Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3)

by Barbara Freethy

  They ran through the kitchen and laundry room toward the back door. And then she remembered—the file on her dad was still in her bag.

  Smoke and fire was pouring through the house now. "Stop," she said, pulling her hand free from Patrick's grip. "I have to get the file. It's in the dining room."

  "I'll get it." He opened the back door, and she saw more fire. They probably had about thirty seconds to get out of the house.

  "I'll do it," she argued. "You go."

  "No chance." He grabbed her and literally threw her outside.

  She stumbled and had to grab on to the back porch railing as Patrick went back for the file. Fire surrounded the house. The heat and the tremendous amount of brush and trees surrounding the property had created a raging inferno.

  She started to go back in to get Patrick when another explosion threw her off the steps and onto the ground. Where were all the explosions coming from? She couldn't see anything now but fire. She could feel the intense heat burning her skin. Her eyes were watering. Smoke filled her chest. She had to get away, go somewhere—but where? And how could she leave Patrick? She tried to call out to him, but she had no voice.

  Blinded by ash and fire, she searched for a safe place to go, hoping against hope that Patrick would make it out. There was no way this fire was an accidental brush fire. It was too big, too deadly. Someone had tried to kill them—again.

  But she was alive. Patrick had to be, too. He had to be. She couldn't lose him. He was more than a friend, a colleague—he was everything. He was the one who could put her heart back together. She couldn't lose him now. Life could not be that cruel.

  Only she knew it could be…

  Twenty-One

  Patrick didn't know how the fire got so big so fast, but it was everywhere. Holding Dani's bag under his arm, he barreled through the flames, praying that she was all right and cursing himself for putting her into danger in the first place.

  When he got into the backyard, there was more fire. He heard the sound of distant sirens. Someone in one of the houses along the road must have seen the blaze and called for help.

  "Dani," he yelled, dodging a flaming branch that came crashing down from the trees just a foot away from him.

  And then in the midst of all the fire, he felt water.

  It took him a minute to realize that it was rain—hot, summer rain.

  It came out of nowhere, dousing the fire, streaming down his face, clearing some of the smoke.

  Now he could see Dani. She stood twenty-five yards away in a small clearing. She had her arms wrapped around her, as if seeking some comfort from the fear. The rain was pouring down on her head. He ran the last few feet, dropped the bag at her feet and threw his arms around her.

  Their kiss was filled with terror, relief, and joy. He went back for another kiss and another, needing to be sure she was all right.

  Finally, he pulled back, pushing the wet strands of hair off her face. "You're all right?" He searched her face for the truth.

  "I'm okay," she whispered. "I wasn't sure you were. How did the fire get so huge?"

  "I don't know. I didn't smell any smoke until I came down the stairs."

  "I didn't, either. I went into the kitchen, because the ring was suddenly so tight. It was cutting off my circulation. I thought I could get it off with soapy water and then I saw the fire outside. I guess it could have started from lightning."

  "It could have," he said, not wanting to scare her more.

  Her wide-eyed gaze met his. "But that would just be one of those coincidences I can't believe in, right?"

  "We'll get an answer once the fire investigators look around." He could see the gleam of lights as the fire engines came down the road in front of the house. "Let's go tell them what happened."

  "Thanks for getting my bag," she said, putting the strap over her shoulder. "That file is my only link to my dad."

  "I knew how important it was."

  "But it wasn't worth your life. I'm sorry I sent you back. If anything had happened—"

  "Don't," he said, cutting her off. "We're both all right. That's what matters." He put his arm around her waist as they walked toward the front of the house.

  For the next hour, they watched the fire department work on putting out the fire, not just in the house, but also in the surrounding brush. The rain had stopped what could have been an enormous wildfire in the making.

  When the blaze was under control, they spoke to the battalion chief and then to a fire investigator and a policeman.

  Patrick took the lead, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to get too far into the case they were building against MDT so he simply said that in his business of investigative journalism, he sometimes made enemies. They asked more questions, but he was able to evade most of them. He would give the FBI agent a better story in the morning, but right now he didn't know who he could trust on the local police force.

  He needed to call his father. His dad had a deep emotional attachment to the cabin. It had been a special place for his father and his mother. The loss was going to hurt, and he felt terrible that that forthcoming pain was because of his actions. He never should have used the cabin to hide out in. He should have anticipated the danger.

  But right now he couldn't waste time on what he should have done. His first priority was to get Dani to a safe place. With the truck destroyed by fire, a police officer was kind enough to drive them to a downtown hotel. As they made their way into the building, he kept an eye out for anyone watching or following, but they appeared to be alone. Still, he wanted to be extra careful.

  Dani started toward the check-in desk, but he caught her by the arm and said, "I have a better idea."

  "What's that?"

  He led her out a back door and into a parking lot area. "There's a hotel next door. Let's go there."

  "You think someone followed us from the cabin?" she asked, her gaze darting in every direction as they walked across the parking lot, through an alley and into the side door of another hotel.

  "I'm not taking any chances. Why don't you wait by the elevators? I'll get us a room."

  "Fine."

  He ran a hand through his hair, knowing he looked like something the cat had dragged in, but he hoped that the recent and sudden rainstorm would explain his dampened look.

  It took only a few minutes to get a room, and then he and Dani headed to the sixth floor. Once inside, he put out a privacy sign and bolted the locks.

  As Dani went into the bathroom, he moved to the window. There was no balcony, no way to access the room from the outside. They were safe. He blew out a breath, realizing he'd been holding it for a long time.

  He kicked off his waterlogged shoes and pulled off his damp socks, then sat down on the edge of the bed and took his phone out of his pocket. He'd lost the rest of his clothes in the fire, but he had his phone, his wallet, and he'd shoved his computer into Dani's bag before he'd left the house. All things considered, he was happy not to have lost anything he couldn't replace.

  He punched in his dad's number. It was after eleven, and it was quite possible his dad had already gone to bed, but he couldn't let the news wait until morning.

  "Patrick?" his dad asked, his voice sleepy. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm all right, but there was a fire in the woods, and the cabin got caught up in it."

  "What?" his dad said more sharply. "There was a fire?"

  "Yes. The fire department came, and I think they're still cleaning things up there. Dani and I just left and went to a hotel."

  "You could have come here," Harris said.

  "I just wanted you to know that I'm fine, and I'm really sorry about the house. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get it back the way it was."

  "Well, it wasn't your fault. It was the lightning, wasn't it?"

  "Could have been," he said lightly. There would be time for more explanations later. "I don't want you to worry about anything."

  "Should I go out there now?"

  "N
o, the fire department is still cleaning up. Let me take care of this, okay, Dad? I really want to. We'll talk tomorrow, all right?"

  "All right. I'm glad you're okay and that Dani is, too."

  "Thanks."

  Dani came into the room as he finished his call. She'd changed out of her smoky, wet clothes and was now wearing a hotel robe, her skin and hair smelling more like shampoo and lotion than fire.

  "You look a lot better," he said.

  "I feel better. My throat is still scratchy, but other than that, I'm fine. Who was on the phone?"

  "My dad. He thinks lightning started the fire. I didn't tell him otherwise. He said he's glad you're all right. I think he likes you."

  "I like him, too, and I feel bad about the family cabin."

  "That's on me. I'm the one who wanted to stay there."

  Her face was still pale, but she had a bit more color now. She looked weary but still defiant, and he appreciated that. Because he was more motivated than ever to put some people behind bars—as many as he could.

  "They're not going to get away with this," she said, sitting on the bed next to him.

  "No," he agreed.

  "I'm getting tired of people trying to kill us."

  "You and me, both, babe. I would like to turn the tables. Tomorrow, hopefully, with some reinforcements, we can do that."

  "We will." She put her hand on his leg. "Patrick—I was really scared tonight."

  He met her gaze. "Me, too," he said softly. "When I came out the door, and I didn't see you…"

  "I felt the same way when you went back into the house. The fire kept popping and jumping and there were the loudest bangs. I still don't know why it was so loud."

  "It was raging."

  "I've never felt such intense heat."

  "Never?" he asked with a teasing light in his eyes.

  She grinned back at him. "You think you're as hot as a raging forest fire now?"

  "Not me alone, but us together…"

  She smiled. "We are pretty explosive. By the way, when you went back in, you threw me on the ground. I have a few more bruises now."

  "I had to be forceful. Otherwise, you would have followed me."

  "I would have."

  "Why don't I see if I can make you feel better?" he suggested, cupping her face with one hand, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek, then drifting down to her full lip, a lip he very much wanted to kiss.

  Desire sparked in her eyes. "Why don't you?" she said.

  He'd been expecting a no, not a yes, and it rattled him for a second.

  "We're alive," she added. "I think we should celebrate, because God knows what's coming tomorrow."

  "I like the way you think, Dani."

  "I like you."

  "Right back at you," he said softly, then leaned over to taste her mouth. It felt like forever since he'd been able to touch her, kiss her, hold her, and he wanted to do all that and more. He wanted to take his time, but he also wanted to go fast. There was a part of him that felt like he could lose her before he was ready, or maybe he'd never be ready…

  Dani pulled at the hem of his shirt, and helped him pull it over his head. Then she pressed her hands against his chest, her fingers drifting down to his abs, and lower still as she kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

  So much for the idea of going slow. He was rock hard, and he wanted her now.

  He pulled open her robe, and cupped her breasts with his hands, then tore his mouth away from hers, so he could take a hot, sweet path down her neck.

  She opened his jeans.

  He stripped off her robe.

  Then he shimmied out of the rest of his clothes as they crawled under the covers to start their own fire.

  * * *

  Dani woke up just before dawn. There was a bit of light, but not much. She snuggled closer to Patrick, liking the weight of his arm across her waist, his leg over hers. Heat still warmed the air around them. With Patrick, she felt so many things: excited, teased, tormented, happy, reckless, and also safe. She could fly with him, because she knew he'd always catch her.

  She'd never been with someone with whom she felt so comfortable, so free to be her real self. They'd known each other only a short time, but the intensity and quality of that time had taken their relationship into a deep, emotional space. The thought scared her. Patrick could take over her life, her thoughts, her heart…and definitely her body. She seemed to have little willpower when they were within touching distance of each other.

  But how could she let him have so much power over her? What if this was just sex for him? Just a moment in time where they were in the same place, caught up in the same mystery—what if that's all it was?

  This was why she didn't do casual flings, because she wasn't good at them. She didn't sleep with people she didn't feel emotionally connected to. Now she was bare. She was vulnerable. She was falling in love.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Well, why not? She smiled to herself as she gazed at his face, his strong male features, the growth of beard on his jaw, the sweep of his dark lashes, and the sexy mouth that could make her lose her mind. Patrick was gorgeous.

  But it wasn't just his looks that undid her; it was his personality. He was intelligent and curious and interested in the world around him. He wasn't a spectator. He jumped into the action. If he saw a wrong, he wanted to right it. If he saw someone hurt, he wanted to help. And he was willing to put his life on the line for what he believed in, for the people he cared about—even for a stranger.

  She'd wanted to get into politics to make a difference. But looking at what Patrick had accomplished so far with his investigative stories and where she was in her career—there was no comparison. He made her want to do better. When all this was over, she was going to do just that.

  Patrick stirred, blinking his eyes open, as he said, "I can hear you thinking."

  "You cannot."

  "Well, then I can feel your body tensing." He gave her an intimate smile. "Morning."

  "It's not really morning. It's barely light out."

  "Then why are we awake?"

  "I don't know. I just woke up, and then—I started thinking," she confessed.

  "I knew it. What are you thinking about?" he asked, his fingers stroking her hip, reminding her that sometimes not thinking was a better choice.

  She put her hand over his. "That's not helping. It's distracting."

  "There's still time to be distracted. You just said it was early." He paused, giving her a more thoughtful look. "Seriously, what are you thinking about?"

  "My life. My job. You know—little stuff," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I was thinking about all you've accomplished, and how you're way out in front of me."

  "I got lucky with the drug story. I had sources who gave me the information I needed. I can't take all the credit."

  "You don't have to be modest, Patrick."

  "I'm not being modest. I'm a good reporter, but sometimes a breakthrough story requires a little luck, too. I bet you're good at what you do. I know you're a hard worker. You're dedicated. You're smart. And you want to make changes in the world. Maybe you just need some luck to push you the rest of the way."

  "Recently, I've had a lot of bad luck."

  "Now I know you're not talking about meeting me," he teased.

  "Well…"

  "Come on, Dani. We're great together."

  "When we're not running for our lives."

  "Even when we are."

  "Hopefully we're done with that. Although, I am worried about what the day will bring. I've always loved the Fourth of July: picnics, barbecues, parades, fireworks, a sense of community and patriotism. I don't want the holiday to be ruined, and I'm afraid it will be."

  "Well, we're doing all we can to prevent it from being ruined. I've always liked the holiday, too. My favorite part is the watermelon."

  "Watermelon? Seriously? I would have thought you'd say shooting off rockets was your favorite part."<
br />
  "That's second. There's nothing better on a hot Texas day than cold, juicy watermelon—except maybe a cold beer. Put the two together, and you've got a holiday."

  "You're pretty low maintenance, Patrick."

  "Simple pleasures are the best."

  "Yet you're nowhere close to being a simple man. You're complicated, ambitious, driven."

  "True, but I try to remember to enjoy the journey, because I know how fast everything can change. You do, too."

  "Do you think we'll always be influenced by the deaths of our parents?"

  "Yes, but I don't believe it's a bad thing. Life shapes you—the good stuff, the bad stuff and everything in between. I don't want to have regrets, so I'm going to live the best way I know how."

  "That sounds like a good strategy."

  "So I'm thinking we have a little more living we can do right now—before the sun comes all the way up."

  "You're insatiable."

  His sexy smile turned her stomach over. "I am. I'm glad you are, too."

  "I never said I was," she countered.

  "You didn't have to say it. Kiss me, Dani."

  She didn't have to be asked twice, because he was right. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. It was a constant craving, and there was only one solution.

  She planted a long, hot, wet kiss on his lips, then pushed him onto his back. Patrick had a lot of good ideas, but she had some as well, and she was really going to enjoy trying them out.

  * * *

  "We're late," Dani said, as they took a taxi to Jake's apartment a little after ten on Sunday morning.

  "You can't blame that on me," he said with a laugh.

  "You're the one who said kiss me."

  "And you're the one who said let's take a shower together after that," he reminded her. "Best shower of my life."

  "Mine, too, but it's back to business now." She pulled the file out of her bag, happy she still had it in her possession. She could have lost it last night. Thank God she hadn't.

  "Yes," Patrick agreed, his tone changing from light and happy to serious and determined. "I hope this FBI agent is good. What's he like? Young, old, by-the-book…"