Line of Fire (Southern Heat Book 5) Read online

  Shane.

  If there’s one thing this whole situation was making damn clear, it was that she cared for him far more than she had let herself admit. Charlie dug her heels into the hill and managed to get purchase, pushing upward again. Tomorrow morning, when whatever the hell this was would be all over, she was going to tell him she’d decided to stop being an ass. Shane would be all for giving things a go between them, that much she was pretty sure of after the last week, and she was done resisting. If just the mention of him being hurt on a call was enough to have her climbing a mountain in the dark, then even she had to admit she was done for. Now she just had to let Shane know.

  Her feet slipped on the earth again, and Charlie bent forward, gripping at the sparse grass along the hill to keep her grip. Her foot slipped again and a quiet gasp escaped her as she dug her toes in. Was she stuck on a bramble or something? She tugged her foot forward, and then her blood froze. A hand wrapped around her ankle and tugged. Hard.

  Charlie lost her footing entirely and fell forward, yelping when her forehead came into contact with something hard—much harder than just the ground. There must have been a rock lying right where she fell. The impact brought tears to her eyes, and she kicked backward, desperately trying to dislodge the hand still gripping her. Confusion swam in her mind. Was there a victim from the fire, desperately looking for help and who had found her nearby? A snort escaped her as she dismissed the idea, muffling itself when her brain caught up with the reality of the situation. Someone had a hold on her, and they were pulling her so hard she fell.

  She kicked outward again. Now hands grabbed at her waist, pulling her entirely off balance. Her face met the earth again as the entire world tipped over, arms and legs tumbling as she and whoever had tried to take her down tumbled back down to the road. She landed on her back, and before she regained her breath enough to yell for help, a heavy weight settled over her ribcage, blocking any attempt at a deep breath. The air all but knocked from her lungs, all she could manage was a whimper.

  Hands came at her from out of the darkness, and Charlie brought her hands up to her head, elbows bent, trying to absorb the worst of the blows. Her head was still ringing from whatever the hell she’d hit on her way down, and her eyes refused to focus in the dim light. She squinted, but all she could see was another fist coming at her, and she rolled her head to the side. Her assailant’s hand grazed past her ear and her vision wobbled again—from the movement or the new impact, she couldn’t tell, but if she didn’t get her feet under her and get the hell up soon, she wouldn’t be telling Shane anything. Her breath burst in and out of her and she sucked in a ragged gasp, pushing out at the heavy weight sitting astride her as she tried to wriggle free, to get any leverage. Something!

  Strong hands gripped at her shoulders, holding her still. Her mind rammed at her to fight back, to push, move, anything—but Charlie couldn’t move. Her limbs shook with exhaustion, but she couldn’t tear her eyes off the sight that was finally visible through a small dash of moonlight. Most of the face of the man on top of her was in shadow, and her heart sank when the dim light revealed the rest to be covered by a ski mask. But those eyes . . . the eyes visible through a gap in the mask felt like they were burning directly down to her soul. They shone with malice as the man shifted his weight, leaning forward and wrapping one hand around her neck.

  Charlie forced herself to not panic. There was no way she was getting the man off her. He was just too damn heavy. If she didn’t think of something, then the hand around her neck would tighten until her air cut off entirely. In desperation, she pushed out again at the ground. This time, her feet moved! The shift in the weight holding her down had enabled her to bend her legs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough that she could wedge her heels into the dirt and shove. The movement jerked her back, only a few inches, but enough to surprise her attacker. Fear was replaced with grim satisfaction, and she did it again, this time dislodging the weight enough that she could move her arm. The grip on her throat tightened, but the man couldn’t hold on to her throat and also stop both her arms from moving. Her hand flew out, madly scrabbling along the ground, looking for a rock, a branch, anything she could use. When her hand closed around cold, patterned metal, she could have wept.

  Wrapping her hand tightly around the metal handle, Charlie gripped as hard as she could and then swung the flashlight up. Her arm swung widely in a large arc, but this time the darkness was on her side. The first thing her attacker knew of her find was when it impacted the side of his head with an extremely satisfying thunk.

  The hand loosened around her neck as he made a grab for the flashlight, and Charlie wasted no time. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she flattened her feet out, locked her ankles, and then shoved again, swinging with the flashlight again. This time, with the movement, the heavy metal met a large bulk of flesh. An enraged growl came from above her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Again she hit out with the metal handle, and again, until instead of her protecting her head, the tables were turned, and her attacker’s hands flew to his face as he rolled away from her to stop the blows.

  Charlie scrambled to her feet, almost slipping with her refusal to let go of the light and use her hands to push upward. As she hesitated, fingers grazed her wrist. She flung the flashlight back, hard, letting go of the handle as she felt it make contact and then she ran like the dogs of hell were at her heels. She made it back to her car, slamming the door shut and locking it. That wouldn’t stop anyone, though, especially if the fucker managed to find her flashlight and turn it against her. Why the hell had she let it go?

  Because you need your hands, Dumbass. Now move!

  Her hand shook as she fished in her jacket pockets for her keys, realizing at the last minute that they might not be in there anymore. She nearly sobbed with relief when her fingers brushed the ridged metal. She yanked them out and fumbled for the large flat end of her car key, all the while keeping her eyes looking dead ahead for any sign of her attacker launching out through the darkness.

  She found the key in what was probably seconds, but felt like years, and this time, real tears coursed down her face as she turned the engine over and listened to its beautiful hum . . . for about three seconds, before she slammed the car into reverse and swung it around. She only barely paid attention to her surroundings, her vision still fuzzy. Everything felt a little left of center, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from changing into gear and stomping on the accelerator, jerking the car forward.

  The world swam double in front of her eyes, but she could see clearly enough to avoid hitting any trees that lined the side of the road. They didn’t move. If her attacker moved in front of the car suddenly, well, she wasn’t sure she cared very much right now if she hit him.

  It wasn’t until she reached the first main road and saw the street lights and other cars that her heart stopped pounding and her breath stopped sawing in and out in short gasps. Her skin was clammy and the dizziness returned. The adrenaline rush faded out as quickly as it had begun, and Charlie’s stomach lurched. She pushed at the door, barely opening it in time before she vomited on the side of the road.

  Finally, the jerking of her stomach and her lungs stopped long enough for her to catch her breath. Even still half panicking, she could recognize the symptoms of shock, plus she was sure she should be concerned about the pounding in her head and the trail of blood running down her left cheek. Somehow, though, all she could do was think about being somewhere warm, and wrapped up in Shane’s arms. She dug around inside the car, found her phone, and clumsily pressed at the screen. Calling 911 would have been the sensible choice, but right now she wanted a direct line to someone she knew was safe. Someone who could protect her from her attacker without questions and would find out where Shane really was, immediately. She pressed the button from her speed dial menu and put the phone to her ear.

  “Detective Scott Wilder.”

  “Scott? It’s Charlie. I need your help.”

  1
6

  Shane

  Shane looked up from his ER bed when he heard voices he recognized coming toward him. Charlie. His heart warmed at the sound of her voice. He’d be cranky at whichever one of the guys had woken her up in the middle of the night, but he couldn’t be too mad. He’d been stuck in this damn room for hours. His shoulder throbbed like a bitch, and he was still pissed as hell at himself for getting into the situation in the first place. A friendly face would be welcome. Plus, maybe they’d finally let him out of this joint if he was with someone who was willing to keep an eye on him. Charlie would be mad at him, too, but she’d probably also let him go home with her.

  He smiled despite the pain. Going home with Charlie was the best idea he’d had all night. Just the feel of her lying next to him in bed would have him back to tiptop shape in no time. His shoulder wasn’t dislocated, thank God, but the doctor had still wrapped it and put his arm in a sling, telling him to rest it completely for a couple of days and then light duties only for two weeks. Shane figured he would manage two days—three tops—before he was itching to get back on the truck. Having Charlie right there beside him, until shift started again at least, would make that time all the more pleasant.

  He frowned when the curtain to his cubicle was pushed aside and Scott Wilder entered alone. What was going on? “Dude. This was an accident. Do we really need to talk about it?”

  Scott sat on the end of the bed, his eyebrows drawing together. He glanced at the hall and then back to Shane. “I’m not here about the fire, Shane.”

  Shane’s eyes narrowed and he twisted in the bed, trying to see around him. “Then why are you here? I heard Charlie’s voice. Where is she?”

  “She’s just outside.” Scott’s voice was low. “But I wanted to talk to you first.”

  The tone in his voice made Shane’s gut drop right to the floor. “Scott? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ll cut right to it, if you promise not to lose your shit in the middle of the ER.”

  Shane managed a curt nod, but his fingers curled into fists. His injured shoulder screamed in protest, but he barely noticed. “What happened?”

  “Charlie received a text message a few hours ago that you were injured in a fire.”

  He squinted, confused. “I was. I don’t visit ERs for fun.”

  “The address she was given was out past the highway, off Meadow Lane.”

  Shane’s entire body tensed and his mouth twisted with the pain. He’d refused the heavy narcotics from the nurses earlier, and he’d never been so glad to have his wits about him as he was now. “Scott. What. The. Hell. Happened?”

  “Someone grabbed her as she was looking around for you guys. She managed to escape, but she’s got a concussion, bruising, and likely a twisted ankle. She called me direct as soon as she got free, and I picked her up and brought her in to the ER.”

  Fuck losing his shit. He was way past that already at the first words out of Scott’s mouth. Shane swung his legs out, pushing up from the bed, the damn hospital gown they’d dressed him in gaping open. He didn’t give a fuck. “Where is she?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Charlie’s voice was quiet, but Shane’s eyes still widened at the sight of her, standing like a scared, timid rabbit at the entrance to his ER room. One side of her face was almost purple from bruising, a bandage covering what had to be a long cut to her forehead. Her hair hung lank around her tear-stained face and she hung on to the edge of the curtain like she was relying on it to stay upright. Fuck.

  Shane took a step forward, but Scott nailed him with a “sit the hell down” glare and then hustled over to help Charlie into the space. He leaned her against the bed while Scott dragged over a chair and then helped Charlie lower into it. She moved slowly and deliberately, as if there were more bruises covering her in places Shane couldn’t see.

  Charlie reached over and took his hand. All he wanted to do was drag her into his arms and hold her until he was sure she was okay, but he couldn’t even manage that with his injured shoulder. He’d had to rely on Scott to do what should have been his job. It all should have been his job. Protecting her. He squeezed her hand, but in his mind all he could see was red. If he hadn’t been stupid enough to get hurt on the job, then she wouldn’t have even been out there.

  “It’s not your fault, Shane,” Charlie said, her voice a little stronger. “Whoever it is just used you as an excuse. There were any number of ways they could have gotten me out there.”

  She knew him so well it was scary. He looked over at her, his eyes narrowing as his gaze swept along her face and then the rest of her body. “Where are you injured?”

  She shrugged, wincing. God, they made a pair. “Concussion, cut that needed stitches, a bit of shock at the scene that seems to be subsiding now Scott brought me here.” A small smile brushed her mouth, and Shane couldn’t help but smile back. He sent a small prayer of thanks up that she hadn’t been injured worse. “How about you?” she asked.

  “Shoulder sprain. Nothing to worry about. Who was it?”

  She frowned. “Who was it that grabbed me? I couldn’t see his face. He had it covered. His eyes, though . . .” A shiver ran through her. Scott grabbed the blanket off the end of Shane’s bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Shane would bet money the shock wasn’t fully resolved. As soon as he made sure she was medically cleared, he’d have to get Scott to get her something warm to drink to fight away any lingering shivers.

  Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself upright in the bed again and took both her hands in his. “What about his eyes, Gorgeous?”

  She closed hers, thinking back. When Charlie’s eyes opened, Shane was sucked deep into the haunted look. It was as if she were still back there in the dark, fighting for her life. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to forgive himself for not being there. “His eyes,” she said, holding his gaze. “His eyes were evil. And familiar.” Charlie turned to Scott. “It was Langley. It had to be.”

  Shane’s grip tightened on her hands and he forced himself to relax so he didn’t hurt her further. There was someone else, someone who was worthy of that hurt. Herman Langley. Shane was going to kill him.

  17

  Shane

  Shane shuffled around Charlie in the kitchen, carrying the juice one-handed and then returning for the glasses. Each time he passed her, as he had since they’d left the hospital, his gaze passed quickly over her body, assessing her. Was she standing steadily? Were her pupils tracking and with no dilation? He knew she’d vomited once before Scott had brought her into the ER, but that could have equally been from the shock as the head injury. Both had the potential to go bad very quickly, if he didn’t keep a close eye on her.

  When they’d first gotten home, Charlie had been fussing about him, even trying to carry his stuff in from the car. Shane had put a stop to that before she’d even taken one step toward the apartment. He might be winged, but he was otherwise okay. She had a head injury, for fuck’s sake. He’d insisted that they both come back to her place, at least for the night. Thankfully, she didn’t question it. He wasn’t telling her about the call-out to his apartment. Not yet. He trusted the guys to take care of his place. One of them would have called already if there was something he needed to know urgently. Taking care of Charlie was more important than finding out what was up at his apartment.

  She’d been walking and talking normally when they’d left the hospital, and even cracked a smile at his questioning before he’d let her close her eyes and go to sleep. Okay, so maybe asking her who the last five presidents had been and what she’d had for dinner last week had been a little overkill, but there was no way he was leaving anything to chance. Not after tonight.

  Once he’d finally shut up and stopped badgering her, Charlie had fallen quickly asleep. Shane had set an alarm to wake up in an hour and closed his eyes. He needn’t have bothered. Instead, he spent the entire next hour lying awake and watching Charlie’s deep, even breaths move her chest up and down. When the alarm had
beeped, he’d nudged her and said hi. She’d mumbled something that sounded like “Go away, you idiot,” and then rolled over. Then he’d spent the next hour doing that all over again, and the next. He’d stopped waking her after hour three, when it turned out she was more likely to murder him if he woke her again than she was to slip into a coma in her sleep, but still he couldn’t drag his eyes away. All his training told him otherwise, but when it was the person you loved lying there injured, none of that mattered at all. Normally, Shane was proud of his ability to keep his cool, even when one of the firefighters in his squad was injured. That was his job, and he did it well. But when it was Charlie? His pulse had gone into overdrive from the moment she’d walked into his hospital room, probably even before that, when he’d heard her voice, and it was yet to fully calm down. Even now, as he stepped past her in the kitchen, his pulse jerked and his heart hurt a little more at the sight of the bruising on her face.

  His hand finally free, he moved next to Charlie, gently pushing her back from the microwave so she was facing him. He hadn’t been able to manage anything much more than cereal with one hand, and there was no way Charlie was doing anything other than letting him take care of her, and so frozen breakfast burritos it was. He’d attempted to argue against her even doing that, but at the look on Charlie’s face when she’d suggested he thought she wasn’t capable of standing there and pressing a few buttons, Shane had wisely decided to stop talking, so that he and his balls would survive the morning.

  At least the burritos were homemade, ones that he’d cooked earlier and stashed in the freezer for when he was running late for shift, and so they were fairly healthy. Though now that he’d gotten through the night without any incidents, fading adrenaline was mixing with fatigue, and he’d eat just about anything. He was pleased to be able to offer Charlie something a little better than frozen fast food, though.