by Cynthia Eden
Ash trickled down onto Lora’s shoulder. A small dusting, almost like a mist. Her fingers lifted, rubbing the darkness.
Another soft groan rose from those blackened walls.
Her gaze darted to the left, then up. She stared at the black lines above them. “I want you to move real fast, Kent, okay?”
Her voice was calm, but her eyes, when they slowly lowered to his, were glowing bright.
“Get to the door,” she told him as another groan burst from above them, louder this time. Much louder. Lora lunged toward him. “Get to the door!” A stark whisper.
Not without her. No way.
Kenton caught her arm and they shot forward. Not groans from the ceiling anymore. Screams.
Darkness, all around—no, ash. Falling. Covering him.
His fingers dug into her flesh, and he shoved her through the doorframe, slamming into her as he stumbled out on her heels.
They hit the cement. Hard. At the impact, the skin tore on his palms, and his chest rammed into her back.
But they got out—just before what was left of the second story crashed down on them.
Kenton choked on the dirt and dust filling his lungs. “Fuck.” He pushed up, feeling the cuts in his palm tear deeper. “Lora, you okay?” All he could see was the back of that silky hair. She rolled a bit, wincing as she turned toward him. Long red scratches marred her right cheek. Her face must have hit the cement.
“Yeah, I’m—” Lora coughed a bit. “I’m all right.”
He wanted to kiss her then because his heart was racing, and he was so damn glad they’d gotten out of there. He wanted to—
Kenton crashed his mouth onto hers and drove his tongue deep. He tasted. He took. And he wanted a hell of a lot more.
More he’d be getting, very, very soon.
Lora moaned into his mouth, a sweet, tempting little sound that had his cock twitching. She felt soft beneath him. Smooth muscles, silken flesh. And her mouth…
Her tongue swiped against his. Her lips pressed tight against his mouth. The woman knew how to make a man weak. And very, very hungry.
His mouth hardened on hers, and his tongue thrust deeper. Her fingers were against him, pressing lightly. Her body soft and close and—
More.
The demand echoed in his mind, but…
Not the fucking time.
Forcing his head to lift and his mouth to free hers, Kenton sucked in a hard breath. Lust and fury beat in his veins. “What the hell just happened? I thought that building had been cleared! The search teams had the okay to go in, it should have been stable—”
“It was stable.” Her lips were red from his mouth. Trembling.
They could have fucking died in there.
His heart slammed into his ribs.
“This place was checked, double-checked. It was secure.”
A rivulet of blood dripped down her cheek.
“Then what happened?” But the ice in his gut told him. Before she spoke, he knew—
“Someone had to come back and damage the structure. There was no reason for the upper floor to fall. It shouldn’t have given way.”
Unless someone had given the collapse a hand. Someone who knew the building’s weak spots.
Someone who might want to bury evidence.
And who’d almost buried an FBI agent and a firefighter.
Sonofabitch. Now the asshole was getting personal.
CHAPTER Five
You’re looking for a man who enjoys total control.” Special Agent Monica Davenport walked slowly around the police bullpen, her gaze sweeping over the men and women there. Davenport was tall, way too pretty, and icily controlled.
Lora shifted a bit in the back, aware that in her torn jeans and ash-stained clothing, she looked like a wreck. “Seriously, babe,” Max Quint said from beside her, the words a low whisper, “you look like hell.”
She turned her head, just a bit, and bared her teeth at him. This wasn’t a beauty pageant. And no way would she have missed this briefing. Even if the chief hadn’t paged her and told her to meet up at the precinct with the cops, she would have been there. She’d wanted to hear everything the profiler had to say about their guy.
A line of cops sat before the firefighters. Some propped on desks, some at attention in stiff chairs. A pecking order. The uniforms were trying to show this was their case. But the chief had said that Davenport asked the firefighters to come.
So we’ll know what we’re up against.
Smart woman.
“We’re looking for a male, most likely in his early to late thirties. He may have experience in law enforcement…” Davenport’s bright blue eyes cut to the back of the room. “He could have even worked as a firefighter.”
Ah, wow, wait a minute—
Max stiffened beside her, then shot up to his full six foot five inches. “You sayin’ it’s one of us?” His deep voice easily carried across the room.
Davenport’s expression didn’t alter. “We’re saying the perpetrator has knowledge that makes him very dangerous. Insider knowledge. The man knows about fires. He knows about staging his scenes, and he knows entirely too much about evidence.” Her dark brows rose. “Or rather, he knows exactly how to not leave evidence behind. He’s very, very good.”
Or lucky. Maybe the evidence burned away.
“You really think we got us a serial killer here? In Charlottesville?” Lora rose on her toes and saw that this came from a red-faced cop in a neatly pressed uniform. One huddled near the front.
“And one who offed Hatchen,” another cop muttered. “Sure didn’t think that would be the way the bastard went out.”
Max’s shoulder brushed hers. “She didn’t answer my question,” he said.
No, she hadn’t. Lora eased back down.
What had Hyde told her? When she’d tried to get the guy to trust her?
I can’t. But we can still use you.
It looked like the SSD would be using them all.
Fair enough, she was using the SSD.
Revenge. Not pretty, but then, life wasn’t. She’d learned that firsthand when she had been thirteen years old, and she’d watched her brother burn.
Kenton cleared his throat, pulling attention right back to him. “The SSD has reason to believe that five arsons in the area are linked.” Behind him, on a giant whiteboard, he’d tacked up pictures of the victims.
She hadn’t looked at Carter’s picture. Wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
“We’re looking for a very organized killer,” Davenport told them, her high heels tapping on the floor as she returned to Kenton’s side. “One with an obvious and vast knowledge of arson. One who likes the rush that he gets from the fire, from the death—”
“You got a fire freak.” Max crossed his arms and let his voice drift out, loud and clear. “That’s not a firefighter.” There were murmurs from the crew around them.
One of their own had fallen to this guy. The agents didn’t seem to get that they were about to cross a line with them. And the guys weren’t very forgiving.
“What I have…” Wow. The chill in that woman’s voice could have formed icicles. “Is a man who is addicted to fire. Arsonists usually begin experimenting with fire when they are kids, and the experience for this perp would be no different. Maybe he was in a fire. Maybe he played with fire, but the attraction started years ago.”
Attraction. Jeez, the woman made the fire sound like a lover.
“He traps the victims in the fire because he’s showing that the flames have the power. The ultimate say in the person’s life or death.”
Lora caught Seth nodding. Right, figured he’d be totally on board now. Like he hadn’t been dodging her calls for weeks. But there he stood, to the far right of Kenton, acting like he was part of their team. All ready to catch a killer.
“This man doesn’t have a distinct signature. Not the same accelerant, not the same victim type.” Davenport glanced at the victims’ board.
Lora
glanced at the floor.
“But the trap—that’s his mark. And I’m thinking there have been other cases. Maybe it wasn’t so obvious that the victim was trapped. Perhaps he started the game by staging the scenes as accidents—”
“Because he wanted to see if he could get away with murder,” Kenton broke in.
Lora’s gaze flew up. “So far, he has.” Okay, that pissy snap was hers. Lora couldn’t help it. The words just slipped out. Control hadn’t really ever been her strong suit.
Kenton shifted, and his gaze zeroed in on her. “So far. Not forever.” Of course, he’d heard her. His stare held hers, bright and hot, then drifted to her cheek. His lips tightened.
“Uh… excuse me.” Seth stepped up, brushing just past Pete. Not surprising that Seth had aligned with the cops instead of the firefighters. These days, he spent more time with the cops. Besides, he and Pete were friends. Had been, for years. Those two guys usually agreed on things, but not this case.
Seth cleared his throat. “If he was getting away with the crimes, then why’d the perpetrator start calling 911 and telling the dispatcher about the fires? If he hadn’t called in with Hatchen and Skofield, there wouldn’t have been any link—”
“Attention.” Davenport’s flat answer. “The guy is good, and he wanted some recognition for his talent.”
“Good?” Okay, that one broke free, too, and now she had Monica’s eerie blue eyes focusing on her. Lora squared her shoulders. “He’s not good. He’s a twisted freak who gets off on starting fires and killing people.”
“Yes.” A quick nod. That gaze was way too assessing. “I do believe he gets off on the flames, and the death, and I think he probably watches, very, very closely to see what happens at all of his scenes.”
“So from now on, you’re to watch the crowds.” Kenton’s stare tracked back across the room. “Note the faces. The body language. If he lights a place, our guy is there. We’ll be doing searches of surrounding buildings. We’ll write down car tag numbers. We will find this guy.”
“Before he kills someone else?” Ah, now Pete was speaking up. He’d been scribbling down notes during the briefing, but now his pen was poised in the air. “Sounds to me like you’re already factoring in his next hit. We search the crowd after the fire. We canvass the area after. What are we gonna do before he strikes?” His eyes narrowed, and his handsome face hardened. “What are we gonna do so that we don’t have to ID another poor bastard by using his dental records?”
Now this was why she and Pete had dated once upon a time. He went after the bad guys. And he tried to keep the victims safe. The guy wasn’t perfect, but he was a good cop. One who’d just been thwarted by his boss.
No one ever wanted to admit the problem was too big. The brass at the Charlottesville PD sure hadn’t wanted to admit they might have a serial on their hands. Better to bury their heads, bury the dead, and hope the guy left town.
Stupid.
“We’ve got members of the SSD cross-referencing fires that resulted in fatalities in the area.” A muscle flexed along Kenton’s jaw. “We’re going to review the files in the county arson investigator’s office and see what connections we find.”
“The key in cases like this,” Davenport added in her smooth voice, “is finding an early crime. You need to see what set off the serial. What drove him to cross the line that first time. Finding an earlier case could lead us right to our killer’s identity.”
Now that would be something.
“And we’re working on victims.” Kenton pointed at Pete. “Malone, I want you manning a team and ripping through the lives of the vics. There’s a reason he picked those people. They weren’t random—”
“They rarely are,” Davenport agreed.
“When we find the connection between them, we’ve got another piece of the puzzle. Another clue to finding him.”
Sounded better than just sitting on their asses.
“But if there is another fire…” Kenton began.
“He means when,” Max said. Lora drove her elbow into his side. Straight into solid muscle.
“Then you need to be on your guard.” Kenton paused. “Because I think he likes playing with you.” He meant the firefighters, all of them, right? But he was looking only at her. “He’s getting personal. He took one of yours down. You have to stay on guard because he’s drawing you into his game.”
His sick, twisted game. “All right.” Kenton clapped his hands together. “Team leaders will stay to get their orders. Stay sharp, people. There’s a perp out there, playing in your town, and you’ve got to be ready for him. Twenty-four seven, be ready.”
“You heard the man!” Police Captain Jason Lawrence finally stepped up. Jerk. He should have stepped up long ago. He should have been the one to call the SSD. “We’re hunting this perp—we’re stopping him.” The perp he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But now, his beady eyes were bright with excitement, even if his forehead was showing more than a trickle of sweat.
“He’s gotten a taste of blood, and he’s going to want more.” Davenport touched the pictures of the victims. First Jennifer. Tom Hatchen. Charlie Skofield. Carter.
Christ. Carter. Smiling. Wearing his fireman’s helmet. Handsome. Young. Alive.
Not anymore.
“Good job, Spade.” She glanced up at Chief Garrison’s gruff voice. His green eyes glinted at her.
“Sir, I didn’t—”
He caught her hand and pulled her to the side as the others filed out. “Glad you called ’em in. If you hadn’t, I would have.”
Her gaze darted to the line of uniforms filing out. “I was tired of seeing bodies.”
“Me, too.” His broad shoulders, football shoulders, rose and fell. “And I don’t like burying my men.”
Her chin came up. “No, sir, that fucking sucks.”
She caught his stare as it raked her face. Since Carter’s death, even the chief had been going easy on her, and the guy with the nickname of Grizzly wasn’t supposed to go easy on anyone.
“You okay working with those agents?”
She nodded.
He leaned in close. “Get ’im, Spade. Burn the bastard.”
Then he was gone, heading toward the group of firefighters waiting near the exit.
“Lora, you comin’?” Max called out. Pete and Seth were huddled behind him, talking fast. “We’re heading to Mickey’s.”
Probably to blow off steam. “No, I—”
“I need to brief her.” Kenton caught her arm. “Now.”
Max’s brows rose. “Uh, okay.” Surprise flashed over the hard lines and angles of his face.
Then Kenton pushed her in the office to the right. He slammed the door behind them, and she forgot about Max.
“You’ve still got blood on you.”
Ah, yeah, so she wasn’t pristine. “No time to change.” The guy might carry spare suits around with him, but she didn’t. “Not like I could—”
He kissed her. Drove those sexy lips right on hers and plunged his tongue deep.
Well damn.
Her fingers rose and clamped around his shoulders. Because she was tall, they stood almost chest to chest. Almost. Lora rose on her toes, held him tighter, and felt the heat from the hard ridge of his cock press against her.
Wow. No pity there. Need. Lust. Passion.
Pleasure.
Give me what I need. He could. She knew it. Lora sucked his tongue, pressed harder against him, and heard the growl in his throat. He liked that. Then he’d sure love everything else she’d do to him.
His hands locked on her ass. Curled and pulled her against the swell of his cock.
No mistaking that arousal.
Or her own. Because Lora knew her panties were getting wet. A dozen cops within shouting distance, and she wanted sex. Right now.
His tongue swiped against hers, and her nipples pebbled.
Right now.
Her fingers dug into his upper arms, urging him closer. Needing more.
; His mouth tore from hers.
Dammit, she’d been enjoying—
His lips pressed against her neck. Right under her ear. Her weak spot. Oh, Christ.
She trembled, and her sex creamed. Definitely wet panties.
Her nails bit harder into him. “Kent…” So not the right place. She could hear everyone outside, voices rising and falling, phones ringing. “Not… now.”
He tensed against her. His breath feathered over her neck, and a chill skated down her body.
Sex with him would be phenomenal. No doubt.
She’d scream. She’d come. She’d forget.
Is that what I want? Is he?
His head rose, and those gunmetal eyes met hers. She could see the lust on his face. Hard need.
Take him.
Didn’t she deserve something, someone for herself? Pleasure… just a few hours.
He wouldn’t be there forever.
He wouldn’t know her past.
He’d take her, she’d take him, and to hell with what others thought.
So very tempting.
“M-my house…” Did she just whisper that?
Yes.
His eyes widened, and the raw lust on his face had an ache shooting through her.
Her hands feathered over his chest. She rose, licked his lower lip, and heard the hitch of his breath. “I’m not into displays, so I’m not screwing here.” She sounded cocky. Confident. Good. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that her knees were shaking. “Just me and you, Kent. My place. Tonight, when everything’s—”
A hard rap on the door. She glanced over and saw the blinds shaking beneath that pounding. What?
Kenton’s fingers clenched around her. “Someone has piss-poor timing.”
Right. Blame them. “Um, can you let go of my ass?” Her stare turned back to him.
His eyes narrowed, and his fingers pressed harder, but after a moment, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “For now.”
Ah, promises.
Kenton’s gaze dropped to her lips. “Have I told you that you taste like sin?”
Her knees shook harder. Another knock rattled the door.
“Come in!” Kenton barked.
The door shoved open, and a uniform stuck his head in. That same red-faced guy who’d asked the question in the briefing. “We got a call!” The man’s voice broke with excitement. “Agent Davenport wants you, now, says it’s him!”