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  Steve closed his eyes again, trying to breathe easy. He wondered about Victoria and Beverly. He hoped they were better off than he was.

  “Water,” he croaked. Even with the I.V. tube in his arm, he still felt thirsty.

  The nurse refilled his glass. Steve drank and then dropped his head back to the pillow.

  He needed to see Victoria and make sure she was all right. His chest ached with loving thoughts of her and worries for her safety.

  And Beverly. How could someone have hurt that sweet, harmless woman?

  His blood pressure surged and his pulse raced. The heart monitor clipped to his finger sent blips to the screen with the uptake. He gripped his free hand into a fist. He wanted to beat the crap out of somebody.

  The nurse checked his vitals on the monitor and took his temperature.

  Why the hell was he lying here in a bed when Victoria needed him?

  The light rapping against the doorjamb and the sound of footfalls across the room announced another arrival. Steve opened his eyes just as the nurse said, “Good morning, doctor.”

  Jimmy Van Orr stood over Steve’s bed scanning his medical chart on a handheld computer screen. His expression remained impassive as he read the diagnosis aloud. “Smoke inhalation, second-degree burns, lacerations, abrasions, contusions, exhaustion.” Jimmy looked up and raised his brow. “How you feeling?”

  Steve coughed. His throat ached. If he could kill Jimmy Van Orr right now, he would.

  He crooked his finger to bring Jimmy closer. “Arrgh.”

  Jimmy leaned over the bed. “What are you trying to say?”

  Steve wrapped the fingers of his unimpeded hand inside the collar of Jimmy’s shirt and twisted. It took more effort to speak than he had energy, but he forced the words all the way from his diaphragm to his tongue while he held Jimmy in a chokehold. He hissed, “I know…you’re behind what happened.”

  Jimmy wrenched himself free and took a step back. His face had gone paper white.

  The nurse stopped bustling around the room and glanced uncertainly from one man to the other. “Should I call security, Dr. Van Orr?”

  Jimmy shook his head without looking at her. “No, you go on, Iris. Thanks. We’re fine.”

  The nurse shot an uneasy glance in Steve’s direction, but moved through the room and out the door.

  Jimmy went on the offensive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carlson, but you always did like to shoot your mouth off. If you’d been as good at making something of yourself as you were partying and womanizing, you’d be working here instead of waiting for the doctor you should have been.”

  Steve’s adrenaline pumped enough energy into him to continue doing battle. “That’s what this is about?” His voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a gravel pit, but he took another sip of water and tried again. “You’re mad about…partnership?”

  Jimmy’s expression turned hard. “You ruined our plans. I was counting on you. Did you really think I’d help you make money from my father’s estate and reward your stupidity?”

  Steve furrowed his singed brows and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. “Those are irreplaceable antiques. You never did appreciate what you had, you son of a bitch.” He coughed and brought his hand to his mouth and grunted at the irony of their situation. “I thought you were still mad at me about Layla.”

  Jimmy’s mouth had formed a hard line and his fingers tightened on the chart. “I hadn’t forgotten, but I’m over Layla. Sure, I was furious that she wanted you back. It stuck in my craw that she’d run off with you—a man washing out of medical school.”

  Jimmy continued speaking through tight jaws. His temple pulsed. “She chose the second string. And you chose a second-rate life.” His glare became an accusation. “You gave up everything, including our friendship, in a single day.”

  Steve lifted his head. “I’ve never been second string, you arrogant bastard.” He breathed in more oxygen. “Layla was just trying to get your attention. That’s hard to see when your head is up your ass. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

  Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not true.”

  “Look at the way you treated Victoria.” Steve coughed and his throat surged with fresh pain. “She had the best of intentions. Because of you, it was all for nothing. Everything is gone.”

  Steve gulped another dose of water and licked his cracked lips. Weariness washed over him. He’d almost run out of energy, but forced himself to finish what he’d started. “You did this to get back at us. Somehow, you’re involved. I know it.”

  He stared Jimmy down one last time. “I’ll make sure you pay for what’s been lost.” Exhausted now, he collapsed against his pillow, but kept his eyes trained on his former friend.

  Jimmy seemed to deflate before Steve’s eyes. He rubbed his forehead. The subtle admission was like a balm to Steve’s injuries. He’d make sure Jimmy got what was coming to him. In the meantime, he had more important things on his mind, like the women he cared about. “Is Victoria okay?”

  Jimmy nodded. “Not as okay as you are, but she’ll make it.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “You will. Sleep. You’ll see her soon.”

  “Beverly?”

  “Concussion. Head injury. Someone beat her before the fire started.” Jimmy flinched and looked away.

  After a few seconds, Jimmy continued. “She has smoke inhalation damage, like you. A few burns, deep abrasions, an assortment of minor injuries. She’ll be all right. She just needs rest and special care.”

  Steve tried to crawl out of bed, but it might have been a climb up Mt. Everest for the effort it cost him. His breathing labored. “Must see them.”

  “You’ll be discharged in a couple of days. You can visit then.”

  Steve waved Jimmy away. “Get out.”

  He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the window.

  *****

  Steve walked through the door of Beverly’s private room moments after his discharge. She pushed herself up to sitting position in bed and smiled a crooked grin. “Hey, boss. You just missed my hubby.”

  Steve felt a lump form inside his raw, aching throat at the sight of his friend. One side of her face had turned rainbow colors from the pistol-whipping a nurse said she’d endured. Her right eye was swollen shut and a gash in her forehead had been stitched closed.

  Steve felt his eyes fill with tears, but the heat damage to his own system held the moisture to a dignified level. His insides churned with rage and regret. “I’m so sorry, Bev.”

  He leaned over her on the bed and brushed the bruised side of her cheek with the barest kiss. He took her hands in his, careful not to disturb her I.V. tube, and looked closely at her fingers. Thank God her hands hadn’t been damaged. He couldn’t think of a worse fate for an artist. Except blindness.

  His heart pounded with fear as he scrutinized her face, but Beverly’s open eye looked fine. Gratitude washed over him until his knees gave way beneath his body. He fumbled for a chair. “I’ll get whoever did this to you, Beverly. I swear.”

  Relief flooded him as he took his seat and confirmed in his mind that Beverly was innocent of any involvement in his business troubles. He knew she couldn’t have had anything to do with them.

  “Your cop friend, Leighton, arrived last night to take a statement,” Beverly said. “He wasn’t allowed in at the time, but the nurse said he’d be back. He’ll want to talk with you, too. And Victoria, when she’s able.”

  “They wouldn’t let me see her. The wait is killing me.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, forgetting the damaged, raw spots on his scalp, newly covered with salve. He sucked air through his teeth at the pain and dropped his hand to his lap.

  “Lieutenant Leighton said your case is top priority,” Beverly added. “Lucky for me you have a ranking officer on your side.”

  “Our side.” He patted the sheet covering her legs. “I hear Slater’s in the morgue downstairs. Is he the one who
hurt you?”

  Beverly nodded. “He went into a rage when he found me working inside the warehouse. I think I surprised him, and that man was obviously not the surprise party type. He hit me several times in the head. With a gun butt, I think.”

  She paused and took a shaky breath. “And then something else happened.”

  Beverly’s eyes began to water and she burst into tears.

  Steve felt his heart rip from his chest at the sight and he wanted to scream. He wished he could throw something, like a table, through the window, but fought for calm. He needed to keep a level head for Beverly’s sake.

  “The fire was my fault.” Beverly sobbed and turned her face away. Steve touched his fingers to her shoulder to soothe her.

  What was she talking about?

  “You’re not making sense, Beverly. None of this was your fault. If blame lies with anyone, it’s me. I should never have let you stay behind.”

  “I wouldn’t have listened, no matter what you said. I was excited about the new acquisitions and wanted to plan my restoration schedule.” Beverly reached for a tissue on the bedside table.

  “I started the fire.” She sobbed harder.

  Steve’s body went numb from head to toe, as if shots of Novocain had hit his system. His lungs felt like they’d seized. Then he curled his fingers into his palms to control the tremors and forced himself to speak. “What are you talking about, Bev?”

  She blew her nose and took a gulp of air. “Now I understand why you said I shouldn’t smoke inside the warehouse.”

  Smoking? She was smoking? The numbness in his limbs dissipated, but his skin had turned to ice. He had the sudden need for a sweater or jacket, but could only rub his hands along his arms to warm them.

  Carlson’s had a strict no-smoking policy and Beverly knew better than to light up in her studio. Warehouse inventory and restoration planning, however, didn’t involve toxic chemicals or flammables.

  He wondered how many times she’d smoked in his warehouse and had endangered her life and his property.

  As if she’d read his mind, Beverly added, “I swear, boss, that was the first time.” She began to sob again. “And the last, probably.”

  His head started to pound at the temples, but he fought back the urge to yell at her. Or fire her on the spot. Beverly’s mistake had almost cost her her life. Compared to that, his losses were nothing.

  What could he do? He had a soft spot for Beverly and knew he’d forgive her almost anything.

  Beverly wiped her eyes again and continued her explanation in a fast, breathy voice. “I’d entered a deep psychometric experience with one of the Van Orr objects and my cigarette was sitting in the ashtray on a table beside me. That’s why I didn’t see or hear Slater and Flynn enter the building. I saw them just before one of them started hitting me. It was my stupid fault for leaving the door open to let out the cigarette smoke.”

  She shuddered with the memory. “The next thing I knew, I was knocked to the ground. My skull crashed against a table before it hit the concrete floor.”

  Beverly took another shaky breath, wiped her eyes, and continued. “My cigarette fell to the floor and caught on something. A stack of old newspapers, I think. My vision kinda went wonky after that.

  “The men didn’t notice the cigarette smoldering because they’d already started carrying things away after they knocked me down. Though I was hurt and couldn’t move, I could see their movements from the floor…”

  Beverly stopped talking for a long moment, licked her lips, and dozed off.

  Steve watched the rhythms of her breathing as her chest rose and fell. He was tired to the marrow but would wait as long as it took for her to finish her story.

  After several minutes, Beverly opened her eyes. She seemed surprised to see him sitting there, and then offered a wan smile. “Did I nod off?”

  “You were telling me about the fire. Your cigarette and the burglary.”

  She blinked and furrowed her brow as if the memory were painful.

  Beverly shifted inside her bed covers and pointed to a plastic cup. “May I have a drink of water?”

  Steve poured a glass and waited while she drank.

  “Thanks.” She handed back the cup. “The other man, Flynn, the private detective, tried to stomp out the flames, but by then it was too late. I remember watching the flames spread, unable to move.”

  “And the bastards left you lying there.”

  Beverly nodded. “Smoke filled the room after Flynn ran out. Slater ran behind him, but I saw him trip over something and fall. I don’t know if Flynn tried to help him up, or not. The next sound was an engine roar. Probably their truck. Funny, I didn’t notice sounds of an engine when they pulled up. I must have been concentrating on my work.”

  Steve knew about Beverly’s uncanny ability to focus on a task.

  She continued with her story. “I forced myself to belly crawl toward the emergency exit, though I think I passed out a couple of times on the way. Behind me, the flames had become a small inferno. Something fell from the ceiling. I was trapped.”

  “If you hadn’t pushed yourself toward the exit, Victoria and I would never have found you.” He shuddered with the memory.

  A sob escaped Beverly’s lips and she touched her fingertips to her mouth. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” Steve got up from his seat to touch her shoulder.

  “I know what you risked to find me,” she replied. Beverly sniffled again.

  Someone cleared his throat by the door. Steve turned to see Leighton make his way to the bedside.

  “It’s good to see you awake, Mrs. Orange. The doctors tell me you’ll make a full recovery. That’s great news. You up to giving your statement now?”

  Beverly nodded. “I was just telling Steve what happened.”

  The lieutenant pulled up an empty chair and started taking notes when Beverly began to speak. She told him everything she’d told Steve.

  “Jimmy Van Orr is up to his pencil neck in this,” Steve added. “I don’t know how, but I intend to find out.” He glared at Norm Leighton. “I want his ass on a platter. Understand?”

  Leighton nodded. “I’ll question him, don’t worry.”

  “He admitted involvement, though I don’t know the extent. He’ll be coated with lawyers like a Teflon pan if you go after him.” Steve felt his blood pressure surge.

  “Any witnesses to his admission?”

  Steve shook his head. “Just me.”

  Leighton sighed. “Your word against his.”

  The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Slater’s dead, and dead men don’t talk. But we’ll find Flynn. The state police are looking for him. If he’s not picked up in a few hours, we’ll ask the FBI to get involved. We’ll talk to Mitchell and Vega again, too. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened. Somehow I think these guys are all connected.” He patted his old friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’m like a hound dog. I never quit. I’ll find the link, whatever it is.”

  Steve smiled, despite himself. He looked over at Beverly. The undamaged side of her face lifted with a hopeful grin and his chest ached for her. She was a trouper, all right.

  “I’ll need to take Victoria’s statement. I want this case as solid as a granite slab.”

  Leighton scribbled another note on his pad. “And now, Carlson, it’s your turn to talk. Give it all to me, step by step.”

  *****

  Victoria opened her eyes when Steve kissed her lips. Though her mouth was cracked and swollen, Steve thought it the sweetest kiss he’d ever had.

  The woman he loved was alive.

  He took her hand in his, careful not to disturb her intravenous drip. Steve rubbed the tips of her fingers with his and reached with his free hand to caress her shoulder. The sight of her breathing through oxygen tubes made him want to weep.

  “You’re here,” she said. Her v
oice was a shadow of a whisper, yet filled with tenderness.

  “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  I didn’t die and I didn’t abandon you.

  He leaned to place a kiss against her hairline, just above a patch of white gauze bandages.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” She didn’t have to say the name. He understood she meant Slater, her father.

  Steve nodded, trying to keep his expression impassive.

  Victoria watched him for several seconds and then closed her eyes. She ran her tongue over her lips and moved her mouth as if to speak, but no words came.

  “Good riddance,” he muttered.

  When she opened her eyes, they filled with tears. “I tried, but I couldn’t save him.”

  “Despite your boxing lessons, I knew you didn’t have it in you to kill anyone.” He touched the crown of her hair to comfort her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, no matter how I felt about the man.”

  A long, low sigh escaped her lips and her body shuddered with the sound. “I did kill him. I forced him to let me go.” Tears slid over her face.

  The thought of her dying next to Slater sent shooting pains through his eyes and into his skull. He blinked against the mental images and rubbed his temples to ease the tension.

  “He was an evil man who did terrible things to my mother and me. I used to dream about killing him, but in the end, I wanted to do the right thing. I should be glad he’s dead. Though he’ll never bother me again, I can’t get him out of my head.”

  Steve brushed the tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs and let them drift over her cheekbones.

  “Everyone I’ve ever loved has either betrayed me or died.” Her lips quivered. “Relationships are too hard. I’d rather be alone than go through another loss.”

  “There’s no reason to make this an all-or-nothing deal between us.” His throat was still raw and his words came out in a fit of starts and stops. “We’ll figure it out.”

  He brought his face closer to hers and held her gaze. “I can’t promise I won’t die. But I do promise I will never, ever hurt you.”

  The emotion must have been too much for her, because she closed her eyes again and seemed to struggle for breath. When she gasped with the effort, he ran to the door to flag down a nurse.