Night Smoke

  “It’s urgent, Maureen. She’s with her brother, right? Let me have the number.”

  “I can’t do that, Ms. Marks.”

  “It’s urgent, I tell you.”

  “I understand, but she’s not there. Her plane left Denver an hour ago. She’s on her way home.”

  * * *

  A son. Althea and Colt had a son, a tiny and beautiful boy. It had taken Althea twelve hard hours to push him into the world, and he’d come out howling.

  Natalie remembered it now as her plane traveled east. It had been a thrill to be allowed in the birthing room, to support Colt when he was ready to climb the walls, to watch him and Althea work together to welcome that new life.

  She hadn’t wept until it was over, until she’d left Colt and Althea nuzzling their new son. Boyd had left the hospital with her. He’d either been too deep in the memories of his own children’s births or had sensed her mood. Either way, he hadn’t badgered her.

  Now she was going home, because there was work to do. And because it was cowardly to keep jumping from city to city because she was hurt.

  It had been a good trip. Professionally successful. Personally soothing. She was going to give some thought to moving back to Colorado. She’d found an excellent site. And a new branch in Denver would benefit from her personal touch.

  If the move would have the added benefit of escape, whose business was it but hers?

  She would have to wait, of course, until they had unearthed whoever had paid Clarence Jacoby. If it was indeed one of her people in Urbana, that person had to be weeded out. Once that was done, Donald could take over that office.

  It would be a simple matter. Donald had the talent. From a business standpoint, the change would be little more than having him move from his office to hers, his desk to hers.

  Desk, she thought, frowning. There was something odd about the desk. Not her desk, she realized all at once. The desk that had been damaged at the flagship.

  He’d known about that. Her heart began to thud uncomfortably. How had Donald known the desk in the manager’s office was an antique? How had he known specifically that it had been damaged?

  Cautiously she began to think over the details, recalling her movements from the time of the second fire to the day she and Donald had visited the flagship. He hadn’t been in the office there since it had been decorated. At least not to her knowledge. So how could he have known the desks had been switched?

  Because he’d been there. That was all, she tried to assure herself. He’d swung by at some point and hadn’t mentioned it. It made sense, more sense than believing he had had something to do with the fires.

  Yet he’d been at the warehouse the morning after it had burned. Early, she remembered. Had she called him? She couldn’t be sure, didn’t recall. He could have heard about it on the news. Had there been reports that early? Detailed reports? She wasn’t sure about that, either, and it worried her.

  Why should he do something so drastic to harm a business he was an integral part of? she wondered. What possible motive could there be for him to want to see stock and equipment destroyed?

  Stock, equipment, and, she thought on a jolt of alarm, records. There’d been records at the warehouse, and at the flagship—at the point of the fire’s origin.

  Determined to keep calm, she thought of the files she’d given Deirdre, of the copies still in the safe at her office. She’d check them herself the minute she landed, just to ease her mind.

  She was wrong about Donald, of course. She had to be wrong.

  * * *

  She was late. It was a hell of a thing, Ry thought as he paced the gate area at the airport, for a woman who was so fixated on being on time. Now, when he was all but jumping out of his skin, she had to be late.

  It didn’t matter that the plane was late, and she just happened to be on it. He took it as a personal affront.

  If Maureen hadn’t taken pity on him, he wouldn’t have known she was coming back tonight. It grated a bit, to know that Natalie’s secretary felt sorry for him. That she must have seen that he looked like a lovesick mongrel.

  Even the men at the station were starting to talk about him behind his back.

  Oh, he knew it, all right. The mutters, the snickers, the pitying looks. Anybody with eyes in his head could see that the past ten days had been torment for him.

  He’d made a mistake, damn it. One little mistake, and she’d paid him back. Big-time.

  They were just going to have to put that behind them.

  He clutched the daffodils, paced, and felt like a fool. His heart took one frantic leap when her flight was announced.

  He saw her, and his palms began to sweat.

  She saw him, turned sharply left, and kept walking.

  “Natalie.” He caught up with her in two strides. “Welcome home.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “I’ve been there for the past ten days. I don’t like it.” It wasn’t hard to keep up with her, since she was wearing heels. “Here.”

  She glanced down at the daffodils, cutting a scathing look up to his face. “You don’t want me to tell you what you can do with those stupid flowers, do you?”

  “You could have talked to me when I called.”

  “I didn’t want to talk to you.” Deliberately she swung into the closest ladies’ room.

  Ry gritted his teeth and waited.

  She told herself she wasn’t pleased that he was still there when she came out. Saying nothing, she quickened her pace toward the baggage-claim area.

  “How was your trip?”

  She snarled at him.

  “Look, I’m trying to apologize here.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” With a toss of her head, she stepped onto the escalator heading down. “Save it.”

  “I screwed up. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to tell you for days, but you won’t take my calls.”

  “That should indicate something, Piasecki, even to someone of your limited intelligence.”

  “So,” he continued, biting back hot words, “I’m here to pick you up, so we can talk.”

  “I’ve ordered a car.”

  “We canceled it. That is …” He had to choose his words carefully, with that icy look in her eyes freezing him. “I canceled it, when I found out you were coming in.” No need to make Maureen fry with him, he decided. “So I’ll give you a lift.”

  “I’ll take a cab.”

  “Don’t be so damn stubborn. I’ll get tough if I have to,” he muttered as they joined the throng at Baggage Claim. “I can have you up in a fireman’s carry in two seconds. Embarrass the hell out of you. Either way, I’m driving you home.”

  She debated. He would embarrass her. There was no point in giving him the satisfaction. Nor was she going to tell him of her suspicions, not until she had something solid. Not until she had no choice but to deal with him on a professional level.

  “I’m not going home. I need to go to the office.”

  “The office is closed. It’s almost nine o’clock.”

  “I’m going to the office,” she said flatly, and turned away from him.

  “Fine. We’ll talk at the office.”

  “That one.” She pointed to a gray tweed Pullman. “And that one.” A matching garment bag. “And that.” Another Pullman.

  “You didn’t have time to pack all this before I got to your apartment that night.”

  Interested despite herself, she watched him heft cases. “I picked up luggage and clothes along the way.”

  “Enough for a damn modeling troupe,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?” Her tone lowered the temperature in the terminal by ten degrees.

  “Nothing. Your opening made a real splash,” he continued as they walked out of the terminal.

  “It met our expectations.”

  “You’re getting write-ups in Newsday and Businessweek.” He shrugged when she looked at him. “I heard.”

  “And Women’s Wear Daily,” she added. “
But who’s counting?”

  “I’ve been. It’s great, Natalie, really. I’m happy for you. Proud of you.” He set her luggage beside his car, and his limbs went weak. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  She stepped back, evading him, when he reached for her. He was not going to hurt her again, she promised herself. She would not allow it.

  “Okay.” Slowly, stunned by the ache that one quick rejection caused, he lifted his hands, palms out. “I had that coming. I’ve got plenty coming. I’ll give you the chance to take all the shots you want.”

  “I’m not interested in fighting with you,” she said wearily. “I’ve had a long trip. I’m too tired to fight with you.”

  “Let me take you home, Natalie.”

  “I’m going to the office.” She stepped back and waited for him to unlock the car. Once inside, she sat back and shut her eyes. She just sighed when Ry laid the bright yellow flowers in her lap.

  “They, ah, haven’t gotten any more out of Clarence,” he said, hoping to chip at the wall she’d erected between them.

  “I know.” She couldn’t think about her suspicions yet. “I’ve kept in touch.”

  “You moved around fast.”

  “I had a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Yeah.” He dug out money for the parking attendant. “I got the picture, after I chased you around Atlanta.”

  She opened her eyes then. “Excuse me?”

  “I couldn’t get a damn cab,” he muttered. “You must have hooked one the minute you walked out of my apartment.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Figures. I’m running the marathon to your apartment, then you’re gone when I get there. I see the note, figure the airport, and get there in time to see your plane take off.”

  She felt herself softening, and stiffened. “Is that supposed to be my fault, Piasecki?”

  “No, it’s not your fault, damn it. It’s my fault. But if you could have sat still in Atlanta for five minutes, we’d have settled this.”

  “We have settled it.”

  “Not by a long shot.” Turning his head, he aimed a deadly look at her. “I hate it when people hang up on me.”

  “It was,” she said with relish, “my pleasure.”

  “I might have strangled you for it when I got down there. If I could have caught you. ‘No, Ms. Fletcher’s at her shop.’ Then I get to the shop, and it’s ‘Sorry, Ms. Fletcher’s gone back to her hotel.’ I get back to the hotel, and you’ve checked out. I get to the airport and you’re in the sky. I spent hours chasing my tail, trying to catch up with you.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t want to be pleased, but she couldn’t prevent a little frisson of pleasure at the frustration in his voice. “Don’t expect an apology.” Still, she gathered up the flowers to keep them from sliding from her lap when he braked.

  “I’m trying to give you one.”

  “There’s no need. I’ve had time to think about it, and I’ve decided you were absolutely right. I don’t like the style you used, but the bottom line rings true. We had some interesting chemistry. That’s all.”

  “We had a lot more than that. We’ve got more than that. Natalie—”

  “This is my stop.” Forgetting her luggage, she bolted out of the car. By the time Ry had parked, illegally, she was waiting for the security guard to open the front door of her building.

  “Damn it, Natalie, would you hold still?”

  “I have work. Good evening, Ben.”

  “Ms. Fletcher. Working late?”

  “That’s right.” She breezed past the guard, with Ry at her heels. “There’s no need for you to come up with me, Ry.”

  “You said you loved me.”

  Ignoring the guard’s speculative look, Natalie pressed the elevator button. “I got over it.”

  Panic spurted through him, freezing him in place. He barely made it into the elevator before the doors shut in his face. “You did not.”

  “I know what I did, I know what I didn’t.” She jabbed the button for her floor. “It’s all ego with you. You’re causing a scene because I didn’t come back when you called.” She tossed her hair back. Her eyes were bright. Not with tears, he saw with some relief. But with anger. “Because I don’t need you.”

  “It has nothing to do with ego. I was—” He couldn’t admit he’d been scared, down-to-the-bone scared. “I was wrong,” he said. That was hard enough, but at least it wasn’t humiliating. “It was you—there in my place. I asked you to come because it was so obvious.”

  “What was obvious?”

  “That it couldn’t be real. I didn’t see how it could be real. Who you are, the way you are. And me.”

  Her eyes sharpened, narrowed. “Am I following you here, Inspector? You dumped me because I didn’t fit in with your apartment.”

  It didn’t have to sound that stupid. His voice rose in defense. “With everything. With me. I can’t give you … the things. The first time I remembered I should give you flowers once in a while, you looked at me like I’d clipped you on the jaw. I never take you anywhere. I don’t think of it. You’ve got friends who live in mansions. And look, damn it, you’ve got diamonds in your ears right now.” He tossed up his hands, as if that should explain everything. “Diamonds, for God’s sake.”

  Her cheeks were hot now. She was all but radiating heat as she stepped toward him. “Is this about money? Is that it? You broke my heart over money?”

  “No, it’s about … things.” How could he explain what made no sense at all anymore? “Natalie, let me touch you.”

  “The hell with you.” She shoved him back, bounding through the elevator the minute the doors opened. “You tossed me aside because you thought I wanted you to get me diamonds, or a mansion, or flowers?” Furious, she tossed the daffodils on the floor. “I can get my own diamonds, or anything else I want. What I wanted was you.”

  “Don’t walk away. Don’t.” Swearing, he rushed after her. Somewhere down the long corridor, a phone rang. “Natalie.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around. “I didn’t think that, exactly.”

  She rammed her briefcase hard into his gut. “And you had the nerve to call me a snob.”

  Out of patience, he rammed her back against the wall. “It was wrong. It was stupid. I was stupid. What more do you want me to say? I wasn’t thinking. I was just feeling.”

  “You hurt me.”

  “I know.” He rested his brow on hers, tried to get his bearings. He could smell her, feel her, and the thought of losing her made him weak in the knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I could hurt you. I thought it was just me. I thought you’d walk.”

  “So you walked first.”

  He drew back a little. “Something like that.”

  “Coward.” She jerked away. “Go away, Ry. Leave me alone. I have to think about this.”

  “You’re still in love with me. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait, because I’m not ready to tell you anything.” Phones were ringing. Wearily rubbing her temple, Natalie wondered who would be calling so long after hours. “I’m raw, don’t you understand? I realized I loved you and had you break it off almost simultaneously. I’m not going to serve you my emotions on a platter.”

  “Then I’ll give you mine,” he said quietly. “I love you, Natalie.”

  Her heart swam into her eyes. “Damn you. Damn you! That’s not fair.”

  “I can’t be worried about fair.” He stepped closer, and reached out to touch her hair. His hand froze when he saw the flicker of light at the end of the hall. It danced through the glass in a pattern he recognized too well. “Take the fire stairs down, now. Call Dispatch.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Go,” he repeated, and dashed down the hall. He could smell smoke now, and cursed it. Cursed himself for being so intent on his own needs that he’d missed it. He saw it, the crafty plume under the door that flowed out, sucked in.

  “Oh, God. Ry.??
?

  She was right behind him. He had time to see the flames writhing behind the glass, time to judge. Then he turned, leapt and knocked Natalie to the ground as the window exploded. Lethal shards of glass rained over them.

  Chapter 12

  She felt pain, sharp and shocking, as her head thudded against the floor, and pinpricks of heat from the glass and flame. For a terrifying moment, she thought Ry was unconscious, or dead. His body was fully spread over hers, a shield protecting her from the worst of the blast.

  Before she could even sob in the breath to scream his name, he was up and dragging her to her feet.

  “Are you burned?”

  She shook her head, aware only of the throbbing, and the smoke that was beginning to sting her eyes, her throat. She could barely see his face through it, but she saw the blood.

  “Your face, your arm—you’re bleeding.”

  But he wasn’t listening. He had her hand vised in his, and was dragging her away from the flame. Even as they dashed down the hall, another window exploded. Fire roared out.

  It surrounded them, golden and greedy, unbelievably hot. She screamed once as she saw it race along the floor, eating its way toward them, spitting like a hundred hungry snakes.

  Panic gripped her, icy fingers clutching at her stomach, squeezing her throat, in taunting contrast to the heat pulsing around them. They were trapped, fire writhing on either side of them. Terrified, she fought him when he pushed her to the floor.

  “Stay low.” However grim his thoughts, his voice was calm. He gripped her hair in one hand to keep her face turned to his. He needed her to hold on to control.

  “I can’t breathe.” The smoke was choking her, making her gasp for air and expel what little she had in gritty coughs.

  “There’s more air down here. We don’t have much time.” He was aware—too well aware—of how quickly the fire would reach them, how well it blocked their exit to the stairs. He had nothing with which to fight it.

  If the fire didn’t kill them, the smoke would, long before rescue could reach them.

  “Get out of your coat.”

  “What?”

  Her movements were already sluggish. He fought back panic and yanked her coat from her shoulders. “We’re going through it.”

  “We can’t.” She couldn’t even scream at the next explosion of glass, could only huddle, racked by coughing. Her mind was dull, stunned by smoke. She wanted only to lie down and draw in the precious air that still hovered just above the floor. “We’ll burn. I don’t want to die that way.”

  “You’re not going to die.” Tossing the coat over her head, he dragged her to her feet. When she staggered, he lifted her over his shoulder. He stood, fire lapping on both sides, a flaming sea around him. In seconds, the tidal wave would reach them, and they’d drown in it.