Revenge (23 page)

Heart in her throat, Skye blinked back tears. She had to be strong. For Max. For Hillary. For Dani. For the wounded.

 

Heat seared through Max's body and smoke choked his lungs and burned his eyes and throat. “Jenner!” he screamed, but his voice couldn't compete with the roar of the fire. Fed by the hot summer breeze, flames crackled and whooshed, and terrified horses shrieked. “Jenner!”

“We're coming!” He saw them then, two blackened figures huddling together. Dani's arm was thrown over Jenner's shoulders as they staggered to the door. Max stepped toward them.

Like a clap of thunder, a blast rocked the building. Max's feet shot out from under him and he hit the floor. Sparks showered from the roof, and the rafters, black from the flames, creaked loudly before giving way. Max curled into the corner, protecting his head with his arms, as a beam, like a flaming spear thrown from above, plunged to the floor and splintered, raining sparks.

His shirt ignited and he rolled quickly, trying to smother the flames.

A scream that sounded as if it was wrought from the very depths of hell pierced the dull roar of the fire, and suddenly water, gallons of it, was flooding over him.

Steam rose and still the flames crackled, but the roar of the fire had turned into a deafening hiss.

“Over here!” a man shouted. “Oh, God, look at this. Damn it, he's pinned.”

“Help! Oh, God, please, please help us,” came Dani's voice, small and frightened. She was coughing and crying hysterically.

“We've got you, lady. Someone get the man.”

Max rolled onto his feet, ducking his head and running blindly toward the sound of the voices.

“The horses—” Dani said.

“No-time, lady. Now, come on!”

Max stumbled forward and was caught by a fireman.

“Come on, let's get you out of here,” the fireman insisted.

Then Max saw Jenner, his body crushed by the beam, his face twisted in agony, his hair singed away. Max didn't move. Couldn't. Life, as he'd known it, suddenly stopped. “Oh, God, is he—?”

“Don't worry about that one—we'll get him out of here.”

“No way!” Max said, staring at Jenner. He stepped toward his brother's broken body and a million images flashed behind his eyes. Jenner with his cocky smile. Jenner trying to tame an ornery colt. Jenner sporting a cast from a rodeo contest. Jenner wrestling with him as a kid. Jenner the irreverent. Jenner the rebel. Jenner the bad son. Jenner his only brother. “No!” Max screamed. “No!”

“It's all right. I'll take care of him,” the fireman said. “Now you just get the hell out of here!”

Max's soul seemed to rip from his flesh. Ignoring the fireman, he stumbled forward. “We've got to help him.” His brother might be dying and he wasn't going anywhere. “We've got to get him out of here.”

“I said we'll handle it. You take her—” Suddenly Dani was thrown into his arms and another fireman shoved them roughly toward the door. Max nearly tripped. Dani was crying and running. He couldn't breathe. The ground seemed to tip. Black water swirled around their feet. Dani was coughing so hard she nearly retched.

Together they staggered through the open door.

Men were everywhere, firemen and paramedics, neighboring ranchers and a reporter for the damned Review.

A paramedic grabbed Dani, while from the crowd, Skye broke free. “Max! Oh, God!” She was in his arms then, kissing his face and clinging to him. He gathered her in his arms, unaware that his shirt was black from the smoke and drenched with water. “I thought...oh, God!” Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she clung to him, seemingly afraid that he would disappear before her eyes. “I...I can't believe it. Oh, Max.” She blinked hard and stared up at him. “I love you,” she vowed. “I've always loved you.”

Max felt her sag against him and he stroked her hair, leaving more black streaks in the fine golden strands. “And I love you, Skye,” he said, his throat clogged, but no longer from the smoke. Raw emotion tightened his vocal cords. “I've never stopped.” He held on to her fiercely, and when she tilted her face up to his, he kissed her with a passion that couldn't be denied. How long he'd been a fool. How blind he'd been to everything but the singular fact that he loved this woman with all of his heart.

Slowly he lifted his eyes and gazed back at the inferno. The flames were dying down, the charred ruins were more visible in the sheen of water and somewhere Jenner was inside. Alive or dead. Despair clawed at his heart. Jenner... the hellion. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't! Max's hands curled into fists of frustration.

Skye kissed his cheek and Max watched her transform into a professional. Her focus sharpened. “Are you all right?” Her hands were running over his body as she watched his face for any sign of pain. “Can you feel any burns?”

“I'll be fine,” he said, closing his eyes and thinking of his brother. Jenner was tough, but how could anyone survive what he'd been through? Fresh pain slashed through him.

“But you inhaled a lot of smoke—”

“I said I'll be fine. Check on Dani and Jenner when they bring him out.”

“Jenner?” she said, as if suddenly remembering that he was missing. “He's still in there?”

Max's throat worked. “He's in bad shape.”

“Then we'll have to fix him, won't we?” Suddenly Skye was again all business—the doctor in charge of a medical emergency. She went over to Dani and started by asking her questions, then examined her quickly and insisted she be taken to the hospital.

“Hey, mister, come over here. Let's check you out,” a paramedic yelled at him, but Max ignored him and kept his eyes trained on the door of the stables. Waiting. Jenner couldn't be dead! But how long could he survive in there?

“Daddy!”

Somehow Hillary was in his arms, and Max's eyes, already burning, began to tear. He clung to his little girl and gave thanks that she'd survived. “I love you, pumpkin,” he said.

“I know.” She burrowed her head into his neck and he swallowed against a hard lump in his throat.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered as he watched the walls of the stables begin to crumble. Flames still leapt from the roof, only to sizzle and sputter as water drenched them.

Hillary wiggled to get down and Max reluctantly let her run to her grandmother. Then he started for the building, his legs carrying him faster and faster toward the open door. Where the devil was Jenner?

Fear gripped him hard in the gut and propelled him forward.

“Hey, you! Hey, you can't go in there! It's suicide!”

“Stop him!” the chief shouted, and he was restrained by two burly men who meant business. He tried to struggle free, but then saw a staggering fireman carrying Jenner over his shoulders. Several other men rushed over to help. They placed Jenner on a stretcher, and before Max could reach his brother's inert form, he was carried into a waiting ambulance.

“Let me go to him.”

“Forget it, man. Leave it to the doc.” Max watched as Skye slipped into the ambulance just before the doors were slammed shut.

“Wait!” Max cried.

“We can't, not if you want him to live.”

“He's alive?” Max felt an instant of hope.

“Barely.”

For the first time in a long, long while, Max McKee began to pray.

 

The hospital was a madhouse. Max was frustrated while Skye went right to work. She took only a few minutes to tell him Jenner's prognosis. Though Jenner would survive, several vertebrae in his back were broken, the result of the beam from the roof hitting him in the small of his back and crushing his thigh. No one seemed certain whether he would walk again.

“It depends on whether his spinal cord is severed or bruised and how bad the damage was,” Skye explained hours later, as they stood on the roof of the hospital. The night was clear, the wind still strong, as a helicopter, blades rotating, stood ready. “Just because vertebrae are cracked doesn't necessarily mean that the spinal cord won't function.”

“He won't want to live if he can't walk.”

“We don't know that.”

“I do.”

“But he may walk again.”

“He'd better,” Max growled, feeling impotent as he watched his brother being lifted onto a life-flight helicopter that would take him to Columbia Memorial Hospital in Portland, where specialists would work with him. Colleen had come for Hillary, Dani was staying in the hospital overnight for observation and he and Skye were alone. His arm was draped possessively around her shoulders; her arm had slipped around his waist.

“I could go with him,” Skye said as the pilot strapped himself into the chopper.

“What could you do?”

“Provide moral support.”

“You're dead on your feet.”

“It comes with the territory.” She turned to look up into his night-darkened eyes and saw his pain. “Then again, maybe I should stay here and provide moral support.”

“And Dani?”

Skye sighed. “She'll be okay. Smoke inhalation mainly. She's just staying overnight for observation.”

Max squeezed her shoulders as the helicopter lifted off and the sound of his voice was nearly drowned by the engine and powerful, whirring blades. “Let me take you home. We'll drive to Portland tomorrow.”

“I don't want to go home,” Skye said, inching up her chin. “I want to stay with you.”

“With me?” he asked as the helicopter became only lights in the sky.

“Forever.” She licked her lips nervously, and while the wind blew her hair over her face, she said, “Those few minutes you were in the stables were hell, Max. I thought... God, I thought I'd never see you again and...and I knew I couldn't stand it.” She drew in a deep breath and plunged on though tears seemed to fill her throat. “I want you to know that I love you, I've always loved you and I...I've dreamed about being your wife.”

Something inside Max broke. The pressure of his emotions was too great and the dam of indifference he'd built in his heart cracked wide open. Skye's words were like wondrous music to his ears and yet he hardly dared believe her. “What about everything we talked about? Your job? Kids? The future—”

“It'll all work out,” she said. “It's just the details. I just want to be with you. And Hillary.” Her eyes were luminous in the darkness, her hair a pale shade of gold. Max trembled inside and he knew that this woman, this one woman was the only female on earth he would ever truly love. The only one who could satisfy him. In a heartbeat, his anger had disappeared.

He grabbed her so fiercely, he thought she might break. “God, I love you.”

“Then, Max McKee, will you marry me?”

He couldn't fight the grin that curved his lips. “I'd marry you tonight if we could find a preacher.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and felt her breasts, warm and supple, crush against his chest. Lowering his head, he kissed her as his heart took flight.

At last, after all these years, they would be married. Nothing else mattered. Just Skye and Hillary and the fact that he would finally have the family he wanted.

 

There was work to be done. Though the livestock had miraculously been spared, the stables were a total loss as was the machinery shed. The only good news was that Chester would get his new tractor; the old one had burned in the fire.

Jenner was still in Portland, where specialists were observing him. His spinal cord wasn't severed, but he still couldn't walk or move his legs. The doctors said he probably would be transferred back to the local hospital by the end of the month.

Dani was still riddled with guilt. “I would never have taken Hillary into the stables if I'd known,” she told Skye for the dozenth time. Sitting in the living room of Max's house, a neglected cigarette dangling from her fingers, she looked like hell. Though she'd only suffered slight smoke inhalation and a few burns where sparks had eaten through her clothes, she was wasting away.

“You couldn't have known. You were just putting the mare back in her stall.”

“But I should have seen something or heard something,” Dani said, sighing loudly. “If only I'd been more aware.”

“It's not your fault!”

Dani closed her eyes. “I should have smelled the smoke, seen the flames. The fire chief thinks the fire broke out in the tack room and we were there just minutes before.” She hung her head and jabbed out her cigarette. “I never liked Jenner McKee, but I never wished this on him.” Biting her lips, she fought back tears. “And Hillary... When I think how close she came to being seriously hurt...”

Skye sat down in the chair next to hers. “You've got to quit beating yourself up over this, Dani. It was
not
your fault.”

“But it was someone's,” Dani said, staring blankly out the window.

True, the fire had been intentionally set. Arson. At least it appeared that way. And now Sheriff Polk thought that Jonah McKee's murder and the fire at the stables were tied together somehow, that some sick mind was trying its best to harm the McKees. Max had seen someone by the stables, someone he didn't recognize, just minutes before the blaze. The sheriffs department and the private investigator, Rex Stone, were looking into new leads, and soon, Hammond Polk hoped, they'd find the culprit. Skye didn't mention any of this to Dani; her state of mind was too frail as it was. Instead, she tried to cheer her up.

“Hillary's fine and Jenner's going to pull through. His prognosis is good. It looks as if his spinal cord wasn't severely damaged. Dr. Bradshaw thinks that someday he'll walk again. Maybe even ride a horse or two.”