Midnight Sacrifice Read online

  He opened the woodstove door slowly to avoid the squeak of metal. Using the tongs from the nearby stand, he removed a few embers and set them on the closest area rug. The material caught. Smoke licked from the growing blaze. He leaned forward and put his hand into the flames. Fire wrapped around him, soothed him with blessed pain. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand free before the heat seared his skin.

  There was no time for indulgence.

  Nathan scattered a few more glowing coals on the hardwood. Then he backtracked through the kitchen and slipped outside.

  The trees welcomed him. He took a deep breath. The scents of pine and loam, the sounds of bugs and bats, calmed him. In the forest, all his senses reminded him of his uncle, the true Druid. Nathan should have embraced his uncle’s ways sooner. To turn his back on his heritage was wrong. Maybe the gods were angry with him. Maybe that was the reason the family curse had been invoked.

  Nonetheless, he was glad he was following his uncle’s path now. From behind a thick bush, he turned to watch the growing glow in the windows of the house. A flame licked into sight. Then another. The faint smell of smoke drifted toward him.

  Satisfied, Nathan made his way to the game trail. His boots made no sound on the soft spring grass.

  Tonight, Danny Sullivan would regret returning to Maine. If he survived, he’d learn a valuable lesson. Mandy belonged to Nathan. Anyone who came between them would suffer.

  CHAPTER NINE

  An alarm shrieked over Danny’s head. He leaped out of bed. The heavy comforter and sheets tangled around his feet. He flung his hands out to brace his fall. Pain shot through his left wrist and hand as his weight crashed to the hardwood. He righted himself and yanked his legs free of the twisted linens.

  Smoke!

  The alarm’s wail faded as the memories of screaming men took over. Instead of a smoke-filled hallway, Danny saw bodies and blood and fire. Heat seared his skin. The pungent odor of burning motor oil filled his nose. His heartbeat slammed through his chest. Lights danced across his vision like a swirling disco ball.

  Stop! He shook his head and blinked hard. You are in Maine, not Iraq. He wasted a few precious seconds sorting reality and flashback. If he didn’t get out of this house, it wasn’t going to matter much. Dead was dead, no matter where it happened.

  He padded to the doorway barefoot and in his boxers. Down the hall, flames engulfed the living room. Smoke filled the top half of the space. He was not going out that way. Coughing, he stepped into his jeans and running shoes, then swiped his keys, cell phone, and wallet from the dresser. He threw everything into his still-full duffel bag on the floor. His shaving kit, neatly packed on the vanity by the sink, followed. Eight years in the military had made him neat and ready to bug out at any moment. Good thing.

  He crossed the room in two long strides. Three wide windows banked one side of the bedroom. He unlocked the first and pulled up on the sash. Nothing moved. Danny pulled harder, but the window wouldn’t budge. Was the wood swollen from the harsh winter? He glanced over his shoulder. Smoke was pouring into the room, obscuring his view of the doorway. His eyes burned and watered, and his lungs protested with a wracking cough. The remaining two windows were also stuck.

  He dropped the duffel and picked up a heavy bronze lamp from the nightstand. He swung it like a baseball bat at the center of the window. Glass shattered. He swung again and again, until the he’d knocked out the entire pane.

  Danny tossed his duffel bag out onto the grass. He snagged the comforter from the bed and laid it across the bottom sash so any stray shards wouldn’t slice his body on the way out. He gripped the window frame and carefully eased out feetfirst. He dropped to the grass, fell to his knees, and rolled away from the house.

  Danny gathered his stuff and jogged to the rear of the yard. At the edge of the trees, he stopped, rested his hands on his knees, and coughed until his lungs threatened to evict themselves from his chest. Gradually, the damp air soothed his throat, and his frantic heart calmed the hell down.

  He lifted his cell phone and squinted. The display blurred, and his eyes burned. He blinked until they cleared. Damn. No bars. He glanced up. Flames were dancing in the living room windows. The smoke alarm screamed over crackling of burning wood. He wasn’t going back in the house to use the phone.

  Simultaneously sweating and shivering, he ran around the house to the driveway. Tossing everything into his car, he backed away. Halfway down the drive, he stopped to fish a sweatshirt from his duffel bag.

  How far was the nearest neighbor? A mile and a half down the road, Danny asked the elderly man to call the fire department.

  Several hours later, Danny stood on Reed’s front lawn. The house still smoked. The smell of wet ash tainted the air, and the house was a soggy, burned mess. Unlike in the city, the mostly volunteer fire department wasn’t on the next block.

  The fire chief approached. He raised the clear shield from his soot-streaked face. “Sorry, the house was too far gone to save much.”

  Danny blinked. His eyes still stung from smoke. “Any idea how it started?”

  “Can’t say for sure yet, but the origin appears to be the woodstove.”

  “Shit.”

  “Woodstoves start fires every year.” The chief coughed. “Creosote buildup in the chimney, or someone leaves the door open. Embers pop out onto a rug or curtain.”

  He’d closed the door, hadn’t he? Danny scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “You have a place to stay for the rest of the night?” the fireman asked.

  The closest motel was out on the interstate, a thirty-minute drive away. Exhaustion weighted Danny’s body at the thought of driving that far. There was only one place to stay in town. Nothing would suit him more than being that close to Mandy. But she wasn’t going to be happy to see him. Would she let him stay?

  Mandy jerked awake. The phone rang next to her ear. She glanced at the clock as she grabbed the receiver before it pealed again and woke everyone. Calls at three in the morning meant accident, death, or other dire emergency. Instant apprehension jump-started her heart. “Hello?”

  “It’s Danny. I’m on your front porch. Could you open the door, please?”

  His voice gave her nerves another boost. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Mandy tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. She tugged her robe over her flannel pajamas and slipped the .38 into the deep pocket from habit.

  The house was silent as she left the family apartment and walked into the foyer. She squinted through the peephole. Danny stood on the front porch. Sweat and soot were smeared across his face. His black hair was askew and his clothes were rumpled as if he’d jumped out of bed. Disheveled looked sexy on him, but then Danny would look hot no matter what. She opened the door and let him in. The faint smell of smoke followed him into the house.

  “There was a fire.” He coughed.

  “Let’s go in the kitchen.” She walked through the doorway, flipped the wall switch, and blinked at the bright overhead light. “You’re sure you’re all right?” She scanned him from blackened sneakers to bloodshot eyes.

  Danny hacked again. “Fine.”

  Mandy filled him a glass of water. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He downed half of the liquid. “Looks like I burned down Reed’s house with the woodstove, though I’m not sure how it happened. I need a place to stay.”

  No.

  She didn’t want him here. She wanted Danny to go home to Philadelphia so she could forget about Nathan and whoever didn’t want him found. A threat had followed Danny’s arrival. If he left, would that be the end of it? Could she go back to pretending to be normal? She wanted everything to go away, including the emotions and desire Danny stirred up inside of her. She couldn’t miss what she’d never had. But once she let that heat build, how would she go back to the cold?

  She opened her mouth to tell him the inn was full. The door to the family quarters opened.
r />   “Of course we have a room for you.” Leaning heavily on a cane, Mandy’s mother walked in. Pain lines around her eyes and the deliberation in her gait tightened Mandy’s chest.

  “I’m sorry I woke you, Mrs. Brown.” Danny held out a hand.

  “I wasn’t asleep.” Mandy’s mother took his hand in both of hers. Gratitude shone from her pale face. “You saved my daughter. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “I’m just glad I was there to help.” Danny smiled, but concern flashed across his face. He’d noticed her mother’s fragile appearance.

  “Mom, why don’t you sit down?”

  “I’m not an invalid, Mandy,” her mom protested, but she was two-handing the cane. She shuffled to the medicine cabinet, unlocked it, and squinted at a prescription bottle of pain pills. She swallowed a tablet with tap water and gave them a weak smile. “Please excuse me. I’m going to go back to bed. I’ll see you later, Danny. Let us know if you need anything. Mandy will take good care of you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Let’s get you checked in.” Mandy faked a smile and led Danny back into the foyer. At the registration desk, she pulled out a new guest card, slid it across the counter to him, and then booted up the inn’s laptop.

  Danny filled out the empty boxes and handed her the card. “Is she all right?” he asked in a low voice.

  She typed his name and address into the system. “My mother hasn’t been feeling well.”

  “I hope it isn’t serious.”

  Mandy tapped computer keys. “She had a heart attack over the winter.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. She’s on the mend?”

  “Yes. Her recovery is slow but steady.” Slow being the operative word.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Danny handed her his credit card. “So, you’ve been running the place by yourself?”

  “It’s just temporary.” Mandy stared at the card. The familiar panic welled up inside her. Her mother was going to be OK. She had to be. Mandy couldn’t take over the inn and Bill and everything. She’d only been doing it for a couple of months, and she was exhausted already. Her stress level was busting through the roof, even without Nathan hanging over her head for the next year. “How many nights will you be staying?”

  “I’m not sure. Could be a couple of weeks. I feel responsible for Reed’s house. I’ll have to arrange for the repairs or cleanup or whatever.” Of course, Danny would do the honorable thing.

  “Oh.” Two weeks of looking at him, the hero, and being reminded of what she’d done. Two weeks of not letting her thoughts slip out of her mouth no matter how much his eyes tempted her to spill everything. Two weeks of resisting the heat simmering deep in her belly right now.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not.” She smoothed the anxiety from her face and handed him a key. “The room should be all set. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will.” He pocketed the key and picked up his duffel bag from the floor. “Try to get some sleep. You look tired.”

  “You, too.” Mandy watched him ascend the stairs until his long, jeans-clad legs disappeared from sight.

  What was she going to do? She’d barely resisted him when he wasn’t living under the same roof. Now she didn’t stand a chance. After two weeks, his constant questions about Nathan were going to feel like a barrage.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Danny closed his shaving kit and dried his face with a fluffy, white towel. He left the steamy bathroom. The room was small, the furniture probably antique but not fussy. The décor was Yankee sparse, nothing taking up space that wasn’t useful. The wood floor chilled his bare feet. Spring mornings in Maine felt like freaking winter. He massaged his hand. After last night’s batting practice with the lamp, his arm was stressed. Fiery pinpricks shot from his elbow to his fingertips, and it wasn’t even six a.m. Not a good sign.

  He dressed in jeans that didn’t smell like an ashtray and grabbed a pair of socks from his bag.

  Coffee. He needed coffee and food. Three hours of lying in bed not sleeping had left his whole body cramped and his head achy. Yeah, right. His crankiness had nothing to do with the erotic thoughts that stemmed from seeing Mandy in her pajamas and robe. He was ridiculous. She’d been covered from head to toe in more flannel than Mrs. Walton, for crying out loud. There was nothing sexy about flannel. Except on her. Her mussed hair and sleepy eyes had given him a clear image of her in bed, which was great until he remembered she had a boyfriend.

  Disappointment crawled into Danny’s chest and got comfortable. He’d known coming up here that she was taken. Hell, he’d saved her man’s life. So what was his deal? Jed may not be fully recovered, but he had a business breeding and training hunting dogs and, hopefully, a future that included a return to guiding tourists through the wilderness. Danny was a damaged veteran with no immediate prospects. His siblings didn’t really need him to run the tavern, and Sullivan’s could only support a limited number of people. Returning to the army wasn’t an option. So what was he going to do with the rest of his life?

  The only goal on his horizon was figuring out what happened to Nathan Hall. As far as goals went, it was a huge freaking long shot. The only things he’d managed to accomplish so far were pissing off Mandy and burning Reed’s house down. The phone call to Reed should be fun.

  He turned on the TV and checked the weather. Same as yesterday. Sunny. Cold in the morning. Warmer in the afternoon. Possible rain later in the week. Danny flipped to the news. Stalling. Yup. That’s what he was doing.

  Shit.

  He could skip breakfast and slip out without seeing her at all. No. Being love-struck as a high schooler over Mandy Brown didn’t give him an excuse to backslide. According to his therapist, avoiding uncomfortable situations wasn’t healthy. His recovery from post-traumatic stress was more than a slippery slope. As last night’s trip to flashback land had demonstrated, it wouldn’t take much to send him careening over the cliff he’d clawed his way up last winter. Discipline had been a key to his recovery. So he would eat regular meals, exercise, and attempt to get enough sleep. In a couple of hours, he’d make the call to Reed and fess up. And he’d face Mandy Brown.

  Dammit. He’d be healthy even if it killed him.

  A news clip showed a reporter standing outside a large brick building. The caption read MUSEUM THEFT BAFFLES BANGOR PD.

  “The theft of a collection of Celtic artifacts baffles Bangor police. Last night, thieves bypassed more valuable pieces to steal items from a Celtic collection on loan from a Scottish museum. With no sign of a forced break-in, detectives are trying to determine how the thieves gained entry to the building.” When the clip ended, Danny switched off the TV. Anything Celtic set off his internal sensors. He needed access to a computer. Maybe Mandy would let him use her laptop. And on that note, it was time to get moving.

  He grabbed his running shoes from the corner and shoved one foot in a sneaker, then the other. Dropping to one knee, he tied shoe number one. By the time he got to number two, his bum hand was shaking so hard he couldn’t hold on to the laces.

  His chest burned. Sometimes, the smallest roadblocks were the hardest to overcome. He swallowed his frustration. This was what he wanted when he volunteered for this trip, wasn’t it? To be on his own. To not have his siblings there to jump in and help him with everything. More than a year after his war injury and medical discharge, Danny had come to the conclusion that the only way to reenter the pool of self-reliant humans was a giant swan dive. Testing the waters with a pinky toe only gave him more opportunities to quit.

  After three more attempts, Danny gave up. If he rested his hand, the muscles would calm down. He tucked his laces into the top of his running shoe, but only because his stomach was audibly growling. As his siblings kept telling him, Sullivans weren’t quitters.

  Most of the time, Danny believed them.

  But right now, packing up his shit and going home was hugely tempting.

  H
e left the room and jogged down the stairs. The clinking of utensils on dishes drew him through the doorway at the back of the parlor. The dining room held eight square tables with four place settings apiece. On the far wall, a long oak sideboard boasted an assortment of breakfast foods. Beverages in urns and glass pitchers were lined up on a buffet on the adjoining wall. In between was a doorway Danny assumed led to the kitchen. Only two tables were occupied. An older couple dressed for some sort of outdoor pursuit were finishing up close to the door, and four old guys in fishing hats were tucking in to full plates in the corner.

  Danny grabbed a thick mug from the closest table and filled it with coffee. Sunrise peeked through the side windows as he perused the chafing dishes. He loaded a plate with pancakes, bacon, and whole wheat toast. One-handed, the process took him a while. Once seated, he ate with rapid efficiency, keeping one eye on the doorway.

  When he was finished, he bent down and slowly tied his laces on the first try. Patience was a virtue he often neglected.

  Mandy didn’t appear. Danny drained his coffee. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. An angry Mandy was better than no Mandy at all, which was just pathetic.

  “Mom, you’re not supposed to be working.” Mandy loaded coffee mugs into the dishwasher. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A strand of hair escaped her ponytail and fell across her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear. “There’s oatmeal in the dining room.”

  “I’m just helping you with the pancakes.” Standing in front of the stove, her mother added a lump of butter to the griddle with one shaky hand. With the other, she gripped the edge of the counter.

  “The doctor said it would take several months to recover. You have to be patient.”

  “I’m tired of being useless.” Mae raised a defiant chin.

  “I know. It’s only temporary. Sit down. I’ll make you some scrambled egg whites and wheat toast.”