Into the Fire by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781460301692
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-09-17T07:00:00+00:00

The Volvo took Dillon longer than he expected, but by late afternoon it was running better than it probably had in years. There’d been no sign of Jamie—she hadn’t emerged from her fortress to eat or even to pee, as far as he could tell. Though he’d been blasting Nirvana again and it would have covered any noise.

She was still up there, he had no doubt of that. He could feel her there, underneath his skin. Like poison ivy, he thought savagely.

Mouser was right. Mouser was always right, damn him. He was like Jiminy Cricket, his fucking conscience. Friends you could trust were a hell of a lot more important than even the most longed-for piece of ass—he’d learned that the hard way.

He was going to let her go.

He backed the old Volvo out of the garage, feeling a trace of satisfaction in the sweet purr of the engine. The snow had almost stopped, the streetlights that were still in working order had come on, and the late-afternoon air was fresh and crisp. She had credit cards and a couple of hundred dollars in cash in her purse—she’d have no trouble finding a hotel room once she got away from here. He’d been prepared to put more money in her wallet if need be, but she probably would have noticed and had a fit.

He pulled the Volvo in front of the garage and cut the motor. He considered leaving it running. She was going to leave like a bat out of hell, and the gentlemanly thing would have been to warm it up for her.

But fuck it, he was no gentleman, and he was already being a revoltingly decent guy. Mouser was going to owe him, big time.

Except that Mouser would tease him, mercilessly. He always insisted that Dillon was a better person than he knew he was. And this would just give him more ammunition.

Couldn’t be helped this time. He never drove the Cadillac without thinking of Jamie, and that wasn’t likely to change. But he’d lived with it for twelve years—he could live with it for another twelve. Besides, he had other things to feel guilty about. Like Nate’s bloody death.

At least he’d managed to keep Jamie from seeing the room. There’d been no way to get all the blood out of the old wood, not without ripping out the floors and replastering the place. And he couldn’t be bothered. Once the police had removed Nate’s bloody corpse, once the yellow tape had been taken down, he’d dumped all of Nate’s possessions in there and locked it. He should have sent the stuff back to the Duchess, but he’d never gotten around to it, telling himself he owed the old bitch nothing.

But he knew the real reason. He was hoping Jamie would come to find it. Find him.

She had, and now he was wishing to hell he hadn’t done anything so fucking stupid. But he was making up for it, salvaging things before they exploded in his face.

The room still smelled like death, even three months later.

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