Survive the Fire Page 17

  The busy crew didn’t notice as she and Liam stole below. The dark, cavernous hold reeked of damp wood, and sulfur from the mock sea battle raging above smoked the air. She rotated the book light as Liam conducted a quick visual search. Large lidded metal cans lined the space, likely containing ammunition for the show. She gulped. And would make for a bigger bang if the bomb detonated.

  He strode toward the prow. The bomb was in plain sight, anchored to a supporting timber. His lips compressed. “Too damn easy.”

  “He’s in a hurry, and getting sloppy?” She followed with the light as he circled the huge post, studying the bomb.

  “Not freaking likely. What the hell?” He scowled. “A high school freshman with Internet access could’ve rigged this. It’ll take all of ninety seconds to neutralize.”

  “Is it a trap? Or a decoy?”

  “No, he wanted the explosive matter easily extracted. Why?”

  Artillery fire boomed. The ship quaked again, settled lower. Splashes echoed as the crew abandoned the sinking vessel. In this production, only the captain went down with the ship. Wetness sloshed her feet, and she glanced down. She was calf deep in water. Her heart lurched. Warm water. Water that was maintained at a comfortable temperature for performers who got doused six times a night. Water that had absorbed the super-heated Vegas atmosphere. “Liam? What temperature is the bay?”

  He dipped his hand. “A few degrees over body temperature. Shit! And when the chemical submerges ... Sonofabitch! This guy is the Einstein of explosives.”

  Pulse racing, she gestured at the plastic bag peeking out of his pants pocket. “Put it in the plastic bag?”

  “Not enough insulation.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around, towed her forward. “Kate, bug outta here!”

  She dug in her heels. “I got you into this mess. I am not leaving you!”

  “No time for debate!” He yanked her toward the ladder. “Damn stubborn woman. Go!”

  “Not on your life.” She fought his pull. I’m sticking with you to the bitter end.”

  “Sticking!” he said. “The duct tape!”

  “Yes! It’s thick and waterproof!” She pointed to the roll at his belt. “Seal the explosive inside the tape!”

  “Three or four layers might buy enough time to get topside.” His glance ricocheted around the massive hold. “Dump that metal tin and hand it over. Containing the explosive will reduce the blast radius, minimize the impact.”

  The water crept above her knees as she emptied the tin and slogged to where Liam was disassembling the device. He slid the pale green sheet out of the metal casing and looked at her with bold confidence. “Hold out your hands.”

  Trembling, she obeyed. He carefully set the explosive on her palms. She gulped. He trusted her to hold an explosive ... standing thigh deep in warm water that would detonate instantly if she fumbled. She attempted to steady her breathing.

  Damn well better not fumble.

  By the time he’d slashed the tape and sealed the explosive, water had hit her abdomen and was crawling upward.

  He grabbed the tin from her, thrust the sealed explosive inside it and slammed the lid. “Kate, go.”

  “What about you?”

  “Almost done. Get the hell outta here!”

  Floundering through waist deep waves in the sodden dress, she swam to the ladder. She spent precious seconds to strip off draggy petticoats and her sandals. Then she looked back at Liam.

  He was furiously taping the tin to a timber above his head. The ship moaned and heaved sharply to the side, and waves beat at his chest. “Climb, dammit,” he gritted.

  She scrambled up the rocking ladder. When she reached the top, she struggled out onto the deck, then turned and leaned into the hatch. “Come on!” she shouted.

  “Behind you,” he yelled ... from too far away. “Jump ship.”

  Should she go back for him? No. She’d only slow him down. She staggered across the listing deck. The ship rode low on the waterline, the bay practically at her feet.

  Liam, where are you?

  After a final agonized glance over her shoulder at the empty deck, she scaled the rail and jumped.

  BOOM!

  She hit the water at the same time an earsplitting explosion shattered the night. Half the bay spewed up. The violent burst radiated shock waves, tumbling her ass-over-teakettle underwater.

  Unable to determine which way was up, she thrashed in blind panic. Can’t see. Can’t breathe.

  Then something slammed into her and knocked her to the surface. Liam? Choking, gasping, she looked wildly around. Only a barrel bobbed past.

  On the far side of the pool, the ship’s captain, the last actor in the water, was heaved ashore by crewmembers.

  She spun, searching the floating debris with help from spotlights surrounding the bay. “Liam?”

  Where was he?

  Frenzied barking snagged her attention. Murphy had jumped off his ship and swum to a rock opposite the departing audience. He leaned over the bay’s edge and barked in frantic staccato. Was he pointing out the bomb? The dog’s body shook, his high-pitched barks ringing over the water. No, when he located a bomb, he went still. The dog was agitated.

  She inhaled, dove. The spotlights offered limited vision in the murky depths. She searched the area below where Murphy barked, his voice muffled beneath the waves. The hull had split into three large pieces. With the dress dragging at her legs, she swam into the first section and found nothing but wreckage. She had to surface for air before searching the second.

  Still nothing.

  Her heart stuttered. Had the explosion killed Liam?

  Ignoring her tortured lungs, she swam into the third section, eeling through jagged, tangled timbers. Her hem caught on a splintered board and jerked her to a stop. She yanked, finally tore loose. Dizzy from oxygen deprivation, she didn’t have time to navigate the slanted maze and laboriously make her way to the surface. Falling back on scuba training, she went limp and let gravity float her upward.

  She’d die trying before giving up on even the slightest chance of rescuing Liam.

  Her head broke free of water and bumped wood. She’d found a small air pocket inside the upturned hull, where cracked boards allowed slender fingers of light from above to pierce the darkness. Her strained lungs inflated as she clung to a broken plank.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder from behind. She shrieked and spun.

  Liam floated behind her in the claustrophobic space. “Kate! You all right?”

  “Liam!” She flung herself at him. Wedged against the crisscrossed beams in front of his body, she skimmed anxious hands over his face. A dark bruise shadowed his jaw, but no blood. “Thank God! I was so scared.” She hugged him tightly. “Follow me. I’ll show you the way out.”

  “Love to.” He smiled ruefully. “But I’m wedged behind these two crossed beams. They’re jammed against the bottom, and I can’t get enough leverage to kick free.”

  She cupped his face. “Stay right here. I’ll get help.”

  He chuckled. “Not going anywhere.”

  She let go of him and immediately sank. She flailed upward, spat water. “This damn gown weighs a ton. I need to take it off.” She turned around. “Unlace me?”

  Amusement tinged his voice. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Incurably so.” His fingers tugged at her dress. “Shit, these wet laces won’t budge. I can’t reach my knife. Grab it, will ya?”

  She rotated to face him and slipped her hand between him and the beams. His sash was in the way and she tugged it loose. “Your gun holster is snagged on something. I can’t get past it.”

  “Release the catch, but try not to let it fall.”

  She’d have to use her good hand to unhook the belt. Which meant catching it with her bad hand. Concentrating hard, she fumbled with the unfamiliar buckles in the tight space. His gun belt came loose. For a second, she had a firm hold on it ... then it slid through her we
ak fingers and sank like a rock. Oh, no! Except for his knife, he was now unarmed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You did your best. Just get the knife.”

  Berating herself, she slid her fingers over his hipbone. Tough to maneuver by feel alone.

  She grabbed, and he sucked in a breath. “That’s not my knife, babe.”

  Yeah, not unless he was packing a big Bowie. “Sorry again.”

  His low laugh was wickedly sexy. “I’m not.”

  She found the knife on her second try. After he cut the laces, she managed to return his knife without groping him. His big, capable hands tugged the dress down over her arms and she wriggled out of the restricting garment. It fell away, leaving her in a black lace demi bra and matching bikini panties.

  He whistled. “If that’s the last sight I see on this earth, I’ll die happy.”

  Raw fear sliced through her. “You’re not going to die!”

  “Figure of speech, honey.” His palm smoothed her wet hair. “I have no intention of croaking anytime soon.”

  “You’d better not.” She pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss. Free of the gown, she slithered through the wreckage. She surfaced ... and her heart sank to the bottom of the bay. Everyone had left. Just like Liam had said, the employees must’ve assumed the pyrotechnics had malfunctioned and wouldn’t call the authorities. The final show was over.

  Terror twisted inside her. Except for Murphy, who stood trembling and whining on the shore, she was alone.

  She could climb out and dash to the hotel. But by the time she got there, explained, enlisted help, and everyone returned to the pool, he’d likely run out of oxygen in the tiny pocket. Or if the wreckage shifted even a little and eliminated the air pocket, he’d drown.

  Saving Liam was up to her.

  Nausea assaulted her. She couldn’t even remove his gun belt without fumbling. And she was supposed to save his life?

  Nobody’s coming to his rescue. You’re it.

  She inhaled, dove again, and navigated the wooden jumble beneath the hull.

  Liam’s dazzling smile broke her heart. “That was fast.”

  She bit her lip. “Everyone’s gone.”

  “So what’s the bad news?” His easy grin glinted. “We’ve worked together all day and we’re batting a thousand.” He fished a rope out of the water. “I’ll tie this to the front beam.” He knotted the rope. “Loop it over the pole behind your head and pull. Between both of us, it’ll shake loose.”

  “I hope so.” She eyed the heavy, crossed timbers imprisoning him in a wooden cage. “Seems really risky.”

  “If you don’t gamble, you never win.”

  For his sake, this risk better pay off. She shot a scared look at her crippled hand. “You never lose, either.”

  “Don’t you?” He gave her a long, considering look. “No worries, Kate. Like you, my number’s not up yet.”

  He passed her the rope. “You yank and I’ll kick as hard as I can. The instant it loosens, dive under.”

  Apprehension crawled over her scalp as Liam braced his palms on the roof. “Now!” His boot slammed the beam, and she strained on the rope. The barricade shivered, but didn’t budge.

  “Once more!” He kicked again, and she pulled with everything she had.

  The timber groaned, shuddered, and a loud crack reverberated overhead. “Dive!” he shouted.

  She jackknifed as the entire structure collapsed.

  Kate stroked upward, surfaced, and scanned the roiling water for Liam.

  He didn’t appear.

  With horrific images searing her brain, she dropped under again and searched for him.

  She found him on the bottom. He was conscious, but a huge beam had fallen on his right arm. No matter how hard they tugged and pushed in frenzied unison, they couldn’t move it.

  He was trapped.

  Kate’s aching lungs forced her to surface. She gasped in air and screamed for help. Murphy barked frantically.

  Nobody came.

  She hadn’t saved Liam.

  She’d killed him.

  Chapter 12

  11:00 p.m.

  Held captive at the bottom of the bay, Liam repeatedly tried to yank free. He’d sucked in a huge breath before everything went to shit, and thanks to regular obstacle course workouts, he had excellent lung capacity, but ...

  His brain quickly war-gamed tactical plans. The scenario wasn’t exactly loaded with options.

  He couldn’t gain leverage to budge the beam wedged across his right arm. Hell, he couldn’t even turn over. He couldn’t reach his Swiss Army knife to cut his own arm off, or he’d have done it. He pounded the timber. Trapped. Helpless. Fucking useless.

  He could only wait. And pray Kate found help. Fast.

  A bombshell of enlightenment detonated, and he reeled. This was how Kate felt. She constantly battled the fear and frustration of losing her right arm. She lived with ceaseless pain. She’d been forced to surrender her independence and dignity and depend on others.

  If a similar handicap had ended his career, if he’d been denied the release of driving his Mustang, or had to give up the creative pleasure of rebuilding his house, he’d be full of resentment and anger. Yet Kate had determinedly overcome her obstacles. She’d reassembled the broken, bloody pieces and started over. With no family encouragement. All alone on her gut-wrenching trudge to redemption, she’d learned not to count on backup.

  No wonder she was scared to live life to the fullest. To take chances. No wonder she wanted to play it safe.

  His body screamed for air. He grappled with panic, strove to slow his heartbeat and conserve resources.

  Rapidly running out of oxygen.

  Running out of time.

  Harsh reality slammed him. Maybe his number was up. Maybe today was his day to die.

  He’d cursed, outsmarted, and gambled with death. But had never actually come face-to-face with the Grim Reaper. Had never stared into those cold, merciless eyes and seen his own end.

  Regrets? Yeah, he had a couple. Like not being honest with his family. They’d remember him as good-time Liam. Ready with a funny quip or a cheerful hand up. They’d mourn him. Miss him. But would they know how much he loved them?

  He should’ve told ’em.

  After Pop had been stolen away far too soon, he’d taken refuge in humor. Hidden his pain behind a smokescreen of jokes and laughter. Bounced from woman to woman, so they couldn’t leave him first. Party-hearty guys had no time for soul-deep loneliness.

  His pulse thundered. Sonofabitch.

  Busy living in the moment, he never considered his future.

  And he wanted a future ... with Kate. The only woman he couldn’t sway with charm. She called him out. Forced him to be real.

  From their first meeting, she’d seen past the blarney to the man beneath.

  He ramped up his struggle to shift the massive timber. He couldn’t die! Who’d protect her? Rescue her photos? What would happen to the fragile toddler awaiting a new kidney?

  His diaphragm burned from holding his breath. Drowning was supposed to peaceful. Painless.

  Wrong.

  Too much time to ponder.

  Regret.

  Grieve.

  He’d never feared dying. Figured he’d go quick and clean. Rocketed skyward. A bright, hot flash. He didn’t expect to die in icy blue twilight. Smothered slowly. With agonizing awareness.

  His lungs strained. Black spots blurred his vision. He fought to hold in every molecule of oxygen, but couldn’t halt the escape of air from his nostrils. Bubbles streamed upward.

  His final breath.

  Fear twisted his gut. He battled the irresistible urge to inhale. His chest spasmed. His next breath would fill his lungs with water. Kill him.

  Kate floated down in front of him, a beautiful angel of mercy. His laboring heart bucked. He wouldn’t die alone after all. He reached for her. Yearned to tell her he was fiercely glad her beloved face would be the last thing he saw.


  She cradled his face. Her tender hands would be the last touch he felt.

  She pressed her mouth to his. Her soft lips would be the last to kiss him.

  Black weight bore down, dimming his consciousness. Dragging him into darkness. Racked by sorrow, shaking with desperate fury, he tangled his fingers in her hair, clinging to her. Fuck no! I won’t leave her!

  Pop, if you have any influence up there, help me!

  The answer was swift. Unexpected. Kate breathed into his mouth, filled him with her breath. Her essence revived him. Fed his starved lungs, chased away the darkness.

  She grabbed the rope they’d tied to the beam, gestured to tell him she’d return, and shot upward.

  Dizzy from hypoxia and relief, he closed his eyes.

  Date with death—postponed.

  * * *

  Treading water, Kate wound the rope over her shoulder and strove for calmness. Faced with failure, with losing Liam, she’d freaked. Splashed and shrieked for non-existent help. While she was panicking, Liam was drowning.

  Rampant emotions obliterated her common sense.

  Because she’d unleashed her emotions and stopped thinking clearly, Liam had almost died.

  He still might.

  The key to survival was to lock her feelings in a deep freeze ... like the bomb ... where they couldn’t endanger anyone. The only way to save Liam was to entomb her emotions in a vault of ice.

  Kate stared at the distraught dog standing guard on the rocks, and quashed screaming terror. No time to indulge in angst. To save Liam, she must sublimate her worst fear.

  For him to live, she must kill the newly born feelings he’d just begun to coax back to life.

  She forced herself to go cold and dead inside, blotted out the awful memory of Murphy’s recent attack. Made herself feel nothing as she quickly swam to the outcropping and floated beneath the dog.

  Her fingers shook as they fisted on the rope. She had one good hand. If it was destroyed ...

  Her brain had to command her arm to move twice before it obeyed. She lifted the quivering rope to the dog’s lethal jaws. “M-Murphy,” she croaked. “Tug!”