Seal of Honor(96)

Paint thinners.

Audrey froze. Despite the overwhelming odor of the perfume, she caught the pungent, piney stench of turpentine, heard the splash of it hitting her door, saw the puddle oozing underneath.

No, no, no, no.

She scrambled backward, away from the growing puddle. Fumes burned her nose and eyes and she curled into a ball in the farthest corner of the room, burying her nose in the edge of her shirt. Something fell behind her and hit her shoulder. Gabe’s cane. She snatched it up, held it to her chest like a child held a teddy bear to fend off the boogeyman.

Gabe.

She remembered the fear and wonder in his eyes as he told her how much loving her scared him. Scared him, her brave SEAL. God, the thought of what he might do when she was gone frightened her more than the thought of dying.

No, she couldn’t die and leave him to his own devices. He needed her.

Audrey gripped the cane like a baseball bat and stood, tiptoeing around the spreading pool of turpentine. The easiest way out was the window, but she didn’t dare, too afraid the intruder was waiting for her out there. He probably didn’t expect her to charge out the door, brandishing a cane like a maniac, so that’s exactly what she’d do.

She listened, but didn’t hear anything in the hallway. Made sense. If her intruder planned to burn her to death, he’d get out before lighting the match. Which he could be doing right this very second.

Fear threatened to freeze her. The chemical-heavy air threatened to choke her, and the room morphed into a funhouse mirror before her eyes, all stretched and wobbly. The floor surged and pitched under her feet, and the short trip to the door was a feat of equilibrium that would turn any gold medal gymnast green with envy.

Next up on the balance beam: Audrey Van Amee.

She giggled. Stopped. Shook her head. Nothing about this was funny. Stay focused. If she let the chemicals get to her, she was dead.

She shoved the dresser aside, its legs scraping loud across the wood floor. She didn’t let herself think about how that might alert him and flung open the door. He was there in the hallway, tossing aside an empty can of turpentine, grinning at her as he dug in his pocket.

Flash of silver. A lighter.

She charged, brought the cane down hard on his head. He staggered but didn’t collapse. With her forward momentum and the slippery turpentine covering the floor, she couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to. She slammed into him, taking him to the floor. He was small. So much smaller than an attacker bent on burning her alive should be. A boy, not a man.

He cursed in livid Spanish, jarringly foul words in a voice that was still more child’s than man’s. She reached for his hand, stabbing her fingers into the fleshy part, hoping he’d drop the lighter.

He did.

She snatched it up and scuttled away from him as he rose to his feet. Oh God, he had a gun. Why did she not think that he’d have a gun? He pointed the muzzle at her head.

“Get up.”

She stared at the gun. Something was dripping…

Turpentine.

He was as smeared with the paint thinner as she was.

She opened her hand and stared at the silver lighter with the initials R.S.V. engraved in extravagant letters on the side. One of those fancy kinds that light when the lid flips off.

Anger surged. If he was going to kill her, then he was damn well going with her. She pressed her thumb against the lid and met his widened eyes.

“Don’t make me do it,” she told him in Spanish.

For a second, he looked like the boy that he really was. Then he firmed up his grip on the gun and raised it again. “You won’t.”

Audrey shut her eyes, flipped the lid, and threw the lighter at him. She heard his screams, felt the rush of blistering heat, heard the gun go off, its retort little more than a pop in the roar of the flames.

And she knew she was dead.

…

He’s going to kill her.

The words echoed inside Gabe’s head, a gruesome mantra that played over and over and over as he hobbled up the driveway in a ridiculous lopsided run. Earlier, when confessing to Audrey he’d screwed up because he was afraid of loving her, he’d said it terrified him more than anything else he’d ever faced as a man or a SEAL. At the time, he’d been telling the absolute truth.

Not so anymore.

This terrified him more. Knowing that she may be in trouble right now, that he could be losing her at this very second, and he couldn’t get to her fast enough because he’d left his cane in the bedroom and his damn foot didn’t want to hold anymore.

Bang!

A gunshot.

Gabe staggered and almost went to his knees there in the driveway. “Audrey!”

No answer.

Screw the pain in his foot. He didn’t care if the fucking thing fell off.

Redoubling his speed, he leapt onto the porch and slammed through the front door. Smoke. It clogged his nose, assaulted his eyes. Flames danced in the hallway, eating their way across the floor and ceiling into the living room.