Against the Fire (35 page)

“Is that the valve over there?” the guard asked, making a jerky motion with his hand as he aimed the flashlight, the circle of yellow landing on a metal knob. “That’s it.”

Gabe took a single step before the piercing shock hit him, an electrical jolt that sizzled through his body and rolled out through his limbs, stole his breath and took him to his knees. The second jolt left him flat on his back on the floor, his eyes wide-open and staring, completely unable to move.

“Welcome to my world, Gabriel Raines.” The guard grinned, and in the faint light his sunken eyes appeared nearly black. He looked like a demon straight from hell and as he zapped Gabe with another million volts of stun gun power, he was.

The blast scrambled the electrical signals from his brain and turned his muscles to mush. The recovery period, Gabe remembered from his training, could take as long as ten minutes.

“Just so you know,” the man said with a maniacal gleam in his jet-black eyes, “my name is Jacob Mueller, not Ryan Franklin. My mother was Vera Mercedes Mueller.”

Still frozen, Gabe watched as the man knelt beside him, pulled the cell phone out of Gabe’s pocket and slammed it into the wall, sending pieces of black plastic flying through the air. Mueller used a roll of duct tape to bind Gabe’s ankles, then his wrists. The man’s hand jerked as he picked Gabe’s pistol up from the floor next to his paralyzed body.

“You wouldn’t remember my mother,” Mueller continued. “You never even knew her. But I remember everything about her. Her beauty, her kindness, the joy she felt when she was working in her tiny flower garden, how much she loved me.” His fingers jumped as if the nerves were somehow out of order as he toyed with the weapon.

His mouth curved into a vicious, oddly twisted smile. “It was your greed that killed her. Your lust for money. Now I’m going to kill you.”

Gabe tried to speak, tried to shake his head, explain he had nothing to do with the evictions, but he couldn’t move. Not a hand, not a finger, not a single, solitary muscle.

“I hate to cover your mouth. I’m going to be right outside while the place is burning. I’d love to hear you screaming. But alas, some do-gooder might try to save you.” He rolled a piece of duct tape over Gabe’s mouth.

“No one will hear you now. Not even your lady friend. I didn’t know you were bringing her. But now that I know she’ll be watching, tortured to know you’re roasting in the flames, it makes all this so much better.”

Gabe’s stomached lurched. Or at least it felt as if it did. He would have swallowed the bile in his throat if he could have. He had underestimated his opponent and now there was every chance he was going to die in this warehouse, burned alive for something he didn’t do.

And what about Mattie? What did the bastard have in mind for her? He forced the thought away, knowing if he let himself go in that direction, he would lose what little self-control he had left.

The stun gun jabbed into his thigh, and he felt the frying jolt of pain through every muscle, joint and tendon. The blood rushed through his veins and his heart thundered as if it would explode through his chest. When his mind cleared enough to think, he wondered if the device had been modified to enhance the pain, make the paralysis last even longer.

“I’m sorry to leave in such haste,” Mueller said with that cruel, twisted smile, “but I have a few things left to do.” He walked over and turned off the valve, ending the flow of water running in the crawl space beneath the raised warehouse floor.

When he returned, Gabe felt another lightning jolt, the burning, wrenching pain sear through him.

“Oh, I am so going to enjoy this.”

And then he was gone.

Mueller didn’t close the door. He wanted the smoke and flames to reach the room. There were piles of rubbish everywhere, and Gabe caught the smell of diesel fuel, the accelerant Mueller had used to start the fire that would engulf him in a grotesque, hideous death.

Even knowing it would do no good with the cement walls around him and the thickness of the heavy timbers in the floor above, if he could have, Gabe would have screamed.

Thirty-Three

Mattie never was much good at waiting. And the old warehouse intrigued her. As she sat there staring at the basic shape of the structure, at the timbers holding up the roof and what appeared to be solid construction, she began to consider the possibilities of what Gabe might do with the place.

Leaving her evening bag on the seat, she climbed out of the SUV and started around the perimeter of the building, just to see what she might come up with. There was a sidewalk of sorts. Though grass grew up through the cracks, it was better than walking in the dirt with her high heels.

She rounded the corner and surveyed the side of the structure. Gabe should definitely tear down the poorly constructed additions, she thought, and continued toward the back of the building, wishing the light wasn’t fading so quickly.

Considering the building’s age, she was surprised at how well constructed the main portion was, but then Gabe was good at what he did and he wouldn’t have bought the place if it hadn’t been worth saving.

She walked a little farther along the path, turned the corner and something caught her eye. A man’s shoe, black and shiny, protruded from beneath an overgrown shrub. Wariness trickled down her spine. She drew closer, saw that the shoe wasn’t empty, saw that there were two of them, and they held a pair of black-stockinged feet whose ankles were wrapped in duct tape.

Mattie bit back a scream. She knew even before she shoved aside the shrubbery and saw that the man’s shirt was missing, along with his belt, gun, and badge, this was the guard and that Gabe was inside with the arsonist.

The man, shorter than average, early thirties with buzz-cut brown hair, started squirming, trying to get free. Mattie jerked the tape off his mouth.

“Call the police! I’m the security guard. There’s a man inside setting fire to the building. He’s trying to kill someone!”

Mattie trembled. “I’ll call them!” She turned and started running. “I’ll be back!” She stumbled, shed her high heels and kept running, snagging her black, thigh-high nylons on the rocks and twigs on the walkway. Heading back to retrieve the cell phone in her purse, she rounded the corner just as a curl of smoke escaped from beneath the eaves of the roof.

Her heart jerked. The building was already beginning to burn. Dear God, Gabe was inside with a madman! She glanced toward the SUV, which seemed miles away, trying to decide what to do. She wanted to rush inside, find Gabe and warn him, but she had no idea where the arsonist might be and without help, all of them might wind up dead.

With a renewed burst of energy, she raced toward the car and pulled open the door, but when she looked inside, her purse was no longer where she had left it on the seat.

Fear tore through her. The arsonist had been inside the SUV. He had taken her cell phone. She looked back at the building, saw the thickening smoke and the first orange blossom of flame. Dear God, what had he done to Gabe?

She no longer had a choice. Running toward the warehouse, she climbed the wooden steps and opened the door, rushing inside through the smoke.

She knew Gabe was headed for the equipment room. Earlier, she had heard water running under the floor, then it had been turned off. She knew the main valve was located in the room at the far left corner of the building that also held the furnace. She’d seen it when she’d examined the old, original plans that day in his study.

The fire was beginning to burn at a terrifying rate of acceleration. Staying low and away from the piles of burning rubbish that were fueling the flames and the fire climbing the walls, she raced across the wide-planked floor toward the back of the warehouse. There were rooms there that hadn’t been on the plans, small storage areas and makeshift offices. A long corridor, lit only by the last of the faint dusk light streaming through a window, stretched in front of her.

She took a deep breath, coughed several times and forced herself to think of the drawings. In the eye of her mind, she saw the set of stairs that led to a room below the main floor in the far southwest corner.

Praying the arsonist had fled, but afraid he might be lurking in the shadows, she ran down the hallway, her heart thundering madly. She hissed in a breath as splinters jabbed into her feet, coughed as more smoke filled her lungs and continued on. Her heart was hammering by the time she neared the cement stairs and paused to search for some kind of weapon.

What had happened to Gabe’s pistol? Why hadn’t he used it to defend himself? Spotting a three-foot length of pipe, she picked it up and hurried toward the stairs. Smoke was everywhere now, stinging her eyes, making her struggle to breathe. Some of the storerooms were burning. The flames had bloomed into a full-fledged fire and yet she wasn’t sure how long it would take for someone outside to notice.

The smoke grew thicker, heavier, curling along the floor, rising along the walls. The noise of the fire began to build, a dull roar punctuated by the snap and crackle of burning wood. Mattie bent double, trying to stay low, trying to suck air into her lungs.

The stairs were exactly where the plans had indicated. Gripping the pipe, she made her way to the bottom step, surprised to find the heavy metal door standing open. Flames had already begun to chew through the ceiling of the equipment room. A sob caught in her throat as she spotted Gabe on his back, his ankles bound with duct tape, his wrists bound in front of him. He was struggling to free himself, every muscle straining.

His face went pale as she ran toward him, knelt and ripped the tape off his mouth.

“Mattie! For God’s sake, it’s him—get out while you still can!”

“I’m not leaving. I’m getting you out of here.” Reaching down, she began to loosen the tape around his wrists.

“My tool belt! Over by the door!”

But when she turned, the man wearing the black Atlas shirt stood in the opening, his stolen badge gleaming.

“Sorry, change of plans,” he said, a twisted smile curving his lips. Madness flashed in his eyes the instant before he slammed the heavy metal door. Mattie bit back a cry and rushed forward as more metal clanged and grated, the sound of something being wedged against the door to hold it in place. She pushed with all her strength, but the door wouldn’t open.

“Get my tool belt!” Gabe repeated, trying to be heard above the crackle of the flames. The sound was growing louder, the ominous pop and snap, a noise like the rush of wind. Soon the flames would burn through the floor over their heads, ignite the walls and the piles of fuel-soaked rags and stacks of old newspapers piled in the corners.

Her insides trembled. Ignoring the fear, she grabbed Gabe’s tool belt and ran back to where he lay. Pulling out a box cutter, she sliced through the duct tape binding his wrists.

“Stun gun,” Gabe explained, jerking free. Taking the sharp blade from her hands, he started sawing the tape around his ankles, his movements were slower and less coordinated than they usually were.

“I could hear the water running,” he said. “I didn’t think he was our man, but my sixth sense was shouting and I always listen. I was ready for him to make some kind of move. Stun gun never crossed my mind.”

Finally, the tape broke free and Gabe came to his feet. He shoved the box cutter into his pocket and hauled her into his arms.

“Mattie.” He held on to her, turned her face up and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Dammit, you shouldn’t have come in here.”

She moistened her trembling lips. “I found the guard. So far he’s okay. I went back to call 9-1-1 but the arsonist stole my purse. I had to find you. There wasn’t time to wait.”

He kissed her one last time, let her help him peel off his navy blue suit coat and toss it away. He tried the door, shoving his shoulder hard against it, then turned and began to study his surroundings. The burning ceiling lit the room enough to see even as the light outside faded away.

“We’ve got to find a way out of here.”

Mattie nodded. Her chest felt tight. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, but so far the smoke was rising, not billowing down toward the floor. But when she looked up, the flames overhead were bigger, brighter tongues of fire beginning to leach down into the walls of the equipment room. As soon as they reached the piles of debris on the floor, the place would become an inferno.

“The windows are way too small,” she said. They were long and narrow, impossible for either of them to climb through. As it got hotter, the glass would explode and shower glowing shards into the room below.

“Even if we could fit, that’s where Mueller will be waiting. He wants to be close by, somewhere he can hear us screaming.”

“Oh, God.”

“We’re going to disappoint him.”

She swallowed, worked to breathe, prayed Gabe was right.

“This room is in the southwest corner of the building,” he said. “It’s partly belowground. The walls are covered with wallboard and behind them it’s solid cement.”

Mattie shuddered. Smoke curled down into the room. Every breath was a labor. She fought not to cough, forced herself not to think of the flames scorching through the ceiling overhead and focused instead on the floor plans.

“But the cement only goes to ground level,” she said. She had taken a good look at the room, wondering if Gabe might be able to expand it to hold more modern equipment.

“That’s right. The rest of the wall is wood-framed up to the floor above. We break through up there and climb out into the crawl space.” Gabe grabbed her face between his hands, planted a last hard kiss on her mouth. “And that’s how we’re getting out of here.”

A hole appeared above their heads and flames shot down the wall behind the stairway. Gabe coughed roughly as he bent and pulled out the claw hammer hanging from his tool belt, dragged out the small, powerful LED flashlight next to it and shoved it into his hip pocket. Climbing up onto the furnace, he started lashing at a portion of the wall about four feet down from the ceiling. Chunks of wallboard flew, exposing two-by-four construction. Mattie climbed up beside him and began helping him peel the wallboard away.