Burned Deep (Burned 1)

My heart had never thundered so fiercely. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“What happened?” Amano demanded.

“Rattler,” was all Dane said.

Amano flung the door open and saw it for himself. “Son of a bitch.” He slammed the door closed. “I’ll get rid of it.”

“Have the grounds crew do a thorough sweep to see if there are more. Tell them to check for eggs.” Dane guided me to his office.

Molly sprang to her feet when we entered. “My God, Ari! You’re white as a ghost.” To Dane, she repeated Amano’s question. “What happened?”

I shook uncontrollably, so she likely assumed I couldn’t get a coherent word out. She was probably right.

Dane said to her, “Send an e-mail to all employees to stay out of the west wing stairwell and tape signs to the outside of the doors telling them to keep out.”

“I don’t under—”

“Please, just do it,” he insisted. “No one’s to be in the stairwell.”

“Of course, Mr. Bax. Whatever you say.” She scurried off.

Dane led me to the sofa and I sank onto the cushion, still vibrating violently. He poured a scotch and brought it to me, sitting on the sturdy coffee table in front of me and holding the crystal tumbler so I could sip.

“It’s okay,” he said in a soothing voice. “It’ll be okay.” Tension r

adiated from him, undermining his effort to calm me.

After a much longer gulp of scotch, I asked, “How the hell would a rattlesnake get into the stairwell?”

“I don’t know, Ari.” His jaw clenched. He didn’t say more. Didn’t want to speculate. Just brooded in a tormented sort of way.

Several minutes passed as I polished off the drink. My breathing slowed but my pulse was still erratic. That damn snake could have given me a massive coronary before it’d even bitten me.

Amano returned. With a concerned look I appreciated, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Getting there,” I lied.

To Dane, he said, “We’ve got it under control in the stairwell. Couple of guys on the crew worked at a golf club in Scottsdale previously. They’re used to dealing with the snakes. Keep special lassos on hand, just in case.”

“They’re not all that common this far north,” Dane commented. “Especially not this time of year.”

He shook his head and stood. Anguish rolled off him in waves, mixed with the very obvious tension over it having been me in the dangerous situation.

“Goddamn it!” he suddenly roared as his fist slammed against his desk.

I jumped.

He glanced my way and asked, “Why couldn’t you get back in?”

I lifted the badge hanging on a thin, bejeweled lanyard around my neck. “Didn’t work.”

Amano was instantly on his cell. “Bring up Miss DeMille’s account,” he said without preamble. His strained tone spoke volumes, and a second later he was shaking his head, too, and pacing the floor. “Deactivated? When?… Twenty minutes ago. Shit … Not just hers? Three others.” He shot a look toward Dane. “More goddamn IT issues.” He listened further, then said, “Reactivate her account and monitor it regularly.”

As soon as he disconnected the call, Dane told him, “I want all of the security wiring replaced before Monday morning. I don’t care if your contractors have to work around the clock. Get it done. Every single camera has to be functioning before I come in.”

“Agreed. The cameras in the stairwell aren’t even hooked up at the moment. But they will be.”

So there was no concrete way to discern how a snake had made its way into the area. A propped-open door during some routine maintenance work, or … Had someone on the inside known about the cameras not currently providing surveillance in the stairwell?