The Fifth Season (18 page)

Chapter Twelve

Stone watched in horror as Emma’s dress caught on the collapsing deck, pulling her away and down into the burning hell below. Gripping the edge of the house, he leaned forward, reaching for her outstretched hand. His feet balancing precariously on the skirting board that wrapped the edge of the house he stretched as far as possible, grabbing her wrist before the planks beneath her feet shattered to the earth in a loud clap of thunder.

Eyes wide with fear, she grasped his hand and held tight. He heard Lazarus yelling from the open French doors. Sweat poured from his face and he yanked with all his might, swinging Emma to the right where Rex grabbed at the folds of her tattered dress, reeling her in.

“Take Rex’s hand.” He yelled over the din of screaming guests and burning house. Emma nodded, twisted her body toward the French doors and released her grip on his hand. Rex gathered her close and pulled her into the house. Stone gripped the edge of the window frame and inched his way toward the door. Once inside, he wrapped an arm around a disheveled and frightened Emma.

He’d almost lost her.

His heart thudded against his chest, and for the first time he could remember, his hands trembled uncontrollably. Pulling her tight against his chest, Stone kissed the top of her head.

The center of the house sounded like bedlam. With a shaky sigh, he maneuvered them between the confused crowd. With shouted commands, he quickly began orchestrating everyone’s exit from the resort.

“I’ll take her,” Seth said, appearing at his side.

Reluctantly, he relinquished his hold and allowed his cousin to escort the only person that mattered to him outside. The resort remained in an uproar.

He pushed everyone out through the front door, trying to take some sort of head count. Smoke quickly filled the main level, pluming in gray clouds of sinister waves from the basement.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and Stone silently thanked whoever used their sense and called 911. The floor shook beneath his feet and after one last glance around, he hurried from the burning building.

Emma sat huddled against a tree. Seth soothed her but it appeared she wouldn’t listen and continued curling tighter into a ball.

Stone strode over, yanked her to her feet and stared into her eyes. Fear swam in the emerald depths, and he shook her gently.

“Snap out of it, Emma. We’ve a flock of guests who’re cold and scared.” He couldn’t take her desperation, it tore at his soul like nothing he’d ever experienced.

“I ca…ca…ca…can’t.”

“You’re stronger than this, better than this.”

“You do…do…do…don’t understand,” she said, her voice thin and pathetic.

“Then explain it to me, baby.”

She clutched at his shoulders and pulled him close to her. The fierceness behind her fear burned his face with its intensity. “You could’ve died.”

“I…?”

“It was Adams, I know it. And I could’ve killed you.”

“Hush, sweetheart. You’re not making any sense. I was safe, remember? You were the one about to plummet ten feet onto hard concrete.” She shook her head, and he pulled her tight to his chest. He didn’t have time for this. The fire trucks were pulling up the drive, and he needed to investigate the source of the explosion.

“Can’t think. Go help the others,” she said.

“I’d rather stay here, but I have to go.”

“I know.” Her hand snaked up to caress his cheek. He bent and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She stood on her tiptoes, twined her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

He swallowed his throat thick with emotion. With a nod, Stone left her warm embrace and headed into the disorganized fray of human fear and burning house.

***

Emma battled back her tears. She watched as Stone moved with panther like grace through the crowd of people, comforting, directing and solving their problems.

Only one fire truck had arrived, and the men were busy around the back of the house fighting the fire. In such a remote area of town, it would take time for all the engines to arrive. Until then, she watched Stone organize.

It wasn’t long before he’d spread open the barn doors and directed everyone into its interior. She couldn’t move.

A high pitched squeal hit the already noisy evening and to her horror Stone raced from the milling crowd and through the front door of the burning house, his head bent against the angry smoke pouring from inside. She ran after him, screaming his name.

“Stone,” Emma clutched the edge of the front door, choking on the heavy air. “Stone!”

She listened and above the crackling flames that licked up from the basement a muffled grunt and loud curse reached her ears. She ran toward them and smacked hard into a body of unmoving rock.

An arm reached out and wrapped around her neck, strangling the air from her throat. She kicked and pulled forward in an attempt to knock the stranger off balance. Gasping, her lungs burning from the smoke, she hoarsely shouted for Stone.

“No one to save you now, ducky.” A voice thick with Irish brogue hissed against her ear.

“Stone.” She closed her eyes and struggled fiercely. Her vision dimmed, and she fought against the pin pricks of light that preceded oblivion. A loud grunt and sudden release of pressure on her neck forced her forward, staggering toward the front door.

Emma’s head connected painfully with the brass door knob. A brutal shove pushed her down, to her knees. She felt a body pass by her. Her eyes stung from the smoke, watering in rivers of frustration. She couldn’t see the perpetrator, but she could feel hands…loving hands, wrap around her and pull her outside where the cool temperatures eased her burning face.

“Stone.” She inhaled and exhaled, attempting to figure everything out. “What happened?”

“I went inside for Porkie, heard you scream and came running.” Her eyes focused and she looked into his concerned face.

“A man attacked me.”

“I know. The police are chasing him. He won’t get far.”

“Pocahontas?”

“Right here.” Stone moved to the side so she could see the pig nervously stomping around. Reaching out, she tickled the snotty snout and sighed when Pocahontas nuzzled her hand.

Emma took a moment to think about the past thirty minutes and the fear and panic returned, knotting into a ball that lodged beneath her heart. She’d done this. She’d endangered Stone. His life could’ve been lost today because of her.

She sniffed and stood up, ignoring Stone’s protests. Biting her lip, Emma turned and gazed at the man who encompassed her world, held her heart, owned her soul. “You have to go,” she said. Pain struck in ravaging splinters of broken dreams and dead happily-ever-afters. This man, this gorgeous beautiful soul, couldn’t be here. She’d not damage him anymore. He’d faced a lifetime of hurt and pain and deserved a future full of happiness and love.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Now, Stone, right now. You have to go.” Emma gripped his arms and stared into his face, burning every wonderful inch into her memory.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are. You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.” She dropped her head and leaned against his chest, whispering softly. “I’m too dangerous.”

Stone gently tipped her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. “Yes,” he said with a grin. “You are dangerous.” He bent and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “But I can’t leave, it’s against the rules.” Her smile froze and the warmth his kiss ignited chilled suddenly as her mind absorbed his words.

“River Run?”

“Yes. But you can leave,” he said, lifting his hand and signaling for Seth. “I want you to go back to Seth’s ranch.”

She supposed the fact that Stone’s focus revolved around his property and not her should ease her mind, but it didn’t. It hurt.

Emma stumbled after Seth, refusing to look back, fighting against the urge to cling to Stone and never let go. How simple it’d been to forget that River Run wasn’t hers.

It was his.

As the first floor shot flames and coughed forth piles of smoke, its destruction and potential danger to Stone tugged at her, striking deep wounds. But it shouldn’t have.

Climbing into Seth’s truck, Emma stared blankly out the window, ignoring the excited and concerned chatter of Alexa and her brother. As the soft glow of River Run faded into the horizon, a part of her heart, the one that’d only recently come alive, dimmed and sank beneath a crust of anger.

***

Stone watched the last of the rescue brigade drive slowly down the gravel road. His shoulders slumped beneath a mountain of concerns and thoughts, he trudged to the front porch. Sitting down next to Lazarus, he gratefully accepted the proffered brandy snifter.

“Rescued these from the rubble,” Rex said.

“Good thing.” He took a swift gulp of the heady liquor, luxuriating in the slight burn that trailed down his throat and warmed his chest.

“What did the fire chief say?”

“Most of the damage is to the lower level. It looks structurally sound but an engineer will need to verify it. The sauna was the source of the explosion…some kind of rigged bomb.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t remember all the details but the guy the police rounded up has a lot to own up for.”

“Adam’s lacky?”

“Probably, but it’ll be hard to prove.” Stone swigged the rest of his brandy and looked at Rex. “We need to move up the operation. Obviously, Seamus Adams wants Emma gone. I’d really hoped to avoid this. I can’t believe he’s willing to risk exposure in order to silence her. There’s got to be more to this than what we’re seeing,” Stone said.

Lazarus refilled Stone’s glass, topping his own off as well. “Emma is the only witness left who saw the true Seamus Adams. The murderer and gangster before the polished politician surfaced. If she went to Ireland and testified, his entire career would be finished, he’d be destroyed.”

Stone shook his head slowly. “There’s more, I just know it. Something doesn’t feel right. Why now? Why find her now?”

“She slipped up.”

“How? Emma’s been hiding here, she rarely goes to town. Before our intervention, the woman had no form of identification whatsoever.”

“Clover?” Rex said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“No way.” Stone shook his head and frowned. “I went through all the paper work, and they’d done a damn good job of covering their tracks.”

Stone didn’t like the way Rex stared at him. The man appeared to be waiting for something to click, something to make sense.

“How do you think Clover knew how to cover its tracks?” Rex asked.

“Easy, any two-bit lawyer could…” He stopped when Rex shook his head. Stone thought back to the corporate documents and Clover’s overseas operations. It’d taken him hours of investigation and a good dozen favors to link the company with Ireland. “What aren’t you saying here, Lazarus?”

“It ties back to Emma. All reports indicate Adams clearly thought she’d been killed when trying to escape the country after her father was pronounced dead.”

“And?”

“Nate Connor executed a clean set-up and retrieval.”

Stone quirked a brow and glanced sideways at Rex. “My father smuggled her out of the country?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know the relationship?”

Stone sat back, uncertain whether he wanted to hear this or not. It wouldn’t change his opinion of his father, but it might assist in the rescue of Hugh Gallagher. “No, I’m blind here, so why not flick on the flashlight and enlighten me?”

Rex stared at him for a moment, scratched his chin and shrugged. “Hugh Gallagher contracted your father, via Central Intelligence, to assist in unearthing an illegal arms purchase between a rogue US group and the IRA.”

“What? Nate’s nothing more than a used up, ex-alcoholic gambler.”

Rex shook his head and the steely gaze in the man’s eyes caused an uncomfortable knot in the pit of Stone’s stomach. “What am I missing?”

“Your father’s CIA.”

A derisive snort escaped Stone’s nose, and he shook his head in denial. “You’re way off base. CIA? Nate Connor can’t even hold a job at the local lumber yard let alone work for the government.”

“You think you’re the only Connor with excellent instincts, impeccable firearm ability and the need to protect our country? No way.” Rex shook his head. “You are your father’s son.”

Stone stilled. Questions flew through his mind. If this were true, that his father worked for the CIA, then it certainly explained Clover’s ability to remain cloaked. Another thought struck him, which sent a cold chill of fear crackling through his system. If Seamus Adams’ discovered Clover, followed its trail here, came to River Run to investigate, continued to hold Hugh Gallagher hostage, then there’d be no stopping his conviction to eliminate Emma.

“Okay, say I believe you. What happened with this arms deal?”

“Nate and Hugh went deep undercover. They formed a tight friendship that extended beyond their current assignment. When the mission was finished, Nate visited Hugh in Ireland, helped eliminate several deadly factions of a growing IRA. He’s known Emma since the day she was born.”

“How could I miss all this? It’s too much to understand. You’re telling me that my father was some kind of saint to this Irish family then returned home and beat the crap out of me and broke my mother’s heart. Not to mention….” Stone stood up and held his hand out to block Rex’s response. “No. I’m not even going to think of that.” He glared at Rex and pointed an angry finger in his direction. “Why wait until now to tell me all this?”

“You weren’t ready.”

“Not ready?” Stone ran his fingers through the tangled mess of hair that topped his head. “I’m still not ready. I’ll never be ready. My father was no hero. He’s a drunk, a gambler, and a murderer.”

“True on all accounts except the last one.”

Stone dismissed Rex’s comment with a shake of his head and a smirk. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah, it really is. Hard to believe that one little debt could culminate in such a huge coincidental mess.”