Explosive Attraction

chapter Three



Rafe slowly straightened and put his hands in the air.

“Who are you?” The man behind him shoved the gun against his back. “What are you doing on my property?”

The raspy, older quality of the man’s voice reassured Rafe. The bomber had seemed close to Rafe’s age, thirty-five, much younger than this man sounded.

“I’m Detective Rafe Morgan with the St. Augustine Police Department. The woman with me is Dr. Darby Steele. We’ve been in a boating accident and I need to get her to a hospital.”

The gun wobbled against his back, as if the man behind him wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. Finally, the gun eased back, and Rafe turned around. The rifle was now pointing at his chest.

“Miss.” The old man’s eyes didn’t leave Rafe as he spoke to Darby. “You okay? Did this man hurt you?”

“No, no, he didn’t hurt me. He’s a police officer, like he said.”

“Hair’s a bit long to be a cop.” The old man’s mouth twisted, his disapproval obvious. “And I doubt they let their officers go without shaving these days, not unless they’ve gotten pretty darn sloppy.”

“I’ve been working undercover.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, since the men he’d been grooming as informants knew he was a cop, but it was close enough.

“Uh-huh. Let me guess. You don’t have ID with you to prove you’re a cop.”

“In my back pocket, if my wallet’s still there.” He started to reach toward his pocket, but the old man’s hands tightened on the rifle.

“Look,” Rafe said, close to losing his patience, “I don’t care if you believe me or not. But Dr. Steele needs medical attention. Do you have a cell phone with you? Call 9-1-1 and tell them to get an ambulance and the police out here. They can verify who I am.”

Doubt entered the man’s eyes and Rafe thought he might be starting to believe his story, but Rafe didn’t have time to wait for the man to make up his mind. Right now the bomber, if he’d survived the crash, could be getting away. Or, he could be waiting in the woods to grab Darby. Staying in one place was too dangerous.

“Are you going to make that call or not?” Rafe prodded.

The man’s lips pursed. “I’m thinking about it. I don’t have my phone with me in any case. It’s back up at the house.”

“Darby,” Rafe called out without turning around, “I need you to stay down.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.



“Don’t stand up.”

“I’m not standing. I’m still sitting on the—”

Rafe lunged for the man’s rifle, shoving the barrel up in the air before yanking the gun from the older man’s grip. The man was so startled he just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“Go on,” Rafe ordered. “Get out of here. Make that call.”

The man’s face paled. He took off in a lumbering gait back toward his house.

Rafe shook his head and turned back to Darby. He swore when he realized that she’d let the shirt drop to the ground during the commotion. Blood was dripping down her calf.

“The shirt, Darby. Press it against the wound.”

Her eyes widened and she made a choking sound as she looked past him.

Rafe whirled around.

Too late.

Something hard crashed down on the side of his head. Sharp, fiery pain radiated through his skull and his world went black.

* * *

RAFE CRUMPLED TO the ground.

Darby let out a strangled cry. She only had a second to realize the man who’d hit Rafe was the man who’d grabbed her at the warehouse, before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up off the ground.

She clawed at his hands, trying to ease the horrible pressure.

He shook her as if in warning and let her fall back to the muddy ground. Sharp, fiery pain knifed through her side. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, clutching her side to stop the bleeding that had started again.

Above her, the man who’d attacked Rafe stood with his handcuffed hands in front of him, wrapped around the grip of a familiar-looking gun. Rafe’s gun.

At this range, he couldn’t miss.

Time slowed to a crawl. Darby’s vision narrowed, everything else fading away except the dark maw of the gun barrel pointing at her. She dug her fingers into the mud beneath her and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the shot she knew would come, waiting for death.

“Look at me, stupid witch.”

Her eyes flew open. She forced herself to look away from that terrifying gun, at the man standing over her. His baseball cap and sunglasses were gone. The jeans he wore were torn in several places, with smears of blood darkening the blue fabric.

For such a violent man, his face was rather ordinary, not a face that would strike fear into her if she saw him in a crowd. His hair was brown, although that could be because of all the mud packed in it. His eyes were brown, too. So ordinary, and yet, there was nothing ordinary about any of this.

He wasn’t looking at her now. Instead, he was squinting toward the trees, where the old man had gone a few minutes ago. Had he heard something? Was someone coming?

Hope flared in Darby’s chest. She risked a quick glance at Rafe, lying facedown in the mud a few feet away. He wasn’t moving. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Was he alive? A sinking feeling shot through her, as if she was on a roller coaster and had just plunged down a steep drop. If he was alive, he wouldn’t be for long, not with his face in the mud, blocking his airway. She needed to wipe the mud from his nose and mouth.

She needed a weapon.

She glanced frantically around, searching for the rifle Rafe had been holding. When she saw it, her hopes plummeted. Only three feet away, so close, but impossible to reach because it was behind the gunman. Not that she knew how to use a gun anyway, even if she could somehow get to it without being shot. Her entire body started shaking.

Get it together, Darby. If Rafe is alive, you’re his only chance. You have to focus, help him. Somehow.

The gunman’s attention snapped back to her, and he took a step forward.

“What do you want?” she choked out past her tightening throat.

“I want these cuffs off,” he snarled, shaking the gun, making the cuffs on his wrists rattle against the short chain between them. “Get the key.”

“I don’t have the key. I don’t know where—”

“The cop. Check his pockets.”

Yes. Thank God. An excuse to go to Rafe.

She pushed herself up, sucking in a breath at the pain in her side, the sharp burn in her knees. Not sure she had the strength to stand, she crawled to Rafe’s still form, using the marshy grass to pull herself forward. When she reached him, she placed herself between him and the shooter so he couldn’t see what she was doing. She gently turned Rafe’s head to the side and wiped mud away from his nose and mouth.

Breathe. Come on, breathe.

“What are you doing?” The shooter’s angry voice was nearly on top of her. “You’re wasting time.” He cuffed the side of her head with the gun, throwing her against Rafe.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but risked one more swipe of her hand over Rafe’s mouth, carving out a depression in the mud.

“Get the key, or I’ll bust your skull just like his.”

His voice held the promise of death. She turned to the side, keeping a wary eye on him.

The sound of sirens in the distance had his mouth contorting with fury. He drew the gun back like a hammer, ready to strike.

“Okay, okay, I’m looking!” Darby dug her hand into Rafe’s back pockets, but the only thing she found was his wallet. She tried to roll him over, but he was too heavy. “I have to turn him over to check his front pockets. Help me.”

He hesitated, but the sound of sirens seemed to spur him on. He knocked her out of the way and used his foot to shove Rafe onto his back. Motioning her forward with his cuffed hands still wrapped around the gun, this time he aimed at Rafe’s head, his grip steady and firm.

“The key. Or the cop dies.”

Panic sucked the air from Darby’s lungs. She scrambled back to Rafe and shoved her hand in his front left pocket. She pulled out a roll of cash, which the gunman grabbed from her. She shoved her hand back in the same pocket, but it was empty. Moving to his other pocket, she slid her hand inside. Her fingers wrapped around a small chain, with a tiny key on the end. As she pulled out the key, the fingers of Rafe’s left hand brushed against her thigh. The movement was so slight, she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it.

Her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were shut, but had his eyelashes fluttered? Was there a new tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before?

A dull thud against her cheekbone had her crying out and sprawling in the mud. Glaring at the gunman, she pushed herself back to a sitting position. The side of her face throbbed in rhythm with her racing pulse.

He raised the gun, ready to hit her again.

She held the key up in the air, shaking it, making the tiny chain dance in the sunlight. “I’ve got it,” she cried. “I’ve got the key.”

He crouched in front of her, pressing the barrel of the gun against her belly. The sirens had stopped now, as if the police had reached their destination. The gunman’s eyes took on a feral look. His expression filled with pure hate, and something far more dangerous.

Desperation.

“Unlock the cuffs or I will shoot you.”

She reached out, grabbing one of the cuffs with one hand, holding the key in the other. Her hands were shaking so hard she almost dropped the key. She bit her lip, concentrating on holding her hands steady. He would shoot her once the cuffs were off. She was sure of it. And then he’d shoot Rafe, lying helpless in the mud.

Stall him. She had to do something to get him to turn the gun away from her. She fumbled with the key, this time on purpose. “I can’t...get it. You’re too close. I can’t get leverage.”

A shout sounded from the woods, but Darby couldn’t make out the words.

The gunman jerked the gun to the side, moving back a foot to give her room.

Darby weighed her options. How close were the police? If she waited, would they make it in time to save Rafe? To save her?

As if reading her mind, the gunman turned his gun toward Rafe again.

“Here!” She shoved the key in the lock, wiggling it until she heard a loud click. She unlocked the second cuff and it popped open. The gunman twisted the cuffs off his wrists and dropped them to the ground.

“Detective Morgan?” a voice called out from the woods nearby.

“Dr. Steele? Are you out here?” Another voice, followed by the sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling.

“Time to die.” The gunman pointed the gun back toward Darby.



Oh, God. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and waited.

A shot rang out, an explosion of sound that made Darby whimper and cover her ears. She waited for the pain, but it never came. The sound of grunts and cursing had her opening her eyes.

Rafe was on top of the gunman. The two men were locked in a struggle for the gun.

Darby scrambled back out of the way and yelled for the police. “Over here! Help us!”

Two officers crashed through the trees toward them.

The gunman twisted violently, smashing the gun into Rafe’s jaw. Rafe cursed and fell to the side. With the pistol in hand, the gunman lunged to his feet, snatched up the rifle and took off running toward the marsh.

Rafe tried to get up, but fell back down, holding his head.

Darby scrambled to him just as the policemen reached them.

“Are you Dr. Steele?” one of them asked. The other officer ran after the gunman.

“Yes. Please help us! Detective Morgan needs an ambulance.”

Rafe shook her off and staggered to his feet. “She’s the one who needs the ambulance. Give me your gun.”

“Detective, I’m not sure that’s a good—”

“Your gun. Now.”

The officer handed him his gun. Rafe took off in an unsteady line through the trees.

“What are you doing?” Darby cried out. She glared at the policeman above her. “Go on. Help him!”

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not leaving you alone out here. I’ll wait for backup.”

No amount of arguing would make the policeman leave her and go help Rafe. Darby stared in frustration at the gap in the trees where Rafe had disappeared.



A few minutes later the marsh was crawling with cops. One of them insisted on carrying Darby to the waiting ambulance. She’d wanted to wait for Rafe to come back, but the policeman wouldn’t listen. She felt silly being carried, especially since the officer should be out helping Rafe instead of worrying about her.

Where was Rafe? Was he okay? No one seemed to know the answer to that question, and soon she was in the back of the ambulance being rushed to Flagler Hospital a short distance away.

In spite of all the blood, her injuries weren’t life threatening. While the emergency room doctor stitched up her knee, a police officer took her statement and her description of the suspect.

“Have you heard anything about Detective Morgan?” she asked. “Is he okay? Did he catch the gunman?”



“I don’t know anything about that, Dr. Steele,” the officer replied.

She dug her fingers into the crinkly paper covering the examining room table.

“Worried about me, huh?”

Rafe! He stood in the doorway between two uniformed officers. He was shirtless and smeared with mud. Darby’s relief turned to concern when she saw how pale and unsteady he was. It looked as if the only reason he wasn’t falling down was because the policemen were holding on to his arms.

The doctor taking care of Darby pressed a last piece of tape into place on her leg and hurried to Rafe.

“Sit him down over here. He should have been brought in on a gurney. What happened?”

“Gurneys are for sissies.” Rafe’s words were slurred. As soon as he sat on the examining table the doctor pointed to, he fell backward with a groan.

* * *

DARBY YAWNED AND STRETCHED, her muscles aching from being scrunched into the uncomfortable chair in Rafe’s hospital room where she’d fallen asleep. The clock on the wall facing his bed showed it was twenty minutes until midnight.

His face was relaxed in sleep. He looked far less intimidating and more approachable now that he wasn’t wearing his usual frown. She wished he would wake up. The doctors had said he’d fully recover, but she needed to look him in the eyes and hear his impatient voice for herself. The man might be infuriating most of the time, but he’d risked everything for her. She needed to thank him for saving her life.

A light knock sounded on the door. Before Darby could fully rise from her chair, Captain Buresh walked into the room, waving her back down.

“Don’t get up.” His voice was pitched low, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing in here? You aren’t supposed to be roaming the halls.”

“Since my room is next door, I don’t think you can accuse me of roaming the halls. There’d be no point anyway, since there’s no one else to talk to. What did you do, clear out an entire hospital wing just for the two of us?”

“Moving the other patients to another floor was a security measure.”

“For Rafe and me, or for the other patients?”

He shrugged. “I’d feel better for everyone if you stayed in your room, under guard.”

“I am under guard. I’m sure you noticed Officer Daniels outside.”

He sighed as if he was too tired to argue, and stepped closer to the bed. “Has he woken up yet?”

Darby pushed her aching body out of the chair and stood across from him, on the other side of the bed. In addition to the hospital gown she was wearing, she had a second one she was using as a robe. She self-consciously pulled it tighter around her. “He hasn’t been awake since I came in here. The doctor said he has a slight concussion, that he can go home tomorrow if all goes well.”

Buresh nodded, reminding Darby that he probably already knew the details about Rafe’s condition. He was, after all, his boss. She glanced at the wall clock again. “Why are you here so late?”

“I...ah...wanted to check on you and Detective Morgan before I went home. It’s been a long day, and I needed to put my mind at ease before trying to get some sleep.”

Did the hesitation in his voice mean there was more to what he was saying—or rather, what he wasn’t saying?

“Have you caught him yet?” Rafe’s raspy voice called out from the bed. His eyes were open now. He pressed the buttons on the railing, raising himself into a sitting position.

Darby handed him the cup of water on the rolling tray, figuring he was probably as thirsty as she’d been earlier, in spite of the IV. She hadn’t given much thought to the heat when she’d been fighting for her life in the marsh, but afterward, she’d felt like a wilted flower, dry as dust.

He gave her a grateful nod and took a long sip before handing the cup back to her. “Are you all right?”

“The doctor wants me to stay overnight to make sure I don’t develop an infection from getting all that nasty swamp mud in my cuts, but overall, no worse for wear.” She studied him closely. “How do you feel?”

“Fine for someone who can’t remember how he got knocked out. What happened? The doctor had no clue.”

Buresh exchanged a startled glance with Darby.

“You don’t remember?” Buresh asked.

“I remember the boat, the alligator and some old man holding a rifle on me. Everything else is a big blank until I was in the ambulance.”

“Retrograde amnesia,” Darby said.

Rafe narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t have amnesia. I remember what happened...most of it.” His scowl was as fierce as Darby had ever seen it, which was saying quite a bit.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said. “It’s normal with head trauma. You forget what happened before the event that caused the injury. I’ve seen my share of clients in therapy with similar problems. Since you remember most of what happened before you got knocked out, you’ve got an excellent chance of regaining all of your memory.”

He didn’t look as though he appreciated her analysis. He was a big guy, more than capable of taking care of himself and those around him—normally. It had to be a blow to his ego to think he’d been knocked out and unable to help her, especially given his past, when he’d been knocked unconscious, unable to protect his wife in a home invasion. That reminder had Darby groaning inside. Great. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

“It doesn’t matter,” Buresh said, filling the awkward silence. “The few minutes you lost wouldn’t have added anything to the investigation. Dr. Steele gave a statement and a description of the bomber. She was an excellent eyewitness.”

Rafe winced and pressed a hand against his temple.

The corners of Buresh’s eyes crinkled with concern. “You need me to get the doctor?”

“I’m fine,” Rafe gritted out. “You never answered my question. Have you caught the bomber?”

“Not yet.” Buresh gave Rafe a brief summary of what had happened after Rafe was knocked unconscious, and the progress of the ongoing search. Buresh glanced uneasily at Darby, hesitating. “The envelope the bomber left at the warehouse had another timer and a photograph inside.”

“Who was in the picture?” Rafe asked.

Buresh looked at Darby.

A shiver of fear sliced through her. This was what Buresh had been hiding earlier, why he’d hesitated when he’d first come into the room. “It was a picture of me, wasn’t it?”

He sighed in surrender. “Yes.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her suddenly chilled arms.

“And the timer?” Rafe asked.

“The timer runs out at midnight.” Buresh’s voice was awkward, low.

Rafe and Darby both looked at the clock on the far wall. Ten minutes until midnight. Darby swallowed hard.

“We’ve searched half the marsh,” Buresh continued. “But at this point, I don’t hold out much hope of finding him there. We’ve been performing door-to-door searches to rule out that he entered someone’s house or took hostages. So far, nothing.”

“Loan me your gun while I’m in here,” Rafe said. “I don’t feel right without one.”

Buresh was shaking his head even before Rafe finished. “I’m not leaving a gun with a man with a concussion. Who would keep an eye on it when you’re sleeping? And I’m certain the nurses wouldn’t appreciate finding it under your pillow when they change the sheets.”

Rafe didn’t look happy with his captain’s refusal.

Darby tapped the bed rail. “You’re sure the bomber’s not...in the hospital, right?” She let out an uneasy laugh.

Buresh gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re completely safe here, Dr. Steele. I’ve got an officer posted in the emergency room. That’s the only access to the hospital this time of night. And Officer Daniels will stand guard until morning, when another officer takes his place.”

Her doubt must have shown on her face, because he gave her an admonishing look, as if he was disappointed that she didn’t trust him. “Half the police force is looking for the man who abducted you. He’s on the run. He wouldn’t have a chance to follow through on his ‘midnight’ threat, even if he knew where you were—which he doesn’t.”

“It can’t be difficult to figure out where I am, Captain,” she said. “There’s only one hospital in the area, and he knew I was hurt.”

The captain’s face reddened. “Not true, Dr. Steele. We could have taken you into Jacksonville. Baptist Medical Center South is just a short drive up the interstate.”

Darby regretted her reply. She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but obviously Buresh had taken it that way.

“Regardless,” he said, “you’re safe here. What I’m worried about is what happens after you leave the hospital. Until we catch this man, we have to assume you’re still a target.” He glanced at Rafe. “You’ll need to be on light duty for a few days, so I have the perfect assignment for you. I want you to watch over Dr. Steele until we have the bomber in custody.”

Rafe shook his head. “I’m not a babysitter, and you can’t afford to have your best detective on the sidelines right now.”

Darby tapped her nails on the railing again to get Rafe’s attention. “I don’t need a babysitter. But I would appreciate having an experienced police officer nearby. It would make me feel much safer. And I promise I won’t get in your way.”

“This isn’t a debate,” Buresh said. “When you’re both discharged tomorrow, you’re going into hiding, together. End of discussion.”

Darby wrinkled her brow. “Into hiding? Wait a minute. I thought I’d have police protection, but that I’d be able to go back to work. My clients book appointments months in advance. I can’t just cancel without notice.”

Rafe frowned at her. “If you go back to your office, you’ll put your clients—and Mindy—at risk. Buresh is right about one thing. You do need protection.” He turned back to Buresh. “But I’m not the one who’ll be protecting her.”

“We’ll talk more about this in the morning,” Buresh said. “I suggest you both get some sleep. Dr. Steele, would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

“No, thank you. I’d like to talk to Detective Morgan before I go.”

“All right. Good night, then.” He turned and left.

“It’s not personal, you know,” Rafe said.

Darby tightened her fingers around the bed railing. “You sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t want to pull guard duty for anyone, regardless of my opinion about what they did for a living. I have more important things to do, like finding the man who killed the A.D.A., the man who almost killed you.”

Her stomach tightened at the reminder that someone she knew had actually been murdered today, and how close both she and Rafe had come to being the bomber’s next victims. “I know you aren’t exactly a fan of mine. I can live with that. But I still wanted to thank you. You saved my life. You were almost killed.” She swallowed hard. “No one has ever...” She was about to say cared, but that wasn’t the right word.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “No one has ever fought for me like that. And you shouldn’t have had to. If I’d followed your instructions, stayed at my office, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be lying in this bed right now.”

Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she reached out and put her hand on his. His face mirrored his surprise, but when she would have snatched her hand back, he entwined his fingers with hers. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was just that she was tired of fighting and was tired of feeling so alone, but when his hand wrapped around hers, she held on tight.

“If you’d followed my instructions, you’d be dead,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

“If you’d stayed in your office, the bomber could have abducted you out the back door. We only had one policeman watching your building, from the front, because none of us really thought the bomber would strike again so soon. I thought one cop was enough of a deterrent, but I don’t believe that now. Not after everything that happened. The only reason you’re here right now, alive, is because you were too stubborn to ‘stay put.’ So, no apologies necessary. I’m glad you didn’t do what I told you to do.”

She drew a deep breath to hold off the unexpected rush of moisture in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But, for the record, if I tell you to do something again, I expect you to do it.”

Now, this was what she’d expected. She tugged her hand out of his grasp. “For the record, since you’re refusing to be my ‘babysitter,’ I don’t guess it matters what orders you give me, does it?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

She twisted her hands together, feeling the loss of his warmth far more than the air-conditioned room warranted. “Well, thank you again, for everything.” She glanced up at the clock and grinned. “It’s midnight and nothing happened. I guess your boss was right.” She covered a yawn. All the stress of the day was catching up to her, and she was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. She gave him a wave and headed toward the door.

The lights flickered, followed by a dull boom in the distance. Darby froze and whirled around to look at Rafe.

He was already sliding out of bed when the lights went out.