Into the Fire (35 page)

Hannah was silent as they left Steve and Paul’s apartment, locking the kitchen door behind them.

She was wearing the daypack that she used as a modified handbag, and she secured it on both shoulders as she prepared to hobble her way down the stairs. Her ankle was sore—Murphy knew it. He also knew that she wouldn’t complain.

He’d written her a note while she was in the bathroom, trying to explain what he meant by that ill-thought-out
I have nothing.

Things not to say to a new lover. Especially not one who was an old friend.

He’d handed the note to her, but she’d folded it and jammed it into the zipper pocket of her daypack—an obvious equivalent of her turning her back to him—which pissed him off. But the truth was that even if she had her hearing, he couldn’t force her to listen.

So here they were, heading to some hypnotist, with a farfetched hope of unlocking his memories, when in truth he would have preferred going back to bed.

And not just because he was still exhausted. After years without any sex at all, it was suddenly all he wanted, although he definitely preferred it without the tears. It was a little ironic. Han was still in the
I would give anything if…
phase of her grieving for Angelina, and
he
had been the one who’d ended up comforting
her
after they’d made love that first time.

As far as what had just happened in the kitchen…Murph’s brain was still in something of a jumble about that. Although, God knows how he was going to be able to sit and share a meal with Steve and Paul at that table ever again. At least not without smiling.

Of course, now that he was thinking about it, Steve and Paul both smiled a lot in their kitchen. And yeah, now he
really
wasn’t going to be able to sit at that table and—

“You coming?” Hannah said, impatience in her voice.

Heh-heh.

The snicker in his head stopped him cold. It had been so long since he’d paid any attention to sexual innuendos—even middle-school-stupid ones.

Hannah, meanwhile, had paused halfway down the stairs, looking back at him over her shoulder, unwilling to put too much space between them.

“Will you please read the note?” he said, as long as he had eye contact. “Please.”

She rolled her eyes in frustration, but sat down on the step in order to shrug off her pack and—

Boom
!

Gunshot! Jesus, no!

The wood shingle siding of the building splintered—exactly where Hannah had been standing a heartbeat ago. If she hadn’t sat down, she would be dead. Or dying.

Yet she looked up, only mildly perplexed and completely unaware—doing exactly as he’d requested, about to dig through her pack for the freaking note he’d written.

“Hannah! No!” Murphy shouted, thundering down the stairs toward her.

Her eyes widened as—

Boom!

Murphy grabbed her and pulled, aware that—God, no!—now there was blood. He couldn’t tell where she was hit or how bad it was as he dragged her back up the stairs.

Boom!

Something slapped his leg, but he barely felt it as he kicked open the kitchen door and pushed Hannah inside, kicking it shut again.

He grabbed the phone off the wall and dialed 911, then let it go as he dropped to his knees next to Hannah.

She was conscious and alert and saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his ears, over the sound of someone screaming.

Her blood was everywhere, on his hands, on her face and he had to find the bullet wound and stop the bleeding, oh Jesus oh God—

Hannah slapped him. Hard. A cracking blow right in the face. And he realized, when it abruptly stopped, that the screaming voice had been his.

“I’m okay,” Hannah told him. She had her gun drawn, which was damn good, because although he was mostly back, he was shaking so hard he couldn’t’ve held his own weapon. “How many gunshots?”

“Three.” God
damn,
he was going to throw up. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just nicked.” She twisted slightly, showing him just a flash of her upper left arm. Her shirt was crimson with her blood, so much blood, and he did vomit, right there, on the kitchen floor, in front of the dishwasher. “Vinh, stay with me, bwee. We’re all right—we’re both all right. How many shooters? What kind of weapon? Could you tell?”

“Just one, a rifle,” he said, wiping his mouth with the towel that hung on the refrigerator door. “Maybe. I need to see your arm. I need to…make sure…”

“You have to focus and listen, Murph,” Hannah interrupted him. “Have there been more gunshots?”

He shook his head.

“Are they coming in after us?” she asked. “Up the stairs?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Could you hear if they tried to come up the front stairs, through the garage?”

Murphy could hear sirens wailing in the distance, coming closer. And closer. He heard a car, tires squealing as it pulled away. “They’re leaving. The police are coming.”

“Shit,” Hannah said. “We have to get out of here, too.”

“No,” Murphy said, and she looked at him, incredulously. “Han, I called them.” He pointed and she looked at the phone hanging off the hook, dangling from the springy, elastic cord. “I
need
to see your arm.”

She knew quite well that there’d probably been a half dozen other 911 calls—telling the police there were shots fired in the area. He hadn’t needed to stay on the call for the 911 dispatcher to locate him. Not while calling from a landline.

“That’s it then?” Hannah asked. “It’s over? You’re just going to let them take you in? Because if you think—”

He tried shouting at her. “I need to see your arm
now!
”

She turned, heavy on the resentment, finally allowing him to look and—

“That’s not a nick, Hannah.” He turned her head so that she could see him and said it again. “
Nicks
don’t have entry and exit wounds. We’re going to the hospital.”

She touched the side of his face. “Murph—”

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t fucking argue with me!”

Whatever wildness she saw in his eyes made her back down. She nodded. “All right.” But then she kissed him, hard, right on the mouth, vomit-breath and all, and held him tightly for just a moment. “Murphy, God, I’m not ready for this to end.” Still, she held out her weapon to him then, moving painfully, unfastened her holster, giving that to him, too. “You better hide this. Yours, too. Under the sink…”

As the sirens abruptly silenced, as the police cars pulled into the driveway at the bottom of the stairs, Murphy opened Paul’s holding-container of used cooking oil that was under the kitchen sink, and dropped both his and Hannah’s holstered weapons in. They disappeared immediately in the murk.

“Police!” one of the officers shouted as Murphy resealed the container.

“Up here!” he shouted back. “Second floor apartment! I made the 911 call. Shots were fired—I’ve got a retired police officer down—our hands are empty and up! We need medical assistance and an ambulance, right away!”

D
ALTON
, C
ALIFORNIA

Sophia stood up as Dave came flying out of the motel room where he’d been having a session with Dr. Heissman.

His hair was a mess and he looked about as worn out and weary as she’d ever seen him, but he didn’t hesitate. He just ran right up to where Tess Bailey and Jimmy Nash were faced off, across the top of Tess’s car.

Their noisy entrance—tires squealing, gravel spraying—had caught the attention of every SEAL still in the area, too. Sophia saw Mark Jenkins on the second floor balcony outside his motel room. He ducked back inside, obviously to give Lindsey a shout. And sure enough, she came running, too, but she slowed as she came down the stairs, where she was joined by Tracy Shapiro.

Jay Lopez was over by Danny Gillman—the pair were staying back, but both were on high alert.

And okay, yes, it was true that Jim Nash was something of a wildcard, but there was no way he’d ever raise a hand to Tess. Never. Sophia could take that fact to the bank and cash it.

Visually, they were an unlikely-looking couple. Nash had a James Bond vibe. Movie star handsome, with a love-child-of-Elvis-and-Pierce-Brosnan face, he exuded danger and intrigue.

Tess, not so much.

Intellectually, though, they were an astonishing match. It was hard to tell which of them was smarter. But emotionally, they were back to dissonance. Tess belonged to the pointblank, straight-shooting, all-cards-on-the-table school, while Nash was a walking enigma.

“Guys.” Dave was the only one brave enough to march right up to them. Even Dr. Heissman hung back.

“If you can’t trust me,” Nash said. “Then maybe—”

Tess cut him off, her voice loud and clear. “Save your breath,” she said. “I said I
don’t
want to hear it!”

Dave tried again, looking from Nash to Tess and back. “How about we take this inside?”

Nash ignored him, speaking directly to Tess. “I’m not making excuses.”

Someone’s cell phone started ringing from inside the car—probably Tess’s. Nobody moved to answer it.

“Dr. Heissman is here,” Dave said. “You can go inside and cool off and sit down with her and—”

“I’m simply stating that I can’t tell you what you want to know,” Nash continued to implore Tess. “If you don’t like it—” He broke off, shaking his head.

“I’ll get some coffee,” Dave said, as the cell phone abruptly stopped.

“No,” Tess ignored Dave, too. “Don’t stop there. This I
do
want to hear. If I don’t like it,
what
?”

Dave persisted. “Give me your keys. I’ll park your car while you—”

“
What,
Jimmy?”

“I thought you were done with my bullshit,” Nash said.

“Apparently not,” she shot back. “If I don’t like it, then
what
?”

“Please,” Dave begged. He turned to Nash, taking the taller man’s arm. “James…”

Nash shook him off. “Then you should just…do it. Be done with me,” he told Tess. His voice broke, and Sophia’s heart twisted. “For christ’s sake, Tess, just…leave already.”

The silence that followed was terrible. Tess looked as if he’d stabbed her in the heart. No one spoke, and even Dave knew better than to try to intervene. In fact, he looked as if he might start to cry.

His cell phone started to ring a jaunty little tune, but he silenced it in his pocket—he didn’t even take it out to see who might be calling.

As they all watched, horrified, Tess got into her car. She closed the door and turned the key, but since the engine was already running, it made an awful squealing sound.

“Tess, don’t go,” Sophia called, unable to stay silent.

Dave, too, couldn’t not speak. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he told Nash, his words even more shocking since he so rarely used that kind of language. But his voice was more sad than angry. “You could’ve asked me for help.”

Nash shook his head. “No,” he said. “I couldn’t.”

But then, instead of driving away, Tess climbed back out from behind the steering wheel. She was crying, but she stood tall. “No,” she said to Nash, over the top of her car.

He didn’t understand. He had his cell phone out, as if someone were calling
him
now. He checked it and laughed—a short burst of exasperation or despair, Sophia wasn’t sure which—but then put it back into his pocket. “No…what?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not leaving you. You want me to go. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You
want
me to leave you. And I’m saying
no.
No, Jimmy, I’m saying
hell no
! I won’t do it.”

Nash laughed. “That’s crazy. I—”

“It suddenly all makes sense,” Tess told him, her eyes blazing. “All the bullshit. You’ve been
trying
to make me leave you. There’s something going on that you can’t tell me. Something has you scared. You’ve been trying to cross my line, to make me say
that’s it. I’m done.
But you know what? Look behind you, Jim, because that’s where my line is. It moves with you. Do what you will, do what you have to—I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”

Nash was laughing, but Sophia got a sense that it was to keep himself from breaking down and crying.

“I was trying not to hurt you,” he said. “You’re right, I was…It was easier if you left me. I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but…There’s…someone else.”

Tess stood there, frozen, uncomprehending. Or maybe it was Sophia reflecting her own confusion on the dark-haired woman. Someone else? As in another woman? It didn’t make sense. Nash’s love for Tess was of epic proportions. Any fool with eyes in his head could see that.

Dave broke the silence. “He’s lying,” he said flatly.

Nash shot him a vicious look. “Shut up, Dave.”

“Why are you lying?” Dave asked. His voice was low, but Sophia could hear him. “Please let me help you.”

Nash grabbed Dave by the shirt, pulling him close and speaking right into his ear. Sophia couldn’t hear what he said, no one could but Dave. Who turned and looked directly at Sophia, more raw emotion than she’d ever seen in his eyes before Nash pushed him roughly away.

It was then that Tess spoke, her voice ringing, loud and clear. “I don’t believe you.” Head high, she was glaring at Nash.

“Yeah, well, it’s true.”

“Introduce me,” Tess shot back.

Nash didn’t understand.

“Introduce me,” Tess said again, crossing her arms. “To her. What’s her name? Who is she? I want to meet her.”

Nash made a sound that was a cross between laughter and death by choking.

She gestured to her car. “Let’s go. Right now. Come on, Jimmy. We’ll just drop in on her, say hi.”

“No,” he managed to spit out.

“Then I’m with Dave. You’re lying. And I’m not leaving you.” Her voice shook.

Sophia had never seen Nash this upset. He was breathing hard and the expression on his face was terrible. He was moments—she was sure—from total meltdown.

Dave tried again, looking over at Dr. Heissman for help. She stepped forward, clearing her throat. “I think Dave’s idea that we come inside and sit down—”