Built for Power (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Logan was out of his room and racing down the stairs before he knew it. He shoved open the door and pushed his way through the crowd watching the fire from the lobby. Dust swarmed his eyes and strangled his throat.

Traffic had stopped, and some people were pressing their faces to their windows while a brave few were standing stunned in their open doors. Logan had to leap over the hood of a car to make it across the street. He ran past an officer radioing in for help. The smoke was burning his lungs, and the heat of the fire was intense. He ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth.

A big man was weeping as the other workers were yelling, “Boss?” into the inferno.

“Are they alive?” Logan yelled to the big man.

“We don’t know. Oh, God. Oh, God,” he wept.

Logan pushed through the wall of workers now spraying the fire with water hoses and whatever fire extinguishers they could find.

“Spray me down!”

The man with the hose looked at him with confusion. “Spray me down, now! I’m going in,” Logan yelled right before he was hit with the cold water.

As soon as he was wet, he turned toward the building and took it in. He ascertained the best point of entry and remembered it was around where Mr. Simpson and his wife went in. He felt the fire lick at his arms and bare chest as he ran through the open door and into the remains of the building.

Logan had to raise his arm to cover his forehead as he looked around. The heat was searing and the smoke burned his eyes. He made his way slowly forward as he scanned the floor looking for the couple.

At the center of the building he saw the hole caused by the explosion. He followed the crevice to where two steel beams had collapsed. He saw the man. He wasn’t moving and the way the beam was lying across him, Logan feared he wasn’t alive.

The fire was so deafening he didn’t hear the person with the fire extinguisher until white foam covered his back. He looked up and saw the big man who had been crying.

“Oh my God! Is he alive?”

“I don’t know!” Logan had to shout back.

Logan crawled forward and winced at the way Mr. Simpson’s leg was twisted under the beam. He placed a hand at the base of his neck. It was faint, but there was a flicker of a pulse.

“He’s alive, but not for long.” Logan tried to lift the beam, but couldn’t. The fire was closing in on them. “Help me!”

The big man bent down and when they nodded to each other, they lifted with all their strength. The beam barely moved, but it was enough. “Get him out,” the man grunted as his muscles bulged.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He let go of the beam and grabbed B. Simpson by his shoulders. He pulled with all he had. The adrenaline pumping through his body helped as he pulled the man free of the beam. The big man dropped the beam as soon as B. Simpson was clear. His thick arms shook as he looked down at the man. “Are you sure he’s alive?”

“No, I’m not.” Logan felt for a pulse and shook his head. “Can you carry him out? I’m going to look for the woman.”

“You have to save her. Please.” The man bent over and scooped B. Simpson into his arms, then disappeared into the smoke.

Logan coughed and pressed his damp shirt to his mouth. If she was in here with her husband, then she should be near. Crawling on his hands and knees, he started searching the area. He found her lying on her stomach only feet from where her husband had been. Part of the ceiling and the edge of a beam were on the ground next to her shattered hard hat.

Logan’s heart plummeted. She’s taken a hit to the head from falling debris. It didn’t look good. Her bright blue dress stood out against the black smoke. Her strawberry blonde hair was fanned out around her head. She looked like an angel. Logan felt tears welling for this woman he didn’t even know.

Crawling to her, he pushed her hair back from her face. His fingers left a trail of soot along her soft cheek as he pressed his fingers to her neck to confirm what he saw. Logan almost jumped back when he felt the strong pulse under his fingers. “Mrs. Simpson,” he yelled. “Can you hear me?”

The woman didn’t move. The fire crackled and some more of the building crashed down not fifteen feet from them. He rolled her over on her back and slid his arms under her shoulders and knees. “Come on, Mrs. Simpson. Live for me,” Logan murmured as he rounded his shoulders, trying to protect her as much as possible from the heat and debris. He used his knee to keep her upright as he took his wet shirt and laid it over her. He lifted her into his arms and realized the cleared area he’d come through was shrinking with the growing flames.

Logan tucked the woman to his chest and ran. He leaped over debris and dodged more when a section of the ceiling fell. Through the dancing flames, he could see movement. He could hear yelling. And then he felt the blessed spray of the hose. The men had seen him and were trying to make an opening through the flames for him to escape. The fire hissed in anger at the water, and Logan jumped.

Bree couldn’t remember being so hot before. She was from the South. She was no wimp when it came to hot, humid summer days. But this was different. It felt as if her body was literally on fire and her hair was melting. Someone was calling her, but the escape into the darkness was more appealing. Anything to get away from this heat.

All too soon, though, she was dragged from the darkness. She was floating. Was she dead? Bree tried to open her eyes, but as soon as she did they burned so badly she slammed them shut. All she saw in that split second was the very blurry image of a shirtless man holding her and flames surrounding them. Oh God, she was going to hell and being carried there by a really hot angel of death. The darkness came again and she fought it. She heard screaming and felt the fire engulfing her.

“Hang on. I’ve got you.”

The encouraging words with the deep Southern accent soothed her. He wasn’t an angel of death. She felt the strength of him protecting her. Bree floated back into darkness, knowing she was safe.

Logan burst through the flames and was immediately covered with wet towels. The fire department roared onto the scene. Ambulances were fighting through traffic and tearing into the construction site. One lone ambulance sped away from the scene. Thank goodness, Mr. Simpson was on the way to the hospital. The lights flashing and the horn blaring told Logan he was still alive, but barely.

“He found her!” some of the men yelled as they encircled him. It was obvious from the affection of the crew they liked their boss’s wife. “Is she alive?”

“Get that ambulance! She’s unconscious and sustained a head injury.” Logan refused to relinquish his hold on her. Holding her tight, he willed the beautiful woman to live.

The men waved down the nearest ambulance. The paramedics leapt down and peppered him with questions.

“She was hit on the head by falling debris and possibly a steel beam. Her hard hat was shattered by the impact. She hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“Are you her husband?” the paramedic asked as an IV was put in and a mask covered her face.

“No. Her husband was in that first ambulance. He pushed her out of the way. He was trying to save her.” Logan watched as she was loaded into the ambulance.

“Then you’d better come with us. He’s not expected to make it.”

Logan didn’t bother to tell them he didn’t know anything more, but he couldn’t imagine leaving her to suffer all by herself. When she woke, he would tell her how her husband was a hero.

Logan stayed out of the way as the paramedics worked on Mrs. Simpson. She wasn’t responding and she wasn’t waking up. Her heart rate started to slow and with a yell to the driver, the ambulance sped through traffic. The line showing her heart rate started to straighten and then there was the ominous sound of a flatline.

“She’s coding!” the EMT shouted.

Logan couldn’t tear his eyes from her. She couldn’t die. She was too young, too full of life, just an hour ago. He watched in horror as the two EMTs worked as a fluid pair. One cut away her sundress as the other prepped the paddles and handed them over. They were slapped onto her chest in fewer than ten seconds.

“Clear.” Her body jerked and the monitor beeped to life.

“She’s back!” the EMT told the driver. His partner grabbed the radio and told them their location and her status.

After the shock, her arm had fallen off the gurney. Logan tentatively reached out and took her small, delicate hand into his. He wouldn’t leave her until she was safe. Did she have family? Did she have children who had to be told their father was most likely dead and their mother’s life lay in the balance? Would she have someone to take care of her? The overwhelming need to protect this woman consumed him. He was surprised to find it was he who wanted to be the one to care for her. Guilt nagged at him. This was someone else’s wife and he wanted to be there for her. Ten years of distancing himself and here he was willing a women he’d never met to live, knowing he’d have to leave her to mourn the death of her husband.

The ambulance came to a stop by the emergency room and the back doors flung open. Men and women in different-colored scrubs were peppering the EMTs with questions as they unloaded Mrs. Simpson from the ambulance and rushed her into the hospital.

“Sir! What’s her name? Do you know her blood type?” a nurse asked as they hurried to follow the doctors inside.

“Mrs. Simpson. That’s all I know. Her husband was just brought in. How is he?”

“He wasn’t breathing when we got to him. They rushed him into surgery. That’s all I know. Wait here and someone will be out with an update. If you know any of her family, now’s the time to call them.”

Then Logan was alone.

CHAPTER FIVE

An irritating beeping drew Bree out of the sexiest dream she’d ever had. She had been rolling around naked with her angel rescuer on a fluffy white cloud while lightning struck all around. As her eyes fluttered, she heard voices fill with excitement. Bright lights blinded her and everything was blurry. Maybe she had died and this was heaven. No, it couldn’t be. In heaven, she wouldn’t have the worst headache imaginable. Bree fought with her eyes as she tried to get them into focus.

“Ma’am. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been in an accident, but you’re safe now. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bree cringed at the light and suddenly it was gone. The relief made her sigh with pleasure. She blinked again and focused on the figure standing at the foot of the bed. Slowly his two bodies morphed together and she gasped. It was her angel.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Simpson?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“There was an explosion. Do you remember it?” the doctor asked.

Bree closed her eyes and thought back to the engagement party, the message from Marcus, the corrupt police officer, the damage to the building, and then the earth fell out from under her feet.

“Oh my God—how is he? Where is he? He pushed me out of the way when the ceiling collapsed.” Bree was frantic. What happened to Marcus? He had saved her life. She felt cold all of a sudden. Her body started to shake as it remembered the explosion, the impact, and the darkness.

Suddenly there was warmth. It was in her hand and slowly spread up her arm. “Take a breath, Mrs. Simpson. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Bree opened her eyes and focused on the large hand covering hers. The mysterious angel’s slate-colored eyes drew her in. Her body stopped shaking and she drew in a slow breath.

“Your husband is alive. That’s what’s important right now.” Bree let out a shaky breath as his deep voice washed over her. There was something so sure about his voice that no matter what he said, she would believe him. Marcus was alive and that was all that mattered. Why did they think he was her husband, though? She was about to ask when the doctor cut in.

“He lost a leg and is pretty banged up. He’s still in critical condition and it’s going to be a tough forty-eight hours for him. It doesn’t look good, Mrs. Simpson, and I need you to prepare for the worst.” The doctor looked down at his cell phone. “I have to go to surgery. The nurse can answer any questions for you and we’ll try to get you to see your husband after you rest some. However, I would advise you see him sooner rather than later. I’m sorry.”

Bree gasped. Marcus had lost his leg and now he might die because he saved her. He had thrown himself under the beam when he pushed her out of the way. Tears fell from her eyes. The pain made each tear hurt as it rolled down her cheeks.

“Do you have a phone?” she asked her angel, who she could only guess was a doctor. He looked like it with his dark brown hair and those eyes. He looked tired and scruffy, just like any medical professional after a twelve-hour shift.

“Of course.”

Logan pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. He swallowed hard as he handed her the phone and their fingers touched.
I'm going to hell
, he thought. He couldn’t control his emotions with someone else’s wife. Someone who was fighting for his life right now. What kind of horrible man was he? Logan fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and instead pulled a chair to the side of her bed.

He’d been floored when her teal eyes had fluttered open. When she’d looked at him and it was like a sucker punch to the stomach. He closed his eyes as she dialed the phone and chastised himself.

“It’s me. There’s been an explosion. Yes, I’m okay. I have a bad concussion. My hard hat saved me. “ Mrs. Simpson paused as Logan imagined whoever she called digesting this information.

“No. He’s critical. He pushed me out of the way and a beam landed on him. They had to amputate his leg.”

Logan slid from the room and waved down a nurse. “She’s really upset. I don’t know how she’s going to rest.”

The nurse nodded and told him she’d take care of it. When Logan came back into the room, Bree had set his phone on the corner of the bed and was silently crying. Her shoulders shook as tears streaked her face.

“Thank you.”

Logan sat down and took her hand in his. “Have you made all the calls you need?”

“Yes. My sister will call everyone else in the family. What am I going to do? How can I sit here when he’s . . . he’s . . . oh God! It’s all my fault,” she cried.

The woman’s body was wracked with sobs and Logan felt completely helpless. “Ah, here’s your nurse. She’s going to give you a little something . . .”

Logan watched the nurse check Bree's eyes before injecting some medicine into her line. "Her eyes aren't dilated, which is good. This is a small dose to help her relax. She'll be up in an hour or so."

"Thank you," Logan murmured as the drugs took effect. The tears slowed and her eyelids closed with a flutter. When the nurse left the room, Logan scooted his chair closer and placed his hand on hers. He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to help her.

Bree struggled against the drugs but eventually let them take over. The darkness welcomed her once again, but the peace didn’t last long. Memories bombarded her in fragmented flashes: talking with Marcus, the explosion, being pushed, the hit, total darkness, and then him. He was there. He had carried her to safety.

Bree’s eyes shot open. He was still there. Her rescuer. He had to be the EMT who came in to find her. She remembered him carrying her out of the fire. Remembered him holding her hand in the ambulance.

“The doctor came in with an update. Mr. Simpson is still in critical condition and they have him in a medically induced coma. He’s also on a breathing tube. I’m sorry, it’s not looking good,” the angel doctor said as he squeezed her hand.

“Mr. Simpson?” Bree asked, her mind still foggy with sleep medicine. “He’s dead.”

“Don’t think like that. He has a lot of fight left in him.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s dead. Mr. Simpson is dead and buried, may he rest in peace. If he comes back, then he’ll be a zombie and I don’t think that would be good.” Bree shook her head. Why were they talking about her father? He had died eight years ago.

“You’re distraught . . .”

“Get out of my way!”

Logan looked up as a golden-haired beauty ran into the room with a nurse trailing after her.

“You can’t be in here, miss,” the nurse said, a bit annoyed at having to chase the woman down.

“I’m her sister and you better be prepared to drag me kicking and screaming if you expect me to leave.”

Logan hid a laugh behind a cough. This woman wouldn’t take any shit. He felt sorry for the nurse as Mrs. Simpson’s sister stared her down. The nurse spun around and left with the threat of getting the doctor.

“How are you?” she asked, hurrying to her sister’s side.

“Tired. They gave me some medicine to calm me down. And my head hurts worse than spending an afternoon with Aunt Flory. But I was told the hard hat saved me from worse.”

The sister sat on the bed and put her arm around Mrs. Simpson. Logan looked at them as they hugged. They looked very similar. Both were around the same height and build and had the same smooth jaw lines and high cheekbones. The only real difference was Mrs. Simpson had lighter hair and deeper eyes.

“I’ve sent for Mallory. Security will be here any minute. I want you safe while you recover.”

Logan saw the nurse in a heated talk with the doctor through the glass door. Seconds later, the doctor pushed open the door to the room. “This is the ICU; you can’t be in here,” he said, addressing the newcomer.

“I’m her sister Elle. Of course I can be in here.”

“Miss Simpson?” the doctor asked with wide eyes.

“Yes?” both sisters responded.

“I’m sorry, Miss Simpson. We didn’t know. We had your sister registered as just Mrs. Simpson and I didn’t put it together,” the doctor flushed.

Why was the doctor suddenly sucking up so much? Logan looked back and forth between them. Wait, if Elle was also a Simpson . . .

“This is my sister Bree. I’ll be out in a minute to register her completely,” Elle stated with such authority that Logan had his answer.

“B. Simpson,” he murmured with wonder as the doctor left.

Elle’s sharp eyes turned on him. “And you are?” she asked with such control that it sent shivers down Logan’s back.

“Oh, this is the doctor who rescued me.” Bree smiled as she looked at him. Logan felt like a hero when she looked at him like that. He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers but had no choice when Elle launched herself at him.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how to thank you. You saved my sister’s life,” Elle said with emotion causing her voice to crack as she wrapped Logan up in a hug.

So, the ice queen wasn’t so icy after all. She was just worried about her sister, and quite frankly, it surprised him. In families with as much money as the Simpsons, siblings usually tended to feud. His sure did. No one was happy sharing the wealth, but this appeared to be a very different type of family.

Bree looked up at him with such warmth that Logan felt as if he were the king of the world. “I’m so sorry. You saved me and comforted me, and I never asked your name.”

Logan answered without hesitation as he basked her in smile. “Logan. Logan Ward.”

Suddenly her smile slipped. Her face grew pink and those warm teal eyes turned hard as stone. “Logan Ward!” she screamed.