Cause to Burn

by Mairsile Leabhair

  Rosa opened the bag with the cinnamon sticks and shook her head. “No, just the icing for the dessert.”

  I slammed the breadstick on my plate and grabbed my beer. “Damn it. Can this day get any worse?” It was difficult reining in my anger. It was times like this that I wish I hadn’t let Tina talk me into getting rid of my punching bag.

  “Um, actually…” Rosie put sat her half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate. She glanced at Robbie again with that same curious expression. “Robbie, I ran that photo through facial recognition.”

  Robbie stopped at mid-bite and stared at her. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yes, but I’m just not sure if this will be good news or bad.” Rosa glanced at me, and I nodded my encouragement. She turned to Robbie again. “He is your father, Robbie.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Roberta Witherspoon

  “By the look on her face, I take it that was bad news,” Rosa said.

  “Yeah, very bad news,” Jordy stated.

  I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t focus on either of them. You live your whole life curious about a man that you hate, and you hate him without ever having truly known him. I was comfortable in my hatred for the man who abandoned us, leaving Mom in dire straits with a six-year old. Now, twenty years later, that comfort had just been ripped away and replaced with anxiety, anger, resentment, and an even deeper loathing for the man. Now, I had a face for the target of my animosity.

  It didn’t start out that way. They say that the greater the love, the deeper the hate. I remember when I was four years old, my father would bounce me on his knee and tell me that I was a beautiful cowgirl riding on a horse. When I was five, he would sit down on the floor and have invisible tea with me and my dolls. When I was six, I was angry with my mother because I was a Daddy’s girl and my mother had stolen me away from him. I cried for him all the way to Little Rock and if it hadn’t been for my grandparents, I might never have forgiven her. As I grew up, my mother and grandma sugar-coated my father’s bad habits, but my grandpa was always brutally honest with me. He became my surrogate father until Jerry came along. If Grandpa hadn’t approved of Jerry, I never would have allowed them to move me to Germantown.

  What am I going to tell my mom?

  “Robbie?” Jordy put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “What?” I let the slice of pizza fall to my plate and brought my hand to my lips to suppress a gasp. “I didn’t want it to be him.”

  “I know you didn’t,” she said, taking my other hand in hers. “But, it’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Robbie,” Rosa said softly.

  “Thank you, Rosie.” I managed a weak smile. “If you’ll excuse me for just a minute, I’ll be right back.”

  Tears were about to break the dam and I wanted to be alone to let them. Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door and sat down on the toilet lid. I barely had time to grab the tissue. They weren’t just tears, they were sobs of disappointment, of wanting, of anger.

  I’m not sure how long I sat there, asking myself, why now? Why is he even in Memphis? How did he know I was here? Was he stalking me? What the hell does he want from me?

  As I washed my face, I asked myself the same questions over and over again, but there were no answers. I needed answers. I’ve always looked for the reason behind the motive, needing to resolve the unanswered questions. But this wasn’t a reporter looking for a good story to write. This was about a father who bounced me on his leg one minute and deserted me the next.

  I scrutinized myself in the mirror, cringing at my red, puffy eyes. Then it hit me. If I wanted answers, I had to compartmentalize. I needed to look at him as just another investigative story and report the facts. He wanted something, and I needed to find out what that was. I sure didn’t believe it was to make amends for being a bastard. Maybe Jordy will help me? I had a plan, I had determination, and I had anger. I walked out of that bathroom with renewed confidence, even as I wiped a stray tear from my cheek.

  “I was beginning to think that you fell in,” Jordy teased. She stood up and handed me a beer.

  “Got anything stronger?” I asked, suddenly craving a shot of whiskey.

  “You’re in luck; the bar is open.” She walked over to the china cabinet that didn’t have any china in it and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses. She poured a thimble full of whiskey in the glass and held it out to me. I shook my head and held up three fingers.

  “Again, the perfect woman,” she said coquettishly, filling the glass to the rim.

  “Thanks.” I downed the whiskey in one gulp and handed it back to her for another. “Where did Rosa go?” I asked, grimacing at the slow burn down my throat.

  “She left. Said to tell you she was sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am,” I quipped, taking the full glass Jordy offered and downing it.

  “So, are we going to get shit-faced drunk, or are we going to talk about it?”

  “Can’t we do both?” I asked, handing her my empty glass. The whiskey soothed my raw throat, as it warmed my soul and calmed my nerves. “Keep it coming.”

  “Sure, but unfortunately, there’s more I need to tell you. Here, take this and let’s sit on the couch.”

  Jordy didn’t fill the glass all the way this time, but she did pour herself a glass and it was full. I downed my drink and picked hers up before she could.

  “Hey! Can’t I have a drink, too?”

  Laughing, I replied, “Sure, pour yourself one. You’re already two and a half drinks behind.” I wobbled the shot glass in my hand on the way to the couch. “Make that three and a half.”

  She joined me on the couch, a drink in her hand, and I noticed she didn’t bring the whiskey bottle with her.

  “Okay, what could be worse than the fact that the junkie who accosted us is my father?”

  “Rosie is running his rap sheet as soon as she gets to the office in the morning, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be pretty.”

  “My, God.” My hands began to tremble and whiskey sloshed onto my knee.

  Jordy took the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table beside her own, then she enveloped my hands in hers. “It’s going to be all right, Robbie. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

  We’ll get through this. She couldn’t know that including herself in my drama did more for my fear than all the whiskey in the world.

  “I need to call my mom.”

  “You’re pretty upset. Would you like me to call her?”

  “Thank you for that, but I just remembered, she’s at her weekly bridge game.” I leaned back on the couch. “I don’t want to interrupt that with this awful news. I’ll call her first thing in the morning.” Sighing deeply, I eyed the shot glass for a minute, but Jordy leaned back and wrapped her arm across my shoulders. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned into her and rested my cheek on her shoulder.

  A million things flew through my brain at once, yet there was one thing that kept repeating itself, as I sat safe and sound in Jordy’s arms. How would having a jailbird junkie for a father change my life? Even though I’d hated him growing up, I’d never feared him. I thought he was dead. Now, after seeing him and learning about his violence, I was scared shitless. Mix in confusion, anger, loathing, and you got yourself a recipe for disaster. My disaster.

  “Do you want to lay down and rest?”

  “No, I’m very comfortable right where I’m at,” I replied, laying my hand on her stomach.

  “Good, I’m pretty comfortable myself,” she responded, tightening her grip on my shoulders.

  “Jordy… will this change things? I’m the daughter of an ex-con, and—”

  She stopped my ramblings by tilting my chin up until our eyes met. “You’re the daughter of a firefighter. Jerry had more parental influence on you than Patrick ever could or will. You are who you are because of Jerry and your mother. Never forget that.”

  I
nodded, drinking in her words as if I were dying of thirst. Yawning, thanks to the crying and alcohol, I was suddenly exhausted.

  “You’re trembling. Here, take your boots off while I get you a blanket.”

  “No, please, don’t go, um, I just got comfortable.” I sounded just like a desperate, insecure, clingy woman, the kind that makes me cringe. But I couldn’t help it, I needed to feel safe tonight, and Jordy was filling that need.

  “It’s okay, I’m just going to the closet. Do you need anything while I’m up?” she asked, picking up the two shot glasses.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said, as I unlaced my boots and pulled them off, then pulled off my socks and stuffed them in the boots, setting them to the side. I tucked my legs up under me on the couch and hid my ugly feet with a pillow.

  When Jordy returned, she had an afghan and a bottle of water in her hands. She placed the bottle on the table and fluffed out the afghan, lying it over my lap. Then she uncapped the water bottle and handed it to me.

  “This is so nice of you, Jordy, thank you.”

  I took a drink of water as I watched her lean over and turn the lamp on. Then she walked into the dining room and turned off the lights. “Okay, nice and cozy,” she said, returning to the couch. She pulled off her boots and propped her feet up on the coffee table. I held out the afghan and she leaned back, putting her arm around my shoulders again. Cozy indeed.

  “Feel better?” Jordy asked, taking the bottle from me and placing it on the side table. Then she leaned back and pulled me closer.

  I leaned into her again, snuggling back into my spot on her shoulder. “Jordy…”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And I mean it. You’re not alone in this. Just tell me what you want to do and we’ll do it.”

  Yawning again, deeper and louder, I finally exhaled and said, “I want to know if he is connected to our fathers’ deaths.”

  “Funny, that’s exactly what I want to know, too.”

  “What’s our next step?”

  She patted my shoulder and tucked the afghan under my chin. “Our next step is for you to get some sleep. We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

  Something had changed between us. Something wonderful and I wanted more of it. But I didn’t want her to think I was a bubblehead who fell apart every time I got bad news. “Jordy, I want you to know that I don’t usually fall apart like this.”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t think you did. But sometimes, you just need a shoulder to cry on.”

  “Oh, that’s deep,” I teased, poking her in the ribs.

  “You liked that, eh. Well, stick around, I’ve got a million of them.”

  “Are you sure? It could be a lot of baggage to carry.”

  “And I would carry it gladly, but what you need to understand is that in this case, I’m pretty sure our baggage is one and the same.”

  “You think that man murdered our fathers, too?”

  “I do. I’m just not sure how to prove it.”

  “Do you think he’s the same one setting the fires now?”

  “My gut says no, especially now that we know the perp is a firefighter at the same station where I work. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be an accomplice to the arsonist.”

  “What?” I jerked up and stared at her. “Are you saying that the arsonist is there because you work there?”

  “Yeah. I think the station was chosen because of either Uncle Joe or me.”

  “But why?”

  She drew me back to her shoulder and pulled up the afghan. “Revenge, maybe. A manipulative narcissist who picked us because his mommy spanked him for breaking his toy firetruck. But, he mentioned my father in the video and he deleted those files using my laptop. So, I think that if he’s not after me, personally, then he’s using the station to get close to someone else, like Uncle Joe.”

  “You don’t think he’d torch the station, do you?”

  “No, that would put an end to his fun, and his ability to know what’s going on. That’s why Uncle Joe swore us to secrecy.”

  “Will you be safe?” I asked, turning my head to yawn again. The whiskey was slowing my mind. The adrenalin was evaporating, along with any energy I had left. The warmth and comfort of Jordy’s body relaxed me so much that I could barely keep my eyes open.

  “Yes, I’ll be safe,” Jordy replied.

  “Good,” I muttered as I laid my head in her lap and curled my hands up under my chin.

  The last thing I heard before I drifted off was, “And I’ll keep you safe, too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jordyn Stringfellow

  Robbie’s toes peeked out from under the afghan and I was amazed at how cute they were. No one knows this, not even Tina, but I think cute toes like Robbie’s are sexy. I never analyzed why, I just enjoyed making love to them. Feet can be a very sensitive area and stimulate arousal if done right, so it’s probably a good thing that Robbie’s feet are out of reach, right now.

  She whimpered in her sleep, and I rubbed her back softly until she quieted again. Poor thing couldn’t even find peace in her sleep. I knew she would eventually have to come to terms with Patrick being back in her life, but until we knew if he was involved in our fathers’ deaths, I was going to make sure she stayed far away from him.

  As my fingers played with a strand of her hair, my mind went over my list of things to do tomorrow. At the top was Scott’s funeral. His wife had asked Uncle Joe and me to be pallbearers, which I was honored to do. I just regretted that I wasn’t the one to tell them what went down, but by the time I woke up that night, Uncle Joe had already spoken with them.

  Robbie shifted her shoulders and drew her knees up, her feet disappearing under the afghan. Another thing I wanted to do tomorrow was go back to the hotel, get her things and check her out. While I was there, I wanted to find Patrick and have another chat with him. But I couldn’t take Robbie with me and put her through that. I looked down at her sleeping form. So, how do I keep you busy and safe while I’m doing all that?

  I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, someone was punching me. What the hell? “Robbie? Robbie, wake up.” I tried to grab her hands but she swung and connected with my jaw before I could subdue her. “Damn, you’ve got a pretty good punch there, little lady.”

  “What’s happening? Did I just hit you?” she asked as she sat up.

  Moving my jaw back and forth, I nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “I must have been dreaming.”

  “It was more like a nightmare. You were really upset about something.”

  She blinked a couple of times as if that would make the memory clearer. “There’s something you should know about me. I believe in sudden feelings of danger.”

  “Uh… okay,” I said, not sure how she wanted me to perceive that bit of information.

  “When I told you that I had a bad feeling about you going into that burning building, it was a sudden feeling of danger where the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My premonition was correct. You ended up trapped and near death.”

  “Is that what all that was about? I wasn’t sure.”

  “In my dream, I was fighting to get away from Patrick. We were in a room with no windows or doors, and there was fire all around us. I was so scared that I was going to die.”

  “That’s not going to happen, and I’ll tell you why. Even as scared as you were, you still managed to land a punch on an officer highly skilled in self-defense.”

  Her cheeks blushed even as she smiled. She cupped my jaw with her hand and rubbed softly with her thumb.

  “Oh, wow. I really did hit you. I can feel a small bump. I’m so sorry. Let me kiss the boo-boo and make it all better.”

  “That’s really not necess—”

  She leaned over and lightly kissed my jaw around the sore spot, her warm lips acting as a salve for the pain, even though it really didn’t hurt that much.

  “Thanks, it feels m
uch better now,” I said, opening my eyes, thinking she was done.

  But she didn’t stop. She feathered kisses down my jawline and up to my lips. And it wasn’t a sympathetic kiss anymore. She pressed her lips to mine, moving them across as if searching for something. She must have found it because she pulled back slightly and glanced into my eyes. There was a hungry look, feral and wild, in her eyes. Before I could say anything, she captured my lips again, this time with more force and need. On impulse, I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her deeper into the kiss, parting my lips and inviting her in. She nipped at my lower lip as if to punish me for being so slow with my invitation, and then danced her tongue across it, searing it with her forgiveness. There was no doubt that this was her kiss and she was in charge, as she thrust her tongue against mine, taunting and tempting, until I surrendered completely to her needs.

  My body heated, as her kiss set fire to my mind. I was quickly losing control. Then she put a hand to my breast, and I knew I had to stop her. I didn’t want to. Oh, God, did I not want to. But it wasn’t right. Not now. Not when she was so vulnerable.

  I grabbed her hand and held it as I ended the kiss. “Wow, you’re quite the kisser.”

  “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she assured me as she leaned in again. I pulled back and she glared at me. “What’s wrong? I thought you said I was a good kisser.”

  “You are, Robbie. A really good kisser. But I’m not going to make love to you tonight.” You could have driven a knife through my heart and it would hurt less than the pain I felt when I looked into her eyes. “No, wait. I’m not rejecting you. No way. It’s just that I don’t want to take advantage of you after such an emotional day.”

  She cocked her head, confusion swirling in her eyes. Then they hardened into steel. “To take advantage of me would mean that you are trying to exploit or manipulate me in some fashion. The problem with your argument is that I’m the one trying to take advantage of you.” She sat with her back straight and her arms crossed. “I promise you, I am neither vulnerable nor weak. Yes, I had a moment of weakness and you so gallantly came to my aid, but everyone has those moments. The only time I was vulnerable was when I was asleep in your arms. Do you think that if I didn’t trust you I would have allowed that?”