Fighting the Flames (Southern Heat Book 2)

by Jamie Garrett

Meg turned, not bothering to cover herself with the sheet. Surprisingly, she wasn’t at all embarrassed about what they had done last night. No regrets. She smiled down at him. “Lots to do today,” she said, explaining her earlier thoughts. He nodded, but she still saw the frown. “What is it?”

  “It’s not safe for you to be out and about by yourself.” Before she could protest, he interrupted. “Look, I have to go to the firehouse today for a little while, catch up on some paperwork. Why don’t you come with me? When I’m done, we can take care of your errands together.”

  Meg thought about it. The idea of spending the day with Liam was appealing, but the guys at the firehouse had already helped so much yesterday. She didn’t want to get in their way a second day in a row. Besides, she was definitely dropping in to the Red Cross, and some of the residents would be scared of Liam. Especially Amy. The poor girl still flinched every time an unknown male came near her. No, she couldn’t let the entire firehouse take the responsibility of looking after her. She had people relying on her and she had to get it all done.

  “I have a better idea,” she said. “Why don’t you drop me off at Promise House and then you can go to the firehouse. I’ll just gather a few things, figure out what I need to do with some furniture during the room renovations, and then I’ll drive my car over to the firehouse and meet you there. Or I can go to the shelter and we can meet up later.”

  Liam threw the covers off and swung out of bed, walking naked to his dresser. She got a gorgeous view of his ass as he paused in front of his dresser, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a pair of skivvies. For crying out loud, he couldn’t even put on underwear without her getting all hot and bothered?

  He turned around, frowning, and her arousal dimmed. “I don’t like it, Meg. And Hodges won’t like it either, especially if I drop you off at the house by yourself. Let’s get someone over there while you’re organizing things.”

  She started to protest and he held up a hand.

  “No arguments. Hodges can arrange for a cruiser to be there when you get there. No one will bother you. It’s just added security. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

  Her expression softened. She understood, really she did, but she also wasn’t about to turn around and lose all the freedom she’d found—no, that she’d worked damn hard for—after the divorce. She also didn’t want any friend of Hodges breathing down her neck all day. The man had actually been decent the night before, but who knows what kind of mood the light of day would find him in. “I’ve got things to do, Liam. No one can protect me forever. It would drive me crazy to have someone hovering over me twenty-four hours a day. I’m not going to be careless. I promise. I’ll do what I need to as quickly as possible. I’ll just grab my stuff and get out. Then I’ll go to the firehouse. Okay? I won’t be more than an hour, maybe a little longer, but that’s all.”

  Moving to his closet, he ran his fingers through his hair before finally nodding. “Okay,” he said. “As long as someone is with you, around you, or watching you.” He paused, then glanced back at her over his shoulder.

  “You got some clothes to wear? Or do you need something out of my closet?”

  “Detective Petit packed me an overnight bag, so I’ve got clothes for today. But that reminds me, I’ll have to pick up more.” She suddenly stopped. “Or will I?”

  He turned and smiled, pulling a sweatshirt with the Monroe fire Department emblem on the chest over his head. “You definitely will. In fact, watch.” He turned to the closet and shoved the hangers holding jeans, khakis, polo shirts, and a couple of sweatshirts to the side. “See? Plenty of room for your stuff.” He gestured toward the four-drawer dresser. “You can also have a drawer. Whatever you need.”

  She watched him carefully. He was being very casual, but he was also serious.

  “Where do we go from here, Liam?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea, but I’m liking this bit, the part where you wake up naked in my bed.” He smiled. “Let’s just take it one day at a time and enjoy it.”

  She nodded and watched as he finished dressing. All he had left to put on were his shoes when he paused and looked at her with a lifted eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

  She felt the heat of a flush warm her cheeks. “My clothes are in the bathroom.”

  “So?” he grinned. “You going to sit there with that sheet tucked up around you all day, or you gonna go get dressed?” Lying with him in bed was one thing, but walking naked while he sat and watched? A shiver of desire ran through her. Meg lifted her chin and slid from the bed. Trying to pretend she wasn’t self-conscious, she stood and walked casually to the doorway. The minute she passed through, she darted for the bathroom door while his soft laughter followed.

  Liam dropped her off at Promise House with her assurance that she would call him if she expected to be more than an hour. She saw a police cruiser parked a couple of houses down and on the opposite side of the street. You couldn’t get more obvious than a black-and-white cruiser, but at least they hadn’t parked right in front of her house. Still, they would keep watch for anyone who entered her property. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was a cruiser parked on the street behind the house, either.

  With a sigh, she stepped out of his SUV at the curb and walked across the short lawn to the porch. At the front door, she turned and waved as he slowly pulled away from the curb. She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the front door.

  Meg smiled as she pushed open the door. Spending time with Liam had put her in a good mood. This wasn’t going to last forever. The police and the GBI were working to solve her case. Soon, everything would be back to normal. Well, almost normal. A new, better normal, she hoped.

  For the first time since she had woken up to the smell of smoke, she didn’t feel quite so alone. She still had numerous burdens casting a black cloud over her, but with Liam’s support, she’d deal with them. That didn’t mean her nerves were completely calm. She paused inside the door for several moments, listening for any untoward sounds. All was quiet.

  Curious, she walked quickly down the hallway past the dining room and into the kitchen. The backdoor had been boarded up although several pieces of doorframe and paneling still lay scattered across the kitchen floor.

  “Bastard,” she muttered. Who the hell was doing this to her?

  She sighed. Realistically, it was probably going to be a long time before she had answers to any of those questions. The perp wasn’t going to come anywhere near her with a police cruiser parked out front, and during the nights she’d be with Liam. Warmth ran through her at the thought. She was really going to do this. It felt good. She grinned. Could she talk him into a repeat of the shower tonight, or hopefully more? From the look on his face as she’d walked through the room that morning, convincing Liam wouldn’t be, well, hard. Chuckling to herself, Meg walked back to the stairs. In the meantime, she had work to do. She quickly headed upstairs. As before, the scent of smoke damage, charred wood, and wet drywall invaded her nostrils. She tried not to dwell on it but instead headed for her room up in the attic. First things first. She needed clothes to take to Liam’s house.

  Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was practically moving in with a man that she had only met a day ago? In any other circumstances, she would’ve told herself she was crazy. Today? Not at all. It felt right.

  She had just closed one of her dresser drawers after tossing a few shirts and a pair of jeans on her bed when she heard wood creak. She paused, straightened, and looked over her shoulder, her heart pounding. After several seconds, she relaxed. This old house made lots of sounds, even more now since the fire. She’d heard them all before; creaking, settling, sometimes a groan or two. In the winter time, the furnace would sometimes rattle with its efforts, and in cooler temperatures, there would be popping sounds from the old wood contracting.

  She had just stepped from her room and was headed for her office space to get her backpack when another sound echoed from the
far end of the attic space, deep in the shadows. She stopped dead.

  Silence. Meg forced herself to laugh. God, was she jumpy! She reached for her backpack, stored in an old armoire shoved against the wall near her desk and turned back to her room. She quickly shoved her clothes into the backpack, eager to get moving, and then left her room, closing the door softly behind her. Her bedroom window was still broken. She didn’t think that bigger night critters could get in, but she certainly didn’t need any birds, owls, or raccoons taking up residence in the rest of the house.

  She paused on the landing, wondering if she should go back for her laptop when she heard them. Heavy footsteps rushing toward her. Behind her! She spun around, mouth open ready to scream. A large, dark figure wearing a hoodie, face shadowed inside, rushed toward her, arms outstretched.

  “You bitch!” the man’s voice snarled.

  She lost her balance.

  “Why . . . don’t . . . you . . . just . . . die!”

  She felt herself falling. Biting off a scream, she dropped her backpack and groped for the wall. There was nothing to grab onto. Disjointed thoughts raced through her mind. Where were the police? They were supposed to be watching the house! How could somebody have gotten in—?

  She tumbled down the steps, gasping in pain as her shoulder rammed into one of the steps. Then she was sliding down headfirst, every bump sending a sharp stab of pain through her. She tried to protect her head as she went down, heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs after her.

  Dazed, her head pounding anew, she landed at the bottom of the stairs, arms and legs akimbo, her nose pressed into the carpet. Her heart pounding, every muscle in her body trembling with fear, she tried to scramble onto her hands and knees. Tried to scream. Tried to escape.

  Something grabbed her from behind, yanked her upright by the back of her shirt, and pulled her up from the floor as if she weighed nothing at all. Before she could even get her feet under her, whoever was behind her swung her face first into the wall. She heard a loud crack, only dimly noticed the dent in the drywall left from the impact of her head into it before she was falling backward.

  Darkness surrounded her. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening!

  No!

  23

  Liam

  Liam had just settled into a pile of paperwork regarding the arson of Promise House when his cell phone rang. Skimming over the papers, he reached for his phone and pulled it from his pocket. Detective Hodges.

  “Cohen.”

  “Liam, where’s Meg? I need to talk to her.”

  Liam frowned. “She’s at Promise House. You can’t reach her on her phone?”

  “No answer—”

  Liam shoved back his chair, pushing to his feet and already moving to leave the firehouse. “I dropped her off just a little while ago. There was a patrol car out front. Maybe she doesn’t get good reception—”

  “The officer isn’t responding either. I’ve dispatched another unit to the location. I’m heading over there now.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Stay on the line. I have information.”

  Liam hurried from the small office space at the firehouse and called out to two of the guys sitting around the kitchen table. “I’ll be back later!” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried outside toward his SUV, pulling his car keys from his pocket as he went. “What’s going on, Detective?”

  “I think we found something. We’ve been following the money, the fifty grand deposited into her account? We think Meg knows the man who attacked her at the house, even if she didn’t realize it.”

  The call dropped. Liam climbed behind the wheel, and cradling the cell phone between his ear and a shoulder, quickly fastened his seatbelt. Shit! There was no time to waste calling back. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and pressed his foot on the accelerator as he headed for Meg’s house.

  His pulse thundered as he pulled his car to a stop against the curb in front of Meg’s house only minutes later. Heart pounding, every nerve in his body alert, he raced across the lawn toward her front door. Just as he reached the porch, a garbled scream and the sound of something crashing came from inside.

  Liam fought the urge to shout, to let her know he was there. He didn’t want to alert the intruder too, causing even more danger for Meg. He tried the door. Fuck. Locked. Was there another way in? The intruder had gotten in somehow.

  No time.

  He tucked his right arm across his chest and rammed the door with his shoulder. The door shuddered but held. Pain shot through his arm, but he took a step back and rammed the door again. It didn’t give. He doubted he could kick it in, not wearing tennis shoes. He rammed it with his shoulder again. This time there was a muffled bang, followed by a loud crack.

  Again!

  He shouted out to Meg, to tell her to fight, that he was there, the police were on their way. Once more, he rushed the door. This time it gave, and he rushed into the foyer, turning and skidding into the living room. There, in the middle of the floor was Meg, face down on the carpet. A man half sat, half knelt over her, his left forearm wrapped around her neck, pulling her head and shoulders up off the floor, choking her.

  Rage surged through him. He took a running tackle at the guy, throwing him off of Meg. They hit the floor behind her as she choked and gasped, a wheezing sound escaping her throat as she drew in a lungful of air.

  “Get out, Meg!” he shouted. “Cops are on the way!”

  He heard her scrambling for footing. Shouting his name. “Liam!”

  “Go! Outside, Meg!” The intruder was a big man, stockier than Liam. He didn’t have a chance to look Meg’s way, nor to tell if she was injured or how badly. He wrapped his arms around the man. He grunted and then uttered a string of curses. They rolled on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The man twisted under him, swung a fist, and slammed it into Liam’s jaw.

  “Shit,” Liam muttered. He grabbed at the man’s hand, landing a blow of his own to the back of the man’s head. It was awhile since he’d been in a fistfight, but this was anything but. This was a guy trying to kill Meg. He was likely the one who’d set fire to the house, who was behind everything. Every muscle quivered and he burst forward. “You fuckin’ asshole!” he ground out, landing a blow to the man’s kidney. The man cried out and tried to scramble away from him. Liam didn’t let him.

  Finally, he got the man down on his stomach and held him down, delivering two more kidney punches followed by several angry blows to the side of the man’s head. Breathing hard, the adrenaline racing through his bloodstream, he shook with emotion as he heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

  “Liam!”

  He dared a quick look over his shoulder. Meg stood in the doorway, eyes wide, face pale. Her lip was bleeding. Her cheekbone was already swollen. The sight infuriated him. He struck the man again. Then again.

  Suddenly he felt arms around him, pulling him off.

  “Liam, that’s enough!”

  Detective Hodges’ voice. He didn’t want to stop pounding on the fucker. Attacking Meg. Attacking a woman. Fuckin’ coward!

  “Liam!” More arms reaching for him. He struggled against them for several seconds, but then heard Meg crying out for him to stop. He allowed Hodges and another officer to pull him off the intruder, who lay still beneath him.

  He stared down at the guy, for the first time noticed that he wore black sweatpants and sweatshirt, a black ski mask pulled down over his face.

  “I’m fine . . . I’m fine,” he said, shrugging out of Hodges’ grip. He shook his bruised knuckles, flexed his fingers, and then looked to Meg. “You all right?”

  She rushed toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yes,” she stammered. “Are you?”

  He nodded as Hodges reached down and rolled the man over. He groaned and tried to push himself up, but Hodges grabbed him by the arm. “Cuff him,” he ordered a Monroe police officer. Detective Petit bent down and pulled the mask off.

  Meg gasped
, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh, my God!” The words escaped in a low moan. “Oh, my God . . .”

  “Who is it, Meg?” Liam asked. Hodges had also turned to Meg.

  “It’s Ray! My ex-husband!” Her voice broke. She sagged her weight against him, as if her knees were about to buckle. He grabbed her around the waist, but they didn’t. Meg was too strong for that.

  Moments later the house swarmed with police officers. Liam tried to pull Meg away from the sight of her ex-husband. At first she resisted, staring down at him in wordless shock. “Come on, Meg. Let them do their job.” He urged her toward the door. “It’s over. It’s over . . .” he repeated the phrase several more times as he guided her from the living room, out the busted front door and onto the porch.

  Hodges followed them.

  “Liam.”

  Liam turned to see Hodges gesture with his thumb over his shoulder and into the house, then glance pointedly at Meg, then follow that with a gesture with his chin toward Liam’s SUV. Liam understood and nodded. They were bringing the intruder—Ray—out. He didn’t want Meg to have to confront that.

  “Come on, Meg,” he said, gently guiding her upward with his elbow. “Let’s go sit in my SUV. I’ll take you the ER to get checked out.” She started to protest, but he would have none of it.

  “Go on, Meg,” Hodges encouraged. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  At the hospital, Meg told them her side of the story. “He . . . he pushed me down the stairs—”

  Meg looked up and Liam saw the distraught expression on her face. His heart broke for her when she slowly spoke. “It was Ray . . . it was Ray . . .”

  She heaved a shaky sigh and leaned into his arms again, but she was no longer crying. She just looked so . . . defeated. Liam looked up at Hodges and Petit. Waiting for an explanation. Hodges obliged.

  “Meg, we followed the money, like we always do,” Petit began. “Your ex-husband wasn’t living in California. Never was. He’s living—”