Melting Point Read online

  “Kiley, I’m not him.” Collier cupped her shoulders, his gaze searing into hers. “Have I ever led you to believe one thing and done another? Haven’t I been up-front about what I want since the first day we started working together?”

  “Yes,” she answered hesitantly.

  “I’m shooting straight now, too. I know what I want, Blaze. You. For tomorrow. And every tomorrow after that.”

  “David said things like that, too.”

  “This is about you and me,” he practically growled. He didn’t want her to talk about that other guy. He sure didn’t like her comparing the two of them. He cautioned himself to play it cool. “I know you’re not ready for this to end. Not yet. I see it in your eyes when we make love. Your heart beats every bit as hard as mine when we’re together. I know you feel something for me.”

  “Even if I do, I can’t trust it.”

  “You mean you can’t trust me.”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  Hurt slashed deep. “You really believe I’ll leave.”

  “You will.”

  He huffed out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. “You’re deadly for a guy’s ego, Blaze.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice quavered; tears filled her eyes. “But I can’t turn my back on what I know.”

  “Neither can I, and I know this.” He slid a knuckle under her chin. “I’m crazy about you, Kiley Anne.”

  “For now, maybe.”

  “For always,” he gritted out, trying not to lose patience. He understood her skittishness; he’d been the same way.

  “We both know how this is going to end. You walk, I walk. It’s better to do it now.”

  “I thought I’d never trust another woman, but I trust you. Am I wrong to do that?”

  Her heart clenched. She recognized what it had cost him to say that. Any other female would’ve melted at his feet, and Kiley wanted to. But she had to consider the source. Intentions didn’t matter nearly as much as patterns did. And his pattern was just like her father’s, just like David’s.

  Collier snagged her hand, folded it into his. “You’ve got the best BS detector of anybody I know. Look in my eyes. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

  She searched his face. He was sincere. She didn’t doubt that, but how did she know she wasn’t seeing what she wanted? Seeing love rather than affection? “There are a lot of women out there, McClain. Waiting just for you. Tell me that isn’t tempting.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Maybe not right now, today.” She pulled away, her withdrawal causing his heart to clench. “How long will that last?”

  “Forever. I was only with those women because I was waiting for you to catch up to me.”

  “Don’t say sweet things to me.”

  “Why not?”

  Her lips trembled. “Because you’re all about moving from woman to woman.”

  “If I wanted to move on, wouldn’t I be doing it right now? I’ve never known anyone like you, Blaze. Whatever we’ve got, whatever you do for me makes me want to keep it.” He considered giving her an ultimatum, forcing her to admit the feelings he knew she had for him. But she needed to come to the realization on her own, not because he’d gotten in her face. “I don’t want anyone else, and since I’m spilling my guts here, I don’t want you to be with anyone else, either.”

  “What if you change your mind one day?”

  The sadness in her voice made his chest ache. “What if you do? What if you’re the one who decides to move on?”

  He had every right to ask, to wonder after what Gwen had done to him. Kiley stared hard at him. She wanted to believe him, but the doubt in her mind overruled her heart. “It won’t work.”

  “You mean, you won’t give it a chance,” he said tightly, irritation flaring.

  “It’s only sex.” She wondered when she had stopped believing that.

  “Bull.”

  “It was great, but things are over. We should move on.”

  “I can’t believe you’re making this about sex.” Anger slowly, steadily built inside him. “You know it’s more than that.”

  “Not to me.”

  Now that hurt. Every muscle in his body clenched as he resisted the urge to grab her and kiss her until she couldn’t deny what they both knew. “If it’s only physical, then why is it so important that we end things now? I’m having a good time. You’re having a good time. What’s the big rush?”

  “It isn’t working for me anymore.”

  The frustration he’d held in check exploded. “What do I have to do to get through to you? You’re scared. So am I. This turned into more than either of us expected. I’m overwhelmed, too. We can take things slow.”

  “I…don’t want to see you again. I think you should go.”

  His temper snapped. “So do I. Because in about ten seconds, I’m gonna throw you on the floor, rip off your clothes and show you just how much we don’t mean to each other.”

  “See, it is about sex!”

  He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead he snatched up his coat and turned to leave. “You are one stubborn woman—”

  The front door exploded, shooting off its hinges, shattering into shards of wood raining down on them. Splinters, metal, sparks flew into his face. Fire leaped from the door’s remains, caught the carpet, a table leg and headed straight for them.

  Chapter 13

  A ball of fire erupted at the same time Collier saw a flying piece of metal and recognized it as part of a gas can. The force of the blast, the rapid-hot fan of fire told him that some kind of explosive had been taped to the container. Flames hurtled up the wall, snaked across the carpet, eating their way through the room.

  He grabbed Kiley and shoved her toward the nearest exit, away from the billowing smoke. “Go! Back door! Now!”

  They tore across the living room, dodged a wall and headed for the French door leading to her deck. He kept her in front of him. Fire chased them, its whine building to a hissing crackle as it bore down.

  She looked over her shoulder, slowing a bit.

  “I’m right behind you! Go!”

  Someone had placed that gas bomb in front of her door and lit it with either a fuse or a blasting cap. Heat surged at his back, stung one ear. Kiley reached the glass-paned door, struggled with the top latch, then the dead bolt. She was nearly out of danger. The tightness in Collier’s chest eased slightly. She was okay.

  She flung open the door and rushed outside. Everything happened in a blur, folded together in one frozen moment.

  He saw a flash of blue-orange light in the darkness, heard a loud pop. The door’s glass reflected the flames behind him. Beyond, the night was black and silver. Kiley turned toward him, yelling something. Then she stumbled, fell to the deck as though pushed.

  Collier lunged out of the house, dragging in deep breaths of cold air. He reached her, went to his knees.

  “Don’t touch her!”

  At the shouted order, his head jerked up. He looked into the barrel of a gun. And Raye Ballinger’s hard glittering eyes.

  Even as he tried to figure out an escape, his mind processed. Raye had shot Kiley. Now she was going to shoot him. The attorney had him dead center. “Bye-bye, lover.”

  Her eyes glittered as she pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening. Collier dove, rolling to his side. He scrambled to move again as Raye crumpled to the ground. And lay motionless.

  He skidded on his knees, reaching across her to shove the gun away. The mix of moonlight and flame showed a wound in Raye’s neck, a small hole, a trickle of blood. Her chest wasn’t moving. He rushed back to Kiley, only now realizing she’d managed to pull her gun from her ankle holster and get off a round.

  “That was one good shot, Russell.” He leaned over her, his breath frosting the air.

  Her hand fell limply to her side, her gun thudding to the deck.

  “Kiley?” He saw now that the pale green of her blouse was dark—slick with blood. Gut shot.
/>   He could hear the fire, engulfing everything in its path. Orange wisps of flame licked at the French door, growing larger as they slid around the frame with a hiss. Smoke rolled out in a cloud, choking him. He had to get her out of here. He snatched up his coat, lifted her in his arms and ran down the wooden steps, over to the far side of the neighbor’s yard.

  Sirens blared. Someone had called 911. He was vaguely aware of the neighbors rushing out of their homes. The sounds of ambulance sirens and fire truck horns moved closer.

  Under the foamy glare of a street light, he laid her on his coat in the stiff, frozen grass. His hands shook as he pulled her blouse from her slacks, unzipped them so he could see her abdomen. The small entrance wound was just above her navel.

  He compressed his hands firmly against the wound, desperately trying to stanch the blood flow. He watched her pale face, urging her silently to come to as he leaned down to listen to her heartbeat. Weak, fading to thready. “Blaze, I love you,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

  Two hours later Collier stood in the surgical waiting area of Presley Medical Center. Where was the doctor? How long had the team of surgeons and nurses been in there? He and Kiley had gotten here about eight. The digital read-out on his watch showed 10:14 p.m.

  His gaze skipped over the dozen or so people gathered round, all waiting for information. His mind raced. Kiley had shot Raye in the carotid artery, killing her instantly. It was too good for her as far as Collier was concerned, but what he really cared about was the redhead on that surgery table, fighting for her life.

  The trauma team had been ready the instant Kiley arrived. In the ambulance the paramedics had started an IV of Lactated Ringers; upon seeing the E.R. doctor they had reported that Kiley’s blood pressure was critically low and she wasn’t responding to the replacement IV. A nurse had immediately run for a bag of blood.

  Kiley had been deathly pale, so pale that Collier’s entire body went numb. She’d needed B-negative blood. Her sister didn’t match the fairly rare type; neither did Collier. And they couldn’t wait for the five-day turnaround to screen a new donor. The nurse had quickly begun infusing the universal donor blood type, O negative.

  A nurse from the operating room had come out about an hour ago and told Kiley’s sister that the doctor had put her on a ventilator. She explained that it was in case complications developed and the staff needed to work on her in a hurry. Hearing Kiley was vented had panic squeezing Collier’s chest until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t let on to Kristin, but he wondered if something had gone bad.

  He still wasn’t breathing that well. At the other end of the room, Kristin talked to Clay Jessup, Kiley’s friend and police academy buddy who’d offered to pick up her mother, JoAnn Russell Martin, at the airport. Collier had reached Kristin on the way to the hospital then offered to call their mom because Kiley’s sister sounded too upset to string two words together.

  The low drone and murmurs of conversation flayed his nerves. He hadn’t been sure how Kiley’s sister would hold up, but she was coping quietly. There were occasional tears, but no panic or hysterics.

  He couldn’t shake the picture of Kiley’s bloodless face as he’d climbed into the ambulance with her. The paramedics knew him and didn’t try to prevent his riding with her. If he didn’t stop replaying that gunshot, he was going to hit something.

  He thought through every detail of the case, so he didn’t have to deal with what had been said before hell had literally rained down on them. He and Kiley believed Raye was the right suspect, and hopefully it would be her fingerprint that the CSI matched to the one on the rifle cartridge they’d found at Dominic Narr’s apartment.

  Now that they knew the identity of their arsonist-murderer, they also knew the connection between the victims. The four dead firefighters had all tried to save Jamie Ballinger from the second story of the house he’d torched in an attempt to kill himself. They’d gotten him out of the house, but on the way down, he’d jumped from the ladder. No one had been able to grab him. And they couldn’t resuscitate him after that fall. He’d died before they got him in the ambulance.

  Collier speculated that it was the firefighters who physically touched Raye’s brother during the rescue effort whom she held responsible for her brother’s death. That group of firefighters consisted of two more men. If Narr hadn’t put the focus on the attorney, she would’ve taken revenge on them, too.

  Knowing that the Ballinger suicide was the link between the murders, Collier figured Raye had to be the mystery blonde seen with Rex Huffman at the motel on the night of his murder. He could also now discern that the dates of death formed a pattern. Raye’s brother had died on the third day of the month. A firefighter had been murdered on days on either side of that number, though not in numerical order. The first, the fourth, the fifth, the second.

  Collier had told Kiley all this in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He had talked so she’d hear him if she regained consciousness, and so he wouldn’t go insane with fear. She’d never opened her eyes, never responded at all.

  His chest hurt as if it was splitting open. Rubbing it, he walked to the far end of the hall, away from everyone else. The quiet hum of the heating unit dimmed the voices from the waiting room. He stared blankly through the glass door leading to the recovery area.

  “How’s it going?”

  “She’s been in there two hours.” Collier turned as his brother came toward him. “A while ago, I asked a surgical nurse and she told me that’s probably typical, but much longer than that means major blood vessels are involved.”

  What damage had she sustained? How much longer would she be in there? He kept seeing himself push her in front of him, making sure she went out the door first.

  “I know what you’re doing, bro. Don’t.” Walker leaned a shoulder against the door so that he faced Collier, nailed him with a look. “It’s not your fault she got shot.”

  “I practically pushed her out the door in front of me.” Collier shoved a hand through his hair, holding on to his control by a thread. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and burning from smoke. “I put her right in Raye’s sights.”

  “You were protecting her. The fire was the immediate threat. You had no way of knowing about that psycho lawyer outside.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said some things…”

  “And she’ll hold it over you for a long time.”

  “No,” he said hoarsely. “Just before that gas bomb exploded, she broke things off.”

  “Man, I’m sorry.” Compassion flared in Walker’s eyes. After a minute he asked, “How’d Ballinger know where y’all would be, anyway?”

  “She knew we’d find that rifle she planted at Narr’s apartment. She was probably watching us from that point.” He closed his eyes for an instant. “I should’ve told her—”

  “You still can. Kiley’s going to come out of this.”

  He should’ve said it at her house, when they were hashing things out. But knowing she didn’t want to hear the words, he’d kept quiet. Did it even matter now? She’d ended things between them with a finality that made Collier’s gut clench. “Where’s that doctor? I know Kiley had a lot of bleeding, but what about other damage?”

  “Want me to go check?”

  “It won’t make ’em hurry any faster.” Leaning against the wall, he laid his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling tiles. “Besides, I hounded that surgical nurse ten minutes ago as she was going back in. She didn’t have any new information. I just want to know—”

  “Collier?”

  He straightened, turning toward Kristin who stood down the hall, her eyes huge with worry.

  “Do you think it’s a bad sign that we haven’t heard anything else?”

  He wanted to reassure her, but he had no idea. “I don’t know.”

  The quiet swoosh of a nearby door had him looking over his shoulder at the slender woman striding toward them. Blood streaked her green scrubs. Tendrils of blond hair escaped h
er surgical cap. She pulled off her mask, and Collier recognized her as Dr. Meredith Boren, a good friend of Terra’s.

  Kristin moved quickly to meet the woman, motioning for Collier to join them. The doctor’s blue eyes were kind, but she didn’t waste time with preliminaries as she spoke to Kristin. “Your sister’s fighting, but she’s lost a lot of blood. A lot.”

  Kristin nodded. A hard knot formed in Collier’s chest.

  “Her liver was nicked. We removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding, but we had to take a small piece of her liver.”

  He knew the organ could operate fine with only a section left so that news brought relief. “Any other organs or major blood vessels hit?”

  “One major blood vessel, and she’s darn lucky it’s only one. She’ll go from recovery to ICU.”

  “And then?”

  Her gaze met his, solemn and concerned. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  On Tuesday Kiley was moved to a regular room, and by Thursday she was able to stay awake for small stretches at a time and think clearly. What she thought about squeezed her heart in a vise. Neither the gunshot wound nor the pain from her surgical incision hurt nearly as badly as her heart did over what she’d said to Collier. What if she’d convinced him she had no feelings for him? What if she’d killed anything they had between them?

  Since waking in ICU, she’d been in and out of consciousness due to heavy drugs. Once she was moved to a regular room, the nurses got her up every few hours to walk around. She’d already been up twice today and it wasn’t noon yet. Collier had been in here briefly yesterday, but she hadn’t seen him today.

  He’d talked to her even when she couldn’t keep her eyes open. He had laid out the connection between the firefighter victims and told her how the dates of each murder bracketed the death of Raye’s brother. Whenever Kiley thought about the attorney aiming that gun at Collier, she wasn’t sorry for killing Raye.