Dangerous Melody (20 page)

Tate jerked toward the sharp cry of pain. Through the smoke he could make out Eugene flapping his burning sleeve, fanning the flames with his panic.

Bittman followed him
helplessly. “Peter, listen to me, listen to me!” he shouted louder and louder until he was hollering, but his brother was so caught up in the fear he did not or could not hear him.

Tate moved as quickly as he could, his leg nearly folding underneath him. He pushed by Bittman and knocked Eugene to the floor, hearing the air forced from Eugene’s lungs by the impact.

When they hit the floor,
Tate began rolling Eugene back and forth. Mercifully the panic seemed to be knocked out of Eugene along with the impact, and he lay relatively passively while Tate smothered the flames. When he was satisfied the fabric was no longer burning, he got up and helped Eugene to a sitting position. Maria came closer, speaking soothingly.

Bittman pushed them both aside. “Get away. He’s my brother.
I will take care of him.”

Bittman sat carefully on the floor, knees folded underneath him, and put a tentative hand on Eugene’s back. “When we get out of here, things will change, Peter. You will come back to live with me, where you belong. You will have anything you want.”

Eugene’s lips were tight with the pain from his burned arm. “I want my violin,” he sobbed. “My violin.”

Bittman’s
eyes glittered, hard and cold. “You will have it. I promise.”

Tate did not have time to puzzle over Bittman’s unfounded confidence. He’d managed to knock only four bricks loose, and he’d need to push out twice that many to make the hole large enough for them to crawl through. The jail was now alive with smoke and the ominous hiss and crack of the fire on the roof. He ducked down to avoid
breathing in the black smoke and returned to the corner. Stephanie joined him, and they resumed their tag team effort. She was exhausted, he could tell by the droop of her head, but she worked as hard as humanly possible to shove out a brick, which took another one with it.

She grinned and gave him a double thumbs-up.

Suddenly the task seemed doable, fueled by the light in her eyes and
the triumphant smile on her face. It had always been that way, he thought. With Stephanie in his life, he had the courage and optimism that eluded him in the dark days they’d been apart.

But not completely, he realized as he kicked out at the bricks. In the horrifying aftermath of his father’s death, he’d summoned strength to beat back the addiction that clung to him like a shadow.

It was God-given strength; it could be nothing else. He’d been blessed with an extraordinary woman to love, and even in the darkest moments of despair he had the memory of that love to remind him he had been worth something—worth loving, worth grieving for, as he knew Stephanie had done.

His shame at his past began to fall away, like the flakes of mortar that drifted through the smoky air.
It was true, he had been neither the man nor the brother he should have been, but he could push by that, kick away at the wall of sin and glimpse the brilliant future that lay on the other side.

He felt a surge of energy ripple through his body, and he hammered his boot against the wall, unaware that Eugene, Bittman and Maria had joined them until Maria cried out as brick number seven fell
away.

Stephanie put her hand on Tate’s shoulder, and he clasped it there for a moment, drawing new strength from her touch.

“I’ll finish,” Stephanie said. “You need to rest.”

He looked at her, so tired, her face streaked with soot and more beautiful to him than raindrops on roses. This was a woman who taught him that he was worthy of loving. “No, Steph,” he said quietly. “I’m going
to finish this.”

With his leg screaming in pain, he began anew until finally, with torturous slowness, another brick fell and two more besides. The hole would be big enough, barely.

Bittman made for it, pulling his brother behind, but Tate blocked them. “The women go first.”

Bittman’s lip curled as he considered. For a moment, Tate thought he would need to physically restrain Bittman
and his brother, but suddenly he stepped back. “As you wish,” he said, something in his tone causing alarm bells to jingle in the back of Tate’s mind.

As Maria squeezed through, a burning beam fell through into the center of the space with a whoosh that catapulted burning embers in a whirlwind around them.

“Go now!” Tate shouted over the rising sound of burning wood. He grabbed Stephanie’s
shoulders and shoved her into the hole. He watched in relief as she wriggled through. It took coaxing from the women outside and the men inside to convince Eugene to shimmy through, scraping his burned shoulder as he did so.

Maria crooned to him the whole time, soft words of comfort, until he was gone.

Then Tate was alone with Bittman, flames licking the walls around them.

“Last
men standing,” Bittman said. “Ironic.”

“Get going.” A spurt of flame from above their heads distracted him just long enough. Bittman pulled a knife from his coat pocket and plunged it into Tate’s side.

The shock was so intense that he stood there for a moment, just long enough to see the triumph on Bittman’s face.

“Last man standing,” he purred.

Tate pulled the knife out and
fell forward, watching Bittman vanish through the broken wall of bricks.

TWENTY-ONE

S
tephanie helped Maria try to soothe Eugene, but all the while she eyed the gap. Bittman emerged, as calm as if he’d just left a board meeting. The moments ticked by, and there was no sign of Tate. Flames were now dancing madly across the roof as she ran back to the hole, Maria right behind her.

“Tate,” she yelled into the smoking jail. “Where are you?”

There
was no answer, and she pushed her head and shoulders back in the gap. “Tate.” Her heart convulsed as she saw him there, lying on the floor, blood staining his shirt.

“Get out,” he said in a voice so soft, she almost didn’t hear it above the flames.

She willed her voice to stay steady. “I’m coming in to get you.”

“No,” he said louder. “You need to get out. Keep Maria safe, and call
the cops. The ceiling’s going to go. Steph, I...”

Tate’s words were drowned out by a massive boom. She felt Maria yank on her shoulder, and she was drawn backward as the ceiling collapsed, forcing the brick wall to buckle.

“Tate!” she screamed. Even before the ground stopped rumbling, she was scrambling back toward him. Through a cloud of choking debris, she could just make out that
the bricks had compacted, covering over the hard-won hole. Now the building was an impenetrable six-foot-wall of brick, crowned by a burning roof. She ran around it, desperately looking for a gap, a small opening that would allow her to get in, but she found nothing.

Maria pressed her hands to her mouth, her eyes round with horror. “Oh, Steph,” she whispered.

Stephanie’s body went cold
even as her brain searched for options.

The fight wasn’t over, it couldn’t be. An idea shot through her brain.

She grabbed Maria’s wrists. “Use the radio and call the police.”

“What are you going to do?” she heard Maria call as she sprinted madly down the road.

What was she doing? The most insane thing she could think of, but it was the only way that might save Tate. She prayed
as she tore along, stumbling and sliding on loose gravel, slapping branches out of her way.
Let him hold on, Lord.

She’d found her share of priceless items, paintings and coins, pottery and gems, but never had she felt the excruciating urgency that coursed through her body. Inside that burning jail, buried under filth and ashes, was the greatest treasure she’d been blessed to possess, damaged
though it was.

Nothing from the past mattered anymore. Not one moment of it.

Panting, sweat running down her face, she made it to the car, snatching the keys from her pocket with trembling hands.

In a moment, she’d gunned the engine and turned the vehicle back up the slope, bouncing over ruts, rocks pinging against the undercarriage.

Hold on, Tate. Hold on.
Her mind screamed
as she pushed the car faster, the tires spinning along the trail. Past the ruined houses and the tower. She could see the black smoke rising in a roiling mass just over the next hill.

The rear tire exploded, and the car skidded to one side. Stephanie fought to keep control. Now wobbling madly, the vehicle was a hundred yards from the jail. She shot past it and slammed on the brakes, the rear
end skidding until the car was once again facing the jail.

It was almost concealed under a blanket of smoke, orange flames darting through gaps in the broken bricks. She aimed the car directly at the far side of the jail, farthest away from the spot she knew Tate had fallen.

With a last prayer, body prickled in goose bumps, she pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The car leaped forward,
thunking on the ruined tire. Faster and faster it accelerated, until the scenery flew by in a blur.

The gap closed quickly—fifteen feet, then twelve, six, four, three.

Stephanie closed her eyes just before the car crashed into the wall of bricks.

* * *

Tate watched the smoke billow in graceful arcs around him. It would kill him before the flames, he knew. At least the others
had made it out. Stephanie would take care of Maria, and keep her safe from Bittman.

It was the one thing that pricked at his mind. Bittman had made it out unscathed. He would no doubt spend the rest of his life tracking down Ricardo, and Tate knew he would probably win in the end. He’d have his violin and his vengeance.

But he wouldn’t have Stephanie. He would not possess the one thing
he craved the most.

He pictured her smile again, giving him the double thumbs-up, eyes dancing with triumph.

A troubling fact intruded. Bittman still had Stephanie’s father, and as long as he did, he’d have his hooks into her.

Pain rippled through his leg and the wound in his side. A fit of coughing escalated the agony, and he closed his eyes against it. Sparks rained down on him,
and he became aware of an out-of-place sound—the sound of an approaching engine.

Maybe it was Sartori.

He felt a surge of satisfaction. She had probably missed the chance to capture Bittman, but knowing help was there for Stephanie and Maria eased his mind. The sound grew louder, but his coughing drowned it out.

A split second later, there was a grinding crash and the far wall of
the jail exploded, sending bricks flying like cement missiles through the air. He covered his head, unable to fathom a reason for the implosion until he looked up again. There was the wrecked rental car, the front end jacked up on a pile of debris. The door opened, and Stephanie spilled out.

He was imagining it, the carbon monoxide confusing his mind.

She scrambled over the bricks, heedless
of the smoke, and knelt next to him.

“Tate?” she whispered, face tight with fear.

“Steph, did you just drive the car through the wall?”

She nodded as she hooked her hands under his arms to help him rise. “You always said if there wasn’t a door, I’d make a window.”

In spite of the pain in his side, he laughed.

They emerged in the sunlight to see Sartori arrive with Luca
in the front seat. Sartori took one look at them and grabbed the first-aid kit. Luca helped Stephanie ease Tate on a rock while Sartori pressed a section of gauze to the wound in his side as Stephanie told them the details.

“It’s only a scratch,” Tate said.

“More like a dent,” Sartori countered, “but I think you’ll live. Paramedics are on their way.”

Luca wrapped Stephanie in his
arms and kissed the top of her head as she told him about Bittman and Ricardo and Eugene’s true identity.

Maria ran up and hugged her brother, tears streaming down her face.

“Tate, I was so scared,” she sobbed. He rubbed a hand on her back.

“It’s okay.”

She drew back abruptly. “You’re bleeding.”

“Bittman decided to leave me with a final souvenir. He missed any vital organs,
I think, because I’m still alive. He escaped with Eugene.”

Sartori nodded, a look of satisfaction transforming her face. She jerked a thumb at the backseat of her police car. “Not exactly.”

Stephanie jerked in amazement. Bittman sat in stony silence, staring out the window of Sartori’s car. Bear stood outside the door, ears pricked and body on full alert.

“I told you Bear was effective,”
Sartori said. The dog twitched at his name but did not budge from his post near Bittman. “We saw him making his way back down to the main road, and Bear was obliging enough to catch him. We had plenty of grounds to arrest him because your father was quite happy to fill us in on his abduction by Mr. Bittman.”

Stephanie gasped. “Dad? You found him?”

Luca beamed. “Tuney did, actually. He
wasn’t about to give up, just like he said. Dad’s perfectly fine, except he’s lost a few pounds and he’s got a gash to the head. Tuney was trying to talk him out of storming here immediately to help.”

Tears flowed down Stephanie’s face, but she wiped them away and turned fearful eyes to Luca. “Victor?” she whispered.

“He’s okay. He beat the infection, and he’s fully conscious. As soon
as I saw him, I turned right around to come back here.”

Stephanie felt her knees crumple under her, and both Tate and Luca helped her to sit on the rock next to Tate. Her nerves were firing so many emotions at once, she was not sure which to feel first. Victor and her father were okay. The joy threatened to overwhelm her.

Luca looked solemnly at Tate. “You saved my sister, and you almost
died in the process. Thank you.”

Tate nodded.

Luca hesitated. “I’ve misjudged you.”

“I gave you good reason.” Tate lifted his chin, his face bruised and battered. “I’m clean. I want you to know that. I’ve been clean for a year, and I’m going to stay that way.”

Luca cocked his head. “I believe you mean that.” Slowly he extended a hand. “Let’s make a fresh start then.”

Tate and Luca shook hands. Stephanie saw the look pass between them, a look of trust and respect. Her heart skipped a beat.

Luca chuckled. “You know, I can’t believe we actually did it. We found the violin and Bittman’s supposedly dead brother. Incredible.”

Stephanie saw no sign of him. “Where is Eugene?”

“Sartori had another officer transport him to the hospital.”

“What will
happen to him?”

“We’ll see that he gets the help he needs since big brother will be in jail,” Sartori said. “Long list of complaints, abduction, your brother’s accident, Devlin’s death.”

“And my father’s murder,” Tate cut in.

Sartori’s eyebrows nearly vanished into her hairline. “I didn’t know about that one. We’ll have to get those details. I got word that they’ve stopped Ricardo
Williams at the airport, so eventually Eugene, or Peter rather, may get his violin back.”

An ambulance arrived, and the paramedics began to check over Maria and Tate. Luca used Sartori’s satellite phone to call the hospital and fill in Victor and their father on the situation. Stephanie found herself drawn to the police car, to the rigid figure sitting in the back. She did not know why she
wanted to see him—maybe to convince herself that he really was no longer a threat to herself and the people she loved.

Sartori saw her approach and called Bear away from the car.

Bittman turned to look at her, his gaze an odd mixture of regret and desire. “I could have given you anything you wanted.”

Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need.
She needed a partner, a soul mate,
a strong man who looked to God in the darkest of times. A man who drove a beat-up truck and matched her in both stubbornness and determination. Her throat thickened. A man who had nearly exchanged his life for hers. But too much had driven a wedge between them, including the man who sat there now, staring at her imperiously as though his hands were not in cuffs. Her eyes turned toward Tate.

“You made the wrong choice,” Bittman said, following her gaze.

Yes, I did.
Tate’s eyes sought hers, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if one more choice could change everything. Then he lowered his head and looked away.

She gave Bittman one final glance. “I don’t belong to you. I never did, and I never will.”

She returned to her brother, who was still talking on the phone.
Maria sat nearby, a blood pressure cuff on her arm. She beamed a smile at Stephanie.

“The baby is okay. They heard the heartbeat.”

Stephanie smiled. Maria’s love would be enough for her unborn child. “I’m so glad, Maria.”

Another paramedic worked on Tate and gave her a nod. “We’ll transport him to the hospital.”

“I don’t need to go,” Tate said, his chin set stubbornly. “It’s
just a scratch.”

Stephanie folded her arms. “But you’re going anyway because Baby Fuego is going to need his or her uncle around for a long time.”

Tate grumbled and then cracked a smile. “Uncle Tate. Has a nice ring to it.” He hesitated. “Are you okay? That was some crash.”

She flushed at the way his eyes roved her face. “Perfectly fine.”

Luca clicked off the phone with a grin.
“When I told him how things worked out here, Victor let out such a whoop the nurse dropped her medicine tray. I believe his exact words were, ‘we’ve got a wedding to plan.’”

Sartori called Luca over, and he clapped Tate on the back and gave Stephanie a kiss.

Stephanie couldn’t help but smile. “A happy ending.”

Tate was silent, staring off at the distant hills.

“Anyway, thank
you, Tate.” The words seemed woefully inadequate. “I didn’t deserve your help.” She felt the tears sting her eyes. “You put yourself on the line for my father, after Bittman took away yours.”

He still kept his face turned away, and she knew that he thought it, too:
if you had only listened to me...believed in me...

“I didn’t do any of this for your father,” he said quietly.

She
looked at Maria, resting in the shelter of a tree while the paramedics finished their work. He’d done it for Maria, to make up for his failure with her. Family ties really were the strongest. He loved his sister, she loved her brothers, and Bittman, perhaps as much as he was capable of it, loved Peter.

Luca’s laughter caught her attention. Soon she would be home, back in San Francisco, working
with her brothers again.

And Tate would be living his own life, as far away from her as two hearts could be.

She felt a stab of pain.

“I did it,” Tate said, looking at her now, “for you.”

Her stomach flipped as she looked into his clear gray eyes.

“I did it because I love you. In my mind, you are my perfect match.”

She stared, not believing what was coming from his
mouth. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, abruptly getting to his feet with a wince of pain.

“Sit down. You’ve been hurt.”

“Nope. Gotta do this standing up.”

Something in his face made her heart skip a beat. “Do what?”

“Your brother’s finally going to have his happy ending with Brooke. Let’s make it two.”

“What do you mean?”

“A double wedding.
Victor and Brooke...and you and me.”

Stephanie’s mouth fell open. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Tate pulled her into the circle of his arms.

“We tried and things fell apart. I...I didn’t want to forgive you.”