Page 75 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

“Stand back,” he warned Jason.

He angled from the waist, getting as much power behind the throw as he could and hurled the weight at the window. It broke through, shattering the glass from the top of the frame to the bottom. Marc picked up a table lamp and used it to smash away the jagged shards, until the window was clear. He gasped for fresh air.

“Over you go,” Jason said.

“No. You’re in worse shape than I am. You go first, I’ll be right behind you.”

“There’s no time to argue,” Jason shouted. “I’m more used to climbing than you are. Get out.”

There was a loud, splintering crack in the room behind them. The door was giving way. Marc could barely see an arm’s length behind him for the smoke.

“Use your good arm and legs,” Jason said with a cough. “Keep going and don’t stop.”

Marc swung his leg over the window. “You’d better be right behind me, or I’m coming back for you.”

“You can’t keep me away from you. Move.”

The pain in Marc’s arm became a minor concern. He gripped the jacket rope with his uninjured arm and thighs, wrapping his broken arm around it and shimmying down with a speed he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. The rain turned the outer coating on his plaster to a slimy mush, but Marc had more critical concerns. At the bottom of the rope, he dangled down as far as he could stretch before dropping to the ground.

He was instantly on his feet, shaking rainwater from his eyes to track Jason’s progress.

Despite his extensive injuries, Jason climbed out of the window and flew down the rope even faster thanhe had. He landed at the bottom with an uncomfortable grunt.

“Are you okay?” Marc gasped. “Are you all right?”

Jason pressed his mouth against Marc, crushing his lips in a breathless kiss.

They were alive and it was the only answer he needed.

* * * *

Marc had spent far more time in the emergency rooms of Blyham hospital in recent days than he cared for. In the last three hours he’d been treated for smoke inhalation and had the plaster cast on his arm reset. He’d been discharged and waited in a side room with Jason. Jason had been to the X-ray department and had confirmation of another broken rib.

It was only now, sometime later, that the full impact of what they had been through settled upon them. Marc held Jason’s hand. The hospital was a riot of noise and action, but behind the curtain they were alone. Neither of them had spoken in a while.

There was no need. They’d lived through the experience and knew exactly what had happened. The hospital was also crawling with police. There was a uniformed guard standing right outside the cubicle. Protection, in case Chantelle attempted to finish the ghastly job she had started.

They both looked up as the curtain was torn aside. It was Nadine. Her usually immaculate hair was waterlogged. Her suit was sodden and crumpled.

“Any news on Ryman?” Jason asked. His voice deeper than usual.

“They’ve put out the fire,” she said. “But as far as I know they haven’t extracted their bodies yet. The police have already notified their families.”

“Oh, hell,” Jason groaned. “Poor Karina. She’ll be devastated. They have two kids, too.”

Marc’s heart ached with sadness. He squeezed Jason’s hand a little tighter. If he hadn’t instigated this investigation, his friend would still be alive. So would three other men. He knew that none of this was his fault. Chantelle was responsible for all that had happened, but it didn’t lessen his guilt.

“Any news about her?” he asked. “Has she been sighted?”

Nadine shook her head. She had seen the killer flee from Soloman’s office, but by then Nadine had realised that Jason and Marc were in trouble. The flames were already obvious at the windows and Nadine couldn’t have followed her.

“Everything Blake told us checks out.” Nadine handed Jason her phone.

Marc leaned in to see the screen. Nadine had pulled up a news story accompanied by a photo of a fresh-faced young man.

“His suicide barely got a mention, just a tiny feature on the local news group. Stefan Readymarcher killed himself last April, after a long period of depression. It’s a tragic story but not enough to go beyond local interest. Chantelle doesn’t even get a name check.”

“Survived by his mother,” Jason read aloud.

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