CONNECTIONS: A Romantic Suspense (DESIGNER CHILDREN Book 2), page 14
The ping of glass and debris above their heads, slowed, but the fire roared. Arrows of flame spurted through the roof.
“We need to get out of here.” Ashe coughed. “Hang on.”
He placed her hands above her head on the rock shelf. Then he dove and swam to the shallow end of the pool.
She clung to the rock. Ashe had been holding her up and she hadn’t even realized it. Her muscles ached, and her legs tried to drag her down. It would be easy to give up and let her body carry her to the bottom.
“Here.” He slipped her legs into her swimsuit, working the tight wet fabric over her aching body. He’d already donned his trunks. “Can you swim to the ladder?”
She nodded. She took faltering strokes, splashing and paddling as if she’d just learned to swim. Once she reached the ladder, Ashe supported her butt as she clamored up the steps. His hand steadied her, and she stepped on the concrete fringe. Mistake. Glass and glowing embers covered the apron of the pool, slicing and burning her feet.
“Watch out,” she called as Ashe sprang out behind her. “Glass.”
He swept her into his arms and headed away from the house in a hopping pattern, leaving bloody footprints. The pool cabana crackled with flames.
“Put me down.” She tugged on his arms. “Your feet are being shredded.”
“I’m okay.” He tightened his grip and ran the gauntlet through burning debris and glass.
A crash had her head snapping back. The balcony off Ashe’s bedroom groaned. Wood splintered, sparks as big as her hand twisted in the fire’s updrafts. The wrought iron chairs she’d sat in a few nights ago slammed to the concrete below. Black smoke roiled from open holes in the house. She gagged from the stench of burning plastic.
The balcony shifted, creaking loud enough to be heard over the fire’s roar. Bright orange flames poured from where the doors should be. With one more groan, the balcony slammed to the concrete apron. It tottered and then tipped into the pool. The water sizzled as the waves overflowed the edges. The stone balustrade broke off and rolled, smashing the ladder they’d climbed moments ago.
Kat buried her head in Ashe’s chest. “Oh, God.”
Even though the heat from the fire licked at her, goose bumps covered her skin. If not for Ashe’s quick thinking, they would be dead.
She inhaled and a cough wracked her chest.
Ashe coughed too. But he kept running, clutching her close. The searing heat lessened as he lurched away from the inferno.
Red and white lights shot strobe-like tracers into the inky sky. Sirens wailed. Usually she chased those sirens. She wasn’t part of the story.
“We’re climbing that wall.” Ashe pointed to a wall about three hundred yards away. He set her down, bent over and coughed and coughed.
She gingerly tested the ground with her feet. When she didn’t find any glass or sparks, she ran.
Just beyond a hedge, a stonewall separated Ashe’s house from his neighbors. She coughed out, “We need to let them know we’re okay so the firefighters don’t search for us.”
“We will.” He cupped his hands together. “Time to climb.”
She placed one foot in the cradle of his fingers. Her fingers searched for a handhold. Pulling herself up, she curled her toes into the rocks and inched her way to the top. Catching the ledge, she used her elbows to pull up her weight. Coughing, she collapsed on the top of the wall.
“Give me your hand,” she yelled to Ashe.
He climbed, ignoring her hand, and caught the top ledge, swinging up next to her.
“Let me jump first,” he demanded.
Fine with her. She waited, her breath leveling off.
He jumped down. And then called up to her. “Come on, Kat. We’re almost there. Jump.”
Ashe stood below her; his arms wide.
“Are you crazy?” She would hurt him. Lowering her legs over the edge, she slipped and slid down the rock wall. The rough surface tore at her skin and swimsuit.
He caught her waist, gently lowering her the last few feet. Then he dropped his forehead to hers. Water from his hair dripped into her stinging eyes but she didn’t care. “Kat. I could have lost you.”
“I could have lost you.” Ignoring her pain, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “You saved me. You saved us.”
Arm and arm, they staggered to the front of the neighbor’s house. Emergency vehicles filled Ashe’s driveway and street. A barricade kept the spectators back. At least two news stations were already here.
She should be on the other side of that barricade, capturing the story of the Texans’s quarterback’s home burning to the ground. Instead, she stood in a dripping suit, cuts and scrapes littering her body. She would be part of tomorrow’s lead story.
Kat swayed, holding onto a head that didn’t seem connected to her body.
“Sir, you need to get back,” a fully suited fire fighter called.
“I’m the home owner,” Ashe shouted, then started coughing.
Two more firefighters rushed to them, taking their arms and leading them to an ambulance.
Kat collapsed onto the open doorway, letting her legs dangle. Someone handed her a blanket, and she gingerly wrapped it around her shoulders.
A man with a radio asked, “Is there anyone else in the house?”
“No,” Ashe hacked out. “We were in the pool. It saved our lives. You need to look at Kat first. She’s cut—bleeding.” Ashe shook off the paramedic trying to tug an oxygen mask over his head. “Damn it. Check her out first. Get her warmed up. She’s shaking.”
Kat hadn’t realized she was shivering until Ashe shouted. She held up a trembling hand. “Check Ashe’s feet. He carried me. Check Ashe.”
“Hang on.” A paramedic stood over them.
“Check Kat first,” Ashe coughed out.
Kat held up her hand. “Stop.”
The paramedic waved at the man behind Ashe. “There are two of you. And there are two of us. Let us do our jobs.”
Ashe relented, letting the other paramedic place the oxygen mask over his face.
“Ma’am, I’d like to look at your back,” the female paramedic said. “It might be easier if you lie down.”
“I’d rather sit, if that’s all right.” She wanted to see what was going on.
“We’ll give it a shot. I’m Joyce.” The paramedic wrapped an oxygen mask around Kat’s face. Then she lowered the blanket to Kat’s waist and slipped off the straps of her suit. Joyce angled a light onto her back, gathered tools and started cleaning and plucking out glass.
Time expanded and contracted. The firefighters beat back the flames only to have them spurt out the other side of the house.
“We could have been sleeping.” Ashe sat next to her in the back of the ambulance. His voice sounded like he’d been up all night smoking and drinking. He winced as the paramedic kneeling below him cleaned one of his feet.
He caught Kat’s hand, examined it and then laced their fingers together, kissing her filthy knuckles.
“Are you okay?” Her voice wasn’t much better than Ashe’s.
“Sure.” The oxygen mask they’d given him hung by his chin.
“What does my back look like?” She winced as the paramedic tugged on something between her shoulder blades.
“Some burns. A lot of little cuts.”
Her hands flew to her face. Chunks of dried blood covered her forehead. Oh, God. Scars? How would she work? “My face?”
“It’s not bad.” Ashe pulled her hand away. “But don’t touch the cuts with your dirty fingers.”
She held them out. Her hands were black, her nails ripped, and the manicure she’d had two days ago—nonexistent.
“Not too bad?” Adrenaline surged, clearing her fuzzy brain. “I’m on television. What’s not too bad?”
What would she do if she couldn’t go on camera? Her voice shook as badly as her hands had earlier.
“My mother always told me not to buy trouble.” Ashe held her hand. “Everything will be fine.”
Soon he would start singing—the sun’ll come out tomorrow. Platitudes weren’t helping. What had happened to her face? Why wouldn’t he tell her?
“I’m sure they’ll take you to the hospital soon.” He coughed.
The racking sound ripped a hole in her chest. She slipped his mask back onto his face. Somehow he’d breathed in more smoke than she had. Probably when he’d gone for their swimsuits. Then he’d carried her what had felt like miles.
She pushed away her worry about her cuts. They weren’t important.
Ashe was important. He’d saved her.
What if the balcony had fallen seconds earlier, when he’d been foolishly grabbing clothes? Fear shot through her. She couldn’t imagine the world without his energy, his smile.
She pressed her fingers on her lips and touched them to Ashe’s oxygen mask.
He smiled. His face had black streaks, and his hands were red and scraped. His house had just exploded, and Ashe was smiling. He was incredible, amazing. He’d saved her life. And he was here, holding her hand and smiling at her.
Her chest grew tight. Not from smoke inhalation, but from emotions. What had she done? But she knew.
She’d ruined everything. There was no avoiding the truth. She’d fallen in love with Ashe.
Mendel Campus and Research Center
Iowa
“It’s three in the morning.” Simon rocked forward in his chair and stared into the screen. “This better be good news.”
The Houston team was lined up at a table in one of their hotel rooms.
Gavin shook his head. “Somehow they’re still alive.”
“What?” Simon wanted to shout but maintained control.
“The house had been dark for twenty minutes.” Gavin scrubbed his military short hair. “We, I, assumed Bristol and the reporter were in bed. I gave the go.”
“How do you know they survived?” Simon drummed his fingers on the table.
“They were on the news. Bristol was interviewed.” Nathan fiddled with his phone. “I’m sending you the link to the clip. Bristol said they were in the pool when the house blew.”
Simon slammed his fist against the surface hard enough to shake the computer monitors. “We don’t make mistakes.”
But had the Mendel teams ever been tested? Ever since this Ashland fiasco, nothing had gone right.
“Bristol got lucky,” Gavin said. “The pool was the only place they could have survived.”
“Did they say anything about the source of the fire?” Simon asked.
“Under investigation,” Maya said.
Simon took in a deep breath, searching for calm. He’d wanted to lead. Now he had to deal with this catastrophe. “I thought we had eyes and ears in the house.”
“The cleaning service was there when we arrived.” Nathan held up his hands. “I couldn’t get mics and cameras everywhere we wanted.”
More witnesses. “Can the cleaning people ID any of you?”
“I stayed in the van,” Gavin said. “Only Maya and Nathan were on site. They wore caps. The cleaners might be able to describe hair color, but eyes and facial shape will be difficult,”
“That’s good,” Simon murmured.
“We changed hotels yesterday,” Gavin added. “And we changed the license plates on the van.”
“I was able to loop the community’s security footage so they won’t have the van on video,” Nathan said.
Simon stared at the team. They were smart, they were skilled. The gene editing program had ensured that was true. And they were expensive assets.
This was their first real test, and they were failing. “Do you need additional resources?”
“Has our objective changed?” Gavin asked.
“No.”
“We don’t need any more people. Bristol and the reporter were lucky.” Gavin’s jaw flexed like he was clenching his teeth. “They will not be so lucky next time.”
“Next time.” Simon set both hands on the desk. How many chances would they get? “We need both Bristol and Torrington gone. And no one should put the two men together.”
Nathan held up a hand. “When I went through the surveillance video from Torrington’s development, I spotted Piper Ashland’s rental car entering through the security gate.”
And another failure rose its ugly head. “Is Elaina Ashland still in a coma?”
“We don’t know,” Gavin said.
“Find out. Both Dr. Ashlands need to be eliminated.”
“I’ve been working on getting access to the hospital’s security camera feeds, but they’ve set up new firewalls since I was in their system,” Nathan said. “I won’t be able to do this remotely like I did before. I’ll need to get on site to get eyes into the hospital.”
“Do it,” Simon ordered. “We need to know what’s happening to Dr. Elaina Ashland.”
“We want to finish what we’ve started.” Gavin looked at Nathan and Maya. They nodded. “This is becoming personal. It may require a number of operations.”
“I don’t want any more failures.”
“No, sir,” Gavin snapped.
“Let me know the plan.” Simon shut off the connection without saying goodbye.
He paced the office, sifting through options for his next steps.
He could go to Houston and supervise. He rested his hand on the windowsill, drumming his fingers. Personally supervising the team hadn’t worked out for Mark Dell. Either Torrington or the doctor had killed him. It was frustrating that the paper hadn’t reported that fact.
He needed to notify Director Lawrence that the team had failed, but he would wait until Gavin had a solution to this problem.
Houston
Kat called her mother from the ER. She didn’t want her family to learn about the fire from the news. After her mother answered, she explained what happened.
“Oh Katrina. Are you injured? Hurt?” her mother asked.
“Some cuts and scrapes.” Ashe had the worst injuries.
“Your face?” There was fear in her mother’s voice.
“It’s fine, Mom.” But she worried too.
“I saw the fire on the news. I never imagined you were there.” Kat could almost envision her mother’s hand fluttering.
“I’m fine.” Kat coughed, but her mother didn’t comment on the hacking. “We were in the pool. It saved us.”
“I could come there after my hair appointment,” her mother volunteered. “It would be a couple of hours—maybe three.”
Why had she called her mother? So she didn’t get the news secondhand. But to know that her mother’s hair appointment took precedence over Kat’s health was classic. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’ll be here that long.”
“I’ll call your sisters. Let them know.”
“Thanks.” The only reason her mother would call was to get sympathy for herself.
Kat had hoped this morning would be different, that she would matter to her mother. That maybe her mother loved her a little.
Obviously not. She just wasn’t lovable.
“You take care,” her mother said.
“I’ll try.” Kat let the phone drop back into its cradle.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, but the pressure on the wounds on her back was too much.
There was a knock on the door and her ER nurse walked in.
“Have you found out where Ashe is?” Kat asked. She’d hated being separated from him. Hated not knowing where he was or if he was all right.
A harsh cough ripped at her raw throat.
“He’s in good hands.” The nurse slid the oxygen mask back onto Kat’s nose and mouth. “Stop pulling off your oxygen.”
“Can you take me to him?” Kat’s words were a rumble in her ear.
“As soon as your doctor releases you.”
After her nurse left the room, Kat slid off the bed. She wanted to search for Ashe but was tethered to her stupid oxygen.
She peeked in the mirror and closed her eyes. Her blonde hair looked gray. And her face and back were covered with butterfly bandages.
Ashe had the most injuries. He’d made sure she was safe. Her hands shook. If not for him, she might have died.
Ashe had to be okay.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Kat croaked.
Sunee stuck her head. “Kat?”
“Oh, Sunee.” The tears she’d held back all night, flooded out. “You’re here.”
“You called. Of course I’m here.” Sunee moved to her side and carefully hugged her. “How are you?”
“Alive,” Kat sobbed. “Have you seen Ashe? How is he?”
“The doctors are making sure there isn’t any more embedded glass. And the Texans’s doctor is here too. He has lots of people watching over him.”
“His feet!” Kat clutched Sunee’s arm. “He carried me through the glass and embers barefoot.”
“He’s okay.” Sunee rubbed her arm.
“Can you take me to him?” Kat didn’t understand her panic at not being able to see or touch Ashe.
Sunee looked at the oxygen tubes connected to the wall and shook her head. “Let me see if I can get portable oxygen first.”
Sunee led her back to the bed and tucked the thin blanket around her “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
“Check on Ashe.” Kat grabbed Sunee’s hand. “Make sure he’s okay.”
“I will.” Sunee patted her hand. “Why don’t you rest. It’s been a long night.”
“Just until I can get to Ashe.” Sunee would watch over Ashe until Kat was able to.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she closed her eyes, explosions and flames invaded her thoughts.
Ashe had to be okay.
Ashe transferred into the wheelchair. His nurse set an oxygen tank on the side of the chair and adjusted his tube.
Sunee hovered near the door.
“Take me to her,” he ordered.
“No walking on my nice clean bandages,” his nurse warned.
“Of course not.” Ashe wiggled his feet. They were still numb from whatever they’d injected to deaden the pain as they’d removed glass splinters and cleaned soot out of the cuts on his feet.
