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unbearable, and I could feel my skin tightening and had to squint against the brightness of the flames.
I laughed, actually enjoying myself as I plucked out the next bottle, walking backward toward the open door, knowing this one was going to be the killer blow, the one to bring the house down.
Checking over my shoulder, seeing the last guy disappear out the door and race for the exit, I lit the bottle and threw it directly at the compressed gas bottles and all the highly flammable chemicals piled high in the corner, then turned and ran as fast as I could out of the building and into the fresh air, following the four men as they dashed across the lot and over toward the grassy knoll I’d hidden behind earlier.
When I was halfway across the lot, an explosion from behind me threw me forward, debris and bits of the building flying through the air and landing around me, flames devouring them already.
I landed with a thump and turned my head to see the whole place practically leveled. Flames licked up into the sky about ten feet high. A plume of black smoke rose into the air, covering the blue sky in a shroud of darkness.
Getting my hands under me, I pushed myself up to my feet, dusting off my jeans, and looked at the burning building with a satisfied grin on my face.
One down, and hopefully Detective Lewiston will take out the other three.
The Salazars would be out of business, out of money, and out of places to hide. A laugh built in my throat, kind of like an evil cackle as I turned and headed for my car. The four men were standing on the grass opposite, watching me with wide eyes and slack, hanging mouths.
I gave them a little salute as I walked. “Kid Cole out,” I joked, sending a wink in their direction. This would just form another part of my legacy, something else for people to talk about when my name was mentioned.
My next and only thought as I climbed back into my car was Ellie.
CHAPTER 20
ELLIE
AS RAY AND I stepped out of the elevator and headed for the apartment door, I couldn’t stop my mind from returning to the vengeful look on Jamie’s face. Was he going back to the parking lot to do what I’d begged him not to? What other possible thing could he have to “take care of”?
Ray opened the door and stepped inside, giving my elbow a little tug in prompt.
“What has Jamie gone to do?” I asked, holding my ground. He must have explained and told his friend the reason he had to stay here babysitting me; he just didn’t want me to know.
Ray’s eyes tightened. “Just come inside. He said he’d explain everything when he’s back, so I’m staying out of it.” He tugged my arm again, and because of my weakened, shaky state, my body obliged even though my mind was still reeling.
The door clicked shut behind me and Ray locked it, leaning forward to look through the peephole, checking for some bizarre reason even though we’d just been the only ones out there.
I folded my arms around myself, tucking my hands under my armpits in a bid to quell their tremor. As Ray stood guard at the peephole, I turned and walked farther into the apartment, my eyes taking in everything and nothing.
The apartment was nice—a lot better than Jamie had ever been able to afford when we were together. A large picture window stretched the length of the living room and the open-plan kitchen area, showing a beautiful city skyscape that I would bet looked incredible at dusk or at night when all the lights of the city glowed against the darkness.
Finally, Ray pushed away from the door, his shoulders loosening marginally as he turned to me. “Right, tea with plenty of sugar. You sit,” he instructed, pointing toward the large, expensive-looking brown leather seating area all arranged around a gorgeous fireplace with the biggest TV I’d ever seen mounted above it.
I took his advice, sitting down before I fell down, and Ray set my purse at my feet before heading to the kitchen area. I sighed and looked around, my mind whirling, wondering what this beautiful, expansive apartment really said about Jamie Cole, because I couldn’t see one ounce of his personality here. Everything was sleek, clinical, cold, with an emphasis on money—unless that was the new Jamie of today...
Ray came in a few minutes later, setting a mug of tea on the coffee table along with a plate of cookies. “I figured you should eat something; it might help with the shock.” He eyed me worriedly as I leaned forward mechanically and picked up my cup, sipping at the tea until it was gone and then taking a cookie, nibbling on it but not tasting it. The tea really helped, and my trembling eventually subsided.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed—long enough for me to drink my whole mug of hot tea. When Ray’s phone rang, he looked down at it and then back to me before stepping into the inner hallway and answering it.
When he walked back into the living room and sat down, his posture was rigid and tight. He leaned forward and snagged a cookie, munching on it, not meeting my eyes.
“Was that Jamie?” I asked.
Ray shook his head.
I huffed angrily, my temper rising again now. “How long is he going to be?” I asked. “How long is he expecting me to sit here and wait for him? I want to go home! Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on? Do you know who those guys were? Is Jamie going to be in trouble or something for that? I mean, they had guns and...” It was all too much. Now that my shaking had stopped and my mind seemed to be going back to normal, rational thought kicked in, and so did my anger. I needed answers.
Ray sighed deeply and finally looked up at me. “Ellie, you can’t go home right now. Please just wait for Kid to come back and explain. I’m not going to get involved, so please stop asking me.”
I scowled angrily, but he just shrugged one shoulder and gave a little shake of his head, so I knew he wasn’t giving in anytime soon. I huffed angrily. “Fine. Can I use the bathroom?” I asked, needing to do something other than sit and wait and stew.
Ray nodded and motioned his chin toward the only other door in the apartment. “It’s through the bedroom and on the left.”
Bedroom. My stomach gave a little quiver thinking about the place where Jamie slept. But then something else occurred to me. Jamie would have had other girls in his bed.
As soon as that thought entered my head, something very unwelcome took root in my stomach. I refused to acknowledge it as jealousy, but as I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, my eyes searched out signs of a girlfriend—throw pillows, girls’ clothing, makeup, anything.
I was more than a little relieved to see that this room was just as cold and clinical as the living room, with one exception. There were a few photo frames on his bedside table and dresser.
Without my permission, my legs carried me over there as I picked up the one next to his bed: his sister Sophie. The same photo I had fixed for him after it had been ripped. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I looked at it. She really was a gorgeous little thing.
Heading to the dresser, I looked at the next one: Jamie holding a baby girl wearing a white christening gown. He looked much the same as he did now, a little more unkempt than he had when I knew him before. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The last photo on the dresser was of a group of people. Jamie was still holding the baby, but Ray and two women were in this one. My hand reached for it, then stilled as my gaze settled on the younger of the two women.
Her face was familiar.
It hit me all at once. Natalie.
But it couldn’t be, could it? How would Natalie know Jamie? I’d met her in Rome; it couldn’t be that much of a small world, could it?
My mind whirled as I picked up the photo, inspecting it more closely. But yes, it was definitely her. Natalie Rowson. My traveling companion. Her hair was shorter, chopped into a cute pixie cut now. She was smiling down at the little girl in Jamie’s arms.
Wait, was Jamie now dating Natalie? Was that...their child?
My stomach clenched, fiercer this time, churning like fire.
Natalie and I had kept in touch after she came b
ack home and I decided to stay in England. We weren’t really close anymore, but we sometimes chatted via Facebook Messenger and liked each other’s tweets and statuses, things like that. I’d seen no mention of her dating anyone, let alone Jamie. Surely that would be something she would mention, brag about even? And surely she would have recognized his name—I’d cried over him enough, hadn’t I? We toasted to his demise enough times for her to know his name and realize he was the guy who’d shattered me, wouldn’t she? Yet here she was, right here in the photo and standing next to him with a proud smile on her face.
