No Mercy (14 page)

erection before finding his belt buckle.

He captured her hands so quickly in his that he caught her off guard. He broke the kiss and

64

***

braced his forehead against hers. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart.”

She swallowed. “What if I want to?”

“No.” He said the word firmly. “When I take you, it’s not going to be out in the open at a teenage

make out location. You deserved better than that.”

A warm flush traveled through her at his words,
“When I take you.”
But she’d wanted to give him

something before telling him her secret. Once she told him, there no doubt wouldn’t be a next time.

With a sigh she broke free of his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You always were

the gentleman.”

He snorted. “Your memory is a little faulty. I seem to remember quite a few times when we went

farther than we should have right here.”

She couldn’t help a laugh, but then she sobered. It was time—it wasn’t right to hold back any

longer. He might not forgive her for hiding what she’d learned, but somehow she would convince him

not to go after Harvey and kil him in retribution for his part in Dylan’s father’s death.

“I—I have something I need to tell you.” She bit her lower lip. “You are going to be so angry with

me that you probably won’t want to see me ever again.”

His brow furrowed as he studied her. “You can’t imagine all of the things I’ve seen and heard,

and even done over the years. I doubt you could say anything that would make me that upset with

you.”

“You’l change your mind.” She took a deep breath, trying to fight back tears that suddenly

burned at the backs of her eyes. “My—”

An explosion rocked the night.

The ground trembled as a brilliant orange glow split the darkness.

Belle whirled around as a fireball reached for the sky.

***

65

***

An electric charge swept over Dylan and he cut his gaze to Belle. “Get in the truck.”

He grabbed the blanket as Belle snatched the two bags of garbage, and then he slammed the

tailgate shut. He rushed with Belle to the passenger side, helped her up into the truck, then ran to

the driver’s side. In moments they were tearing down Juniper Road and on down, off of the Divide

and onto the road that went through Tombstone Canyon.

When they got closer, he saw that it was a house on the hillside that had gone up in flames.

Bisbee No. 2 Fire Station was five minutes from the home and he heard the sound of sirens even as

he drove toward the explosion.

He spotted the road that led up the side of the canyon to the house and swerved onto it. Behind

him came the flashing lights of a fire truck, the siren growing louder. Bisbee fire trucks were specially

made to order to navigate the narrow one-lane streets to reach homes on the sides of the canyon.

Dylan stepped on the gas pedal, putting distance between his vehicle and the fire truck. When

they reached the fiery home, he parked far enough to be out of the way. He backed into his parking

space so that he was facing downhil and wouldn’t have to maneuver the truck to drive away from

the area, if for some reason he was in a hurry to leave.

He left the truck running, the heater on. “Stay here,” he ordered Belle before he jumped out of

the truck and ran toward the home.

Before he even got to it, he knew if anyone had been inside, they wouldn’t have survived.

Nothing could be done for the house that was not much more than flaming rubble. The danger now

was to the homes on either side of the one aflame—the firefighters would concentrate on saving

those houses.

The heat was tremendous, flames still licking the sky. The fire crackled, hissed, and popped,

and smoke roiled and rose. What had happened? A gas leak?

Neighbors were out of their homes and staring at the fire. Dylan started to go to the next door

neighbor’s house to make sure everyone was out, when he saw a newer model black Honda CR-V

SUV in front of the destroyed home.

His gut clenched. Tom Zumsteg had been driving the same model when they’d left the memorial

for Nate. Was his home the one that had been blown to hell?

He didn’t have time to think about that as the fire truck cut its sirens. It pulled up in front of the

closest fire hydrant, blue and red strobes flashing over the scene. Firefighters jumped off the truck

in full bunker gear and proceeded to hook up a pressurized hose to the hydrant. The crowd was

ordered back, but they didn’t move as far as they should have.

Dylan hurried to speak with people in front of the neighboring home on the left and asked if

66

***

everyone was out of the house. When he was reassured they were, he ordered everyone to back up

farther away from the fire.

As he did, he looked over the crowd, checking to see if someone was watching the fire with a

different kind of interest than the neighbors, who would look horrified or in shock. An arsonist often

liked to see his own handiwork—if this was arson. Dylan scanned the crowd twice, but no one in

particular stood out from the rest.

He also searched those surrounding the house for Tom, hoping he would be one of the onlookers

and not a victim.

Two police cruisers, lights flashing, pulled up behind the fire truck. Soon they had the area

cordoned off as the firefighters did their job. Officers spoke to people in the crowd, asking for

questions, looking for witnesses.

Dylan spotted Lieutenant Marks of the BPD and went up to him. “What can I do to help?” Dylan

asked.

Marks looked mildly surprised. “You just happen to be in the neighborhood?”

“Yes.” Dylan gave a single nod. “Do you know whose home that was?”

Marks blew out his breath “According to the address, it belongs to Dr. Zumsteg.”

Dylan’s heart hit the pit of his stomach. “That’s his vehicle out front. I’m certain of it.”

“Damn.” Marks’ features tightened. “The doc is a damned fine man. I hope to hel he wasn’t

inside that home.”

“That makes two of us.” Dylan stared grimly at the fire that was dying down, as did Marks. The

firefighters had managed to save the houses on either side of the decimated home. “Tom’s been a

friend of mine since childhood.” Dylan looked at Marks. “Tom was also a close friend of Nate

O’Malley.”

Marks cut his gaze from the fire to Dylan. “That’s a big coincidence.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dylan shook his head, an ache deep in his gut. If Tom had been in that house when

it exploded, another member of the CoS was gone.

By the time the fire was out, and the neighbors had been interviewed, Dylan was exhausted.

He’d kept himself busy enough that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe that Tom could real y be

dead.

Dylan heard voices and cut his attention to firefighters who were carrying a charred body out of

the wreckage. He didn’t want to get any closer, afraid of somehow recognizing Tom in what would

be a horror to look at.

Forcing back the fear that it was another one of his friends, Dylan strode toward the firefighters

and police officers attending to the body. His stomach churned when he looked at the sickening

remains and caught the smell of burned flesh. It would take a DNA test or dental records to confirm

the victim’s identity.

67

***

Dylan started to turn away when he saw a metal bracelet burned into remaining flesh on the

wrist of the body. Dylan crouched next to Lieutenant Marks and pointed to the soot-covered metal.

“Dr. Zumsteg wore a medical ID bracelet for a blood disorder.” Dylan thought he might heave.

This wasn’t just another body. Now he believed it was his friend. “I think that’s what’s on the victim’s

wrist.”

“Shit.” Marks shook his head. “If this is Zumsteg, you’ve lost two close friends in the span of less

than two weeks. What are the odds of that?”

Dylan considered Marks’ words and the postcard Dylan didn’t have a chance to get from Tom.

Could it be possible that the deaths were somehow related?

He thought about the rest of the CoS. Belle, Marta, Leon, Christie, and himself. Was it a stretch

to think that each one of them could be in danger? Tom’s would have been the last postcard and

now it was a puzzle piece likely missing forever. He’d planned on giving Dylan the note tonight, so

he’d probably had it on him.

The adrenaline rush from all that had happened started to fade. Now his skin prickled. Was he

reading into this something that just wasn’t there? Pulling at straws.

“Lieutenant.” One of the firefighters caught Marks’ and Dylan’s attention. “We found what I

believe to be the cause of the explosion.”

Marks made a quick introduction. To Dylan he said, “This is Lieutenant Lee Hansen, BFD’s arson

investigator. Lee, this is Special Agent Dylan Curtis with DHS.”

After Dylan shook hands with the arson investigator, Hansen continued. “A Molotov cocktail was

thrown into the house, likely through a window.”

“So someone just blew this house to shit.” Dylan ground his teeth. “It definitely wasn’t an

accident.”

“That’s what my preliminary investigation suggests,” Hansen said.

The investigator studied Dylan, as if reading him. “Once we’ve conducted a thorough

investigation, we will get with BPD and DHS.”

“This is too much of a coincidence.” Marks’s forehead creased as he frowned. “Both Nate

O’Malley and Dr. Zumsteg dead? A little unbelievable that they would be unrelated if you ask me.”

“I’m going to call in a team,” Dylan said. “I believe this relates to an ongoing investigation.”

His skin grew cold as he realized Belle had been alone the whole time he’d been helping with

the fire and the investigation. He’d thought she was safe out in his truck, but that was before he’d

discovered this explosion had been a deliberate act. Murder.

He turned to Marks and Hansen. “I’ve got to check on something.”

Dylan didn’t wait for a response as he made his way through the rubble and back out into the

street that was crowded and still surrounded by neighbors who looked on with worried expressions.

Dylan’s heart pounded and his blood raced through his veins as he hurried to check on Belle. He ran

68

***

to where his truck was parked. The lights were off and the engine was no longer running.

He jerked open the passenger door.

His heart nearly stopped and a wash of cold swept him from head to toe.

Belle was gone.

For a moment he stood there, his gaze sweeping the cold truck cab. His heart jackhammered.

His keys were no longer in the ignition. Her purse was where she left it on the passenger floor. The

jacket he’d given her to wear wasn’t there, so she was probably wearing it. But she was gone.

He whirled and slammed the door shut, trying to think. Had the person or persons responsible

for killing Tom have taken Belle?

Almost crazy with the need to find her, he whirled to go back to the thinning crowd and locate

Marks. They had to find Belle.

Just as he turned, he saw her walking toward him, away from the crowd. He braced his hand on

the truck, afraid his legs wouldn’t hold him up. He’d been so afraid she’d been taken and worse—

the possibility that she’d been murdered, too.

She had her arms folded, hugging the jacket around her as she neared him. Blue and red lights

flashed, illuminating her face.

“I told you to stay in the truck.” He didn’t mean the sharp bite in his tone.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Is it true that was Tom’s home?” Her lower lip trembled. “Was that

his body they brought out of the house?”

Dylan took her and held her close. So damned glad she was alive and in his arms, he squeezed

her even tighter to him. He knew the only thing he could do was tell her the truth and let her know

that her life could be in danger. All of their lives could be.

“I believe it was.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, his hand cupping the back of her

head as she buried her face against his chest. He wasn’t sure how he could comfort her. “I’m so

damned sorry.”

Her shoulders trembled with the force of her sobs.

Hair on the back of his neck prickled. “I think I should get you out of here.”

“I just want to go back to my hotel room.” Her voice sounded small as she spoke.

He worked through everything in his mind. If he was right, and someone had been watching