They needed a condom. The thought ran through her head and stayed there.
She stretched, trying to reach the nightstand drawer. An unexpected flash caught her attention. At first she thought it was the reflection from the television, but they didn’t have one in this room. She looked at the picture on the wall then to the window as her brain battled back from the edge.
A mix of orange and red broke through the black night. She blinked, shook her head. Tried to figure out what she was seeing. A light, but not steady. It peeked around the right side of the main house. Fog had descended and blocked her view. Wait . . . not fog.
Then it hit her. “Fire.”
Harris laughed as his hands landed on either side of her waist. “I agree.”
“No, Harris.” She scrambled to sit and ended up straddling his waist. “The house is on fire.”
By the time they threw on clothes and rushed to the main house, Kramer was already there. He stood by the line of shrubs outlining the porch and yelled instructions to Ted. Harris couldn’t hear over the crackling of the fire as it burned away this home that had already withstood so much.
Smoke raced up the back right side of the house and curled into the air. Flames licked at the Tudor beams. The fire hadn’t spread to engulf the upper floors, but it was only a matter of time. The house was old and sturdy, but it could go up in an explosive ball of flames.
And Damon was in there.
Harris pushed that thought out of his head. It was either that or not be able to function. He needed all of his strength and concentration to get through the next few minutes. He didn’t wait another second. Kramer was talking about running a line to the pool. They didn’t have time for planning. They needed to act.
Leaving Gabby standing there, Harris ran around to the side of the house. Pieces of the house burned and fell, igniting the grass and flowers in an orange glow. Flames ate through the wall. Heat thrummed off the building, creating an invisible wall that he could not pass without gear.
His mind raced as he tried to remember his walks around the island. He’d spent part of every day looking and searching. Call it an occupational hazard, but that meant taking a mental inventory. Right now all he could think about was the hoses in the gardening shed near the back of the house.
A line of fire danced along the porch banister where it met the back of the house. He’d just decided to run through it, take the chance he could beat the fire before it spread farther when he saw Damon walking toward him on the grass. Hoses dragged behind him.
Relief soared through Harris. Air punched out of him on a gasp. The idea of Damon being in there, trapped or worse, had strangled him in panic ever since he saw the flames. But now they could work together. They met under a window at the side of the house.
“The sprinklers are on but they need help,” Damon yelled over the roar of the fire.
Harris couldn’t think about the age of the house or when the sprinklers were installed. They needed to stop the spread of the fire. Harris followed the line of the hose to where it stretched out of the shed. They were hooked to something and he didn’t bother to check. He hoped Damon had handled that.
“Now.”
Damon’s yell and the crash and bangs as the fire devoured part of the house echoed all around Harris. He pushed it all out and turned on the hose. Water shot out and he fought to aim it at the roughest spots. He heard shouting all around him and the sound of footsteps. When Gabby stepped up next to him, he fought back the fear for her safety. A lump clogged his throat but he nodded to her.
Embers somersaulted in the breeze. Smoke blew over them, into them and around them. A white haze seemed to cover the island.
Still, they battled. Harris’s fingers locked on the hose. His arm muscles ached from holding the stream steady. Together with Damon, Kramer and Ted, they fought the fire. The joint attack from hoses, water buckets and the sprinklers turned the growing flames into a flicker.
The whole thing felt like it lasted for hours, but Harris knew it hadn’t been that long. Dark soot stained the side of the house, but the upper floors and entire front seemed unscathed.
When the last of the fire disappeared, Gabby sat down hard in the damp grass. Harris tried to drop the hose but his fingers refused to unclench.
“Here you go.” Damon came over and peeled Harris’s palms free. He put a hand on the side of Harris’s head. “You okay?”
Harris nodded. “Were you asleep?”
“I was in the front office.”
Harris’s memory flashed to the layout and the room by the front door. “Away from the fire.”
“I got lucky.”
Harris looked at Gabby. She sat stunned and unmoving. Kramer had put a jacket over her shoulders. The entire yard was in shambles. Ripped-up lawn and grass slick with water. White pieces of something floated in the air. Harris assumed it had something to do with drywall or paint.
“This can’t be an accident.” Harris looked at Damon. “Did you hear anyone in the house?”
“I’d drifted off.”
“We need to start locking doors and setting the alarm.” Someone kept getting into the house and causing damage. Likely someone standing on the island right now. That fact filled Harris with a killing rage.
Damon glanced at the hole in the side of the house. “Too late. The fire started in the library. If there was paperwork to be found, it’s probably gone now.”
That all made sense in the context of what had been happening on the island. Tabitha’s killer was covering tracks, making it even harder to connect the dots. There was no other explanation. Setting fire to the property couldn’t be about money. Sure, there would be insurance but the property unscathed had to be worth more.
After greed, there were a few other reasons for this kind of human damage. Hate, love, revenge. One of those fit. Harris scanned the faces in front of him, trying to pick up on any thread, find any hint of why someone would take this risk.
Gabby stood up. She walked past him to the front of the house. Stood there, right by the steps, and stared up at the impressive structure. Her shoulders were back and squared. Her feet apart. Once again, danger crept around her and she didn’t show any signs of breaking. Harris admired the strength on one level. It worried him on another. He knew what it was like to walk around empty, to keep his mind busy so that he would never feel anything. He wanted more for her.
“Hey.” He stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should—”
She whipped around and fell against him. Buried her face in his neck.
The move stunned him. For a second he stood there frozen, then he wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in a fierce hug. His lips went to her hair. The mixed scent of smoke and shampoo hit him.
He wanted to tell her everything was going to be fine, but he was tired of lying to her. Nothing about what was happening here was fine.
“I won’t leave you.” The words slipped out, but he didn’t regret them.
“Promise?” Her arms tightened around him as the word vibrated against his skin.
“Promise.”
Chapter 14
No one got much sleep that night. The fireboats arrived after the flames had been doused. An inspector and her team spent hours searching through the charred remains of the library. The sun had risen before they left.
Armed with a cup of coffee and operating on less than an hour of miserable sleep on a porch chair, Harris approached the main house. He’d showered at the guesthouse, but now he was back and ready to figure out the next step.
The smell of burned wood and metal tinged the air. The smoke had cleared and architects, handymen, builders and a host of other professionals would soon descend to clean up and repair. Harris figured they had three days—tops—before they lost control of the island. That meant less than three days to solve Tabitha’s murder or risk Gabby being a perpetual suspect. Or worse, in jail thanks to whatever trumped-up charges Stephen could create.
&n
bsp; Harris walked into the house, no longer too haunted to walk around freely. A new danger lingered. The front of the house had escaped the blaze but still looked like a war zone. All the fire and rescue people had stomped through it. There were muddy tracks on the floor. Tables were moved. Two hoses lay in the entry.
He made his way through the hall to the library. The wallpaper darkened and peeled the closer he got to the room. In the doorway, he saw it. The devastation. The room had been transformed into a black-and-gray wasteland. A few of the bookcases closest to the patio doors appeared relatively unscathed. The rest of the room looked like it had been leveled with a blowtorch.
Black streaks stained the ceiling. The table had been reduced to ash. Curled ends of burned books and papers littered the floor. And Damon stood in the middle of it all with his hands on his hips.
“Should we be in here?” Harris asked as he sipped on the steaming-hot coffee Ted had made for him.
“The inspector said it was safe but not recommended. I took that as a yes.” Damon bent down and picked up a soggy blob that was once a mantel clock. “Her report will say the fire was intentionally set, but that’s not a surprise to any of us.”
“And once again Gabby will be blamed.” Harris could see it on the news now. A new scandal for Gabby Wright. Another unexplained moment of horror in her life that the media and gossip blogs would twist.
She lived in a cloud of suspicion and Harris couldn’t understand why. Even now, no one had pointed a finger at her, but he knew it was coming. From the tense way she’d walked around Kramer’s cottage this morning with her head down, keeping to herself, she expected the bright light to shine on her once again.
“Good thing you were sleeping with her when this crime happened.” Damon’s eyebrow lifted as he stared at Harris. “It would be really helpful if you were awake.”
“We were.” This time he could actually provide her alibi. His identity would be a problem only if someone really dug. Even then, Wren promised to keep his name and past secure and Harris didn’t doubt Wren or his abilities. Having a professional fixer as a friend paid off.
“That was quite a scene last night,” Damon said as the remains of burned books crunched under his shoe.
“Was that your first fire?”
“Not even the third, which is not a good topic, by the way.” Damon looked up from scanning the floor. “But I meant you and Gabby in that very public clench.”
Only Damon would use a fire to dig for personal information. The guy had balls. Harris gave him that much. “It’s called comfort. The poor woman has lost everything. Her parents, her sister. Now someone is coming after her, or at least this house.”
“Poor woman?” Damon snorted. “You talk like she’s your grandmother, not the hot chick you’re sleeping with.”
Not exactly the topic Harris wanted to tackle first thing in the morning, but Damon wasn’t giving him much of a choice. “And you act like that’s your business.”
“According to Wren, everything you do on this island is my business.”
Harris could almost hear Wren issue that order. “He is totally a pain in the ass.”
“If he didn’t bail us out and keep us from jail every year or two his controlling assoholic tendencies might matter, but they don’t.”
“That fixer thing is helpful. One of his better traits.” Harris couldn’t have imagined what the last fourteen months would have looked like without Wren’s help.
“I also love how quickly he grabs the check at dinner.” Damon reached for a book on one set of now-battered and tilting shelves only to have the paper all but disintegrate in his hand. “Rich people, gotta love them.”
“I’ve tried to break him of that habit.”
“Yeah, don’t. I’m cheap but I like to eat.” Damon turned around to face Harris again and clapped. “Okay, good talk. Are you done stalling?”
Harris had a feeling that wouldn’t work, but it was worth a try. “I guess you had a point and I missed it.”
“Your relationship with Gabby is a problem. It clouds your judgment.”
“It’s not like that. We’re . . .” Shit. Harris didn’t even know what to say next. It wasn’t as if he could deny they were together. Maybe not together together, but the sex did count. So did the way they shared secrets, but he had no idea how to label that.
Damon put a hand to his ear. “Yes? I’m waiting to hear what brilliant thing you’ll say next.”
Well, then they both were because Harris wasn’t sure how to describe his relationship with Gabby. Conflicted and confusing were just two of the words that came to him. She knocked him off balance, made his dick hard and his brain malfunction. The combination had him treading water.
All that was true but he went with the safe answer. “We understand each other.”
“That’s hot.”
Yeah, that fit, too. “Weirdly, it is.”
“I’m not asking for a play-by-play here. I just want you to admit that you care about her.”
That was not a word Harris was ready to throw around. “She is a human being.”
Damon brushed his hands on his pants before moving on to the next bookshelf and studying what little recognizable items were left on it. “More stalling. That’s adorable.”
“I’m not—”
“Stay on topic.”
“Which is?” Harris tried to set the mug down but he couldn’t find a solid surface to do that.
“You are here because you have unfinished business that’s kicking your ass. Guilt is making you stupid.” Damon gave up the search and walked over to Harris then. “Your dick isn’t helping matters.”
All true, which he hated. “Did you just never learn the concept of tact?”
“You want to know who killed Tabitha.” Damon lowered his voice but not by much. “That’s why I’m not on a beach and you’re not stealing a painting off some fascist’s wall overseas.”
“I liberate artwork.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “You are so fucking annoying.”
“Which is why we’re friends.”
“That’s interesting. Not a surprise but it’s nice to finally hear you admit it,” Gabby said from the doorway.
The unexpected sound of her voice had both men jumping. Coffee sloshed over the side of Harris’s mug as he whipped around to face her. The liquid burned his hand and had him swearing under his breath.
Damon recovered first. “Well, hello.”
She smiled and treated them to a little wave. “Surprise.”
“How long have you . . .” Jesus, how much had she heard? Harris replayed the entire conversation with Damon in his head and winced. “Okay, we need . . .”
What? He had no fucking idea what.
She glanced at Damon. “Is he going to finish a sentence?”
“I’m not sure.”
Just what he needed. The two of them working together against him. Harris couldn’t imagine verbally battling them both.
While Harris continued to reel, she pressed on with her conversation with Damon. “How long have you two known each other?”
“We just met,” Harris said, rushing to keep his head in the game.
Damon shrugged. “For more than a decade.”
Fucking hell. Harris turned to Damon. “What are you doing?”
“Come on. She is a smart woman,” Damon said. “Unless you want to sleep in the pool tonight I’m thinking you need to be a bit more careful with your answers.”
She smiled at him. “I’m starting to like you, Damon.”
“That will wear off.” Harris would bet on that.
“Unfortunately, that’s probably true.” Damon looked from Gabby to Harris. “Okay, you two lovebirds have a lot to discuss, including the fact Harris and I were roommates for—what?—a few years. It was before we realized grown-ups needed privacy. And he’s got a neatness thing that drove me nuts. So fucking annoying.”
“Jesus, Damon.” At this rate, Damon might spill every last secret. Ha
rris could almost hear it.
Gabby put a hand in Harris’s face. “You stop.” Then pointed to Damon. “You should keep talking.”
“I will, but this thing between you two—whatever it is, because Harris doesn’t seem to know—will have to wait. The bigger issue is the house, the videos and the paperwork.”
Gabby’s hands dropped to her sides and she started to frown. “Who exactly are you?”
“Huh.” Damon shook his head. “Harris, you want to take that one?”
Harris rarely didn’t know what to say. He always had the right phrase ready. A cover he could fall back on. It was part of why he’d been successful liberating artwork and delivering it from one place to another. He had a Plan B handy. Today’s Plan B was the truth. Between the fire and the sex and the secrets and Damon’s shit-eating grin, this was where they were.
Harris took a deep breath and plunged in. “We are here investigating Tabitha’s murder. I really am an art appraiser, but he has law enforcement skills.”
She looked at Damon. “Well?”
He nodded. “True.”
That was annoying. He finally told the truth and she fact-checked it. “Why are you asking him?” Harris asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Keep going.”
In this deep, Harris dove even deeper. “Stephen thinks we’re working for him. We’re not.”
“Then who’s paying you? The insurance company or the court? Who?”
All fair questions. It was not as if he could just drop Wren’s name and end the discussion. It likely wouldn’t mean anything to her, but it would cause trouble if she started asking around. “An interested party.”
She shook her head and shot him a “gotcha” look. “I was with you until right there.”
“There are people in this world who insist on knowing the truth. Who want answers to difficult questions.” Harris realized that summed up most of his friends. All of the Quint Five possessed that trait. The driving need to solve puzzles, especially if those puzzles dealt with human lives. “A mutual friend of ours is one of those people. His girlfriend works for this place called the Doe Network. She helps to find answers for families with missing relatives.”
The Pretender Page 14