Secrets and Lies 7 (The Ferro Family) (Secrets & Lies) (6 page)

I
blink at him
, unable to reply or peel myself off the couch. I want to get in his face and scream. I want to fight back, but I’m screwed. I can’t. There’s nothing to fight.

Ferro slips his hands into his suit pockets and tips his head to the side, studying me. “You can save Nathan if you set the fire. You could do it now, in the middle of the day. No one will say a thing. You have my word on that.”

I scoff, “Like that matters.”

“It matters a great deal, assuming you care about Nathan at all. Listen carefully to what I want you to do. If you fail to achieve the desired result, my men will return and make sure there’s nothing left but ashes. If that occurs, I can no longer guarantee Nathan’s safety. This is your decision. Your choice. You can save him, or you can walk away.”

My jaw drops. I’m suddenly on my feet and rushing at him. I stop short, ready to slam my fist into his temple, but his eyes unnerve me. Breathing hard, I keep my fists at my sides. “You’d kill your son? For a piece of land?”

“People have done much worse for much less.”

I sneer at him. “You’re a disgusting excuse for a man.”

“Words, Miss Hill, do very little in the grand scheme of things.” He snaps his fingers and indicates I should follow. I gnash my teeth and walk grudgingly into the kitchen. He points at a few bags from a hardware store on the counter. “Everything you need is right here.”

He’s serious. It’s already been decided. I either set the blaze myself or let him do it and kill Nate in the process. “I can’t—I don’t know how to set a fire.”

Ferro gives me a look that says he’s not that stupid and neither am I. “It’s simple enough that even you’d understand. Pour the accelerant on the floor, light a match, and walk away.”

“But, the neighbors, they’ll say they saw us here.”

“No one will mention me or you. That yellow bus of yours is all but forgotten. It’s amazing how little it takes to bend a man’s will. A few dollars and they suddenly have no morals at all.”

My jaw is locked, and I don’t say anything for a few moments. My gaze cuts to the bag on the counter. I do this and save Nate, or I don’t and let him die. Ferro is a liar, so there are no guarantees my ass won't end up in jail. Even more upsetting is Nate. If he ever finds out. He won’t forgive me for this.

“So what’s the plan? Burn the house and then buy the land?”

“Not that it matters to you, but yes.”

“That will leave Nate with nothing.”

“That’s not my problem, Miss Hill. Your involvement guarantees Nathan lives. His life is in your hands. Nothing else matters compared to that, does it?”

“You suck.” I growl, wishing I could hurt him. But I can’t do anything. I’m caught in the middle.

Ferro walks over, towering above me, getting so close that I reflexively back into the cabinets. He’s in my face, his voice low and seductive, “I’ve heard how much you enjoy sucking cock in the kitchen, Miss Hill. I never could say no to a woman on her knees. Do it and beg me to spare you. I might reconsider.”

I don’t hesitate. My hand flies, ready to punch Ferro in the temple. At the last second, he reaches out and grabs my fist, crushing it in his hand. “Don’t fuck with me, Miss Hill, unless you want to be owned. You’ll lose.”

He twists my wrist as he crushes my knuckles. I let out a yelp as he forces me to my knees. His eyes glint like he’s enjoying my pain. I try to jerk away, but he’s too strong. I’m about to do something desperate to make him stop when Ferro releases me. “If I don’t hear this home burned to the ground by midnight, I’ll take care of it, and you’ll still owe me a favor.”

H
ow can
that man be Nate’s father? He’s evil. I remain on the floor for several minutes after Ferro leaves, cradling my wrist in my hand. He didn’t break it, but it’s screaming. I glance around at all the things that will burn. Every last trace of Nate’s life, of his mother and father, any happy memories he had will be gone. But Nate will live. That’s all that matters. That’s the part I can control, so I need to pull my shit together and get to my feet.

I stand and walk over to the bags from the hardware store and pull out the gallon jugs. If I torch the place and it’s deemed arson, Nate won’t get anything from insurance—especially if they think his girlfriend did it. And I don’t trust Ferro. The neighbors all see that bus and know I’m here. A plan forms in my mind, and I can’t think of anything better, so I open the cabinet next to the stove and pull out a frying pan. After filling it with grease, I turn on the stovetop.

My conscience dies in my chest as I open the bottle of smelly green liquid and splash it on the floor by the stove. I trail it across the room knowing it’ll ignite instantly and go up without a trace. They’ll think it was a grease fire that got out of hand. They’ll also believe a stupid college girl didn’t know that dousing it with water would make it worse. In truth, I can’t cook, but even I know that.

I place the jug of oil on the stovetop, close enough to the burner to melt, and back away. It’s over half full. My heart is thumping in my throat. I’m not this person. How am I supposed to stand there and watch Nate’s home burn? But that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Trembling, I pull out my cell phone and hit the three digits, 9-1-1. I don’t press send. I put the phone back in my pocket, grab a book of matches from above the stove, and light one. The grease is smoking, and the bottle next to the pan already has a hole in the side. Oil drips down the front of the appliance and onto the floor. I stand there, waiting for the trail of oil to spread, to get bigger. When it doesn’t move beyond the initial pool, I grab the broom and smack the bottle. It goes flying and crashes into the wall where Nate pinned me. Oil streaks across the wallpaper as the bottle hits and then skitters across the linoleum, spilling the rest of the contents across the floor.

I’m not this person. I’m not. I can’t do this, but I already have. The grease on the stove catches fire, and an orange flame flickers in the pan, engulfing the entire thing. Tongues of fire dance, tall and thin, spreading, becoming thicker every second. The flames jump from the pan to the stovetop, licking the walls. I have no choice now. The room is filled with smoke and I can barely breathe. I strike a second match and drop it to the floor in front of the stove. It ignites, racing rapidly across the room, burning away the green liquid in a flash. Before I can blink, flames are consuming everything. The fire on the stove spits, hissing as it grows. The fluid on the floor meets up with the spilled grease, and the room fills with thick black smoke.

I back out of the kitchen and move toward the front of the house. I need to wait a few minutes to make sure it doesn’t go out. This house has to burn to the ground, or Ferro will come back. I cover my face with a hand towel from the bathroom and back away from the spreading flames. When I press my back to the front door, I try to wait, but I’m terrified. The flames don’t stay contained to the kitchen. They spread down the hallway, to Nate’s room, and now they’re coming for me. Wallpaper melts off the walls as the intense heat rolls toward me. The fire pops and crackles as it inches forward, consuming everything in its path. I toss the towel into the fire down the hall.

With my back to the door, I twist the knob and rush outside, coughing up a lung. I leave the door open, feeding the flames, and stumble onto the porch with my phone in my hand. I don’t dial. Instead, I press it to my ear and say loudly to no one, “There’s a fire!” I give the address and cough relentlessly, lingering too close to the house.

As I end my fake call and slip my phone back into my pocket, the moving guy from across the street rushes over and pulls me away from the house. He’s a thick man, all muscle, and the type of guy who would run inside. He asks me, “Is there anyone else inside?”

“No.” I cough so hard I double over and clutch my stomach.

He stands with me as more people gather. The flames at the back of the house reach up to the roof now. There’s a loud explosion and the sound of glass shattering as black smoke begins to billow up from kitchen windows. “I’ll call for help.”

“I already did.” I start crying and tell him I was cooking, and the grease caught fire. I lie through my teeth while praying it looks like stupidity and not arson. Maybe I should have trusted Ferro, did things his way, and left. But I couldn’t risk it. If Ferro lied about anything, it could mean jail for Nate and me. At least if things go to hell, I know I tried everything I could.

Explaining to the moving guy, I manage between coughs, “I couldn’t put it out. Throwing water on it didn’t work. It’s almost like it made it worse.”

The man blanches and looks back up at the house. “You threw water on a grease fire? Are you burned?” He doesn’t scold me for something so stupid. He just looks me over.

“No, I just inhaled too much smoke. I tried to put it out, but I couldn’t.”

People gather, and everyone starts telling everyone else that the police were already called, that a fire truck should be here any second, but there are no sirens. No cops. No firefighters. No ambulance. By the time a truck does arrive, the house is consumed in a wall of flames. Someone must have called and scolded them for taking so long. They keep the fire from spreading, but it’s too late for Nate’s house.

After I’m examined, I’m sent away in an ambulance, even after protesting. I swallowed too much smoke, and I can barely breathe. They want to keep me for observation. I want to say no, but it’s the best way out of here. I go knowing I’ll never see Nate again. But he’s alive and at that moment, that’s all that matters.

A
s I lie
on a bed in the ER, I stare at the ceiling feeling nauseous. I’m not sure if I want to barf from guilt or smoke, but I feel sick. When I hear his voice, I want to die. Why is he here? They had to have told him what happened.

Nate rips open the curtain and rushes toward me. He doesn’t stop when he sees me covered in soot, lying down. He throws his arms around me and hugs me for a moment, and only releases me when I start coughing again. “I thought you were burned. My God, Kerry, what the hell were doing?”

“Cooking,” I lie. My gaze slips across his long enough to see that he senses the lie.

He leans in close, and whispers into my ear, “You tell me right now what the fuck you were doing, and if you leave out one little detail, I’ll tell them you lit that fire on purpose.” When he pulls back, his eyes meet mine.

Icy fear drips down my spine, and I’d do anything to avoid this conversation. I hedge, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Bullshit,” he hisses. “For one, I didn’t know you were there. Second, you’re not so stupid that you’d throw water on a grease fire. Third—” he reaches for my phone on the counter and presses the button. He flips to the call log and shows me the screen. “You never called for help.”

“Nate—”

He doesn’t let me talk. Instead, he plows ahead, “This was intentional, but for the life of me, I don’t know why. So explain it! Tell me why you fucking torched my house before I make you regret ever running into me.” He’s pissed. His body is a mass of muscle, corded tight, ready to explode. It seems like he wants to punch a hole in the wall.

I can’t stop trembling, but I manage to say it. “Ferro wants your prop—”

His cold eyes regard me wearily. “When did you talk to him? How did you talk to him? I haven’t even spoken with him, so how the fuck did you have a conversation with my asshole father before me?”

I wince and try to speak loudly, to argue back, but I can’t. I start coughing and then manage through a raw throat. “It was an accident. I went to see the lawyer who sent the letter and Ferro was there. He kind of thought I was dangerous, and I let him think it. He gave you back your house.”

Nate growls, “Why?”

“I may have threatened him.”

“You threatened him?” I nod. “What’d you say?”

“I may have offered to make him a eunuch.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His hands fly as he tries to keep his voice to a whisper, but he can’t. Instead, he’s in my face, hissing at me while I’m trapped in the hospital bed.

“Nate,” I say his name softly and try to touch him, but he jerks away.

“Enough bullshit, Kerry. How did that lead to the fire? Tell me. Now.”

I explain most of the story as quickly as I can, intentionally deleting some parts—like the part with his father threatening to kill him. No kid should ever have to hear that. The fact is omitted. But without that piece of information, it makes me look like I did this on purpose. There’s no Ferro forcing my hand, no threats, no blackmail. It looks like his fuckbuddy lit his house on fire.

“Nate, I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am. I loved you, Kerry. I can’t fucking believe it, but I knew I was falling for you. I tried to stay away, and I couldn’t. You were worth risking everything to me. What was I to you? Just another conquest? Another mind to screw with before ripping my entire fucking life apart? You disgust me.”

“Nathan…” I reach for him and then drop my hand. My face pinches tightly, as I try not to cry. It’s better if he thinks I don’t care, but when I hear him say he loves me, I’m gutted. Breath leaves my body, and I want to cry. “You love me?”

His face fills with scorn. “I did. I don’t now, and I never will again. I don’t make the same mistake twice, and you were a mistake, Kerry. Stay away from me. Drop my class. Leave this college. If I ever see you again, I’ll report this.”

He turns and leaves before I have a chance to say a word. I may have saved the man I love, but I lost him in the process.

J
osh picks
me up from the hospital with Beth in tow. “Are you all right? What the hell happened?”

I tell them, “Cooking accident mixed with stupidity. It didn’t end well.”

Beth looks worried. “Is Nate okay?”

It’s the first time Josh hears his name. He studies me for a moment, putting things together. “Nathan Smith? The professor?”

“Yeah.” I hand the nurse the papers I signed, and she’s gone.

“Your fuckbuddy was a professor?” He stares at me like he doesn’t know me at all. “I thought it was some schmuck from the art department. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

Josh glances at Beth and then back at me. “Kerry, you love him. Did you tell him?”

I stand up, grab my things, and rush out of the room. My throat isn’t hurting as badly now. They gave me something to soothe it, but I still don’t answer him. Beth rushes after me, asking, “You love him? When did that happen?”

Josh rushes up behind me, grabs my elbow and whirls me around. “Kerry, stop.”

I fall apart. I slam my head into his chest and start crying. His arms come up and hold me. We’re in front of the entrance to the ER. After a tight squeeze, Beth urges us to the side. Her hand is on my back, and her brother’s arm is across my waist, ushering me toward the car. “He said he loved me.” Tears streak my cheeks, rolling away the grime and soot.

Josh sounds excited for a moment, “Well, that’s a good thing then.”

“No, it’s not. He knows that the fire wasn’t an accident, but I didn’t tell him anything else.”

Beth knows about Ferro and the favor. “Kerry, you need to tell him it wasn’t you.”

“No.” I glare at her fiercely. “I’m not going to tell him the only parent he has left would kill him to take his fucking house away. I couldn’t say it. Even if Ferro is a dick, at least he's alive. That’s something. It means Nate’s not alone. If I tell him the truth, then he will be. I can’t do that to him.”

Beth and Josh glance at each other, realizing that they both have pieces of a fractured story. I sigh inwardly, knowing it’s only a matter of time until they solve the puzzle and know everything. When we slip into Josh’s car, no one says a word. We drive back to Josh’s house in silence.