Down in Flames (Wildfire Hearts Book 5)

by Savannah Kade

  Silence fell between them as the information ran out. Both were trying to think of an option that would make the pieces click.

  "What about the cat?" Ronan asked finally. "Was that from the pet store too?" Just the thought made his stomach turn.

  "Davies says he doesn't know about the cat." He paused a moment. "I'm not questioning him, but I've been watching. His reaction seemed genuine."

  Ronan thought for another minute. "Did you show him the picture from the traffic cam? The guy who hit me?"

  "No! We haven't. I’ll get that picture into the room and worked into questioning. They’re almost done with him."

  And they would let him go ... Ronan hated that. This man had been part of a clear threat to Tierney, but he'd be put back out onto the street.

  Davies had taken money to provide information on her ... That made his blood boil.

  "I'll call you back if we get anything more," Gomez promised.

  Hanging up with more questions than answers, Ronan ran his thumb over the face of the phone. He hadn't meant to pull up all of his messages to Tierney, but there they were. Bold reminders of his failure.

  The first message he'd sent was answered with please don't contact me. All the others simply lined up on his side of the screen with no response. She wanted him to leave her alone. She seemed to have some idea that Vander clef was a threat to Ronan and, while he might be, Ronan considered himself a good fighter. He was almost entirely healed now from his accident that maybe wasn't an accident.

  Hell, he couldn't be sure. It was impressive how paranoid he could become so quickly. He reminded himself to cut Tierney a little slack.

  He had to be in peak condition to get sent back to his job. One angry ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be a problem. Once Elliot was taken care of, he could do whatever he needed to convince Tierney they belonged together, even though he was still trying to convince himself they didn't. She didn't want him, and he didn't want all the red tape from dating his late-wife's sister. But he wanted her.

  The engine still running, he threw the gear into reverse and backed out of the space. As he started to turn onto the main road, he suddenly slammed his brakes to avoid a slick sports car going far too fast. Had Ronan been an officer, he would have flipped the sirens and run after the guy. But none of the local PD seem to be in sight and the car sped down the street into the distance. As though the owner needed to let everyone know what a big cock he thought he had.

  Ronan was done with this day. He was just going to try to not get hit again. He'd go home and play video games or figure something out. He would avoid thinking anything paranoid.

  One block from home the phone rang again. This time he had the phone up on the dash. His eyes glanced over as he decided to just hit the button. He kept his eyes on the road.

  "Hi Gomez, something new?" Ronan asked.

  "Good call. Davies says that was him."

  It took a moment for Ronan to absorb what that meant. He was just trying to keep his tires on the road as his world rolled over several times.

  What was he supposed to do with this information? Could he prove that the other man had hit him on purpose? The police still had no idea who it even was. Or did they?

  The white SUV that had T-d Ronan had been a rental and the Police hadn't been able to chase down who was driving. Maybe this would give them more impetus. He asked Gomez, "Do you have a name for him? Could you look into him being tied to my car accident?"

  "You'll press charges?"

  "You know I will. Every charge in the book," Ronan told him before he hung up.

  This could be great news. It might even shut Vander clef down. Ronan was smiling as he slowed enough to turn into his driveway. Hitting the garage door button, he waited while the door slowly cranked its way up.

  Siorse had wanted the prettier model rather than the faster one he'd preferred. The house did look better with these, not that she was here anymore to see it. Had she even really enjoyed it when she was alive? He was learning to let go of unanswered questions where his late wife was concerned. It was past time to change things.

  He parked the car but exited out the front of the garage, sending the door down behind him. Along the front porch, he checked on the little garden of shrubs. It was barely eaking its way through the harsh Nebraska winter. The plants should start bouncing back soon, as long as they didn't get another freeze.

  Climbing the front steps, Ronan told himself he hadn't been looking for odd footprints or evidence of anyone casing the house. But he hadn't seen anything. With his key, he flipped the bolt that was still securely locked and let himself into the front room. The white shaggy carpet still lay in front of the fireplace—the one he hadn't wanted to buy, but Siorse had insisted on.

  She'd left, but it had stayed. Another thing to remember her by. Then he'd screwed her sister on the same carpet they'd fought over. He hadn't wanted white and now he didn't want to get rid of it for more than one reason.

  Trying to shake off his morbid feelings about both the Doyle women, he headed through the kitchen. He needed to get his keys into the little dish at the edge of the mudroom before he lost them. He needed to hang up his coat. His thoughts were swirling, but he still couldn't miss the dead white rat gutted and smeared across his kitchen counter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Tierney didn't respond to Elliot's taunt. She didn't answer to Emmie Baby anymore, or even to Emily.

  "So how is the future Mrs. Vander clef?" He grinned again. Leaning on one hand propped on her doorframe, his body tilted in a cocky pose. One that said he knew she wasn't going to do anything.

  "I don't know who that is," Tierney replied, proud of herself for the rapid comeback.

  She almost crossed her arms, but realized she needed her hands free for quick action. Crossing her arms might mask that she was shaking. Putting her hands in her pockets would be good too, but it created the same problem. Her heart was pounding, and she was afraid he could see it.

  Elliot just laughed at her response. "I just wanted to know how you were doing."

  "I suspect you already know exactly how I'm doing ..." she paused. "And I've already reported you to the police."

  A dark cloud swept across his features before he could hide it. She wondered if anyone else would have seen it had they been here. He was so fast to cover it up.

  "Honey, you don't report your husband to the police."

  She tried to stay calm. "You're not my husband. You never were."

  "I will be." He said it with such certainty that it was clearly a threat. To Elliot a wife would be owned. Hell, he thought he owned her when she was just his girlfriend.

  "No." Tierney issued the one word like a command, as though she were pushing that idea out into the universe. "You never will be."

  He raised one eyebrow, challenging her in a way that she couldn't rebut.

  She hated him having the last word. Hated it. Her insides were churning, her anger rising. At least that was better than the fear. "You need to get off my property."

  He let out a small chuckle. "It's not your property. You rent it."

  Did he know everything? She would have to assume he did, but still stay on her toes so as not to hand him anything he hadn't found out for himself.

  "As the tenant, I'm still in charge. Only the owner can challenge me." She saw her mistake the moment the idea passed across his features.

  Fuck. He was going to own this property as fast as he could. He would make her little old landlord an offer he couldn't refuse.

  Tierney tried not to let it show on her face and she wondered if she had the same kind of rapid micro expressions that Elliot did. Did it matter anyway? He seemed to be able to read her in an almost psychic manner. "You need to get off of my property."

  Even though it hurt to do it, she stepped toward him. She was in the legal right here. She should have looked up what kind of laws there were for shooting someone on her own doorstep. His refusal to leave probably wouldn't count as provocation enoug
h if it went to court. It didn't matter anyway. Elliot always managed to stay just under the wire when he committed a crime. When he went too far, he made sure there were no witnesses.

  This time he nodded and stepped back as if acknowledging her power in the situation. Tierney knew that was a false flag.

  "Sure thing, Emmie." He turned and took the first step down even as her gut churned again at the old term of endearment. It had once made her swoon. Then it struck fear into her bones. It still held far too much power.

  She should have known he hadn’t really given in. He glanced, too casually, over his shoulder. "How's that boy of mine?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about." How many times could she repeat the one phrase? She kept her expression as blank as possible and prayed that she gave nothing away.

  "You know." Reaching the walkway, he turned back to face her. Looking up left her towering over him, once again in a position of power that she knew was completely false.

  Diagonally, she saw one of the neighbors come out the front door. Anyone looking would see only a friendly check-in. Oh, Elliot would have made sure everything appeared copacetic. Anything Tierney complained about was just her imagining things. He was always the good guy.

  "He's a Vander clef, Emmie. And he's going to be a Vander clef."

  This time she didn't answer. What could she say? That Elliot would never find him? That was a challenge. She'd learned a long time ago not to issue them. Should she just deny him and say no, he never will be?

  Instead, she said nothing. Tierney simply stood on her threshold, defending the unspoken threat as best she could. If her sheer force of will could move him, he would have blown backwards off his feet. But still he stood there, smiling up at her as if he had a secret.

  To her right, a series of clicks and a squeak signified that her neighbor was coming out onto the front porch.

  Elliot waved to the woman, his sense of familiarity making Tierney's blood run cold. He glanced up to her, catching her gaze and winking before he turned to the neighbor. "Hey Mrs. Wentworth! Good to see you again. I just came by to say hello to Tierney here."

  There was something in the way he emphasized her name that showed he was making a point. She wasn't who she said she was and he might just let the whole town know.

  For once, Tierney found she didn't care. Her time was up. Elliot had found her and the only thing she could do was protect Sean.

  "Oh hello, Elliot!" Mrs. Wentworth said, "I'm so glad you found her."

  Tierney was done playing by the rules, done being nice. She turned to her neighbor. "Mrs. Wentworth? I'm sorry to do this to you. And I'm sure he's been absolutely charming, but Elliot Vander clef is not welcome on my property." She turned to face him. "Please, leave now."

  He simply grinned, unaffected by her threat or her statement to Mrs. Wentworth. He waved at both women as her elderly neighbor frowned, finally realizing all was not as it seemed. He climbed into the sports car with all the cares of a man who'd been visiting friends, not one who’d just been told he had to leave.

  As he pulled out of the driveway, Tierney considered her options for future interactions. He would confront her again, maybe at the bar where she would technically be in a public space. Maybe on the street. Maybe in her own bedroom in the dead of night.

  She considered calling the police. The question was, were any of them in Elliot's pockets? And if they weren't on the Vander clef's payroll now, would they be in a little while?

  She was glad she hadn't threatened to call them. For as many missteps as she'd made, she had to be proud of herself. He used to manipulate her into giving him all the information he wanted. Elliot was so good at forcing the results he wanted.

  Now, Tierney turned to her neighbor as her driveway cleared out. "I'm sorry to put you in that position, Mrs. Wentworth. But I'm sure you've heard the whole town talking about the fact that I had a stalker years ago."

  "Oh, my dear. I did. I didn't even put it together." The woman had her frail hand, knuckles thick with arthritis, pressed to her chest. Her house coat billowed a little in the cold wind. She shouldn't be out here. So Tierney tried to make it quick.

  "That was him."

  "Oh my. He came by here before and asked me about you. He was so charming!"

  "He's good at that," Tierney told the woman. She didn't like making her elderly neighbor a target, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. She reminded herself that none of this was her fault. Maybe it was a good thing the rumors had spread. It got her in front of Elliot. "He uses his charm to get in places where he shouldn't be, and you have to stand up to him. I learned that the hard way. Go back inside though."

  "Okay, Honey. Well, I'll let you know if I see him again!"

  Tierney realized her busy body neighbor might be used to her advantage. "I appreciate that!"

  She watched as the old woman grabbed her printed newspaper off her front porch and headed back inside as Tierney closed and double bolted her front door. Still Elliot's threat lingered. He intended to get custody of Sean and he had the money and the legal team to make it happen.

  There was only one way Tierney knew to stop him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Ronan opened his front door to Detective Gomez, letting him in the house.

  "You haven't touched anything?"

  Ronan took a moment to trace his path for the man. "For some reason I decided to check on the front garden." Because it was another thing that Siorse had left for him. "I walked through here," he pointed, "And I saw it and stopped and backed up."

  He'd put his keys in his coat pocket and draped the coat over a chair in the living room, wanting to be sure he didn't disturb any of the evidence.

  Gomez examined the bloody scene for himself. Ronan would have followed but another car pulled up, parking at the front of his house.

  This time it wasn't the police, but Tierney. He was already opening the door as she came up the walk. The look on her face accused him of manufacturing a way to make her talk to him. But he shook his head and waved her inside.

  Gomez didn't seem thrilled that Ronan had invited someone else to this little shindig, but Ronan wasn't going to apologize. Tierney needed to see what was happening.

  At least, Gomez decided to share. He waved her closer and, without a word, she stepped into Ronan's kitchen to look at the rat.

  "Do you see anything you recognize?" Gomez asked and she responded with, "That's his liver, and there's his spleen."

  She pointed to various pieces that Ronan would have simply called guts.

  "Ha ha." Gomez was not amused.

  "It looks the same as the ones on my porch. Though maybe a little more smeared around," she conceded.

  Ronan watched as her head turned and she caught his gaze as if to apologize, almost as if she were the one who had done this.

  "You left the bar when?" Gomez turned away from the scene and began questioning Ronan.

  There was nothing to do but answer honestly, even if that meant Tierney heard everything.

  "You got home when?"

  Even Tierney raised an eyebrow at the time Ronan gave.

  "I drove around town."

  "For?" Gomez wasn't one for prompting answers and Ronan was forced to admit that he'd been looking for Vander clef.

  "You weren't going to find him driving around town," Tierney said with all the confidence in the world.

  When he turned and looked at her as if to question this confidence, he didn't like the answer.

  "Because he followed me down the street and then showed up at my doorstep."

  "What?" Ronan almost yelled it. His breath stuttered. He'd been taking a step backward and he almost tripped on air. There was no doubt that Elliot Vander clef was here if he'd shown up on Tierney's doorstep.

  "When was this?" Gomez asked, furiously scribbling his chicken scratch into a tiny, spiral bound notebook he kept in his pocket.

  "Ronan called me just after I bolted the door ... Here." She pulled her
phone out and held it up, showing Gomez the call time.

  "How long was he there?"

  This time she shrugged to the officer. It was clear to Ronan that the interaction had taken more out of her than she was willing to say. She was petrified of Vander clef even though Ronan figured she could take him. She had the gun. Though, despite everything she'd said—how she believed she would have no trouble killing her ex—people often found they weren't willing to pull the trigger when the time came.

  "Give me a minute." Gomez shooed the two of them out of the kitchen as he began taking pictures.

  Ronan turned and left, following instructions, hearing or maybe sensing Tierney right behind him. He couldn't help it. He stopped in front of the fireplace, staring at the white fluffy throw rug. The last time he and Tierney had been here, they'd been peeling their clothing.

  When he turned to look at her, her arms were crossed, and she was defiantly avoiding looking at the fireplace.

  He wanted to say he missed her, as silly as that seemed. It hadn't even been a day.

  But this morning she'd turned him away. She seemed to be upset that, despite telling him to leave, she'd had to encounter him twice more.

  A moment later, Gomez was going out the front door and making calls. "I'm bringing all of this in. Full scale."

  Tierney obviously wanted to ask a question, but he was gone before she could. So she turned to Ronan. "Nobody wanted any of the evidence when it was at my house."

  Ronan shrugged. "Maybe this is just the number that was high enough to get them to keep it."

  He could see she didn't believe him. Maybe she'd dealt with the Vander clefs and stalking laws in the past and knew that they were never going to be enough. He tried again. "Maybe it's because this one was inside the house and yours were on the front step. Also, you cleaned them up before you reported them ... Or I did."

  Maybe that had been a mistake. The problem with stalking laws was that people failed to report until it was too late. Ronan knew this. Yet, for all he felt he'd been getting ahead of it, he'd still been too late with Tierney.