.

The man he likened to a Girl Scout, if Joselyn recalled correctly.

“I guess taking you dancing on our next date is out of the question, huh?” Max interrupted her thoughts.

If only he knew what she’d been thinking he wouldn’t have that cocky grin plastered on his face. Nor would he have winked as if that line were solid gold and he’d cashed it in and scored an heiress.

Three days of trying to be polite, be subtle, and let him down easy was proving fruitless—and it was plain torture. And she now had a whole new appreciation for what that word actually meant.

Time to switch it up.

“Listen, Max, there isn’t going to be a next date.” She poured as much compassion as she could muster into her words. Everything still hurt like she’d been flattened by a steam roller and then set on fire; it was all she could do to not tell him to get over himself. That or close her eyes and let her silence do the rejecting. She’d considered both, but didn’t want to be rude.

A suave, dark eyebrow curved downward. The grin lilted on one side but held firmly on the other, as if this Harvey Dent was now emboldened by a game of cat and mouse. “Don’t worry, Joselyn.” He set her foot down and rounded the bed. “I don’t make a habit out of dating my patients, but there’s nothing unethical about what we’re doing here.” Lowering beside her, he braced his hand on the bed near her hip and leaned in with that wicked smile of his.

Seriously, what had she seen in this guy? He wasn’t charming. He didn’t make her laugh, or even smile. And not a single fiber of her being longed for his touch.

Her mind drifted to someone else she did long for. Someone strong and funny and warm. Someone who made her forget about everything broken in her life. Someone who made her feel perfectly beautiful in her skin. And whose touch lit her up with the only form of fire she ever wanted to feel again.

The same someone who used and lied to you
.

Severed from the fantasy of Finn, Joselyn looked up to find Max closing in. Only, from the look in his eyes, he had moved past innocent flirting. He was going to lay one on her.

Of all the brazen—her hand shot out from the sling in time and cut off his clammy kiss. She winced as the backlash of her abrupt action sent a strong message of protest through her body.

Shocked but somehow not enlightened by her blatant rejection, he leaned back and held on to the stupid smile. “You don’t need to play hard to get with me—”

“Max!” This was getting ridiculous. Curling her fingers to wipe the sticky mess of his kiss from her palm, she decided lies, even little white ones, had the power to destroy lives. Honesty was the way to go.

And for someone as thick as Max—brutal honesty was the only way to go. “I’m perfectly serious. There will be no more dates. And furthermore, I think it’s best we part ways now. I can have Gloria tend to my injuries from here on out. Your services are no longer needed. I’m sorry.”

With one arm in a sling from having her shoulder dislocated, the broken wrist on the other in a splint, and some bandages on her arms she couldn’t very well produce a look that was at all intimidating. But she gave it her best shot.

Annoyance flickered across his face, tightened every aristocratic feature into a scowl. “Pfff.” Pushing up off the bed Max started to stalk away but then changed his mind and reared back to have the last word.

Joselyn fought back the eye roll that was itching to let loose and braced herself.
Here it comes.

“Fine. But just so we’re clear, I was never really interested in you. I was only doing your psychotic brother a favor by taking you out that night, and I—”

“Brother?” she interrupted his rant. “Max, I don’t have a brother.”

“Yeah, right. Some random stranger waltzed into the hospital spouting all sorts of sob stories about your sad life and his concern for his poor isolated sister needing to be taken out on her birthday. Well, it’s true what they say about you,
Snow Whyte
. You’re a frigid little witch. Good luck finding your own dates from now on.”

Joselyn flinched, those words were so constant she should be immune to them, and yet they still managed to cut each time they breached her skin. Steeling her composure, she felt her spine tighten, endowing her with several more inches from her seated position.

“I’m only going to say this once more so pay attention. I don’t have a brother. And that day, our first date, was not my birthday.”

Although a doctor, she wasn’t sure the doofus was smart enough to put the pieces together.

“Congratulations, Max. You’re an accessory to attempted murder. I’d bet good money that that man, my
brother
, was the one who burned my house down and nearly killed me the other night before he pulled the trigger on himself. He needed me out of the house so he could set his trap. Perhaps next time you should read up on the facts, not the gossip, doc.”

Max’s mouth gaped open, and no words escaped the man for the first time. Silence in his presence was a beautiful thing.

“We’re done here. Now leave before I arrange for a large, angry FBI agent to perform a complimentary cavity search before escorting you from the premises and into a holding cell with other men who like to play doctor.”

Without another word, little Max tucked his tail and ran.  

Her shoulders collapsed, the tension draining from her body as she slumped back into bed. She wanted to get up. Get out. Anywhere. Despite the enormity of the room, the walls seemed to close in on her. Her only escape had been when she read some books Sadie dropped off. Not much else she could do confined to the bed.

The pain meds took the edge off, but her shoulder was still sore, her wrist submitting a protest every now and again, and her arms had both seen and felt better days. But neither compared to the chronic pulse of misery that clawed up her legs with each surge of blood to her toes.

Miraculously—though not so mysterious knowing the source—she had escaped the cabin without any serious burns other than the ones that ate away the skin on the bottom of her feet from her short stint as a fire walker. Neither the medics nor the doctors bought her explanation, but she knew what had happened in that fire.

She’d been shielded from the worst and meant for something more.

The knock that sounded on the door across the room seemed to echo through the vastness of space. She hadn’t had many visitors, hadn’t felt up to it. Sadie had come twice and Mrs. Carson once, but that was all she could take of the Carson clan.

Joselyn had yet to sort out the hurt of Finn’s deceit, but it was the last thing she wanted to think about. If she let herself go there, she was sure she’d close the door on him for good. And something in her heart wasn’t ready for that.

If she ignored it, then the small shard of hope still clung to existence, struggling against the crushing weight of the past, but still fighting for a chance. Facing it head on meant realizing there was simply too much for them to overcome. Their entire relationship was infested with open wounds and scar tissue. They both had marks to prove it. It was a heartbreaking truth that kept her in denial and avoidance of all things Finn Carson.

Except for the rare occurrence when he would,
occasionally
, slip into her dreams. In the waking moments that followed, she could bask in the delusional—and undeniably delicious—possibility that everything might work out for them. That they might be able to wipe the slate clean and have their own fairy-tale ending. The handsome hero awakening Snow Whyte from sleepwalking through life.

The whimsical thought lost traction when the door swung open and the formidable Declan Whyte approached her bedside.

“Gloria informed me that Dr. Dickensen is no longer with us.” It was as if a storm cloud blew into the room. His presence was oppressive. Gray. Gray suit, gray hair, steely gray glare. It all seemed to match the gloom within.

Joselyn bared her teeth in her best imitation of a smile. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Mr. Whyte?”

It was the first time in four days he had bothered to enter her room. She wanted to be genuinely gracious for the attention. But the hurt of her father’s neglect ran deep, and Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“I’m leaving for a few weeks. Going to see if I can salvage what is left of my campaign after the media practically victimized Devore and made me out to be the villain in this whole mess. I ought to sue those nosy reporters who played up Tobin’s loss and termination for … for defamation of character.”

“Actually, I think they portrayed you quite accurately. For once everything they printed was the truth. Wasn’t it?”

His eyes widened at her boldness. So desperate to please him, she’d so often stifled her opinions to be in his favor. But in light of everything that happened, and his ever-present egocentrism that still held firm despite it all, she knew she could never earn her way into his good graces.

She steeled her breath, bolstered her courage, and let go of her composure.
Please, let him hear me.
“Listen, Dad … I know losing Mom changed everything.”

“Joselyn, this is not the time—”

“You never have time.” She said with a fierce sort of calm. “And I’m not waiting any longer to tell you that you’ve failed. The great Declan Whyte failed. Big time.”

Something chilled in his eyes, but this time the ice couldn’t reach her.

“Your wife died that day. But your daughter didn’t. I’m still here. But you’re too self-absorbed with your success and your campaign to see me. You missed everything. My whole life.”

The pent-up emotional purge unlocked something so guarded that the freedom of the words unleashed twenty years of heartache and loneliness. The tears were still warm when they coursed down to her neck. The words kept spilling through the breaking sobs.

“I needed you. And you abandoned me.”

The line of his jaw was tight, his eyes downcast as if biding his time until her rant would end.

“Look at me!” she screamed.

He rested his eyes shut and lifted his chin, and then dragged them open again. She didn’t know what it was she saw in them, but there didn’t seem to be anything resembling regret.

“Do you even see me?” Not bothering to wipe away the mess on her face, she locked into his eyes, holding his stare with her iron will—the only thing she seemed to have inherited from him. “Don’t you see that I am still that same little girl who wanted her daddy to wipe away her tears and tell her it would be all right?”

Breaking eye contact, he cleared his throat, but the gruffness still laced his words. “I did what I had to do to survive. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me, but I simply couldn’t live with the constant reminder of all that I’d lost.”

And there it was. The truth was a bitter pill—the effects, she feared, were both fast-acting and extended-release.

After several long moments, Joselyn found the courage to speak again. “Well, then, you’re a coward. You lost a lot more than you should have that day. And the sad thing is, you chose to.”

With a final flash of his empty eyes, he turned to leave. The clicking of his expensive shoes across the hardwood floor felt like time counting down to the end of their relationship.

“Hey, Dad?” Heart in her throat, Joselyn held her breath.
Give me strength.

Her father stopped, hesitating before looking over his shoulder.