Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (80 page)

They hit the floor with a crash, the bulk of Miller's body landing hard at an angle that forced Josh sideways against the chair holding Andrea prisoner.

The impact rattled Josh's sinuses and whipped his head backward into the desk, blowing dark spots across his vision. While he tried to pull his world back into focus, Miller rolled away.

He moved with surprising agility for a man of his size as he scrambled for the gun. He was nearly on his feet when Josh shook the last of the stars clear and lunged low, striking Miller in the hip and driving him into the ground.

Above the older man's labored breathing, the crackling flames filtered into the room, pulsing a new urgency through Josh's consciousness. If the fire reached that door, they were done. No window. No way out. As soon as this was all over, he was ripping a hole through that wall himself.

“Where did you come from?” Miller choked out the words as he struggled to gain traction on the low pile of the carpet.

Josh drew in a deep breath. He wanted to respond, but the burn of fire and smoke was growing hotter by the second. He glanced at the door. It was still clear, though smoke filtered in along the ceiling. Dialoguing was out of the question.

In that instant of distraction, Miller rolled, throwing Josh off balance. Before he could recover, the other man pulled back his fist and drove it into the telltale scar by Josh's elbow.

The impact tore a guttural yell that was equal parts pain and anger from his throat. White-hot agony shot into every nerve ending. He rolled to his side, fighting for strength, resisting the desire to curl into a ball and cradle his injured arm.

The advantage was enough. Without waiting to see if Josh would return the blow, Miller bolted around the desk, grabbed the gun and aimed it straight at Josh. “You should have counted on me knowing your weakness. I do my homework.”

Every ounce of fight seeped out of Josh. Yes, he did have a weakness. It had cost one person her life already, and now it would take everything. The past flooded his judgment. Every time he blinked, he saw his SUV burning, felt the overwhelming helplessness of a body rebelling.
God, help me.
Otherwise he'd fail again, and this time Andrea would pay the price.

From the chair, Andrea groaned, her head rolling slightly to one side. She was coming around.

That was all Josh needed. He drew on what he'd told himself outside. Hope. There was still hope. Josh rose to his knees, arm cradled against his stomach.

Something that looked like concern flickered across Miller's face as the air in the room grew thicker. He glanced at the door, then stepped around the desk to stand directly behind Andrea. His eyes held Josh's as he brushed the hair away from her face and shook his head in mock sadness. “Shame, isn't it? One more you couldn't save. I should shoot her and let you live with that. It would be poetic.”

Fury drove Josh to his feet. She wouldn't die because of him. Before he could tempt Miller's trigger finger, Andrea threw her head back. The momentum launched the chair backward, catching Miller at the waist. His eyes widened as he stumbled, lost his footing and crashed into the corner of the filing cabinet. He sprawled into a motionless heap as Andrea landed hard on her back on the floor.

Josh rushed for her, looking down at green eyes that fluttered against unconsciousness.

“See? I knew you could do it.” Her eyes slipped shut again.

No.
He let his head drop against her forehead. “Come on, Andrea.” His whisper was nearly drowned out by the increasing roar from the lobby. It was getting harder to breathe as the fire sought oxygen. Sweat beaded along his back. He reached for her. Pain razored up his right arm, sapping his breath. There was no way. No way he could carry her out.

Miller groaned, and Josh was instantly alert, pivoting to take on a renewed attack. But the man was motionless. Blood streamed from a cut at Miller's temple, and the man was clearly unconscious, though Josh could see him breathing.

Assured that there was no immediate threat, he turned his attention back to Andrea. His eyes burned. He had to find a way to get her out, injured arm or not. Then he'd decide what to do about Miller. He wouldn't fail this time. He couldn't. This was Andrea. And he was not going to lose her.

First things first. Josh clawed at the knots in the phone cord with his left hand, thanking God that the material prevented Miller from pulling the wired plastic into tighter knots. His jaw refused to loosen and sent throbbing pain through his cheek as the room heated and the smoke grew darker. Breathing was harder by the moment. The rank smell of burning synthetics made him gag.

The lights flickered once and vanished, leaving the room shrouded in a gray darkness, lit only by the light of the front lobby filtering in through the smoke-filled doorway. Everything in him screamed for faster movement, but he kept his pace slow and methodical until all of the knots were pulled free. He coughed. The air wasn't just smoky, it was scalding.

His body ached, muscles competing with his arm for attention. The rapidly thinning oxygen and adrenaline pounded his pulse in his ears. His mind ran a continuous loop.
You cannot fail. You cannot fail.
It drowned out every other voice, including the one that told him he should give up because success was impossible.

The last knot worked free, allowing Andrea to slump lower against the floor. When Josh had learned how to carry injured soldiers off the field in combat, he'd never dreamed it would one day be the woman he was falling in love with that he'd have to haul out of danger. With his strength ebbing quickly, he rolled her onto her side and eased her into a sitting position. He slipped his left shoulder against her stomach and draped her upper body across his back, allowing her weight to pull him as he stood on legs that quaked from the stress of the moment.

The air was thinner up here, clogged with smoke, but he couldn't crawl and still carry Andrea out of the building. Ducking as low as he dared, Josh said a final prayer, pulled in as deep a breath as he could and plunged through the door into the lobby, clinging to Andrea by sheer willpower.

The light was an eerie mix of red fire and white daylight, darkening with more smoke by the second. Flames engulfed the wall on the far side of the room and crept behind the receptionist's desk. Heat clawed at his skin. All of his worst nightmares breathed in front of him, worse than he'd ever imagined.

When he burst through the front of the counseling center, his pulse throbbed in black light behind his eyes. The air he drew in had never been sweeter.

People rushed to meet them, pulling Andrea from his arms and laying her gently on the grass median between the counseling center and the gas station. But Josh wouldn't let go.

He knelt beside her and sucked in deep breaths so fast the world started to spin. Bending at the waist, he planted his good hand against his knee and forced himself to breathe normally before he took himself out hyperventilating.

“You okay?” One of the men he'd seen pumping gas earlier leaned low, appearing in his line of sight.

Josh nodded, realizing for the first time that the smell of smoke on him was overwhelming. His arms burned, skin red from the heat. “I'm okay.” His voice croaked, burning with a coating of smoke and adrenaline.

In the distance, sirens wailed, but the lobby was rapidly filling with flames. They'd never get here in time to get Miller out of there.

Josh cast a long glance at Andrea, then straightened and stared at the building. He couldn't live with himself if he let that man die. He grabbed the man next to him by the arm. “Don't let her out of your sight.” With one final look back, he set off at a run for the door.

“You can't go back in there!” the man yelled after him, but Josh ignored the words and dove through the flames.

* * *

The world came back to Andrea with the smell of smoke and pain beyond anything she'd ever felt. The last scene burned into her memory was an expression of murderous hate aimed straight at her.

She awoke screaming against the pain in her jaw and the ache in her lungs.

Gentle hands pressed her down against something soft. “It's okay. The ambulance is here. You'll be fine.”

She shook her head. No more ambulances. No. The ambulance would take her away. They'd kill her. The words wouldn't come out past the confusion and the pain locking her jaw tight. A moan split the air around her.

“It's okay. It's a real paramedic this time. I promise.”

The voice tugged at her fogged mind, familiar and soothing. Her eyes burned and watered, but she recognized Dutch's face above hers. She worked her jaw back and forth. “Where am I? What's happening?” The questions sapped her strength, rasping out of a throat that felt like a bonfire burned deep inside. Bonfire. Inside. Josh. He'd been in the building. Where was he?

“You're safe, in the parking lot. As for what's happening, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

She wanted to sit up, call out that Josh was in there, but darkness clawed and pulled her back, paralyzing her. An EMT slipped an oxygen mask over her face, and the cool rush felt like heaven.

“You inhaled a lot of smoke and you might have a scorch mark or two, but you'll be feeling a whole lot better in no time.” Dutch gestured toward her arm. “It's probably not going to feel good for a while, but you're alive. By all indications, you shouldn't be, but you are. Ms. Donovan, it's pretty clear somebody's looking out for you guys.”

You guys.
“Josh got out?” Her voice muffled against the mask. He had to get out. She needed him. And no one else could die protecting her.

“Josh pulled you out of there.” Dutch stared across the parking lot toward the counseling center. He seemed to feel her gaze and looked back down at her. “He's a better man than I am.”

Andrea's brows knit in confusion. “Why?”

“He brought you out, then went back in after Mr. Miller. As soon as the paramedics finish with him, my guys will take him into custody. Josh clocked that man good after he hit you.”

“But Josh is okay?”

Dutch shifted, and Josh's face appeared in her rapidly clearing vision, sending a jolt through her that had nothing to do with the saline and whatever else was seeping through her veins. “I'm better off than you are.”

Andrea lifted her hand and pulled the mask from her face. The tears that spilled from her eyes had nothing to do with the residual burn of smoke. “I knew you'd find me.”

He smiled and lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Up until that last second, you were the only one with that much certainty.”

“Never doubted it.” The words drooped on exhaustion so deep her bones felt unhinged. “How did you get me out?”

Josh gentled the oxygen mask back onto her face. The tang of singed clothes grew stronger as Josh leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then pulled back. Soot and smoke streaked his face, making his eyes shine brighter. “I raced the fire. They set your storage room on fire first, probably to burn whatever records you have in there and to give Miller time to get out.” Smoothing her hair from her forehead, he shifted subjects. “But the better news is they caught your fake detective and his whole crew. They let the guys take the drugs out of the storage unit, then followed them to a rendezvous point. They spilled everything, including where Miller planned to hole up.” Josh smiled. “It's over. For real this time.”

Relief did more to cool her burning lungs than anything the paramedics had done. “Over?”

“Over.” Josh grinned wider and laid a kiss at her hairline. “Except for us. We're just getting started.”

EPILOGUE

“Y
ou have a warped sense of humor bringing me here.” Andrea laughed as she slid from Josh's truck and slammed the door behind her, arching her back to relieve the stiffness from the drive. She caught the baseball glove he threw over the hood and held it against her chest, surveying the ball field.

The trees on the fringes glowed red and gold in the midday sun. The grass of the outfield expended the last of its green for the year, giving way to autumn's advance. Crisp air soothed her lungs, which were still grateful for every pain-free breath she drew. Andrea had spent months in therapy sessions, finally letting go of her brother, starting on a new path in her own counseling, where she could aid in healing without feeling like she bore her patients' burdens on her own shoulders.

The freedom was amazing.

Josh stood shoulder to shoulder with her, drawing on his own glove. “A warped sense of humor? Thanks. Thanks a lot, Donovan.” Reaching into the back of the truck, he pulled out a baseball from a bag and flipped it to her, then stood and surveyed the field. “Lots of memories here.” He tipped his head toward home plate. “Especially of what the view of those bleachers over there used to look like from third base.”

“Really?” Andrea slapped him in the chest with her glove. “Don't be cocky.”

“Was I being cocky?” He grinned and winked, then walked backward toward the infield, holding his glove up for her to toss the ball to him.

“You sure about this?” Digging the ball into the palm of her glove, Andrea studied Josh. Against his wishes, he'd gone into physical therapy for the stress on his arm. Now he claimed he was “all better” and ready to come off physical restrictions and back onto full duty at work.

He motioned toward himself with the glove, then held it out again. “It's all good. Promise. It's not like I'm going to be firing the thing from third to home during the World Series or anything.” His grin spread wickedly. “I mean, I'm just playing catch with a girl, right? How hard can that be?”

Andrea's spine stiffened. “Yeah? It's on now. You never should have said that.” She fired the ball with all of the power she possessed.

Josh caught it neatly and studied it. “That all you got?”

“Get over yourself.”

“How can I when you keep looking at me like you adore me?” He held up his free hand to stop her words and jerked his head toward first base. “Enough. Come closer so I don't have to throw so far.”

Letting the jokes drop, she jogged over and caught his throw, then took in her surroundings. It had been half a lifetime since she'd been on this field, catching baseballs when Brendan insisted on practicing over the summer. She could almost hear him laughing at her awkward pitches, then his grudging admiration as she improved right along with him. For the first time since he died, the good memories overran the bad and allowed her to smile.

Without thinking, she swung her gaze to third base, the image of high school Josh replaced by the image of him as she knew him now, tall and strong, her fierce protector, a man who leaned on God in a way that almost made her envious. Who'd have thought all those years ago it would come to this?

“Hey, get your head in the game.” Josh heckled her from his spot near the pitcher's mound. “What's got you so distracted?”

“Me. Brendan.” She lobbed an underhanded toss to him, her tennis shoe squeaking on the grass. “Us.”

The ball thwacked against the leather of his glove, but he didn't look at it. Instead, he kept his focus on her. “You know, back in high school I only
thought
I loved you.”

She smiled as he fidgeted with the ball in the pocket of his glove. “Is that so?”

“Now I know for sure.”

It wasn't the first time either of them had said the words, but the nostalgia of the setting, the perfect temperature of the breeze and the bright sun on fall leaves made them seem weightier than they ever had before. So did the look on Josh's face. Andrea toed the grass and swallowed the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “Love you, too.” She straightened her stance. “Now throw the ball.”

Josh wound up like he was about to throw a Major League pitch, then shifted and arced the ball in an underhanded lob. It hit her glove with a dull thud unlike any catch she'd heard before. Sure enough, when she spread her fingers, a heavy white box rested against the leather.

The sight sent a shock through her that skipped her heart then restarted it in double time. She didn't dare hope he was about to...

He was.

Surprise and joy mingled into one emotion as she turned her focus from the box to the man in front of her, now on one knee. “So will you?”

Andrea dropped to his level, her knees driving hard into the ground, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you have to ask?”

Her kiss was all the answer he needed, melding together their past dreams and their shared future in a present Andrea hoped to hold for the rest of her life.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from SAFE BY THE MARSHAL'S SIDE by Shirlee McCoy.