Burning Up

by Susan Andersen

  He shifted in his seat. Then straightened in determination. Well, he’d just have to do something about that. Because damned if watching her run away was an option. Not now that he’d made up his mind to pursue this relationship—at least for the amount of time she was still here or until they tired of each other, whichever came first.

  He looked up, his thoughts mercifully interrupted as a car pulled off the highway. Bumping over the uneven terrain, Johnny pulled the sheriff department’s Ford Ranger alongside Gabe’s SUV until their cabs were aligned, one facing in and the other out, and threw his vehicle into Park. His window rolled down with a quiet hum Gabe barely heard over the birds chattering up in the trees.

  “Hey,” the deputy greeted him. “What are you doing clear out here?”

  He shoved Macy out of his mind and brought his focus back where it should be. “Trying to figure out who the hell’s been setting all these fires.” He slid the folders onto the passenger seat. “How ’bout you?”

  “I had a call over on Palouse Road that turned out to be a nonevent.”

  “Given our businesses, nonevents are generally a good thing.”

  “Yeah, it beats being faced with fighting spouses or a loaded gun. And of the two? I gotta tell ya, it’s a toss-up which I’d prefer.” He gave Gabe a closer look. “So, why are you out here when you’ve got a perfectly good station house to work in?”

  Gabe blew out a breath as he realized he was about to admit what he’d been trying to deny ever since the unwelcome thought had first crept into his head. But it had burrowed in to take up residence and refused to leave. “Because I’ve got a bad feeling it may be someone on my crew.”

  “What?” Johnny stared at him. “Get out.”

  “Wish I could. But whoever’s setting these fires seems to know what he’s doing. He’s careful, he always uses a long timing device and the places are never all that far from town. They’re usually noticed and called in, at any rate, in time for us to reach them before they’re fully engaged.”

  “Gabe. We’re talking about your crew, dude. They’re firemen.”

  “Who unfortunately are responsible for setting more fires than you might imagine. Try searching Google for firemen arson sometime and you’ll get a shitload of hits, most of which are taken directly from the news. And every article seems to agree on one thing—that the majority of firefighters arrested for arson are volunteers.” A rough laugh escaped his throat. “Big frigging surprise, considering seventy-five percent of us are volunteers. Still, it’s a lot rarer for a professional to go renegade.”

  He speared his fingers into his hair and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Then he dropped them to the steering wheel, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else. “Jesus,” he said wearily to the tan fingers flexing against the wheel. “I can’t tell you how much I hope I’m wrong. But I can’t ignore the possibility any longer that I’m not. Too many things fit.”

  “Why would they do it?”

  “Beats the hell outta me.” He looked at his friend. “The popular theory leans toward either money—as in volunteers only get paid if the truck goes out—and/or a thirst for excitement and public adulation. Shit, Johnny, the vast majority of firefighters would never dream of starting a fire. But of the small percentage that do for whatever reason, they’re often responsible for a large number of them. Once they set the first they tend to become serial fire starters.”

  “So where do you start?”

  “That’s what I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out.” Johnny didn’t need to know that he’d been distracted by thoughts of Macy.

  Then he gave himself a mental shake. Because neither did he need to think about that right now. “I tracked down the phone number for my predecessor in Florida—”

  “Chief Stoller?”

  “Yeah. And between what he told me and talking to Colin Atkins and Jake Kaufman again about the fires they set, I think we’ve probably had a problem longer than we thought.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Hang on.” Johnny climbed out of his rig and walked around to get in Gabe’s. He settled in the seat Gabe cleared for him. “Tell me.”

  “Stoller said they had a couple of abandoned-car fires last fall and a tall grass fire that he was never sure if it had been deliberately set or was the result of someone throwing their cigarette out a car window. Both are classic fireman-set fires. So are the abandoned- or secluded-building fires that we’ve been dealing with.”

  “Shit. And what was that about the teens?”

  “I realized that since they’d copped to the non-building fires, we’d never gone over all the events one by one. So I sat them down and had them walk me through each one.” He gave Johnny a level look. “Turns out that while they set the four garbage-can fires, they didn’t start the first Dumpster fire we were called out on. They only set the second one and the McFadden Dumpster where we caught them.”

  “How can that be?” Johnny straightened. “I was there when you specifically stated you had them for X number of can and X number of Dumpster fires.”

  “Right on top of which I told them I was an arson-forensics wizard. So, between knowing their prints were all over the first Dumpster, since they’d checked it out after the fire, and watching too much TV, they decided to spare themselves our skepticism and just let us lump it in with the ones they were responsible for.” He blew out a breath. “But the truth is, they got the idea to upgrade from their can fires after they saw the first Dumpster that someone else had set.” He shrugged. “Bigger flames, more fun, I guess.”

  “Where do you go from here?”

  “I wish I knew,” Gabe admitted, jerking a thumb at the folders he’d moved to the backseat. “I’ve gone through my crew’s employment records as far back as they’re available to me and came up with a big, fat zero. Not one frigging thing popped. So maybe I can pick your brain while I have you here. Can you tell me if any of my crew’s ever been arrested?”

  “Not as far as I know, but I’ll run a check to see if anything crops up.”

  “Any of them have a habit of disappearing occasionally, even if only for a day or a weekend? No one has since I’ve taken over, but maybe someone’s got a gambling habit or—” Frustration tightening his fingers on the wheel, he gave it a sudden, violent jerk. “Fuck me if I know. Jesus, I’m reaching here. And yet—” He met the other man’s eyes. “Whoever set that fire the other day came too damn close to injuring Macy. I hope to God he didn’t know she was in there, but I can’t be sure of that. And that’s my problem in a nutshell. I’m just not sure of anything in this goddamn case. But I know this—I want to stop whoever it is before someone’s seriously injured or killed.”

  He rubbed his eyes again, then looked back at the deputy. “Christ, this sucks. I’m not what you’d call particularly close to any of my crew, but lately I have been getting to know them better. Damn, Johnny, every single one of them has helped me with my house at one time or the other, and I don’t like the idea of any of them being responsible for this shit. So do me a favor, will you?”

  “Name it,” Johnny promptly agreed.

  “Help me prove my suspicions wrong.”

  MACY HIGHTAILED IT out of the dining room after dinner that evening, but not fast enough. Gabriel was hard on her heels, and banging through the screen door onto the porch in her wake, he whipped out a hand to grasp her upper arm. The next thing she knew, she was being whirled around.

  Her body slapped up against his, and before she could say a word he was kissing her, all hot lips, strong tongue and an ineffable need that she might not be able to put a name to but to which she sure as hell responded.

  Clutching his shoulders, she kissed him back.

  When he raised his head an instant—or maybe an aeon—later, he gave her a level gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She longed to tell him he was full of it, but of course he wasn’t. “Maybe.”

  He stroked his thumb the length of her lower lip. “Com
e with me to my house.”

  She shouldn’t. He’d made love to her the other day and her world had started moving at warp speed. She felt as if she was still running two days later, just trying to catch up—suffused with a twitchiness she’d be happy to go for the rest of her life without experiencing again. She was accustomed to being one jump ahead of the game, but that sure hadn’t been the case once they’d quit making love and returned to real life. The sex had been fantastic. The aftermath, however, with her inability to focus for more than a few minutes at a pop and her raft of self-protective coping mechanisms screaming warnings to stay away, to not do that again…? Not so much.

  So, no: she really shouldn’t.

  And yet the lovemaking had been…Lord. Amazing. Stupendous. Out of this world. And that she did want to experience again. Boy, did she want to!

  But Macy O’James was nobody’s pushover. She raised her chin. “I’m not here for your entertainment, Donovan. I’m here to help Janna and Auntie. And I’m probably needed inside right this minute.”

  “Well, let’s find out.” He stepped back, opened the screen door and stuck his head in the house. “Lenore! Janna! You need Macy for anything tonight?”

  “Nope,” Lenore called from the kitchen, and Janna said from her room, “Not me.”

  “Then I’ll have her back in an hour or two.” He turned back to her. Moved close. Leaned down and growled in her ear, “Maybe I’m here for your entertainment—you ever consider that?”

  Hell, no. But she had to admit she liked the idea. She particularly liked that he was making the first move for a change. “Oh. That’s okay, then.”

  Gabe laughed and hustled her around the boardinghouse to his SUV.

  She wondered on the short ride to his place if he’d heard the news about Jack and Grace. She almost opened her mouth to ask but kept the question to herself. Because now that she’d committed to this, she found herself unwilling to destroy the mood. And, face it, when it came to Grace, Gabriel had demonstrated jealousy of Jack in the past. Discovering his ex-girl was definitely having a fling with the rock star might put him off making love to her again.

  Which after days of telling herself she’d be better off without, she was suddenly wild to experience. And clearly, and most satisfyingly, so was Gabriel. The instant they reached his house he hauled her inside and led her straight to the bedroom in the basement, where he immediately peeled his T-shirt off over his head and reached for her.

  Just like the first time they’d made love, contact proved explosive. One second she was on her feet, clinging to Gabe as he strung hot, wet, drugging kisses from her lips to her jaw and down her throat to her collarbone, all the while telling her things he intended to do to her that made her knees buckle. Then they were naked, on the bed. He was over her, inside of her, and, oh, God, she was arching from her heels to the back of her head as fiery sensations detonated one after another around that hard, talented source of pleasure thrusting in and out of her—until finally she melted bonelessly back onto the mattress, Gabriel’s weight collapsing atop her seconds later.

  She probably should have felt smothered. Instead, she felt safe again, dammit. And although she knew it was just an illusion—and one that wouldn’t last, at that—for now she intended to enjoy herself, for she couldn’t deny the sheer pleasure of it.

  “That,” she breathed, “was amazing.” She wiggled beneath him. “Let’s do it again.” Okay, the idea sounded good in theory. She was so relaxed, however, that she doubted she was physically up to the challenge. Still, it was fun to dare him.

  And she could probably get with the program if he was up for it.

  His soft snort fluttered her hair against her temple. “Whataya think I am, sixteen?”

  “Hey, I’m only talking about a measly round two here.” Grabbing a handful of his hair, she pulled his head back so he could see her sly smile. “When I know you’re good for three.” She let go, and his face promptly slumped back into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She snapped her fingers next to his nonburied ear. “Chop, chop, Donovan! Grab another condom.”

  “Jeez, you’re bossy. Think you can give me a minute to catch my breath first?” Pushing up onto his forearms, he looked down at her, then freed a hand to brush a strand of hair away from the corner of her lips. “Tell me how you got started in the music business. I would’ve thought, after the hard time this town gave you over your reputation, that sexy videos would be the last career you’d have chosen.”

  “I hit L.A. with nothing more than a high school education and the ability to role-play.” She gave him a little smile. “I decided that qualified me to be an actor and decided to give Hollywood the benefit of my brilliance. Mostly that meant waiting tables and catching a bit part here or there. When I auditioned for a character that was barely more than a walk-on in the Aussie Kiss video and Jack picked me for a larger role, I had no idea it was going to be the beginning of a new career. I don’t think anyone knew how big that video would become.”

  Feeling faintly exposed to be discussing a subject with him that no one except her family had ever bothered to ask her about—at least in this town—she decided it was time to change the conversational direction. She gave him a sultry smile and trailed a fingernail from his shoulder to his collarbone, then over a hard pectoral muscle to the flat disk of his nipple. She pouted and heaved a sigh. “Now will you get another condom?”

  “Wait. This is good stuff. Tell me more.”

  She flashed him a knowing smile. “You just wanna talk so you don’t have to disclose you’re not up to another performance, don’tcha? It’s okay. You can admit it.”

  “Funny girl. Me big man.” Leaning on one elbow, Gabe thumped his chest and felt like laughing. He’d never met a woman who made him feel so…playful. That wasn’t generally something he carried in his social bag of tricks. Instead, he gave her an arrogant look down the bridge of his nose. “I’ll have you know I can perform anywhere, any way.”

  “Uh-huh. Just how old are you, anyhow?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “Ah, well, then. Take all the time you need. I didn’t realize you were a senior citizen. Holy crap, you’re halfway to seventy—I’m amazed you made it through one session.”

  “Why, you little—” Pushing up onto his palms, he looked down at her and almost laughed at the self-satisfied smirk she gave him. Instead, he gave her a faux scowl and, climbing to his feet, snatched his jeans from the floor where he’d kicked them off. He extracted his wallet, which was closer than the chest, fished out a condom and tossed it to her.

  She snatched it out of the air. “We’d best get this on you, hadn’t we? Before—you know.” Holding up an erect finger, she caught his eye as she allowed the digit to droop.

  “Okay, that tears it, sister.” Falling forward onto his hands and knees on the end of the mattress, he prowled up the bed to her. “You are so gonna eat your words. But first—” He dropped onto his stomach between her legs, which he grasped by the ankles to arrange over his shoulders, then splayed his fingers against her stomach to hold her in place. “We need to get you back up to speed.”

  “That’s okay,” she protested unexpectedly. “I’m good.”

  Touched by her sudden look of uncertainty—so much for Macy the sex kitten—he pressed a kiss into her firm inner thigh. Used the tip of his tongue to trace the crease where it joined her groin. Breathed a heated exhalation across the plump lips of her sex as he raised his head to bestow identical attention on her other thigh. Not until he felt her hips commence a gentle bump and grind, lifting toward his mouth, then contracting into the mattress when she failed to make contact, did he glide the thumb and index fingers of his free hand along the slippery cleft on either side of her clitoris. “There you are,” he whispered as the tiny organ peeked out of its hood. Giving it a soft pinch, he glanced up to see Macy’s head drop back. He lowered his own head. And licked.

  She wilted onto her back, reaching out to grip his hair. But not to
push him away.

  He got so into the flavors, the textures of her that he nearly let it get away from him. When he realized she was getting close—much closer than he’d intended—he pushed back.

  “Where’s that rubber?” he demanded, looking around the rumpled sheets. Spotting it on his own, he snatched it up. But when he looked up from ripping its wrapper open a moment later, it was to see her hand slipping between her legs.

  “Uh-uh-uh.” Grabbing her wrist, he pulled it away. “None of that—when you come, I plan to be right there with you. Here.” He handed her the opened packet. “Put this on me, okay?”

  She did, and then he was sliding inside of her and feeling his eyes all but roll back in his head at the slick, muscular heat pulling, stroking, damn near milking him. He had to grit his teeth and recite the multiplication tables to keep from ejaculating before he had the chance to get her off.

  Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait. For while Macy wasn’t a screamer, she had her own escalating little moan that he loved to hear, as it was a sure precursor to her satisfaction. She started in now, low and sweet, growing gradually less quiet and infinitely grittier in tone the closer he brought her to the edge. Until finally, digging her nails into his back, she shot right over it, that hot sheath clamping down on his dick like a silk-encased, hot-cream-filled iron fist. And he followed only seconds behind, free-falling into an infinity of knee-howling pleasure.

  This time when the last shudder of satisfaction faded and gravity kicked in to poleax him, he was careful not to flatten her. Yet even as he held himself above her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him down. His weight pressed the air from her lungs in an audible whoosh, but she merely smiled against his neck.

  “There,” she said with sleepy satisfaction. “That’s better.”

  And he knew then that he was in big trouble. Because this was starting to feel less and less casual by the minute. He couldn’t say exactly what it was he felt for Macy. But he knew this much.