Shattered Rules (22 page)

“
You shot me! I'm bleeding!”

Nausea rose in her throat. Unable to kill him, she
’d shot him in the thigh. With gun still pointed at him, she stood ready to shoot again if he tried to move toward her.

With h
is face flushed with anger, he struggled to stand, groaned and fell on his face.

She
swallowed hard as her stomach retched.

Don
sat up next to the beam, holding his wounded leg, blood seeping through his fingers.

She watched, hating him for all he had done.
“Put your arms around the beam, or I'll shoot you again,” she said, her voice firm.

“
The hell, I’ll bleed to death.”

Just then Brick moaned
again.

“
Do it,” she yelled.

Without another word
, he wrapped his arms the pole. She slipped the handcuffs around his wrist, just as Brick had done to Amanda's boyfriend.

She caught a glimpse of Brick.
Was he still breathing?

Chapter Twenty-nine

Kelly
dropped the gun and ran to Brick.

“
Are you all right? Wake up.”

His eyes gradually opened
and he blinked. “Get the drive,” he said his voice sounding surprisingly normal.

“
You're hurt!”

“
Just get it.”

“
I've got to stop the bleeding.” She took off his jacket he’d given her to wear then tore off the fleece sweat shirt she was wearing underneath, leaving on only her cotton t-shirt. She tied the fleece tightly around his shoulder.

“That’s the best I can do for a bandage.”
A bright red circle appeared on the pale pink fabric.

He
rolled to his uninjured side and pushed to a sitting position. “Let's finish the job and get the hell out of here.”

“I think the bleeding has stopped but
wait and rest a minute just to be sure.”

“
Kelly, help me. We’ve got to get this done.”

“Okay.”
She helped him stand.

“
Where is it?”

“
In the kitchen.”

She
opened the oven door of the old gas burning stove and prayed. “It's still here.”She wrapped her fingers tightly around the flash drive.

“
Thank God.” He grimaced in pain, still cradling his left arm. “We'll burn it in the fire place.”

“
I couldn't have done this without you.” She glanced up at him and hoped the tears she fought to hold back didn’t show in her eyes.

Back i
n the library, the embers of the fire had dwindled. He stoked the fire and put kindling and a log on the glowing embers. “We’ll give it a minute until log catches fire.”

They faced the granite fireplace watching the flames rise. Heat spilled out into the room. The cold fear that had pulsed through
her started to diminish.

“
It's hot enough, give me the drive,” He put out his hand.

“
I'll take that.”

She
spun around to see a man in the doorway. Johnny Vega, his gun was aimed at Brick.

Still handcuffed to the beam,
Don sat up and smiled.

“
Give it Kelly.”

She cringed.
The gruffness of Johnny’s voice was all too familiar.

“
If you don’t give it I’m going to kill you. But first I’ll beat the shit out of you. Hand it to me now.”

Why should she?
She was dead anyway. Could she throw it into the fire from where she stood?

“
Do you want to live or die, Kell? It’s up to you.” Johnny glared at her.

“
Brick, what should I do?”

Pal
e, and appearing weaker than he had in the kitchen, Brick said, “Give it to him.”

She
held the flash drive tout to Johnny. But when he grabbed for it, she dropped it.

Before it fell to the floor, Brick dove
at Johnny, hitting Vega with such force the pistol flew from his hand. They scrambled for it. Vega reached it first. But before he could fire the gun, Brick sent a solid jab to the guy’s jaw, Johnny’s head snapped backward and he dropped to the floor, motionless.

With the pistol in his
left hand, Brick used his right hand to feel for Vega's carotid artery. “He's okay, just knocked out.”

He
snatched the drive from the floor. “Let’s get this damn thing in the fire.”

A shot rang out.

She turned to see Johnny's body recoil, blood running from his open mouth. Then she looked into the eyes of a stranger holding a nine-millimeter pistol. Just then she heard another report of the gun and Don slumped foreword, blood gushing from a hole in his chest.

She
tried to screamed, but the sound caught in her constricted throat.

T
he man who’d tried to run her off Donner Summit stood ready to fire again, his weapon pointing in her direction. Adrenaline raced through her. It was the only thing keeping her on her feet. She held her breath and waited for the next bullet to leave the gun's chamber and enter her body.

Instead of shooting her, the man
spoke to Brick. “You FBI?”

“
Yeah.” Brick’s eyes had the intensity of a Falcon observing prey.

“
Put the damn thing back where it belongs.”

“What?
”Brick frowned.

“
I don't want it. What am I gonna to do with a missile guidance system? I'm no traitor. Hell, I love this country. Where else can a mug like me, make the kind of money I make? A little gambling or prostitution.” He shrugged. “I'm just giving people what they want, but I'd never sell out my country. Me, Vito Vega, I'm a self-made man. I'm livin’ the American dream.” He smiled. “Why would I hurt the place that made me a millionaire?”

“
Aren't you related to Johnny?” she asked timidly.

“
We're second cousins, twice removed. But Johnny's a bum. I warned him that he was gonna get dead if he did this thing. The bum didn’t listen.” Vito spit on the floor. “The jerk always broke the rules. He always had to learn the hard way.”

The
gun was still pointed at her, ready to fire again. “Nobody breaks the family’s rules.”

Kelly
flinched. She glanced at Brick. He hadn’t moved.

“I
f I hadn't killed that scum over there.” Vito pointed to Don. “Kelly, your life wouldn't have been worth burnt toast. He would’ve murdered you. That's the kind of bum he was.” He sniffed and wrinkled his forehead. “You’re a good kid. Keep your nose clean and make sure you don’t get mixed up with a bum again.”

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “
I promise.”

“
Hey Mr. FBI, you clean up the mess.”

Brick
glared but didn’t respond.

Vito holstered his
gun and pulled a cigar from his coat pocket. “If they want me, the FBI’s got my address.” He paused. “You got a match?”

“
I don't smoke,” Brick said his voice harsh.

Vito
nodded and put the unlit stogie in his mouth anyway. Then, without a backward glance toward Johnny his cousin twice removed, He left the room.

Kelly
ran to Brick and grabbed him.

He groaned.

“Sorry.” She released him and took a deep breath to control her heartbeat and keep from going into full out hysteria.

“
Let’s get the job done before anyone else shows up,” Brick said his voice raw with pain.

“
Oh God, what a thought.”

He took
the drive from her. With a hatchet that lay next to the pile of wood, he smashed it and threw the pieces into the roaring fire. The flames flared higher, but gave no extra warmth.

Soon t
he pieces disappeared in the red coals and an odor of burning carcinogens mixed with the aroma of burning pine. Melting blobs, almost indiscernible from the other embers in the fire continued to burn.

She watched a
line of blood run down Brick’s arm to his hand and then drip onto the worn floorboards. He bent his elbow and brought the hurt arm up and held it against his torso. His eyes didn't leave the fire and an undecipherable expression branded his face.

She
cringed as he kneeled next to Don. He checked him for signs of life.

Brick’s
shoulders slumped. “He’s gone.” He struggled to stand and returned to face the fire. He stood, motionless, silent and valiant.

Once again
he’d been betrayed by a friend. She wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. Her throat closed with emotion. Tears burned in her eyes, she brushed them away. He wouldn't want to see her cry.

Regret for the way she
’d treated him shook her. He'd protected her, willing to give his life. All the terrible things she’d said to him came to haunt her, sending a shard of contrition. Even greater was her remorse for all that she’d done, regret for the rules she’d shattered.

“
I don't like the darkening sky.”

She
glanced up out the window. “The storm is getting worse,” she agreed.

He picked up the guns
, putting his gun into his shoulder holster and the others he handed to her and she put them into the pockets of his jacket she was still wearing.

“
What about them?” She turned her head away and didn't look at the men lying still on the library floor.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
“No service. When we get back to Tahoe City, I'll call and have the FBI send a team to take care of things. With this snowstorm, no one will get here before the Bureau.”

He walked slowly out of the room, s
till cradling his left arm close to his body.

She
followed him.

On the
porch he closed the front doors. Then he turned toward the forest. She saw his broad chest expand as he inhaled the frigid air.

As if to cleanse
the area, snow fell hard in the awe inspiring Sierra Nevada Mountain range. Standing by his side, she viewed the silent storm.

“
I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. Brick, I’m so sorry for the things I said.” She swallowed hard to keep from crying. “I have so much regret.”

“
It’s all right Kelly.” He put his uninjured arm around her. “We all have regrets. That’s not important anymore. The plan for the missile guidance system has been destroyed.” He pulled her closer. “Against the odds we did it. We’re good together.”

She l
et her head lean on his broad chest and she listened to his rapidly beating heart.

“
I love you Kelly. From now on, whatever happens—” He paused.

She held her breath
waiting for him to continue.

“
Whatever happens I want you with me. Marry me and we'll have the rest of our lives to make things right.”

“
Oh Brick, I want that more than anything else in the world.” She blinked back tears of joy.

He bent down and
laid a gentle kiss upon her waiting lips. “Forever,” he promised.

“
Forever,” she agreed.

Together they turned their backs on the mansion and its horror and walked toward their
future.

Copyright
©
by Reggi Allder

Available from Amazon
http://amzn.com/B00FTIWMOK

Chapter One

In the midnight gloom of a residential street in Carmel, California, business owner Kathryn Carlyle watched the city’s dim lights from the back seat of a speeding police car. She gasped for air as dread tightened her throat.
This can’t be happening to me.

The catering van she drove to billionaire software developer Conner Harrison’s birthday party had been impounded by the police as evidence. She rubbed her throbbing temples to release the pain accumulated there.

Two blocks from her beachfront condo, she snatched a breath of air. “Please stop. I have to get out.”

The middle-aged officer guided the patrol car to the curb. “We’re not finished with you. Go, but don’t leave town.”

He’d probably been waiting all night to use that cliché.
Don’t leave town.
She almost laughed, except nothing funny had happened tonight.

She exited the car and inhaled the sea breeze as it rustled her hair. It was such a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere that contaminated the police station where she’d spent the last few hours. How long before the man came back to arrest her?

Relieved to be in her safe neighborhood, she took a deeper breath, kicked off her black leather pumps and sat on a driftwood log overlooking the serene bay.

She swallowed as nausea swirled in her stomach. The fact that she hadn't eaten since breakfast didn’t help. Always nervous before an event, she’d planned to eat after Mr. Harrison’s party. Now he hovered near death. The thought of eating brought bile to the back of her throat. Why did the authorities think she poisoned a man she’d only met once?

A nightmare had snared her and was holding her in its grip. When Mr. Harrison died the charge against her would be murder in the first degree.

As the realization crept through her, she tensed. Two deep breaths calmed her
. It didn't stop the headache forming over her right eye.

True she’d had the opportunity to poison him, but no motive. She only met him because he’d asked her to cater his birthday party. With his death, there was nothing to gain and a lot to lose, her reputation, her business, her life.

In the morning the police would sort out the truth of her innocence. Still, adrenaline caused her heart to race. She rubbed her temples and tried not to think anymore.

A gust of wind circled her. She shivered and folded her arms in front of her.
Damn.
Her suit jacket was still in the patrol car.

She stood and brushed the sand from the back of her skirt and picked up her high heels and shoulder bag. Time to go home, sleep was doubtful, still at least she’d put up her sore feet.

Leaves crunched somewhere in the shadows of the nearby trees, she squinted into the darkness but didn’t see anyone. Even so, fear gripped her.

She forced her swollen feet back into her pumps and walked quickly up the dimly lit street. The click of her heels echoed in the quiet night air. The desire to flee from an unknown danger increased the speed of her footsteps.

With the exception of a black truck parked at the curb, the street was empty. The pickup’s engine revved. The cab light came on and cast an eerie glow on the driver’s face. He smiled at her.

As she thought about waving to let him know the headlights were off, the vehicle drove straight at her. It jumped the curb, sideswiped her, sending her flying.

With a thud, she landed on the muddy front lawn of a neighboring condominium. The sound of the engine faded as the vehicle disappeared.

She lay motionless on the ground. Cold mud oozed into the fabric of her skirt. A twinge jabbed her and terror banged against her rib cage.

Overriding the sense of shock was her need to get home where she’d be safe. She grabbed the strap of her purse and attempted to stand. Pain shot through her hip and down her leg. She fell back into the mud.

A man dressed in black came out of the darkness and stood over her. Before she could cry out, he bent down and covered her mouth with his huge hand.

“Don't scream. You'll wake the whole neighborhood. I’m not going to hurt you.” He helped her stand.

The streetlight lit his face and a lock of coffee brown hair fell over his furrowed brow. Five o'clock shadow covered his jaw and his full lips formed a grim line. Compassion shone in his obsidian eyes. It was incongruous to his hardened expression. He reminded her of someone
. No name came to mind.

“
Your uncle sent me,” he said in a deep voice.

“
You were at the police station.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“
Yeah. Thought I could talk to you. They wouldn’t allow it. Can you stand by yourself?”

“
I think so.” A spasm shot in her leg and her knees buckled. She grabbed him and reluctantly leaned on his lanky body for support.

“I'll call 911.
” He held her to him.

“
Don’t phone them.”

“
You’re hurt.”

“I'm okay.”

“The police need to know about this. Use my cell.”

“
No. I can’t handle it. Not tonight. I'm cold. I’m muddy. I just want to go home.”

“
Can you walk?”

“
Yeah,” she said, hoping she could. The first step sent pain racing through her. She gasped.

With one hand he steadied her. With the other, he yanked a smart phone from his pocket.
“What’s your address?”

“330 Sea View Avenue, number three.”

He punched in 911. “There's been an accident. A woman’s hurt. I need an ambulance sent to 330 Sea View Avenue number three ASAP.”

After he pocketed his phone, he carefully scooped her up in his arms. “Let’s get you home.”

Never one to ask for help, this time she had to admit needed it and balanced herself by putting her arm around his neck. His body heat warmed her as her cheek rested against his solid chest. Odd how protected she felt, almost as if this stranger were an old friend.

***

The breeze picked up and a cloud drifted in front of the moon, hiding the needed light on the darkened street. He glanced at the petite woman who trembled in his arms. The scent of floral perfume wafted from her. He inhaled and held her closer.

He’d just parked his car when he saw the pick-up truck sideswipe her. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the license number. His attention had been on the woman as she fell. He cringed at the thought of her lying in the sprinkler soaked lawn hurt and too weak to walk home.

The key to her condo was in her shoulder bag.

The front door squeaked open. He rushed upstairs, found the master bedroom.

A small crystal chandelier sent light sparkling on the pale pink walls and the deeper pink bedding of the queen sized bed. After working for many months in Afghanistan, he couldn’t remember the last time he'd been in such a “girly” room.

The same delicate scent he’d noticed when he first picked her up floated in the room. The aroma so different from the hospital odors he’d spent the last few months enduring.

He set her on the bed and her mud caked clothes made stains on the delicate duvet.

In the soft light, he gazed at her, a pretty brown haired woman of average height and average weight, nothing remarkable about her, nothing memorable.

Just then, she stared at him and her eyes sent a plea for help so intense he couldn’t turn away. A vision of Sarah came to mind. He hadn't thought of her in a long time. Now he had a mental image of the three year old, her sad expression beseeching him with her wondrous blue eyes to help her.

This women’s eyes had the same color and intensity, the same expression of desperation he'd seen in little Sarah. He turned away to stop the memory.

He punched 911 on his smart phone again. “I called the paramedics for 330 Sea View Avenue, where the heck are they?”

“They’re on the way,” a female voice said.

“Thanks”, he grunted and disconnected the call.

With her knees pulled up to her chest, she rolled onto her left side. Through the torn fabric of her skirt he saw a blood red abrasion on her upper thigh.

“The paramedics will be here soon.”

“
My head hurts,” she said as if she didn’t hear him.

“
Help’s coming,” he said unable to think of anything else to say. How long had it been since he called the paramedics? He checked the time, only a few minutes.

A silver framed photo was displayed on a chest of drawers, a girl in a graduation cap and gown standing next to an older man and woman. He continued to roam the bedroom. An award hung on the wall,
“Catering by Carlyle voted the best local catering company of the year.”

He glanced out to the window to the quiet street below. Where was the driver of the pickup truck now? Why would he drive straight at her?

“Uncle Jimmy sent you?”

“
Yeah.” He moved closer to the bed. “He wanted me to talk with you.”

She grabbed him as if he were a lifeline. Astonished, he held her delicate hand and tried not to remember the last time he'd held a friend's hand. That buddy had died in Afghanistan. No amount of medical help had done any good. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. He reminded himself he wasn’t in Afghanistan now.

She struggled to sit up.

“
Lay back,” he said gruffly a failed attempt to sound kind. His expertise: asking pointed journalistic questions that exposed hidden truths. He’d never developed a bedside manner.

A hurt expression flashed across her face. Vulnerable, she was an unwanted complication in his already too complicated life. He wouldn't allow her appeal to attract him, wouldn’t empathize with her current situation. He pulled away and reprimanded himself for promising her uncle to help her.

She brought her trembling hand to her cheek.

From the other side of the room, he glanced back at her. A pale version of a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Something akin to recognition surfaced and he had to stop from saying,
“Haven't we met before?”

A jolt of empathy shot through him. He stopped it. Here as a favor to a friend and the chance to be near a breaking news story that could revive his stalled career, he wanted no connection, no emotional ties.

The doorbell buzzed. He rushed to answer the door, relieved to be away from the emotion she caused to stir in him.

Two young paramedics waited on the front stoop. He took them to Kathryn and then paced in the hallway outside the room.

A short time later, the taller of the medics exited the master bedroom. “She’s doing okay. Even so, I’d like her to stay in the hospital overnight for observation. No go, why don't you talk to her?”

“I hardly know her. She won’t listen to me.
”

“
Someone has to be with her tonight. Wonder if she has family nearby?”

“
I'll make sure she's not alone.”

“
Good. I put a dressing on her leg and told her to use aspirin or acetaminophen for pain. Have her take it easy for a couple of days. If the hip continues to give her trouble, it might be a good idea to get an x-ray.”

He thanked the paramedics and showed them out.

Dressed in pink flannel pajamas, she sat up in bed when he returned to the bedroom. Long brown hair framed her face and then fell softly on her shoulders. An unexpected shiver of desire hit him, heating his body.

“
Are you better?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned back against the pillows.

He felt her openly explore his face with her inquisitive eyes.

“
Why did my uncle want you to talk to me?”

“
Jim wanted me to ask what happened tonight.”

She frowned.

He hesitated. “Hoped you’d tell me about Conner Harrison’s poisoning.”

She gasped.

“Your uncle told me you had nothing to do with it,” he said. “I planned to wait until tomorrow to visit. On an impulse, I came tonight. I'd just parked my car when the vehicle sideswiped you. Did you recognize the driver?”

“
No. Probably a drunk. The headlights weren't even on.” She winced and adjusted her position on the bed. “One odd thing, the man smiled just before the truck hit me.” She rubbed her forehead.

“
You must have one hell of a headache.”

She winkled her nose.
“It hasn't been my day.”

“
I’d say. Do you want me to call someone, your uncle or your mother?”

“
No.”

“
You shouldn’t be alone.”

“
I appreciate what you’ve done. Right now I don't need anyone and it's been a
very
long day.”