Dallas Fire & Rescue: Hearts Afire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (MacKay Destiny Book 3)

by L. J. Garland

  Reaching her rental, she jerked open the door and dove inside. Damn. The dome light! She tugged the door closed, dumping her into darkness. Her heart hammered. She couldn’t catch her breath.

  Go. You’ve got to go!

  She pushed upright in the seat. Her gaze landed on the motel door, the window. She frowned. “What the…?”

  The light in the room vacillated. Undulated in the oddest fashion.

  The door opened. Donnie stepped out. Closed the door behind him. He ambled to his sedan, a large red gas can in his hand.

  Picture. I need to get a picture. She reached over, grabbed her camera, fumbled with it. Damn.

  He faced the building. The window brightened, the curtains disappearing into flame and ash.

  Jessica managed to right the camera and bring it up.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Donnie turned. His focus landed on her as fire spread to the upper floor.

  Shit. Click.

  She ditched the camera into the passenger seat, started the car, and slammed it into gear. Cranking the steering wheel, she then jammed her foot on the gas pedal. Tires spun. Caught. Her head smacked the headrest as the car leapt forward. She careened onto the main road, ignoring the squealing tires and honking horns as she wrestled the car under control.

  She headed northeast on I-80 then veered off into some restaurant’s parking lot and stopped.

  “Holy shit.” She set her forehead against the steering wheel and tried not to throw up. “Oh my God.”

  With shaky hands, she picked up her phone and punched in 911.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “I…I’ve witnessed a murder.”

  “Ma’am, what is your name?”

  Present day….

  “I gave her all the information. Emailed a picture of Donnie strangling Marla. Then they believed me.”

  Aiden blew out a breath. “Donnie,” he mused.

  She kept her focus on the shadowy ceiling. What did he think? Had he figured out how much trouble she was in?

  Taking a breath, she pushed forward. “The motel burned to the ground. Fast.”

  “Off I-80. About six months ago?” His head swiveled toward her. “I remember that. The investigator said accelerant was everywhere. Whoever set it had doused the place first.”

  He must have gotten it out of his car while I was hiding. She squeezed her eyes closed, thankful he’d turned the lamp off. She didn’t think she could stand to see his face right then. Too much going on. Too many emotions. And lust. And fear. And…. Just too much.

  “But you had pictures.” His deep voice calmed her somehow, reassured her that, at least for the moment, she was safe. He would protect her.

  She nodded.

  He squeezed her hand. “What happened?”

  “I tried to do the right thing. I came forward. Told them I’d testify. Anything to get the psycho off the streets before he murdered some other innocent woman. I really thought the worst was behind me.” A derisive laugh bubbled up her throat. “God was I wrong.”

  Chapter Eight

  Last night….

  Jessica tugged on the light-pink tank top then smoothed the hem over the waistband of her olive-and-pink camo sleep pants. Sliding her hands along her nape, she pulled her hair free from where it’d been tucked inside the neck of her shirt. She grabbed the hand towel, wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror then set the cloth on the counter.

  Thank God the trial starts in a few days. She raked fingers through her long wheat-blonde strands and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Six months in protective custody sucks.

  She’d done the right thing—gone to the police and told them what she’d seen, handed over her camera and cell phone. And what had it gotten her? The second they saw the man in the pictures she’d taken, they’d hastened her to an interrogation room. She’d filled out papers, written down what she’d witnessed, and answered endless questions….

  “Why were you at the motel?”

  “I’m a private investigator. I was on a job.”

  “How do you know Donnie Mizener?”

  “I don’t. I’m a private investigator from Tampa, out here on a job.”

  “What’s your relationship to Donnie Mizener?”

  “Don’t know him. I’m a private investigator from Tampa, Florida.”

  “Do you distribute drugs for Donnie Mizener?”

  “No, I do not.” She sighed. “Private investigator. Tampa, Florida.”

  “Did you and Donnie Mizener plan Marla Fraser’s death?”

  She blinked several times. “Have you heard a word I’ve said, or are you an idiot?”

  Yeah, that last bit hadn’t gone over well. Then someone called the FBI, and, from there, she’d been hustled off to a safe house. Special Agents Marsh and Driver gave her the shorthand version of Donnie’s thriving drug business. The guy’s arm was long—Tampa or Timbuktu, she wouldn’t be safe out on her own. He also had a notorious thirst for revenge—clear, since his girlfriend had ratted him out and now lay on a slab in the morgue. Protective custody and a safe house had sounded reasonable at the start. Now…not so much.

  The whole affair had become pretty damn boring. Not to mention, in her absence, her P.I. business had gone kaput, she’d had to let her car and home go, her credit had tubed, and her life as she’d known it had gone to shit. She couldn’t contact anyone. No one.

  “The guy’s in jail for Pete’s sake. Behind bars. And barbed wire. And a wall…or fence, or whatever. Why can’t I go buy my own shirts? It’s not like he could know I was going out, or which store for that matter.” she’d complained one night. “Your taste in clothes sucks, Marsh.

  Agent Driver had laughed his ass off.

  Jessica picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. She missed her parents terribly, but they’d been older when they had her—a surprise package from the stork—and had already passed on. Just as well. She jerked the brush through a tangle. They would’ve worried themselves to pieces.

  Not to mention the danger your altruistic act could’ve brought them.

  Yeah. No good deed goes unpunished.

  She shook her head and set the brush on the counter.

  The sound of Marsh’s cell ringing floated through the closed bathroom door. His muffled voice followed. Probably another check-in, making sure the prosecution’s star witness remains intact.

  Marsh’s tone rose, the cadence of his indistinct words picking up speed.

  Grabbing her toothbrush and the paste, she squeezed a sparkly blue line on top of the white bristles.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  She jolted, her toothbrush midway to her mouth.

  “Jessica?” Driver’s voice carried urgency.

  “Yeah.”

  “Situation’s changed. Get dressed. We have to move.”

  “Shit,” she muttered then answered louder, “Sure. Give me a minute.” After rinsing off her toothbrush, she bent to retrieve the pink-striped carry bag from under the sink and started dropping in the few bath and beauty products she possessed. Third time in six months. Who knew the FBI was so paranoid?

  “When did it happen?” Driver’s voice came from just outside the bathroom.

  “Two hours ago.” Marsh’s clipped tone sounded edgy.

  “Shit. And we’re just hearing about this now?”

  She paused, their concern drawing the hairs on her neck to attention.

  “I’m telling you, this guy’s got his finger in every pot,” Marsh said. “I mean, how the hell does evidence go missing and nobody notices?”

  Her ears perked. Missing evidence? Surely he’s not talking about the pictures I took. Must be some other case.

  “Yeah.” Driver moved away from the bathroom. “If SAC Williams hadn’t asked to review those pictures of Mizener, we’d never have known.”

  Crap. This didn’t sound good at all. If Special Agent in Charge Williams, who headed the Sacramento field office, had lost the photos of Miz
ener in the act of murdering his girlfriend…. Well, shit, their whole case was falling apart. Without the pictures, all they had left was…. Me.

  Knock! Knock! Knock! This time farther away, coming from the direction of the front door.

  The drive team had arrived. She’d better hurry. Grabbing her bag, she gave the bathroom a cursory glance. Pretty sure she had everything, she grasped the doorknob, twisted, pulled the door open—

  Pop, pop, pop.

  Jessica frowned. She leaned forward to get a view of the entryway and gasped. Marsh was down. A deep-red puddle oozed from beneath him, seeped over the tiles. A round hole marred the left side of his broad forehead. His once bright-blue eyes had dulled, staring up at nothing.

  Blam! Blam! —Driver’s 9mm SIG Sauer crashed the sudden silence.

  Pop, pop, pop.

  She backed into the bathroom. Not the drive team. It’s a hit. He’s using a silencer. She eased the door closed and locked it. Shit.

  Her heart thudded heavy against her sternum. She had to get out. Now.

  Setting the striped carry bag on the counter, she scurried to the window, opening it as quietly as possible. Warm night air rolled through the opening. She crawled out, dropped to the ground, and crouched. Squinting, she glanced around but couldn’t see anything. Any of those shadows could be some guy hunting her. She shimmied along the wall, her back to the lapboard siding, her bare feet treading over coarse mulch until she reached the back corner of the house. From there, she kept low and sprinted across the grass to the line of hedges at the back of the property. She dove between them, praying to God no one saw her.

  Peering through the thicket, she risked a glance at the house. The back door swung open.

  She ducked deeper into the shadows.

  A tall, lanky form filled the doorway, the glow from inside backlighting him. A breath later, he shut the door. Oh my God. If he was standing there, did that mean Marsh and Driver were both…?

  No. Don’t think about that now.

  She moved to the back fence and the stacked landscape stones with myriad plants tucked between the cracks. Reaching behind the display, she drew out her go-bag, thankful she’d hidden it outside the house. She pulled the pack from the garbage bag she’d wrapped it in to protect it from the elements. After unzipping it, she drew out a pair of sneakers and stuffed her feet into them. She peered up at the fence, the stars above twinkling in the inky California sky.

  With only one viable escape route, she scrambled up the rocks and jumped over the wood privacy fence.

  Present day….

  “Then I ran into you outside the café.” She held onto Aiden’s hand, his warmth reassuring.

  Deep thrumming vibrated her against her thigh. Sometime during her story, Ptomaine had hopped onto the bed and lain on her leg. She dragged her fingers through his soft fur.

  “I don’t know about Marsh and Driver. I can’t imagine….” Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, and a sob escaped.

  Aiden pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. “They did their job, sweetheart. They protected you, and I’m damn glad they did.”

  She buried her face into his shoulder, thankful not to be alone, drinking in his strength and comfort. The movement dislodged Ptomaine, but the persistent tom resituated himself, curling behind her back.

  “That explains your outfit when we met.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest.

  “Yes. I was getting ready for bed when…it happened.” She sniffled. “I’d packed sneakers, a bottle of water, and twenty dollars in my go-bag. Every time we moved, I found a place to stash it outside. I don’t know…. Normally, I would’ve kept it in my car or near my bed. But this whole safe house deal had me antsy. Totally out of my element. I don’t really know why I hid it outside.”

  “Instinct.” His large hand squeezed her shoulder.

  “I guess.” She shrugged. “I’m just glad I did.”

  He toyed with the ends of her hair, the action soothing yet somehow sensual, too. “And now I understand the drastic change in your looks.”

  “I had to do something. First chance I got, I went to a drug store and bought scissors, hair color, and that stupid ball cap. Took pretty much all of my money, too.”

  “Well, you’re safe now.” He kissed the top of her head, and her tummy fluttered.

  It had been years since she’d seen him, and yet everything still felt familiar. His easy laugh. His intense focus. His rugged sexy looks. But now, she could add a new experience—the warmth of his arms. “What happened to us…to our friendship?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After I moved away, we emailed for a while and then, one day, we just didn’t.” Why had she let that happen? A new school, new friends. It had all been so overwhelming. She’d written to him about it, wanting his thoughts, his advice. She’d missed him terribly.

  “Life, I guess.” He continued to run his fingers through her hair, the gesture wonderfully intimate. His heat enveloped her, shielding her from the world.

  She needed more. Needed to forget the last twenty-four hours. The last six months. All the deaths. She snuggled closer. “Do you think it’s weird how, after all this time, we just ran into each other like we did?”

  “What? Do you think it was fate?” His voice held humor. “Destiny?”

  “You jerk.” She slapped his chest—his very hard, muscular chest.

  He jolted then chuckled as he pulled her close again. “What?”

  She shoved against him, but his arms were bands around her. “Okay, maybe not destiny or fate. But a hint from the universe….”

  Without warning, his fingers attacked her ribs, and she writhed against him, laughing.

  “Stop!” She gasped for breath between giggles.

  “I can’t. The universe demands I tickle you.”

  She jerked and twisted, trying to break free from his torture, and before she realized it, she lay half on top of him, her face inches from his. It seemed he noticed, too, because his tickling changed to caresses, his large warm hands delving beneath her shirt to trace intricate patterns over her skin with his fingertips.

  She gazed down at him, the lack of light leaving a lot to the imagination.

  “Jess?” When she didn’t say anything, he turned on the bedside lamp. The soft glow chased away the darkness surrounding her, leaving only Aiden. Concern filled his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now.” She reached up to trace the shell of his ear and down along his strong jaw. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over his. And, at last, all these years later, the words she’d longed to say to her best friend in high school tumbled out. “Make love to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Holy shit. Did she just say what I think she said? Her sweet voice echoed in his mind, his need for her catching fire, consuming him. “Are you sure?”

  He was. From the moment he set eyes on her outside the café, tasted her sweet lips, he’d wanted her. And here she’d cuddled up next to him, all soft and warm and smelling like a dream…and had kissed him again. Then spoke aloud the same thoughts that underscored his every breath.

  Take her. Possess her. Bury yourself in her wet heat. Make her yours.

  She gazed down at him, her gorgeous green eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in his life.

  “Yes.” Uncertainty flickered across her face. “Are you…?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His hard-on grew beneath the covers. “We are definitely on the same page.”

  Same page? You think she wants a horror show like you?

  Fuck.

  Her eyes still locked with his, Jess drew circles on his chest with her fingernail then swept across to one side to outline his flat male nipple through his T-shirt. The sudden attention to such a sensitive spot sparked a million erotic tingles to pepper his skin. He sucked in a breath.

  A sexy smile curved her mouth. “Good?”

  Lord have mercy! “Yes,” he mana
ged.

  She scraped her nail over the tight bead in the center, and electric shocks streaked from his nipple straight south, his erection tenting the sheets more. She flicked the tip again. And again. Damn, that felt amazing.

  Her gaze never leaving his, she leaned in closer. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.

  Her mouth a breath away from his, she paused. Instead of kissing him full-on, she traced his top lip with the tip of her tongue, sketching the edge from one end to the other. At the corner, she pressed a lingering kiss then continued along his bottom lip, drawing a line to the other corner where she repeated another slow kiss.

  She rubbed her lips against his, tempting, teasing. Unable to stop himself, he canted up and took her mouth with his, sweeping his tongue inside to tangle with hers. She dueled for dominance, thrusting and caressing, delving and exploring. Never had a woman taken the time to kiss him in such a suggestive manner.

  She nipped his bottom lip, and he jolted. She glanced his way, a knowing glint dancing in her eyes as she licked the pain away then drew her tongue along the bottom of his jawline. When she reached his neck, she moved upward to sample his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. He closed his eyes as more hot shocks zinged along his nerves.

  Then Jess bit down on the tender flesh and dragged her fingernail over his nipple in the same instant. The pleasure-pain combination sent his heart racing, his mind spinning, and his balls aching. He moaned.

  She was seducing him. He caressed her back with one hand and moved the other down to get a grip on her sweet, round ass. Hell, she was driving him nuts.

  She licked and teased his earlobe, the tip still captured between her teeth. So caught up in the sensations coursing through him and the throbbing of his raging hard-on, he didn’t notice she’d snaked her hand beneath his T-shirt until her fingernail scraped his bare nipple.

  He sucked air between his teeth. Damn!

  With a growl, Aiden rolled, taking her with him, pinning her beneath him. He pressed into her lush body, his erection caught between them at the juncture of her naked thighs. This was happening. He couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.