by Cynthia Eden
Her gaze darted to the door. That exit was so close.
I’m coming, Kenton.
Monica shoved her way through the cops in the bullpen and reached Hyde just as she heard him ask, “What do we know about Seth MacIntyre?”
“A team of my cops are at his house,” Captain Lawrence said as he straightened his spine. “They’ll do a sweep to see—”
“That’s not good enough.” Hyde pointed his index finger toward Ramirez. “Get over there. If you find something, you call me.”
Ramirez nodded. The poor guy looked as if he was about to collapse, but he spun away and ran for the door.
Hyde looked at Monica. “Did you find anything at the scene?”
Monica slanted a quick glance Sam’s way. Sam seemed even paler now. “Blood.” Not enough for a death scene, but enough for her to know that Kenton had been hurt when he left that parking lot.
Sam flinched, but she sucked in a deep breath and her shaking hands reached for a nearby folder. “Seth MacIntyre received two burn injuries in his life,” she told them quietly as she handed the file to Hyde. “The first incident occurred when he was—”
“Just a kid.” Garrison’s gravelly voice interrupted her. “He was just a kid when that fire tore through his house. It killed his mom and dad. I barely got him out, and the flames burned the hell out of his arm.”
“What was the cause of that fire?” Monica asked as she reached for the file. Luke was behind her, watching and waiting.
Garrison’s chin notched up. “Accident—it was an accid—”
“You sure?” They were dealing with a serial arsonist. One who loved the fire more than life. Just when had that addiction started?
Garrison’s shoulders hunched. “No… no, he was a kid… he had to bury his parents. He got sent to live with an uncle outside of town… Just a kid.”
But Monica knew some monsters were made as children.
Just a kid. That was an excuse that she’d stopped believing years ago.
“Seth… you really think…” Garrison sagged against the desk. “He can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but a killer?”
“Sometimes, you don’t see the killers,” Luke replied. “Not until it’s too late.”
“He worked by my side, right in the fire with me, for years.” Still disbelieving.
“Until the fire caught him,” Sam murmured. “About two years ago—”
“Carter pulled him out.” Garrison swiped his hand over his forehead. “Bad one, that night. Beam fell from the ceiling, caught his leg, screwed up his knee. Carter had to haul him out…” He blinked. “Carter.” A stark whisper. His eyes lifted slowly, and met Monica’s stare. “You’re telling me… you’re saying Seth killed Carter?”
“Uh, Hyde…” Sam’s hesitant voice stopped Monica from responding. “Where’s Lora?”
“She’s coming.”
Kenton forced his eyes open. He squinted as he tried to see through the darkness and focus on—
Seth MacIntyre smiled down at him.
Kenton lurched forward, only to be jerked back. His arms and legs were tied, shit, bound to the bedposts. Lora’s bedposts.
His gaze flew around the room. Lora’s room. The scent of smoke still drifted in the air.
“Guess you’ve been here before,” Seth murmured.
“Let me the fuck go!”
Seth’s smile stretched. “I told you that Lora was just using you.” He leaned close. Come on, asshole, just a bit closer. “She wanted to get her revenge on Carter’s killer—”
“On you!”
He blinked. “Well, yes.” His smile didn’t dim. “She would do anything for her revenge. Well, I guess she did do anything, didn’t she?”
Ah, now he was close enough. Kenton slammed his head into Seth’s. He caught the bastard’s nose and heard the crunch of bone. Blood splattered on him.
“Bastard!” Seth stumbled back as his hands flew to cover his broken nose. “Look what you fucking did!”
“Newsflash, I’m gonna do a hell of a lot more!” He yanked at the bindings—bedsheets. They’d been cut and tied around him. His head throbbed, the drumming ache making nausea rise in his throat as—
Something wet hit his chest. Wet, and that smell… Christ.
Seth was smiling again. The bastard smiled through the blood that dripped onto his lips. “Figured this would be fitting for you. The bed you fucked in will be the bed you die in.” He hefted the container he was holding and poured more gasoline onto Kenton’s body and face.
The liquid spilled over Kenton and soaked the sheets beneath him as he struggled. Fear pumped in his blood. So much gasoline.
“She’s coming, you know.” Seth walked around the room, still pouring that gas and slowly making a trail toward the door. “Maybe she’ll save you. Or maybe she’ll just burn with you.” He stilled. “It’s time for that bitch to burn,” Seth whispered.
She’s coming. Kenton’s heart stopped beating. “No, don’t you touch her!”
But Seth just laughed. “I won’t need to.” Gasoline sloshed onto the floor. Lora’s floor. The house she loved. “The fire will do the touching for me.”
“No, no, wait, come back!”
Seth shook his head. “I got to get ready for Lora. She’ll be here soon.” His head cocked. Blood still streamed from his nose but the guy didn’t even seem to be aware of the pain. He walked away and Kenton’s eyes narrowed. Wait, something was different. Kenton couldn’t figure—
The bastard wasn’t limping.
The witnesses had never mentioned a limp, so he hadn’t seriously considered Seth as a suspect. The witnesses had seen him walking—no one had mentioned a limp.
Shit, he hadn’t thought of the guy as the killer, even though the guy had fucking shown him a trophy wall at his office. All those grisly pictures—staring right back at him.
Fucking trophies. Serials always liked to keep a part of their crimes. Seth had kept all the gory photos and put them right out front for the world to see.
The prick had flaunted it right in their faces.
“Nothing’s wrong with your leg!”
Seth stopped. “Something was wrong.” A shrug lifted his shoulders. “But I got it fixed. About six months ago, I had some surgery and did some rehab for a while.”
And the fires had stopped. While the killer healed, the fires had stopped.
Seth set down the gasoline can and stripped off his shirt. “The limp was fake, but these…” The shirt hit the floor and almost instantly became soaked in the gasoline. “They’re all real.” Long, angry red scars swiped over his arms. “My first.” His fingers traced a lighter line near his left elbow. “But not my last.”
Sick freak. “Lora’s going to bring the cops. She’ll bring my agents! You’re screwed, man, screwed—”
Laughter. Seth picked up the gas can. “No, she won’t bring anyone. I really do know her pretty well. She won’t risk your life.”
“You don’t know a thing about her!”
Seth’s eyes narrowed. “I know what her face looks like when she breaks. What she looks like when her world burns and she screams and she begs her lover to live.” He used the back of his right hand to swipe the blood from his mouth. “I saw it, saw her, and it was so damn beautiful.” He turned away and murmured, “Maybe I’ll see all that again.”
“No, come back!” Kenton wrenched his arms, nearly breaking his wrists as he struggled. “Come back!” Because he knew what that bastard was doing.
Setting a trap for Lora.
And using him for the bait.
“Lora wasn’t talking to her brother.” Peter slammed the phone back down on his desk, and Monica turned to face him. “Ryan hasn’t heard from her. Now he’s scared and mad as hell and wants answers.”
Why would Lora lie? Monica knew the answer—to protect Kenton.
“She’s got three brothers,” Garrison said, “Maybe one of—”
“Ben and Jake were there.” Peter gave a negative shake of
his head. “None of them called her.”
“She lied,” Hyde fired, gritting his back teeth. “Dammit, she had him on the phone.”
“No.” Garrison was adamant. “If Kenton had called—”
“Not Kenton.” Monica spoke quietly, as her gaze rose to meet Luke’s. She saw the understanding in his gaze. “Phoenix.”
“She would have said something.” Sam’s eyes were huge behind her glasses. Her trembling hands sent paper flying across the desk. “She—Lora would have told one of us. If the guy has Kenton—”
“If the guy has Kenton, that’s exactly why she didn’t say a word.” Luke’s watchful gaze shifted to Sam. Monica knew he saw the same thing that she did on Sam’s face—too much fear. She wasn’t ready to be back in the field.
Garrison’s bushy brows rose up as his fist slammed onto the desk. “If Lora’s gone, she’s trying to save him!”
“Yes,” Monica said, because that was the only explanation that made sense.
“No victims have survived so far.” Hyde’s voice flowed flatly.
Sam flinched.
Kenton. A good man. A good agent. He’d always had her back, and she trusted him completely.
Hyde turned to Garrison. “You almost lost two men at the Randall house.”
“Because he sets the fires to trap ’em! Phoenix is—”
“Seth MacIntyre,” Hyde snapped. “No more fancy names. We’re not dealing with a myth. We’re dealing with a man. A fucked-up, fire-hungry freak who has my agent.”
Garrison’s shoulders fell. “And my firefighter.”
Lora would be walking into a trap and she knew it.
“Lawrence!” Hyde snapped. “Get your men out there! Start canvassing the streets! She’s probably on foot. She’s—”
“In my truck,” Garrison said, voice subdued, and Monica’s gaze flew back to him. Garrison swallowed. “When we came in, she—she had the keys.”
Finally, a break. Monica’s heart slammed into her chest as she called out the order, “Let’s get an APB out on that truck—make, model, tag!”
As they scrambled, Hyde watched them with his hands tight at his sides and said, “And get us hooked up immediately with 911. If a fire call comes in…” His eyes met Monica’s.
When, not if. They both understood, even if the others didn’t.
Hyde cleared his throat. “When that call comes in, we’re going to be ready.”
Hold on, Kenton.
CHAPTER Twenty
Lora slammed the car door behind her and stared up at her house. Still blocked off by yellow police tape, the sides of the once-white house were charred black. Birds chirped from the trees, and heat rose from the sidewalk in waves. The broken windows in the front of the house had been boarded up. Her brothers must have put up the boards, but those damn boards blocked her from seeing what—who—was inside.
And she didn’t see anyone outside, but she was pretty sure that Seth could see her.
She had no weapons. No protective gear if a fire broke out—and it would.
Fear grew in her belly, knotting, tightening her insides, and her breath came far too fast. Kenton was in there. He’d damn well better still be alive.
Lora crept toward the porch. There were no cars around. No one on the street or in the nearby yards. No one to help.
Bring the cops, he dies.
When she stepped onto the porch, the acrid scent burned her nostrils, and her hand rose to cover her nose and mouth instinctively.
Gasoline.
She froze as every muscle in her body tensed. He would have set a trap for her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was doing. Same game, fresh bait—Kenton.
I won’t leave him for the flames.
She wouldn’t leave a stranger, so she sure as hell wouldn’t leave someone she cared about.
Screw that—someone she loved.
Forcing her muscles to unlock, she raised her hand and pressed her fingers against the door. No heat. She didn’t smell smoke, just the gasoline. Seth hadn’t started the fire. Not yet. That meant there was still time.
Her fingers curled around the doorknob.
I’m coming, Kenton.
The sheets binding his right hand finally tore, and Kenton snarled as his hand broke free. He lunged up and struggled to free his left hand even as he heard the squeak of a door’s hinges echo through the house.
The front door. Lora. “Get out! Don’t come any farther!” he screamed. “Get the hell out!” She wouldn’t die for him. She damn well would not die for him.
“No, Lora.” Seth’s rumbling voice came from right outside the bedroom. “Come in…”
Then Seth was in the doorway. He stood right there on the threshold, with his body half in the room. Smiling that sick, twisted smile, he rolled a match between his fingers.
The overpowering scent of gasoline choked Kenton. The sheet wouldn’t give. The knots on his left hand were too tight.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Seth! What have you done? Where’s Kenton, you bast—”
“Your lover’s here.” Seth eased back and lit the match on the side of the doorframe. “Now see if you can save him.” Then he tossed the match right into the puddle of gasoline near the door.
Fuck!
Fire blazed up and raced around in that long, perfect trail that Seth had made—the path that ended on the bed.
The flames came for him.
Seth laughed and yanked the door closed.
Lora.
Kenton knew he wasn’t going to see her again.
The soft whoosh of the flames filled her ears as Lora ran up the stairs.
“Burn, burn, burn,” Seth chanted, smiling at her with blood on his lips. He wore that sick freaking grin as he stood in front of her door.
The smell hit her. Smoke. Fire. The scent came from her bedroom. “Kenton!”
“Circle of flames… can’t get him… can only hear him scream…”
But Kenton wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t making a sound. She reached the landing and ran right at Seth, tucking her head low and slamming into his chest.
Her brothers had taught her well.
Seth hit the door, hard, wood broke, and they tumbled inside.
Right into hell.
Lora rolled away from him and narrowly missed the flames. She ripped away the bottom of her shirt. She shoved it over her mouth and nose as she yelled, “Kenton!”
Smoke filled the room. So fast. Those dancing yellow flames were everywhere.
Her gaze flew to her bed. Flames arched from the mattress and rolled toward the ceiling.
Jesus, where was Kenton? Where?
“Go find him, bitch.” Seth slammed his hand into her back, sending her right at the flames. She fell flat on her stomach. Fire raced up her arm. She screamed and slapped out the fire.
Pain. Burning agony that pierces beneath the skin.
“Kenton!”
Seth was running away. She heard the thud of his footsteps as he ran down the stairs.
“Lora…” The call of her name was soft. Tears poured down her face, but those tears weren’t from the heat of the fire. They came from fear.
She crawled on the floor. The flames circled around, in a big loop, confined now, but not for long.
He was there. Kenton. He’d tucked his body low on the floor. “Asshole… poured gas all over my chest, my face…”
Her heart froze. If the fire touched him… “Strip off your shirt! Dammit…” She coughed, choking. “Now!”
She ignored the pain in her arm. Lora didn’t look at the burns—she didn’t want to. Her hands went to his shirt, and she yanked it off. The fabric was wet beneath her fingers. Soaked with gas. Sick bastard. He would pay.
Cover. Kenton needed cover over his bare flesh, but everything was burning. The fire spread rapidly now. Her curtains were melting away, and bubbles formed on the ceiling.
And the smoke was choking her as it filled her lungs and stole her breath. Her eyes stung, and she could
barely see.
They had to get out. They were on the second floor. Asphalt was below them—her driveway a bull’s-eye drop below. They could have broken legs or—
Kenton coughed, then leaned in close. “B-bastard b-boarded up… window…”
Dammit! The flames were too hot and too out of control. She grabbed his hand. “Stay with me.”
The broken door waited for them. Seth waited. But facing him was their only option.
She ran for the door, dodging the flames, and kept Kenton’s hand in hers. So much fire.
He cursed behind her, the sound ripe with pain. Lora jumped and twisted through the door. He came behind her, falling, rolling, and she was on him instantly. Lora slapped at the fire on his shoulders and the skin burned and blistered on her fingers.
Her injured hand went to his face. Her fingers curled around his jaw. “I wasn’t l-leaving you.” The smoke was strong here. They had to get down the stairs. She crushed her mouth to his. “Come on… Kent, let’s… get… out of h-h—”
“It’s not that easy.” Seth’s voice drifted up to her, carrying right over the crackle of flames.
She lurched to her feet and didn’t let go of Kenton’s hand. Wouldn’t let go. They were getting out, together. “Down the stairs.” They rounded the banister, took the first few stumbling steps, and she saw him.
Seth stood at the bottom of the staircase, a can of gasoline by his side and a match in his hand.
He’d rigged the stairs.
“R-run,” she ordered Kenton, shoving him. “Run!”
Seth lit his match.
“We’ve got her!”
Monica turned at Luke’s shout. He had his phone shoved against his ear. His eyes were glittering and his jaw tight as he called out, “The bastard’s at Lora’s house! He’s got her and probably Kenton inside—”
“Get the patrols moving!” Hyde bellowed as he ran for the door. “Now! Garrison—get your trucks there!”
Monica hurried past Sam. Sam’s eyes were wide with tears glinting on her lashes.
Spade’s house. What a perfect kill spot for MacIntyre. He’d already feel comfortable there, and the exterior of the house would be weak from the previous fire. The better to collapse quickly. Another trap just waiting to spring on Phoenix’s prey.