Tyson hurried down the stairs to find Harry Jenkins bending over Sam who was on the floor. There was blood on Sam's face, one eye was black and swollen nearly closed. Tyson reached for Harry's collar and jerked him backward, tossing him hard against one of the many tables bolted into the floor. Harry yelled something unintelligible, but Tyson was on him, yanking him to his feet.
"Stop!" Sam yelled. "No, Ty. It wasn't him. Martinelli's men were here."
Tyson reluctantly let go of Harry to turn back and help his cousin off the floor. As Ty gripped Sam and drew him up, Sam's eyes went wide, the only warning, but Tyson whipped his head to one side. Even with the quick movement, Harry clipped him on the jaw with his fist.
"You son of a bitch, you sent the cops after me," Harry accused him, backpedaling as Tyson came at him again. He held up both hands. "You deserved that. They held me for hours. Do you have any idea how humiliating that can be? You're the one who should be locked up."
Tyson glared at Harry. "This time maybe they'll throw the key away. What the hell are you doing here?"
"What do you think? You had the cops haul me out of my hotel room in front of everyone and take me in for questioning. I had to call the lawyers from the lab." Harry took a step toward Tyson. "You went too far this time."
"How'd you get down here?" Tyson asked as he inspected his cousin's face.
Guilt crept into Harry's expression. "I wanted to see what you were doing. I have the right to see."
Sam rubbed the bridge of his broken nose. "I caught him down here with a baseball bat. He was about to have a go at your computer when Martinelli's men jumped me. Harry hid under the table while they pummeled me." Sam righted one of the chairs in front of the four computers and sat down. "Martinelli means business, Ty. I think he might have me killed if I don't do what he wants."
"I hid under the table because they had guns." Harry defended himself. "It wasn't my affair. I wasn't about to get shot over some gambling debt."
"You're a real humanitarian, Harry," Tyson said, contemptuously. "You don't mind breaking into my house and vandalizing my work, but you won't aid Sam when someone is assaulting him."
"It isn't your work," Harry objected. "It's my work. And I'm not letting you steal it this time."
Tyson ignored Harry's outburst as he examined Sam's puffy face. "How many of them?"
"Two. There might have been a third looking out. I had the feeling they were hoping to find you home tonight, not me. I was running late for work, but I came down here to get the dishes and throw them in the sink. I knew you'd forget. Then Harry showed up with his baseball bat and Martinelli's crew came a few minutes later."
"Who broke all that glass?" Tyson stared Harry down as he asked.
"Not me," Harry denied.
"Martinelli's men were smashing things," Sam confirmed.
"Why didn't you just pay them off?" Tyson asked. "The equipment down here is worth a fortune, not to mention if they destroyed any part of my research."
"I offered the money to them, but they said no, the deal was Martinelli would forgive the debt if Libby talked to him. I tried to explain I didn't have any control over Libby, but they seemed very aware that you do." Sam leaned his head into the heel of his hand. "I've got to get to work, Ty. Look at me."
"Harry, get out of here and don't come back to my home. If you do, I'm having you arrested. You might also consider updating your resume because the next time I talk with Edward, your name is going to come up."
Harry's face turned bright red. He huffed out his breath, choking as he tried to respond. "You can't do that. You wouldn't dare."
"Not only can I, Harry, but I'll take great pleasure in it. Get the hell out of my house. And leave the baseball bat."
Harry spit on the floor. "You're disgusting, Derrick. You'd do anything at all to be the big man. Well, I know all about your little love nest and I saw the papers with the pictures of you starring in your own porn movie, having a threesome with some hot little rock star. I'll bet the doc doesn't know you're two-timing her."
Sam waited until Harry had stormed up the stairs before he lifted one eyebrow. "Porn movie? Threesomes? Why the hell wasn't I invited? I used to have all the fun, now you're turning into a regular playboy hustler." He flashed a wan grin, then flinched when it pulled on his swollen, cut mouth.
"Yeah, that would be me, playboy of the century," Tyson replied, wrapping his arm around his cousin. "Let's get you up the stairs. Did they break anything?"
"I don't think so, but I'm as sore as hell."
"I'll bet Libby's already called nine-one-one. I left her outside and told her to call if I didn't come back right away," Tyson said. "Damn, that's all we need, the cops showing up and asking about gambling debts."
"I'm sorry, Ty. I've been asking around about the Gambler's Anonymous meetings. It's not like they have anything like that around Sea Haven."
"Don't worry about it, Sam. We'll take care of this. I'm going to talk to Ed myself."
"I think you're becoming a violent man, Ty," Sam said, another grin slipping through. "You sound as mean as a snake."
"I'm beginning to feel violent. Ed should have taken the money. I'm getting tired of threats against Libby and you. If someone wants to come after me, fine, but they'd better leave my family out of it."
Sam hunched into a chair in the kitchen. "Man, I think someone got in a couple of really good kicks. Maybe your girlfriend can work her supposed magic on me. I could use it. I think I'll just sit here and rest while you go get her."
Tyson hesitated. Sam was rocking back and forth, his arms hugging his midsection. He was afraid Sam might have internal damage. "I'll just be a couple of minutes. Don't try to do anything."
"I was thinking of dancing on the counter," Sam quipped and waved him off.
Tyson hurried back outside. Libby had the car running and was pacing back and forth. She ran to him and threw her arms around him. "You scared me, especially when Harry came out. He was so angry, Ty. He really hates you."
"Did he touch you?"
Libby shook her head. "No, he just called you a lot of names. What happened down there?"
Tyson swept his arm around her and guided her up the stairs to the front door.
"Sam's hurt. Apparently he had a visit from Ed Martinelli's men. They beat the hell out of him and that coward Harry just let them do it. Did you call the sheriff?"
"Yes, you were gone for what seemed forever. Should I tell them not to come?" She hurried through the living room. "How hurt is he? Should we call an ambulance?"
He shook his head. "Bruises and one eye swelling shut, but they kicked him. You'll have to see if he has internal injuries. I want to make out a complaint against Martinelli's men. I ought to have Harry arrested for breaking and entering. He brought a baseball bat with him and he was going to destroy my laboratory, but Martinelli's men did it for him."
"Oh, no, Ty, not all your work." Libby entered the kitchen and went straight to Sam. He looked pale, sweaty and was breathing hard. "Maybe you should help him lie down on the couch in the living room, Tyson. I can examine him there. Sam, can you breathe all right?"
He nodded. "There's a first aid kit in the lab, if you think you'll need it, Libby. It's in the second cupboard at the back of the lab."
"I can get it," Tyson said.
"I don't think I can walk into the living room," Sam protested. "You're going to have to help me."
"Take him on in," Libby directed. "It should only take me a minute to get the kit. I'll need some towels and water, too."
She didn't wait for Tyson to agree, but headed down the basement stairs. The lights were still on and she could see glass smashed on the floor and books and equipment on the floor. Careful not to disturb anything in case the sheriff wanted pictures for evidence, she kept to the outside edge of the room as she made her way to the bank of cupboards at the back of the laboratory. There were cabinets and cupboards completely along the back wall. She chose the right side to start looking.
r /> She couldn't believe someone would be so stupid as to destroy such important work. Why would Martinelli do something so damaging when he was in pharmaceuticals? It made no sense to her. Even Harry made no sense. People could be so illogical at times. Did Martinelli really think by harming others and threatening her family she would want to help him? And why in the world didn't Harry just try to figure out what was wrong with the drug, or even ask Tyson what he thought the problem was?
She flung open the double cupboard doors. She wasn't tall enough to see what was on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Frustrated, she dragged a chair over.
"Libby? Did you find it?" Tyson called down to her from the top of the stairs. In the distance she could hear the phone ringing and a siren.
She stepped up on the chair. "It's right here. Is Sam all right?"
Tyson took two steps down, ducking his head for a better look at her. He frowned. "Get the hell off that chair. I'll get it. It's on the shelf on the other side."
He was in midstep when a blast blew through the left side of the laboratory, lifting Libby and slamming her backward several feet, shattering the windows and knocking him onto his backside. The concussion was deafening in the confines of the basement. At once flames licked up the walls and danced across the floor. The explosion triggered the overhead sprinklers so that water rained down, adding to the chaos.
"Libby!" He shouted her name, trying to peer through the swirling smoke and water to see her body. The world seemed to stop. His heart thundered in his ears and deep inside, where no one could hear, he was screaming in protest, in stark ugly fear.
She lay unmoving, curled up in a ball on the floor under an overturned table. One of the larger pieces of equipment was on its side, leaning against the table she was under.
"Tyson!" Sam was behind him, struggling down the stairs, holding his ribs, but following his cousin. "What the hell happened? Where's Libby?"
"She isn't moving, Sam." Raw fear edged Tyson's voice as he bolted down the stairs, jumping the last few feet to scramble through the rubble.
"Don't worry, Ty. We'll get her out."
"She's not moving," Ty repeated, terror ripping through his body. He'd never experienced panic, not in any situation he'd ever been in, but on some level he recognized he was close. And terror was mixing with rage, a lethal combination. He shook with it, felt it eating at his gut and battering at his mind. This couldn't be happening. Not to Libby.
He shoved chairs, a computer, glass even, out of his way to get to her. She lay like a broken doll, hair spilling across her pale face, hands over her head as if at the last moment she flung her arms up to protect herself. Her arms looked singed. Tyson dropped to his knees, uncaring of the glass and wreckage. "Libby. Baby. Open your eyes." He ran his hands over her body. She seemed so delicate, so small and fragile. She didn't move, but when he checked her airway, she was breathing. "She's alive," he announced to Sam. There were no visible signs of damage other than a few cuts, none of which appeared deep, and the singed hairs on her arms.
Sam examined the bulky stability chamber that lay partially across the table pinning Libby's legs. "This is what saved her. It was directly in front of her and took most of the blast. I've never seen anyone so lucky. If she's breathing and her heart is fine, help me get this thing upright. We can lift the table off her and get her out of here. She's moving her legs so they can't be damaged either. I can get the rest of the fire out if we move fast."
"Derrick?" The basement door opened and feet pounded down the stairs. The police had arrived with Jackson in the lead. "What the hell is going on?" Jackson took one look at Libby beneath the table and signaled to Sam to help him lift the incubator upright.
It was a struggle to remove the bulky chamber, but they managed to shift it enough to get to the broken table. "Get the fire out, Sam." Jackson crouched down on the other side of Libby, taking her limp hand.
"No broken bones that I can find," Tyson reported. "I think the blast knocked her out. I can't seem to find any real damage, unless she has a concussion."
"What about her neck or a spinal injury? Can we move her?"
Libby moaned, both hands coming up in a defensive position. Tyson trapped her arms to hold her still.
"You're all right, baby, but don't move. I have to make certain you haven't injured your neck."
Libby blinked up at him, looking dazed. She struggled to sit up. Tyson pressed her to the floor.
"Libby, stay put."
"I can't hear very well."
"That will go away."
"My neck is fine. I have a hell of a headache though and my ears are ringing. What happened?"
Tyson lifted her into his arms, cradling her close, his lungs fighting for air. He would never get over the sight of her flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap. He knew it would haunt his sleep and eat away at him during his waking hours. "Harry Jenkins was here in the lab just a few minutes ago," he said to Jackson. "And quite a bit of the damage to my equipment was done prior to the explosion by a couple of men Ed Martinelli sent to beat up Sam."
Jackson turned his cold gaze on Sam. "Now, why would they want to do that?"
"I owe Martinelli a lot of money," Sam admitted. "I tried to pay him off, but now he's decided he doesn't want the money. He wants to talk to Libby instead."
"Is there a possibility that the explosion was an accident? A couple of chemicals were accidentally mixed together that shouldn't have been?" Jackson persisted.
"First of all, I don't 'accidentally' mix anything. And I wasn't doing that kind of experiment," Tyson denied. "I was analyzing reports and a very long list of compounds, but I hadn't mixed anything together in weeks. In any case, the blast was definitely directed. It came from the left and you can see the pattern of damage. Someone set it."
"Could Sam be a target?"
"Not in my lab. He might come down a couple of times a day to bring me a meal or tell me he's leaving, but he doesn't hang out there. Neither does Libby. No one would have known she'd be here." Tyson gently laid Libby on the sofa, stretching out her legs and putting a pillow under her head. "I want to take you to the hospital, just to check you out, Libby," he added.
"That's not necessary," Libby said. "My ears are the worst. The rest of me just feels a little battered."
"I think it's too dangerous for any of you to be around me. I can't protect you or Sam from whatever's happening here."
Jackson ran his hands over Libby's legs and arms, not in the least intimidated by Tyson's scowl of irritation. "You may as well stop giving me the evil eye, Derrick. Elle's upset and wants me to show her Libby's not hurt."
"I told you she wasn't. You don't need to be touching her."
"Elle wants to know for herself, so you'll just have to deal with it. That's what the rest of us have to do with the Drakes."
Sam came in, seating himself in a chair. "The fire's out, but it's a mess down there. Whatever you were working on is toast, Ty." He indicated Libby. "How bad is she hurt?"
Libby pushed Jackson away from her. "I'm fine, except I can't hear very well. Everything sounds muffled and I've got a terrible ringing in my ears. Do you think Harry did this to prevent you from finding out he's testing a drug before it should be given to humans?"
"There really is something wrong with the drug?" Sam asked.
Tyson nodded. "I can make it safer, but we need studies done on the adolescent brain. It isn't just this drug that has side effects specific to a young age. I was close to figuring out how to solve the problem."
"Really?" Sam said again. "I just thought maybe you were tweaking Harry because he's such a jerk. Is there any way to recover what you lost?"
"I always back everything up a couple of different ways. I'll check my equipment and see if I got lucky. What about you? You moved that heavy incubator. Your ribs aren't broken, are they?"
Jackson glanced at Sam, one eyebrow raised. "Your face is a mess. You think they broke your ribs, too?"
"Libby had gone to
the laboratory to get the first aid kit," Tyson explained. "Martinelli's men kicked the hell out of him."
"I'm going to go talk to him," Libby announced decisively. "I'm going to see Jonas, so I may as well drop in on Martinelli and see what he wants. At least he'll have to forgive Sam's debt and won't have a reason for sending his men around here again."
"I'm having a word with Martinelli's men myself," Jackson said.
"No!" Sam shook his head vehemently. "That will just make them madder. Tyson, tell him I'm not willing to press charges. Look how angry Harry was just with being questioned. He brought a baseball bat with him. He planned to tear up the laboratory or hell, maybe even use it on you, Ty."
"Harry Jenkins brought a baseball bat into the laboratory with the intent of destroying your research?" Jackson asked.
"And he broke into the house, too," Sam pointed out. "He hid under a table while Martinelli's men beat the shit out of me."
Libby sat up slowly, reaching for Tyson to steady herself. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Life around you is certainly exciting."
His hand came up to the nape of her neck. "It's not the kind of excitement I want for you."
"What does Martinelli want from you, Libby?" Jackson asked.
"I don't know. My guess is that someone in his family is ill and he thinks I can perform a miracle for him."
"I wonder why he'd think that," Sam said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Shut up, Sam," Ty advised. "I'm running on a thin edge and if you say anything else to Libby, your other eye is going to be swollen shut."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." Exasperated, Libby swung her legs over the couch to put her feet solidly on the floor. "The last thing we need around here is more violence." She pushed her hair out of her face and looked at Jackson. "Don't you think it's a little bizarre that I'm always around when these things are happening?"
"Who would want you dead, Libby?" Jackson asked.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
Jackson's expression settled into hard lines. "You'll leave the investigation to the sheriff."
Libby rolled her eyes. "You've been around Jonas too long, Jackson. How's the investigation coming on who tried to kill him?"
"Why don't all of you get your things and get out of here for a while?" Jackson countered. "We need to take a look downstairs and gather as much evidence as possible."