“Robin,” he rumbles out as I pull the front door open.
I can barely bring myself to look his way, and it seems that fate doesn’t want us to let this conversation last a second longer. His phone rings. Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he takes the call. I don’t stick around for long, but notice the concern that flashes over his face from whatever he learns on the other end of the line. His long, hurried stride as he returns to his SUV is telling enough.
It’s probably something important.
Giving him a final glance over my shoulder, I head inside to take care of my own priorities.
6
Reid
Robin’s lucky that my phone rings and pulls me back to taking care of business. There’s no doubt in my mind anymore. It’s clear as day that she’s curious about me, and I’m not talking about hobbies. The lust in her eyes is impossible to mask. But work comes first at the moment, so I set aside my own budding interest in her to deal with a new issue.
“I’m about five minutes out,” I tell Leo over the speakerphone when he calls me a second time. I’ve been speeding northwest for half hour to get to a horse farm owned by Gerald Mason of Mason Industries, one of our biggest clients. “What happened?”
“Stable fire,” Leo informs me. “Nothing major. There were no human or equine injuries, but it’s the third suspicious fire at a Mason Industries property.”
“It’s early in the game, but there has to be a connection, right?”
“Probably,” he agrees. “The grounds manager didn’t notice anyone suspicious on the property. And from the sounds of this fire, it could have started from an electrical short in one of the air conditioning units. We can’t take any chances, though.”
“No doubt. It’s a mystery all right.”
“Hey, someone’s calling on the other line. I’ll meet you over there. Gotta go.” The tension in Leo’s voice is evident from all the unnecessary gruffness.
A few minutes later, our vehicles make it into the parking lot from opposite ends at about the same time, and Leo hops out of his SUV, stepping up to me with a ground-eating stride because he’s probably in a hurry to wrap up this meeting and get to the next one. Our client roster has been growing faster than ever, since Mason Industries came on board.
“Mason wants us to investigate these incidents independent of the fire inspectors,” he tells me, nodding over at the large stable structure a few hundred feet away.
I nod as we hurry over to it. “We always do. So, no witnesses?”
“No. The fire started about an hour after most of the daytime staff left the premises.”
“Let’s take a look while we’re on site,” I suggest. “I can find out about access control threats later.”
“We’ve put forward the possibility of an inside man before. These fires can’t be as simple as just coincidences. The animals closest to the source of the fire are Mason’s thoroughbred racing horses.” Leo rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “Some of them are over half a million a pop.”
“That sure would put a dent in his pockets. How are we for interim monitoring staff?”
“Beau is taking care of bringing everyone in until we figure out who’s behind these fires.”
My eyebrows raise as we make it to the burnt-out section of the stable. This isn’t a small fire by any means, but only one section of the massive structure was affected. The roof seems intact as well. Because the firefighters are still here working with long hoses to put out hot spots, there is sure to be significant water damage.
Taking a long breath, Leo pulls out his phone and calls the stable grounds manager, but even he can’t get us clearance to enter the cordoned off areas. Not while firefighters are still in response mode. Leo and I join the small group of ranch staff waiting beyond the perimeter. It’s near impossible to ignore the scent of soot, smoke and charred wood hanging in the air, which is only upstaged by the large plume of smoke billowing from the building.
It takes close to two hours for us to get close enough to the structure. By then, the last of the flames are put out, and fire responders begin to recoil hoses and return their equipment to the truck. We make our way to the damaged section, navigating muddy puddles and scorched planks of floor boards to get as close to the air conditioning unit reported to be the alleged culprit for starting the blaze. Nothing looks unusual in here, so we return outside to look at the exterior wall closest to this spot.
“Do you see those scorch marks?” Leo asks, pointing at an oval-shaped spot about four feet below the unit.
“Yup,” I answer, ducking down to take a closer look. “There shouldn’t be anything down at that height if the air conditioner had a short circuit. Unless the short started inside the wall, but I doubt it.”
“It looks like incendiaries to me,” Leo agrees. “Gasoline?”
“That or propane. The rough oval shape makes me think something was thrown on that spot, and whatever quantity was still in a liquid state ended up dripping down the wall. So, arson.”
Leo nods knowingly. “We’ll wait for fire investigators to confirm, but that’s my guess too.”
“Did we install any cameras that point in this direction?” I ask, looking back at the other structures, then over at the main house about a few hundred feet away.
“Good call. I’ll have one of the technicians pull up the feeds to verify. Geoff may still be at the office. That’s all we can do here for now. Do you want to head out? I don’t mind waiting here for Beau and the relief team.”
I check the time on my phone. “Sure, but don’t you have more shit on your plate?”
“Naw. It’s fine.”
“Okay. I’ll work with Geoff on the video feeds back at the office. We can regroup for a briefing tomorrow.”
“It’s going to have to be early. Mason will want answers fast.”
“Works for me,” I tell Leo, giving him a head nod before I return to my SUV.
Climbing inside, I send a text to let Geoff, the technician, know I’m on my way over. He reminds me that I have remote access via my laptop, so we agree that I’ll head home while he queues up the footage. It’ll be a long night, but at least I can get this work done from the comfort of my place. The last thing I need is another all-nighter in the office. Ending the call, I start the engine, flip on one of my preset XM radio stations, and start my thirty-minute drive along the ranch’s semi-deserted back road that leads to the highway home.
Something about a country western ballad that comes on reminds me of that sad, angry song Robin sang. Maybe it’s the chords, or the slight edge to the vocalist’s voice. As I listen to the lyrics of this song that’s playing, the mystery of Robin’s anger toward me surfaces again. She was hiding something. Even with her revelation about Danielle’s depression, I can’t shake the feeling that there has to be something I’m missing. At this point, there’s only one of two ways that I’ll get past the wall of secrecy that Robin has erected. I can either let it be, or confront the source. Danielle will have some answers. In the meantime, it is what it is.
If I can just stop bumping into Robin around town.
Or her blue Chevy Silverado, which I see parked on the side of the road a few hundred feet up ahead.
Making some progress on this string of fires should be the only thing on my mind right now, but as it turns out, I can more or less balance two preoccupations.
7
Robin
This part of town is getting way too small for comfort. Of all the motorists driving by, Reid has to be the one to see me and stop. As he jumps out of the driver seat, the desire to hop in my truck and leave comes over me, but I stopped here for a reason. This very spot is supposed to be one of the best places to get a picture-perfect shot of the sun setting over Mount Charleston to the west of us. Barclay and I want to capture that image for the cover of our demo of a song called Stars and Sunsets. I’m not leaving until I get what I need, even if it means putting up with Reid yet another time.
Putting my phone into my pocket, I turn toward Reid, who’s striding over to me with his usual air of cocky arrogance. He stops a couple feet from me, sporting a smirk I’d like to slap off his face.
“Have you finished your gig at Whiskey Jacks already?” he asks.
“Yes. We had an early time slot today.”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, darlin’,” he croons, looming over me at a time that I should be focused on getting my shot.
“I’d say it’s pretty easy to make that happen.”
“Yeah? How?”
“You could start by getting back in your car and driving away as though you never saw me.”
“I was just thinking that I’d like to do something else entirely,” he says.
Stepping closer, he raises his eyebrows, and the red hues of the remaining sunlight start to cast shadows across his perfectly straight nose and sharp jaw. Dammit, why does he have to be so distractingly gorgeous? And why does he smell like he just slaved away at a barbecue? And hell, why am I picturing him without a shirt? Good lord, I need to get a grip. Taking a step backward causes my upper back to hit the tailgate of my truck. He smiles, as though he has me here he wants me—cornered, boxed in, and semi-paralyzed by his charming smile.
“You should go,” I squeak.
“I stopped to see if you needed help.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re not stranded here?”
“I’m not, so please don’t expect me to give you a medal for having a hero complex. You’re not my white knight. I don’t need anything from you, Reid.”
“Are you sure about that?” He stretches his hands out on each side of me and grips the tailgate. Now I’m really boxed in.
Swallowing the massive lump in my throat, I crane my neck to look up at his face. “Positive,” I say in as firm a tone as I can manage. “Please just go. All I want to do is take a picture and be on my way.”
“Fine, but I think I’ll wait for you to leave first.”
“Why?”
“In case you change your mind. Or if you need my help.”
“Like hell I will,” I mutter under my breath as he turns to go back to his SUV, but it must be loud enough for him to hear. And he does, because he looks back at me with an ever-broadening smile, as though I’ve just given him a challenge.
Reid stops short, pivots around and returns to face me. This time, he comes in close. Too close. He’s inches from me, with a devilish gleam in his eyes as he leans toward me, giving me another dizzying whiff of his aftershave that smells like citrus and woods, and smoky barbecue. Christ, if he stays here for another second I’ll end up doing something I regret for a long time.
Then he steps even closer, causing my knees to weaken. My breathing becomes even more shallow. I’m frozen in one spot, my core spreading heat and need through me as his large, calloused hand slides up my arm, glides over my shoulder, and comes to rest at the nape of my neck. My eyes drift closed. Reid’s lips brush against mine for a split second before I find my strength and push his smoldering hot chest away.
“Don’t ever try that again,” I bark. “Why the hell did you do that?”
It’s a dumb question, like asking why birds fly. He’s a dog. But the truth is I shouldn’t blame him. I’m the one who stood there long enough to let him kiss me.
“Because you wanted me to,” he answers.
“You dated my sister. Don’t you see how wrong that kiss was?”
“It felt right to me, and I’m sure if we didn’t stop, it would have felt even more right.”
“You’re so disgusting, Reid. Can you please leave now? I’ve got things to do.”
“How about you let me take you to dinner?” he asks. As if. “Though, if you accept, I’m liable to want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I don’t joke about things like kissing a beautiful woman,” he says, taking a step closer again. “But if you want to skip dinner, I can make do with the here and now.”
“Leave. Me. Alone.” I press my hands against his chest, giving him a sharp shove, which does precious little in terms of giving me space. All it does is remind me of the hard, tight muscles lying under his dress shirt, waiting to be touched.
He rounds out my dreadful fantasy by flexing his muscles so I can feel all that sexy, sinewy matter as it bunches.
Dammit.
He’s teasing me.
And it’s working.
A motorcycle roars by on the other side of the road, shocking me back to my senses. Pulling my hands back, I fish my phone from my pocket and move out of his grasp to the side of my truck. The sun is in the perfect spot. I begin snapping pictures of the horizon, now streaked with purple, gold and orange. I need my phone’s HD camera to land me one good shot.
I’m fully aware that Reid has not moved from where he just stood, but it’s a free country. I can’t make him leave, and so help me God, I’ll be damned if I let him stop me from doing what I came here to do. Within minutes, the sunset is over and darkness starts to creep in. I’ve taken at least thirty pictures. One of them must be good enough, and if it’s not, I’ll come back in a few days and try again—maybe without the uninvited audience of one.
“You’re still here,” I say, eyes narrowed as I turn to Reid.
“Yup. I told you I prefer to wait.”
“For what?”
“This road isn’t always safe at night.”
“Probably because you’re on it. I told you I can take care of myself…and if by some fluke I did need help, you’re the last person I’d ask.”
I push past him to get to my driver side.
“You’re cute when you’re upset.” He follows me to my driver side door.
“And you’re amazingly good at getting under my skin.”
“I’d like to do more than that some time.”
I slam my door shut and turn the key in the engine. Too bad the window is lowered, because he rests an elbow on the door and flashes me a grin. “Have yourself a good night, Robin.”
“I hope you don’t, Reid,” I tell him, and it comes out hollow and cold. It’s exactly how I want it to sound, but a tiny part of me feels bad for being so rude.
He shakes his head. “Get home safe,” he says, and returns to his SUV.
His engine starts, but he doesn’t leave until I drive off. I make a left turn at the next intersection, and Reid makes a right. Good. He’s gone. I still can’t tell if he stopped to help or just to get a reaction out of me. Either way, I need to keep my distance from this man.
8
Reid
By the time I walk into my apartment and log on to my office computer via the company’s secure network, everything is ready to go. Except I didn’t count on having to review a minimum of three hours for each of the six video feeds with footage covering different angles of the section of the building where the fire started. Doing the math, it’s not quite ten at night, so I can expect to be finished tomorrow afternoon. But not when strong coffee and the fast-forward feature are my friends.
It takes me almost all night to review a video footage, but by four in the morning, I have a lead. There’s one clip that shows a man lurking near the air conditioning unit that started the fire. The image is not as clear as I’d like it, taken from outside the building. The person must also have had some knowledge of the camera locations, because he managed to avoid showing his face on any of the footage, and covered his head with a baseball cap.
I send an email with the details to Geoff, asking him to do his best to enhance the shot. If we can get a closer look at his face, we may be able to get Mason’s people to identify who it is and whether the person was authorized to be there.
Satisfied, I kick off my shoes, strip out of my shirt and pants, and head to bed. I double check my alarm too. Three hours of sleep isn’t near enough after such a long day, but I’ll make do.
I’m halfway to the office when I get a text from Leo
telling me that Mason wants to meet at the ranch. That requires me to double back through rush hour traffic. The only way I’ll make it there on time is if I get the hell off the highway and take one of the ranchers’ access back roads nearby. I’m taking a chance, as I can end up stuck driving behind a piece of slow-moving ranch equipment, but the road less traveled is a better bet this time around.
Lady luck is in a good mood today too, and I get to the ranch ten minutes early. Leo is already here, waiting beside his truck that’s parked in the semi-circular driveway in front of the main house.
“Is Geoff coming?” I ask him as I jump out of the SUV.
“No. I told him to keep working on enhancing the images you found. Let’s get this over with. Mason is our biggest client, but he’s not our only client. I’ve got two more meetings this morning.”
“My day’s packed solid too,” I tell him, following him to the front door.
A middle-aged dark-haired housekeeper answers the door and leads us through the large, stately home to Mason’s study. She knocks on the door, only opening it when she hears Mason’s invitation for her to go in.
“Mr. Connelly and Mr. Atkinson from Allied Force Security are here to see you, Mr. Mason,” she announces from the half-open mahogany sliding door.
“Come on in.” Gerald Mason waves us in with his tablet computer in one hand, continuing to read as he sips on a small cup of espresso. “Would you gentlemen like some coffee? Or breakfast?”
“Good morning, Mr. Mason,” Leo greets him. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re fine, thanks.” We’re short on time as it is.
“Tell me you have an update for me.”
“I know you’re a busy man, so we’ll get to the point. There have been three suspicious fires on your various properties in as many weeks.”
Mason, as we like to refer to him, briefly glances up from whatever he’s reading. “Not four?”
His Ex’s Little Sister: Insta-Love on the Run, #1 Page 4