She thought he didn’t know about the lavish amounts of money she spent on herself and Heather, but he did. His wife had a creative mind, but he was a bean counter. He knew down to the penny what the motel was worth. Over the years he had learned where to hide profits from the IRS, where to be extravagant, where to cut corners.

He smothered a chuckle behind a cough. Thanks to Jody Tackett, he saved thousands of dollars each year. He’d always hoped he would live to see his old enemy die. Before her health got any worse and she became insentient, he must decide whether to let her in on his little secret.

Timing would be critical. After all, he would be confessing a crime. He wanted her lucid enough to grasp the full impact of his admission, but incapable of doing anything about it.

Maybe he should put it in the form of a thank-you note. Dear Jody, Before you take up residence in eternal Hell, I want to thank you. Remember how you screwed me out of the oil lease? Well, I’m pleased to inform you that—

“Fergus? What do you think?”

The soprano roused Fergus from his woolgathering. “I think you’ve been comprehensive. If there are no corrections or questions, I suggest we move on.”

As the vice president introduced the first item of business on that evening’s agenda, Fergus returned to his satisfying fantasies of vengeance.

“Your treachery killed my daughter.” Lara’s voice remained as steady as her extended hands cupping the Magnum .357. “You bastard. You killed my baby. Now I’m going to kill you.”

Having the gun leveled at him gave Randall pause, but only momentarily. He recovered admirably. “You tried this dramatic posturing in Motesangre and it didn’t play. Emilio saw through it just as I do. You’re a healer, Lara, not a killer. You value human life too highly to ever take one.

“However, not everyone shares your elevated regard for his fellow man. Such lofty ideals prohibit you from seizing what you want. The final step is the only one that really counts, Lara. Whether or not you take it determines success or failure. One must be willing to take the final step or he might as well not put forth the effort. In this particular scenario, pulling the trigger is the final step, and you’ll never do it.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

His composure slipped a fraction, but he continued with equanimity. “With what? An empty revolver? The bullets were removed, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. But they were replaced. Key had hidden extra ammunition in a secret pouch of the camera bag. The soldiers missed it during their search. He reloaded the gun before we left the hotel to catch the plane to Colombia.” She pulled back the hammer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“That’s the last judgment call you’ll ever make, Randall. And it’s wrong.”

The racket was deafening. The darkness was splintered by a brilliant orange light as Lara was flung backward against the wall. The heavy revolver fell from her hand.

He inserted the latchkey into the lock. Unseen, they entered the honeymoon suite and closed the door behind them. He reached for the light switch, but when he flipped it up, nothing happened.

“Bulb must be burned out,” he said.

“There’s a lamp on the end table.”

She crossed the sitting room, feeling her way in the darkness. His curiosity about mechanical things compelled him to try the light switch once again.

The light bulb wasn’t at fault, but rather an electrical short in the switch. When he flipped it up again, it sparked.

The room exploded.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lara had the breath knocked out of her when she hit the wall. Collecting herself, she stumbled to the window. It seemed the whole north side of Eden Pass was ablaze.

Grabbing her medical bag, she raced from the house and ignored traffic laws in her haste to reach the roiling c

olumn of black smoke. She quickly determined that the site of the explosion was The Green Pine Motel.

She arrived within seconds of the fire truck and the sheriff’s patrol car. One wing of the building was engulfed in flames. Periodic explosions within the conflagration sent plumes of fire into the night sky. Damage to the property would be extensive. The casualty rate would depend on the number of rooms occupied. Lara mentally prepared herself for the worst.

“Any signs of survivors?”

Sheriff Baxter had to strain to hear her over the roar of the flames. “Not yet. Jesus Christ. What a mess.”

For all their valiant efforts, Lara knew that Eden Pass’s fire department, which depended largely on community volunteers, didn’t have a prayer of bringing this blaze under control. The fire chief was smart enough to realize that. He didn’t send his willing but ill-equipped men into the fire, but gave them orders to try to keep it from spreading. He put in calls for assistance to the larger fire departments within driving distance.

Tags: Sandra Brown Romance
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