High-Caliber Holiday (16 page)

She closed the door and twisted the dead bolt, then went straight to the bathroom to slip into a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. She didn't feel right about sleeping in Skyler's bed so she dropped onto the sofa with a soft pillow and fuzzy blanket. She'd thought she might need to work on emptying her brain of the craziness that was her life. Empty it of the feel of Brady's touch. But her eyes were heavy, and she quickly drifted off to sleep.

She dreamed of a blazing fire in Skyler's fireplace, the Christmas stockings hanging over it. The warmth of the fire felt so real that she tossed off her blanket. Her feet tangled in the fabric and she struggled to push it off. Her throat felt dry and parched, and a cough started deep in her chest. She must have slept with her mouth open. She was almost too tired to get a glass of water, but it was so dry. So hot. She heard a sound. Crackling. Near the floor. She coughed again, her whole chest heaving with exertion. She forced her heavy eyelids open.

Flames licked at the end of sofa. The drapes. The carpet.

“Fire,” she called out, her dry throat leaving the word nothing more than a whisper. She drew her feet under her body and shot a look around the room.

Smoke surrounded her, billowing up in clouds to obscure her vision, the heat intensifying. Searching. Destroying.

“Help,” she called out, but knew the concrete walls would muffle her cries.

Panic welled up. Flowed over. Her heart started racing.

She searched for an exit. A way out. The thick smoke stung her eyes. They watered and blurred her vision. She blinked hard, but could see nothing.

What should she do?

Father, please help me. Please.

Drop to the floor, she remembered. But flames circled her as if the fire was set to consume her.

Of course it had been. The poison hadn't worked. This was the killer's second option. Had to be.

She frantically scanned for a way out. Anything. The door. The window. Both were blocked.

Her throat closed as panic settled in. The irony of her situation wasn't lost on her. Here she was in a firehouse, and barring an act of God, a fire was going to take her life.

SEVENTEEN

S
omething felt off to Brady. He didn't know what. Just a sixth sense that he'd developed in the marines. It had kept him alive for two tours in Afghanistan, and he'd learned to trust it. He had to heed the feeling and check on Morgan.

He left behind the research he'd been conducting on Eckert and stepped into the family room. A hint of smoke tainted the air. A fireplace.

Maybe...or... Morgan!

He charged to the top of the stairs. Saw fingers of smoke creeping under Skyler's front door.

Dear God, no. Not Morgan.

Running, Brady dug out the keys from his pocket, then his phone to call 911. He blurted out the situation and listened as the operator confirmed his call.

“Hurry,” he said, dropping his phone and grabbing the knob. It was hot to the touch. He released it. Inserted the key in the lock.

“Morgan!” he shouted as he felt the edges of the door. Not that it mattered if flames made the door hot enough to burn his hand. He was going in for Morgan. He turned the knob and used his shoulder to press the door partway open. Flames licked around the corner and up the side.

He closed the door, ripped off his shirt and tore it into shreds. He tied strips around his hands and his mouth. After a deep breath, he shouldered the door open again.

The entire room was in flames. Smoke obscured his view of the space.

Morgan.
His heart refused to beat.

“Morgan,” he screamed.

“Here,” her weak voice came from the middle of the living room.

He heard the hallway smoke detector go off. Good. Jake would be notified of the fire. Brady didn't think twice but charged through the flames. Got low, below the smoke. He felt the heat. Inferno hot. Licking at his bare arms. He ignored it. Moved across the polished concrete floor, thankful it wasn't wood.

“Call out, Morgan,” he shouted. “I can't see you.”

“Here,” her voice came from close by.

He dug deep for strength. Crossed the distance. Felt around. Found her on the sofa curled into a ball. He grabbed her in a hug. “Hold on, honey. I'll get you out.”

He lifted her over his shoulder, then reversed course. Hand by hand, inch by inch, he crawled. Flames crackled around him. Smoke choked off his oxygen. Morgan's, too, as she gasped for breath. The smoke got to him. Dragging him down. He felt like giving in. Collapsing.

No. Stay with it. Get Morgan to safety.

He dug even deeper. Surged forward, his body landing in the hallway. He pulled in a deep breath, but the air was still contaminated, and he coughed so hard he thought he'd heave out a lung. He managed to get to his feet and move down the hallway to cleaner air where he set Morgan down. She was coughing, but dragging in air. He took deep breaths of his own while scanning her from head to toe looking for any injury. She'd tied a scarf over her mouth and nose to hold off the smoke. Soot covered her face, but she hadn't suffered any burns.

“Your leg,” she screamed.

He looked down surprised to see flames engulfing his jeans. He dropped to the floor. Tried to pat it out. Morgan leaped on top of him, extinguishing the flames with her body.

She was quite a woman. Brave beyond words. He couldn't believe she'd fallen onto fire for him.

The reality of the event hit him. He could have lost her. Fear coursed through his body, and he pulled her into his arms. Held her as they both worked to get fresh air into their lungs.

They lay there together until firefighters pounded up the steps and insisted they exit the building. Together they stumbled down the stairs and outside. An EMT rig was pulling in, Darcie launching herself out the door before the vehicle stopped. She rushed across the parking lot. Scanned them from head to toe as he'd done with Morgan, but Darcie was looking at both of them with a clinical eye. She grabbed Brady's hand and dragged him to the back of the rig. Her partner had the door open.

“On the gurney,” she demanded.

“Morgan first.”

“Morgan doesn't have any burns and Mickey here will see to her breathing.”

Brady let Darcie minister to him. He knew it was hopeless to argue when she was in her mad-mother mode. As he lay there, the rest of the team arrived one by one. Jake nodded at Brady, acknowledging his survival in Jake's usual terse way, and then he marched to the front door where he met with a firefighter.

Archer and Cash stepped up to the gurney.

“If Cash hadn't been with us,” Archer said, a snarky smile on his face, “I would've wondered if he was cooking again.”

Cash shook his head, then squeezed Brady's arm. Brady wouldn't admit it, but tears welled up in his eyes at seeing his friend's concern.

Cash huffed a laugh. “Burn the place down, why don't you.”

Glad to have the sentimental moment over with, Brady laughed, but started coughing.

Darcie planted her hands on her hips. “All of you back off now. I'll let you know when these two are ready for visitors.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Cash saluted, and he and Archer went to join Jake.

Darcie might insist he lie on the stupid gurney, but he watched his team hold an impromptu meeting without him. He knew it was futile to try to get up and join them, but honestly, he didn't need to. The frowns traveling around the group told Brady all he needed to know. The fire had been set intentionally and their stalker had upped the ante in his quest to end Morgan's life.

* * *

“Dinner,” Archer announced to the team gathered in the family room. “It's just burgers, but after the fire, we're lucky we even have a place to cook.”

Brady got up, moving slower than his usual agile speed. Morgan watched him step across the family room. He wore gym shorts, his lower leg bandaged. They'd both been evaluated for smoke inhalation and released, so at least that wasn't a problem. But he grimaced as he moved. He was in pain and refused medication in order to remain alert in the event of another attack. She hated to see him suffer, but she appreciated his ongoing sacrifice for her.

“Ready.” He held out his hand to help her up.

She took it, and the instant they touched she knew she was facing a losing battle.

He was her hero. Plain and simple. The man who ran through flames to rescue her. The man who kept putting her before himself. How was she going to keep ignoring his fine qualities, ignore the way her heart beat faster around him?

He appraised her. “Everything okay?”

“How's the leg?” she asked quickly to hide her feelings.

“So minor even Darcie can't insist on treating it.”

“But I will.” The EMT came up behind him and thumped him on the head. She grinned at him as she stepped past them.

Brady's lips turned up in an easygoing smile. He looked boyish and carefree. A look Morgan hadn't seen much of since they'd met. A look that charmed her and made her rush after Darcie so she wouldn't be alone in the room with him.

In the dining room, Brady pulled out a chair and waited for her to be seated, then dropped onto the chair next to her. He was oblivious to her struggle. Probably thinking about his pain or the fire. She wanted to think about anything but the fire. She'd nearly died and the terror still lingered in her heart. Might always linger there.

“Man, you scared us.” Cash eyed her as he passed a plate of burgers. “I can't wait to see Skyler's face when she gets back.”

“Oh, no, Skyler.” Morgan's apprehension rose. “I hadn't even thought about that. I destroyed her condo.”

“No.” Jake gave a firm shake of his head. “The person who disabled the smoke detectors and torched the place did.”

The terrifying ordeal came rushing back. “I can't believe I slept through all of that.”

“I can.” Darcie frowned. “You've been through a lot. If I had my way, you'd be resting right now.”

Archer laughed and looked at Morgan. “It's official. Darcie is mothering you, so you're now a card-carrying member of the group.”

Morgan glanced at Brady. He was looking at her, his eyes dark with emotion. She blushed at the implications lingering there and stuffed her burger into her mouth. Her throat was still dry and irritated from the smoke, but even if it wasn't, she'd be hard-pressed to swallow with all eyes on her.

“No need to look so worried, Morgan.” Jake's mouth turned up in a rare smile. “We're not a bad group to be affiliated with.”

“Oh, I didn't,” she said quickly. “I mean, I'm not.” She shot a look at Brady. “It's just... I...”

“I'm all for this mushy stuff,” Cash teased. “But can we move this along? Krista's waiting for me at her place.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “What a difference a year makes.”

“I know, right?” Archer said. “We used to be able to count on Cash gagging when things took a turn in this direction but now...”

Cash punched Archer's shoulder. “Time to move on.”

Morgan wished she could take his advice and move on. Move on from the fire, from the threats, from these feelings for Brady. She looked at him again and she longed to have someone in her life who wanted to protect and cherish her, to stand beside her and share life's ups and downs. She didn't want to be alone. She really didn't.

Trouble was, she didn't know if she could move on from the huge obstacle that was holding her back from a embracing a relationship with a wonderful man like Brady.

EIGHTEEN

B
rady rumbled along the narrow highway in his old pickup truck, a howling wind blowing snow onto the road and slowing his progress. Coming from Minnesota, Brady knew how to drive in the snow, but it snowed so seldom in the Portland area that most drivers didn't have the proper skills.

A fitting end for his night, though. The weather was as miserable as his day had been. He was about ready to call it quits and hope that tomorrow they'd come up with a better lead than Eckert's lock-picking tools. As of now, they were out of ideas. Even the trap set with Morgan's drink bottles hadn't panned out. The FRS team had brainstormed through dinner, trying to think of new avenues to pursue, but came up with nothing new. The stalker had bested them, leaving nothing behind to implicate himself.

But Brady wouldn't give up. Not with the stakes raised. He had to try everything he could, even grasping at straws to find the creep trying to kill Morgan. In desperation, Brady had moved his attention back to Preston and continued his internet research. He'd discovered Orion Transport had outstanding bills. Lots of them. Enough to put the company in danger of bankruptcy.

Preston needed the merger with Thorsby Mill for an infusion of cash into Orion. Didn't mean he was guilty of anything, but money was a powerful motivator. Which was why Brady was on his way to Orion now. To do what, he didn't know yet. He'd figure that out as he went along.

Nearing Orion's building, he killed his headlights and pulled to the side of the snow-covered road across from the employee parking lot. No way he wanted Preston to know he was spying on him. The old, rundown building was dark except for a few interior lights.

Brady grabbed his night-vision binoculars and other surveillance tools, then quietly slipped through the icy-cold night. He crept close to the property line and lifted his binoculars. A Lexus covered in snow sat in Preston's reserved parking space. An older model sedan with less snow was parked in the next space. Two men dressed in dark colors stood arguing. Brady couldn't hear them but he could see the stiff body language and the way the bigger man fisted his hands.

Brady made his way closer and soon recognized Preston. Brady hadn't a clue about the other man's identity, but he was rugged and as tall as a pine tree. He was dressed in worn jeans and a tattered jacket, obviously not one of Preston's typical associates.

“This is it,” Preston said, slapping a wad of cash into the big man's hand. “We're done.”

Brady moved even closer. Took out his cell phone and turned on the video recording, hoping the falling snow didn't ruin the video.

The big man stepped toward Preston. “We're done when I say we're done, Hunter. I'm thinking another grand will do it to keep me quiet.”

“Please,” Preston scoffed. “The last thing you'll do is turn me in. It'll implicate you, too, and you're not going back to jail for breaking and entering.”

“See, here's the thing, dude.” Big Man pulled a phone from his pocket. “Everything you ever said to me is recorded right here. It's a burner phone, so it won't be traced back to me, but it's enough to send you away for hiring me to break into that chick's place and car to leave your little surprises.”

Preston! Preston really is Morgan's stalker.

“Fine,” Preston said. “Another grand, but you hand over the phone and that's the end of this.”

“Sure,” Big Man said. “Get the money and we'll talk.”

“Now,” Preston growled. “I have the cash in my office. Let's go.”

Big Man's mouth fell open. “You have it here?”

Brady heard the panic in Big Man's voice. Most likely, he was hoping to continue to blackmail Preston, but with Preston's quick thinking demanding the phone now, Big Man would have to hand it over.

Hopefully, it would give Brady enough time to get a deputy out here to arrest the two of them. Since they were well outside the city and in County's jurisdiction, Brady could make the arrest himself, but he had a personal stake in this, and he didn't want anything to tarnish the arrest. For that, he'd need an impartial officer. Deputies from his agency patrolled this rural area. Hopefully one of them was available, given the many accidents the snow would bring tonight.

Brady hightailed it back to his vehicle and called it in. Deputy Johnston, an eager young officer who'd joined the staff a year ago, was dispatched. Brady would like a more experienced officer, but Johnston would have to do.

Brady got Johnston on the phone and warned him to arrive without lights and siren. Then he disconnected and kept his binoculars focused on the building in case the men came out. Time ticked by painfully slowly.

“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon,” Brady whispered. “Get here already.”

He soon heard a car approaching, but as Brady had asked, Johnston had killed his headlights. Brady reached into his truck and flashed his parking lights one time. Johnston eased closer and parked in front of Brady's truck. Brady quickly updated Johnston and handed his binoculars to the tall, gangly deputy so he could peruse the area.

“They're still inside,” Brady said. “We'll apprehend them at their cars.”

Johnston nodded, and after handing back Brady's binoculars, they moved into position, keeping low so they wouldn't be seen from inside the building. Of course, they'd left a clear trail in the snow, but that couldn't be helped—and if the men stayed inside much longer, fresh snow would cover those tracks. Johnston settled by Preston's car, Brady by Big Man's vehicle. Brady considered changing his mind and taking Preston down himself, but he wouldn't give Preston any reason to use Brady's personal involvement and skate on the charges.

The duo finally came back outside. They were still arguing. Brady allowed the pair to move to their respective cars before drawing his weapon and signaling for Johnston to move out.

“Police,” Brady shouted as he charged the cars. “Hands where we can see them.”

Preston spun, his feet sliding in the snow. “What's happening?”

Big Man started to bolt, but lost traction and fell. Brady quickly cuffed him.

“C'mon, man, what's going on?” Big Man asked. “What'd we do?”

Brady jerked Big Man to his feet and moved him to join Preston and Johnston.

“You,” Preston said after getting a good look at Brady. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Just what it looks like. We're arresting you.” Brady let sarcasm flow through his tone.

“For what? This is private property belonging to my family and I'm doing nothing wrong.”

Brady dug out his phone and started the video playing.

Emotions raced across Preston's face. Surprise, shock, then that conceited look Brady had come to associate with Preston returned. “You didn't have my permission to record my conversation and it won't stand up in a court of law without other evidence. Which—” he paused and eyed Brady. “I know you don't have.”

“True, but it won't be long before we have your partner in crime here—” Brady thumped Big Man's shoulder “—singing like a bird.”

Preston eyed the thug. “He won't talk.”

“We'll see.” Brady read them their rights and made quick work of hauling the pair in to County.

By the time, they'd reached booking, Big Man, aka Eddie Amberg, had agreed to testify against Preston. As the men were processed, Brady called Rossi to inform him of the arrest and invite him to question Preston at County's holding facility, but Brady wasn't going to wait for Rossi to arrive before having a go at questioning Preston.

Brady stepped into the interrogation room and told Preston about Amberg's decision.

“Look,” Preston said, sounding bored. “I'm sure we can work something out.”

“What did you have in mind?” Brady asked, though it made him nauseous to think about Preston cutting a deal and getting away with nearly killing Morgan.

“I can give you Randall Thorsby, the CEO of Thorsby Mill. He's been dumping bleaching agents into the water for years. And, as a bonus, I can prove he knew all about Morgan being stalked.”

Interesting and disgusting.
Though Brady really wanted to find out about the stalking, he focused on the dumping first. “If what you say is true, why didn't the water samples at the class-action trial show the bleaching chemicals?”

“Simple. After people started getting sick downriver, Randall cleaned up his act.”

“And what about Morgan? Was she in on this?” Brady knew she'd never do something so underhanded, but he had to confirm it for the record.

“Miss Goodie Two-shoes? Are you kidding? No.”

“So does the reason you stalked her have something to do with the trial?”

“I didn't admit to stalking her, Owens. You know that. I only mentioned that Randall knew about it. As far as I'm concerned, until my attorney arrives and the DA cuts me a deal in exchange for my information on Randall, I've done nothing wrong.” The snarky smile widened.

“Did you poison her to get her come back home and save your company?”

Preston picked a piece of fuzz from his sleeve. “Asked and answered in Portland. Nothing has changed since then.”

Brady wanted to wipe the smug look off the guy's face. Instead, he came to his feet and planted his hands on the table. “You may think you're getting away with this, Hunter, but I assure you when you mess with someone I care about—namely Morgan—I will bring the full force of the First Response Squad down on you and that's not something you'll want to have happen.”

Preston's smug expression remained fixed in place. Brady dragged in a breath to calm the storm raging inside his body and marched out of the room before he punched Preston and broke the nose that only plastic surgery could have made so perfect.

In the hallway, Brady dug out his phone and dialed Morgan's father. Brady didn't care where Mr. Thorsby was or what he was doing. Brady was going to obtain a confession for the dumping so Preston couldn't use the information to barter a deal. Then Brady could come back here and tell the arrogant Preston Hunter that, with no deal, he was going away for a very long time for stalking.

* * *

Morgan heard a male and female talking in the hallway and her heart rate shot up. After the fire, she didn't feel safe anywhere—not even in Brady's condo, which he'd insisted she use. She ran to the door and looked out the peephole to discover Lacy and Archer. Perfect. Morgan always loved to see Lacy.

She opened the door and smiled at her friend—or should she be saying
friends
now? Was she friends with the FRS members? They seemed to welcome her with open arms, and she'd like to get to know them better. To strike up her friendship with Darcie again.

She turned her smile to Archer and he returned it. He was genteel and reserved, and he reminded Morgan of a more grounded and sincere version of the men she'd grown up around.

“I hope you don't mind having a visitor,” he said.

“Mind, are you kidding?” Morgan twined her arm with Lacy's. “I'm glad for the company.”

“I'll be downstairs,” Archer said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Morgan led Lacy into the condo and closed the door.

Lacy looked around with an odd expression on her face.

“Kind of messy, isn't it?” she said when she noticed Morgan watching her. “Didn't you say Brady was a former Marine? I'd have thought he'd be all neat and organized.”

“Messy or not, I'm glad to have a place to stay. Someone started a fire in Skyler's condo. I barely got out in time.”

“I know,” Lacy said, sounding mad, which Morgan assumed was directed at the arsonist.

“I suppose Archer told you all about it on the way up.” Morgan dropped onto the chocolate-brown sofa.

Lacy joined Morgan and started rummaging around in her big leather purse. “I was hoping you'd come back to the office with me.”

“Now?”

Lacy looked up from her purse. “I know it's late, but it's about Harold.”

“What about him?”

“He just called me. He finally has a second job interview tomorrow and he's feeling uncertain about it. He asked if we would be willing to prep him.”

“What time is his interview?”

“First thing in the morning. That's why we have to do it tonight.”

“Usually I'd be the first person to help Harold, but I promised Brady I wouldn't go anywhere without him. Besides, you have the skills to do this. You don't really need me.”

Lacy's eyes narrowed. “So you're putting yourself first. That's no big surprise.”

“What?” Morgan asked as she studied her friend who was rarely negative. “This is the first time I've ever said no.”

“Maybe on the job, but...” Lacy ended with a shrug, her expression saying she was itching for a fight.

Morgan had never fought with Lacy, but if she wanted a fight, Morgan had bottled up plenty of frustration over the last few days and she'd be happy to oblige.

“But what?” she challenged, and lifted her chin in defiance while she was at it.

Lacy's eyes darkened, but there was a hint of surprise in them as if she hadn't expected Morgan to defend herself. Lacy frowned and kept digging in her purse until she pulled something out. It took Morgan a few moments to realize Lacy was holding a gun.

“I didn't take you for a gun person,” Morgan said, her anger melting when she realized that with all the bad things happening around her, Lacy might be afraid. “But it's okay. You don't need it. The team has upped their vigilance since the fire, and we're safe here.”

“Just like you to be so oblivious.” Lacy pointed the gun at Morgan.

“What?” Morgan automatically shrank back. “Don't point that at me. It's not funny.”

Lacy rolled her eyes. “You really are dense, aren't you? Fine. I'll spell it out. It was me. I'm the one who poisoned you. Who started the fire. And I'm going to kill you. Is that plain enough for you?”