Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  If she didn’t get a grip on her emotions, she might put herself in more danger. “Look, I’m sorry, but your safety comes first.” She banged a few cabinet doors and drawers without answering. “If you think I want to harm you, you’re wrong. No matter how convinced I am that Peter is innocent, I won’t let him near you.”

  “Good.”

  Progress. She was listening. “Think about it. With you tied to the bed, I could have hurt you. But I didn’t. So can we call a truce?”

  The noise stopped. “Maybe.”

  Her concession was more than he could hope for. “Coffee will be ready when you are.”

  He left her to do her womanly thing and headed down the stairs, happy he’d conquered at least one of her fears.

  * * * *

  After her near escape and uncomfortable confinement last night, Stone had insisted what she needed was a day in the Florida sunshine. He claimed some shopping and a walk on the beach would take her mind off her situation.

  From the way he kept glancing at her with those sad eyes, she suspected the real reason for this outing was to lessen his guilt at having confined her. She begrudgingly admitted he had due cause for concern since she had tried to escape, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to tell him that.

  She inhaled the sweet smell of the mild winter air as she checked out the people on the sandy beach. Everyone looked happy. Being outside in public was a lot better than sitting at the house waiting for the next juror to die. Her nerves would have eaten her up if they’d stayed cooped up another day.

  They sauntered on the warm sand, past hotels, condos, and a handful of houses. Her chest hurt when she moved suddenly, but the rest of her body was healing nicely.

  “If you want to stop for a bite to eat, let me know,” he said with a smile that sent a quick shiver of delight down her spine.

  Stop reacting. Just because Peter Caravello was in jail didn’t mean Stone’s hands were clean of the tragedies, though the more time she spent with him, the more convinced she was he might be one of the good guys. He didn’t exactly hover, but when they crossed the street, he held her hand. She liked that, but there was no way she’d let him sweet-talk her into openly forgiving him, or let him kiss her.

  She turned toward the beach and pretended to study the squawking seagulls picking up the bits of bread the tourists had tossed them. “Thanks, but we ate two hours ago. I’m not hungry.”

  The salt-scented air, together with the sand between her toes, had helped calm her, but the depression over losing her job and the life as she knew it never lifted, even when a family of dolphins gave a show in the ocean.

  “My feet need a rest from the gritty sand,” he said. “Come on.”

  Liar. It was her tender feet that needed the rest. She slipped on the sandals he’d bought her. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a shop across the street I think you’ll like.”

  A bathing suit store. She held in groan. It was the third one they’d been in today, but she’d humor him and pretend to show excitement.

  After trying on a couple of suits that didn’t fit, she gave up. “Please no more suits. Even you said I won’t be here that long.”

  He studied her for what seemed like an eternity. “You don’t have fun shopping? Or walking on the beach?” He raised his brows and turned down the corner of his lips.

  She refused to fall for his I-tried-so-hard-to-please-you act. “I will admit the ocean views were fantastic and the wonderful sun wrapped me in a sense of security I never expected, but I’m exhausted. Do you mind if we go back?”

  He eyed her as if she had a defective gene. “We haven’t seen every shop yet.”

  “Stone. Please.” She tugged on his arm for effect.

  “Sure. Whatever you want. Home it is.”

  She knew what he was doing—keeping her out of the house for as long as possible to show her life could be good again. Or did he have reason to believe staying in the town house made them a target? Despite the temperate weather, she shivered.

  He held open the car door and helped her in. Exhausted from the walk and the sea air, she closed her eyes the moment her butt hit the car seat and her head leaned against the backrest.

  The driver’s side door squeaked open. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  At least he refrained from asking her if she trusted him yet. She wasn’t sure how she’d answer if he had.

  When they got back to the town house, she headed straight upstairs.

  “Going to bed so soon?” he called after her.

  Near the top of the steps, she stopped and faced him. “Today was long. Good night.” He glanced up at her with sad eyes. She softened. “Thank you for the trip to the beach. I enjoyed it.” No lie. He’d been gentle, considerate, and a good listener.

  “Me, too.” He smiled, looking like the kind of boy a girl dreamed would ask her to the high school prom.

  Susan turned around and trudged to her bedroom, trying to ignore the tug on her heart. He followed behind her but kept his distance. When he stopped at the threshold of her room instead of heading down the hall, a queasy sensation filled her stomach.

  “Good night again.” Though exhausted, she managed to smile.

  Stone didn’t budge, his intense brown eyes focused on her. Fine. She stepped in the room and closed the door in his face. She’d barely slept last night, and in her cranky mood, who knows what she’d say or do if he wanted to have a conversation about his shackling her.

  The sand in her toes and the sticky salt on her face demanded another shower. This time, getting undressed didn’t cause as much pain. That was good news. Maybe her wounds were on the mend.

  Her short shower helped relax her. She dried off and changed into her flannel pajamas. When she stepped into the bedroom, Stone was sitting on her bed.

  Her heart sped up. “What are you doing here?” Her pussy sent out a tug. Stop it. Just because she hadn’t had sex in forever didn’t mean she’d hop into bed with a man she hardly knew. His full lips turned up at the corners. Damn it. She didn’t need her body to betray her.

  He stood and waved a hand toward the bed. “Making sure you stay safe.”

  She rolled her eyes. His refrain was getting tiresome. “Would you mind leaving? I can get to bed by myself.”

  He dangled the cuffs in front of her and raised his brows.

  “You’re kidding, right?” How had she misjudged him?

  “I’m sorry. I can’t take any chances you’ll bolt.”

  “You don’t trust me?” She forced calm into her voice.

  “Hah. What do you know about trust?”

  Very little. She’d trusted her first husband until he turned on her. Cheating bastard.

  She glanced right, then left. There was no way she could race outside without him catching her, so she crawled into bed, hoping her action would show she would cooperate. “I promise I won’t try to leave. Besides, Peter Caravello is in jail. All this mess will be over soon and I’ll be back home with my family. I have no reason to escape.”

  “From the way you shifted your gaze and balled your fists just now, I can see you’ve come up with a way to blame me again. I would never harm you, but I’m not sure how to convince you. I thought today proved I’m a nice guy.”

  “Did I say you’d hurt me?” Kill me maybe. Okay, she really didn’t believe that anymore. “You’re here for my protection, I know.” She shrugged a shoulder and cocked her head to the side, hoping to present an attractive pose.

  His mouth sagged. “You didn’t believe that fact last night when you tried to escape.”

  True. She opened her mouth, then shut it when she couldn’t come up with a good comeback. “Fine.” She held out her wrist. “I promise you’ll regret this.”

  “So you’ve said before.”

  He stepped over to her, slapped on the cuff and attached the other end to the bed. He winked and walked out.

  “It’s not funny,” she shouted after him.


  He poked his head back in the room. “Never meant for it to be.”

  Furious Stone would take such aggressive action, she turned off the light by the bed with her free hand and fumed for at least an hour, hoping he’d change his mind and uncuff her.

  He never did.

  For at least three hours she stared at the glowing numbers on the clock as they changed one by one. Her eyelids eventually drooped as her mind relaxed. Her nightmare returned. Flames burst through the picture window, glass everywhere. Pain seared her body and blackness met her. Her breath lodged in her throat. She tossed and turned until the images left, replaced by gentle rolling waves, warm silky sand, and long conversations. She drifted off to sleep.

  Hunger must have awoken her, for she jerked to a near sitting position. Given she couldn’t go downstairs for a bite, she kicked off the sweat soaked covers and turned over. The house was too damned hot. Why did the FBI have to send her to Florida? She liked the cold, liked her old, leaky home near DC, where she slept with lots of comfortable blankets.

  Sweat beaded her forehead and arms. She repositioned the pillows but couldn’t get comfortable with her wrist shackled to the bed. Her fingers had fallen asleep. Damn Stone.

  She drifted off again until an acrid smell poked her subconscious. Her mind wouldn’t engage. At first she thought her recurring visions had returned, but nightmares didn’t come with the smell of sulfur burning her nostrils.

  Forcing herself awake, she sat up. The wall opposite her bed glowed yellow. What the…? Hallucinations must have taken over her mind. Her chest pounded.

  Heat and light blasted her. She blinked. What kind of dream was this?

  A flame stabbed through the wall and she came fully awake. Ohmigod. The house was on fire! She tried to scream, but her throat had closed up both from fear and from the smoke. Stone’s bedroom was behind hers, away from the fire. He wouldn’t realize they were in danger until her bedroom was destroyed.

  Her stomach revolted and bile raced up her throat. Had Stone set the fire? Or paid someone to come in while they were at the beach and set up the job? Could he really want to kill her? He’d been so nice, so gentle.

  Panic nearly locked her muscles as she rattled the chains against the bedpost. Swallowing a few times loosened her vocal chords. “Fire! Help me! Stone?”

  Light flickered outside her window. She yanked on her cuffs, needing to get free. The metal scraped her skin as she tugged and pulled. Refusing to give in, she bucked and kicked, anything to get his attention.

  Flames engulfed the far wall, heating the room to near impossible temperatures. She gagged and coughed. Why wasn’t the fire wall working? Or the smoke alarm?

  “Help me! Stone, help me!” She pounded on the wall behind the bed with her free hand.

  She placed her feet on the floor and pulled on the bed to get it closer to the door. The damn thing wouldn’t budge.

  Her throat swelled and her pulse raced as the flames danced across the room toward her. She only had minutes before the fire found the cotton bedspread and incinerated her.

  “Stooooooone.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Susan used all her strength to force air through her mouth. Her vision fogged. Oh, God. No one was going to save her.

  Chapter Five

  Susan couldn’t see and could barely breathe. Smoke clogged her lungs and heat burned her chest. She yanked hard on her hand, hoping the sweat would help free her wrist. Half her palm slipped out and adrenaline pumped through her veins.

  “Please God, save me.” She tugged again, trying to ignore the pain tearing her skin raw.

  Pounding feet raced down the hall, and she choked out a sob.

  Stone dashed into her bedroom. “Jesus Christ.”

  Her mouth too dry to talk, she merely moaned. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He’d come. He would save her. Or was he here to see his handiwork? She choked, not wanting to believe the worst of him.

  “Hold on.” His desperate-sounding cry sent hope flooding through her system.

  Through the gray smoke, she could make out Stone fumbling in his pocket. A second later he leaned over her with a key.

  He must be Superman, for the cuff attached to the bed was off in an instant and she was in his arms. Not wanting to lose hold, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sobs of relief tore through her chest. She tucked her chin to her neck and squeezed her eyes closed.

  Stone sped out of the bedroom, down the stairs and across the living room. She coughed as tears of joy mixed with the smoke.

  “Hold tight,” he said.

  He grabbed the car keys off the counter with one hand and raced out the front door.

  Once across the porch, she gulped down the cool, clean air.

  The second he hit grass, he set her down. Without saying a word, he ran to the car, opened the back door, and was back by her side seconds later.

  “Are you okay enough to walk?”

  Dazed, she looked up at him.

  He gently pinched her.

  “Ow.”

  “Good. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  * * * *

  Stone paced the hospital waiting room for a good three hours while the doctors treated Susan. The attending nurse wouldn’t tell him anything other than the physician would stop by when he was finished. He’d seen enough fire victims to know inhaling hot air could burn the esophagus lining, causing death. She wasn’t unconscious when he found her, but her unhealed wounds could get infected. Too bad Susan didn’t remember how much time she’d been in the burning room before he’d arrived.

  His chest tightened. He should have checked the batteries on the smoke alarm. He should have asked for a key to the neighboring town houses in case the furnished apartments were occupied by some squatter who’d dropped a lit cigarette, and he should have checked the area when they came back from the beach, but dammit, every time he turned around, someone was calling to tell him another juror had died or Susan was turning him on, twisting his mind.

  Excuses. Rationalizations. He hated them. Bottom line, he hadn’t been there for her.

  He’d failed her.

  Guilt and anger rippled through him. He should have been more cautious, should have checked up on her during the night. Maybe he had no right to be a bodyguard. Too late now. He’d not make the same mistake again.

  Stone glanced at the wall clock for the tenth time. The fire marshal said he’d have a preliminary report of what happened by tomorrow morning. Given the Feds hadn’t come up with even a fingerprint around any of the other crime scenes, he knew the local marshal wouldn’t discover any incriminating evidence at the town house.

  Frustration bit at him. Add in being scared for Susan, together with no sleep, and he was ready to punch the next person he saw.

  A large woman with a sleeping baby wrapped in a pink blanket stared hard at him as he strode back and forth across the small waiting room.

  “Sorry.” He took a seat and dropped his head in his hands.

  He was no fire expert, but houses did not spontaneously combust. Someone had found out where they were. Damn it. How? Peter couldn’t have given away their location because he didn’t know where they were. Or did he?

  His stomach grumbled. Anxiety always fueled his metabolism. He needed food. Susan probably did, too.

  “Mr. Watson?”

  Stone jerked up his head. “Yes?” He jumped out of his seat and closed the gap between him and Susan’s attending physician. “How is she?”

  “Stable, but I want to keep her here overnight for observation.”

  The muscles in his shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s no problem.” He doubted anyone would try to harm her here. “Is she in much pain?”

  “She didn’t sustain any burns, and the smoke damage seemed minimal, but the full extent of her condition isn’t easy to detect right away. Given her other injuries, she’s in more danger.”

  “I understand.”

  “We’ll need to get some information on Mrs.
Watson.”

  Mrs. Watson. He never thought he’d hear that name, even if it wasn’t real. When he’d raced in with Susan in his arms, he was aware that hospital records could be hacked into, and his name was the first that came to mind.

  He didn’t want anyone to trace credit card records to find her location. “I’m afraid all of our insurance information and other paperwork burned down with the town house. Do you guys take cash?”

  The doctor smiled. “Never a problem.”

  Perfect. He’d stop at an ATM and withdraw the money. Good thing the FBI had high withdrawal limits for this type of situation.

  Stone scrubbed a hand over his jaw and studied the young doctor. He showed his badge, but the doctor’s face remained blank.

  “I’m afraid my wife is part of an ongoing investigation. No information should be released on her condition.” He paused to give the doctor time to absorb the information. “To anyone.”

  “Of course. Whatever you need, Agent Watson. We have a police officer on staff who can stand guard outside her room if you wish.”

  Stone nodded and returned his badge to his pocket. “I intend to stay by her side also. I’d appreciate if only medical personnel are allowed in. With ID.” While he figured a local cop wouldn’t be in cahoots with the killer, he wanted to stay in charge.

  “I’ll inform the hospital.”

  * * * *

  When Susan opened her eyes, it was déjà vu all over again. She was in a hospital bed with Stone by her side, only this time her protector looked a little worse for wear. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her. The doctor who checked her over said she hadn’t sustained any burns and that she was lucky Stone had come in when he had.

  Amen.

  He leaned over her and smiled. “Welcome to the world of the living.”

  Despite the sooty streaks painted across his cheek, he was a handsome man. She, however, was a whole different story. Her hand flew to her hair to pat down the tangled, sweaty mess. She inhaled, and the strong smoky scent assaulted her nostrils. How could anyone stand to be near her?

  “I would give anything for a long, relaxing shower right now.” Stone needed one, too. The instant pleasantly intense image of them sharing the small, confining space shocked her. Getting sidetracked by Stone wouldn’t be good.