by G. G. Andrew
He studied her. “You think this article is the ticket?”
“Exactly.”
“And you need to stay at the inn tomorrow night? You can’t just do these interviews and be done with it?”
“They’re expecting it,” she said. “I need this article to be amazing. They’re a good publication, and I’d like to write for them again. Plus, they’ve already paid me part of the money upfront.” She patted the black purse beside her.
Lucas leaned his forearms on the table. “What can I tell you so that you send that money back and keep the hell away from there?”
“Nothing, it’s a done deal.” Laney tilted her head. “Why are you so keen to keep me from staying there? You and I both know ghosts don’t exist.”
He didn’t say anything, but fear sparked in his eyes.
“What did you see that night, Lucas?”
He didn’t respond.
“Adele Lyons will be there,” Laney pressed on.
At this, Lucas stirred. “You have Mrs. Lyons coming? I just…” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
“She wants answers,” Laney said. “Her husband died in that fire twenty years ago, and she’s been trying to find out why ever since. She’s going to try to contact him or the spirit world or whatever.” Now it was Laney’s turn to lean forward. She lowered her voice. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen. But maybe it’ll give her some closure, you know?”
“Huh.” He gave a harsh laugh. “This is so messed up.”
“What, an older woman wanting closure?”
“No, just…” He sighed. “She sends me a card every year for my birthday, did she tell you that?”
Laney smiled. “She’s a sweet woman.”
“A sweet woman who doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this again.”
Laney stopped smiling. “She said she’s been looking for this opportunity for a long, long time. She wants to see you, you know.”
He tried to hide it, but Laney could see his face crumple a little in what Laney recognized as guilt. Good.
“So she’s doing this willingly,” Laney continued. “I didn’t have to persuade her like I’m trying to persuade you.” At this, she crossed her legs and moved her foot under the table until it met with his calve. Then she teased the toe of her sandal against his leg.
He reached down and gripped her foot in his strong hand, but he didn’t push it away. “You’re too much,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dinner.”
“But you did.”
The restaurant was crowded, and dim enough that no one could see the movement of Laney’s foot under the table and the direction she played at it heading, which, from Lucas’s expression, was somewhere he wasn’t about to let it go and a place he wanted her desperately to touch. His hand on her foot tensed. His jaw was tight and the expression on his face was hard—though not as hard as Laney imagined he was other places. Lust heated his eyes and a matching desire ignited her nerve endings.
She had him where she wanted him. That Stonewater blood flowed through her veins, all right.
Laney felt a clench of pleasure pulse low down in her body, and a heat that had nothing to do with the outside temperature rise in her veins. It had snuck up on her. She’d been teasing him, seducing him, but her own body had grown ripe and ready in response.
She couldn’t remember the last time she wanted a man before their lips had even touched. Especially one that was nice enough to like getting birthday cards from old women.
“This the first time you’ve tried to use sex to get a source on an article?” he asked her in a strained voice.
“Yes,” she admitted. She wasn’t sure anymore whether she wanted to nail the piece or just really, really wanted to nail Lucas Moore.
His eyes fell to her cleavage, and she glanced down to see her chest flushed, her breast rising and falling with quick breaths.
“Stay with me,” she managed to breathe.
“Not there,” he said, and the control he had over his voice—greater than her own—irritated Laney to no end.
They were at impasse, and a torturous one at that.
To find her footing—literally, if not figuratively, she repeated, “What did you see that night?”
At that, his gaze cooled and he dropped her foot.
They both looked away, squirming in their seats, but then Lucas surprised her.
“You know my parents were out that night, I assume?” he said. “That I was alone at the inn with a babysitter?”
Laney looked back at him. “Y-yes,” she said, shocked he was finally answering her question—or so it seemed.
“Well, after a while, the babysitter stepped out into the hall because we both smelled something funny. After a couple minutes, I followed her.”
Laney nodded.
“Something wasn’t right at that place,” he continued. “Not that night—and not before, I don’t think. I was a kid, so I couldn’t really put words to it, but something was off from the moment I stepped into that building.”
“Off how?”
“I don’t know, just—off. Did the others you talked to say that? The other people staying at the inn that night?”
His expression looked genuinely curious. This wasn’t an act. If Lucas Moore rarely thought about that night, he talked about it even less. Even with people like Adele, who’d seemed to think they had experienced whatever he had.
Laney shook her head. “Not really. They all mentioned the smell, though. And the heat, once the fire started spreading.”
His eyes fell to the table. “I couldn’t find the babysitter once I got in the hallway. So I went to the stairway that went up to the third floor for some reason.”
“Towards the fire,” she added. “While everyone else was running down the stairwell to the first floor, including your babysitter.”
Their food came then, and she cursed the waitress’s terrible timing. But once their dishes were set down and neither moved to touch the steaming empanadas in front of them, he started speaking again.
“I don’t remember much about walking up those steps,” he said, “but I remember how hot it was, and that terrible smell. Then I reached the top floor and it was like I was stepping into an oven.” He shook his head. “I was so stupid, but as a firefighter, I’ve seen it happen so many times. People don’t know what’s happening, or they get curious. They think they’re invincible.” He paused. “And they walk closer to a place they should be running from as fast as they can.”
Laney willed herself still so he would keep talking.
“The far end of the hall was already burnt, and it was dark—too dark. I should have run then when I saw how dark it was. Halfway down the hall, the flames were spreading towards me. It was almost beautiful,” he said, his voice taking on a dreamy note. “The colors of the flames as they danced along the walls and ceiling. I remember the ceiling near me turning brown like toast. I just stood there staring into the darkness. It felt like something was there. And then a door opened.”
“The Lyons’ room,” Laney couldn’t help but whisper.
He nodded once. “Bill Lyons. He came out first and froze. He was looking in the direction I was—into the dark beyond the flames. Because something was coming towards us.”
“What was it?”
He met her eyes briefly. “I don’t know. It looked like a man from a distance, but the way it walked… Under the roar of the fire, there was this sound like keys or something, and it was awful. Then the thing is right in front of me and it’s touching me and it hurts so bad. And Mr. Lyons steps in front of me and says, ‘No.’” Lucas scrubbed his face with his hand. “Anyway, this thing, it reached out and pulled him into the dark, and he just—burned or something. He just disappeared. And his wife is in the doorway to their room screaming, and there’s this pounding and suddenly a fireman’s there, and he grabs me and Mrs. Lyons and I don’t remember anything else.”
Lucas didn’t respond.
“When it got closer, what did it look like, the thing you saw in the fire?” Laney pressed. “The fireman said he didn’t see anything, just a burning building.”
“It was…”
“What?”
He wiped his hand over his face again and looked to the side. “Something that shouldn’t have been there.” He looked back at her. “Something that had flames in its eyes and smelled of death.”
“O-kay.” Laney took a sip of her beer. Maybe it wasn’t just Adele who needed closure on the events of twenty years ago; it looked like Lucas could use that, too. If he stayed the night at the inn, maybe it’d help him realize that it was just an old building that caught fire and nothing to still be scared about. Not that she’d print that, of course. Maybe he’d be grateful she helped put his past to rest. Maybe he’d be really grateful. She crossed her legs.
Lucas regarded her with a keen look in his eye, like he knew what she was thinking. “You were wrong when you said I wasn’t injured. You and the fireman.”
“What?”
“Maybe he didn’t see it, but I was burned that night.”
“You were?”
Still speaking, he began rolling up his shirtsleeve. “Adele knows; I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” He pushed his shirt up to the middle of his bicep, and there was a faded red scar, the skin stretched and shiny, in the shape of a—
“A hand,” Lucas said, giving rise to her thoughts. “It’s from the hand of that thing that touched me before Mr. Lyons saved me.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So when I say I don’t know what that thing was, I damn well mean it.”
Laney studied him. The scar was strange, but so were the memories of children. This man had obviously undergone a scary experience. It made sense his mind filled in the blanks, made a monstrous fire that had damaged a building and taken a man’s life into an actual beast.
“One last question,” she said. “Why did you become a firefighter after all this?”
At that, he huffed out an almost-laugh. “Because I’m good at it. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Laney smirked. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that women go crazy for hot firefighters?”
At that, he shook his head. “Do you not believe in someone having good intentions?”
“Nope.”
He sighed. “I figured if Mr. Lyons saved me, I should pay it forward. Save others’ lives. Prove that I have a right to still walk on this earth.”
“Who are you proving that to?”
He shrugged and picked up his drink.
Laney studied him for a moment before speaking. “I’ll give you two thousand dollars to do this.”
His eyes narrowed and he set down his drink.
“Okay, three thousand.” It was all she had left in the account her parents had set up, but Laney was a gambler, and she was betting on Lucas Moore.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked.
“I’m really going to do this.”
A flicker of emotions danced across his face. But then suddenly his expression relaxed, though he still looked wary. “Okay.”
“Okay? So… you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.”
See, even honest men with good intentions had their price. Laney guessed firefighters weren’t exactly raking in wads of cash. Her dress had gotten him to dinner, and the rest of her parents’ ill-gotten money would get him to the Cattleman’s Crossing Inn.
After she gave him those three thousand dollars, she’d have nothing left. But with quotes from Lucas revisiting Cattleman’s Crossing, she’d have a piece that would earn her many more writing credits from the magazine.
Laney took a long swallow of beer to hide her smile.
Chapter Six
Lucas
Lucas stared up at the windows of the Cattleman’s Crossing Inn.
He’d seen it in the years since that night—many times, since its location just off downtown meant he’d often driven past on his way home or seen its façade blur as he rode the fire truck to the scene of an accident. He never wanted to study it, though. Never wanted to peek close to see if something was still off about the place. Instead his eyes always slid past it, pretending like it wasn’t still there.
Now it looked like any other old inn. Almost attractive in its design, it boasted a new coat of paint and a hand-painted sign on the door below the long horn. At occupancy. If he hadn’t seen what he’d seen, he would’ve thought this was exactly the place he wanted to take a woman: charming and a little weird.
Though even then, the more he looked the more something seemed askew about the place. He couldn’t put his finger on what. It was like the place was tilted very slightly on its axis, but when he compared it to the shops on either side, it was perfectly straight.
Did others see this? Maybe Lucas was the one who was off.
Shifting his duffel bag to his other hand, he pushed open the front door. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do for a woman he’d never even kissed, let alone known for barely longer than twenty-four hours. But the idea of letting Laney come here alone with just Adele scared him—scared him even more than entering the place of his childhood nightmares again.
He’d felt a connection with her, and it wasn’t just how hot she’d looked in that red dress. He hadn’t intended to tell her his story at the restaurant, especially since she thought he was nuts, but it’d spilled out nonetheless. He wanted her to know for some reason that had nothing to do with seeing his story on some website. And now he just wanted to see her again.
The heavy wood door creaked open into an empty lobby. A smell of wood and mildew reached his nose, but the place was quiet. As Lucas stepped over the threshold, he found the front desk abandoned.
“Hello…” he called, his voice echoing a little in the space. To his left was the desk, and to the right a closed door. He couldn’t remember where it went. Right in front of him was a broad staircase, the balustrade elegantly curved at the bottom. It was covered in a lush, deep red rug and ascended up to the second floor, spiraling into darkness.
Lucas swallowed. Those steps he remembered. They’d seemed endless as a kid.
What was he doing here?
A rustle came from his right, and he startled as the closed door swung open.
Laney peeked her head out. “Oh, good, you’re here!” She had on a black cotton sundress, and her curly hair was gathered back in a ponytail. She was still too damn attractive.
She waved him forward. “Put down your bag and come to the sitting room. Almost everybody else is here.”
“Everybody else?” He reluctantly dropped his bag by the door—maybe he meant to leave it there as a means of quick getaway—and followed where she disappeared as the door swung shut. As much as he didn’t want to enter into the labyrinths of the inn, he didn’t want to be alone in the lobby either. Wasn’t there anyone working?
He caught the door and swung it back open, catching a glimpse of Laney as she passed through what looked like a small library and out the other side. Nestled between bookshelves, a narrow small fireplace sat on the wall to his left. The smell of wood was stronger here. As Lucas passed rows of built-in bookshelves, he noticed some of the spines of the books looked blackened around the edges, like they were survivors of the fire.
Kindling, Lucas thought before he could help it. We are all kindling.
We?
He jerked at the strange thought, but then he entered a sitting room where Laney turned around and smiled at him.
“Adele, I think you know Lucas.”
His mind was reeling from being here again, from the scents and sights, but he managed a weak smile as the older woman stood from
an armchair near the entrance.
Adele Lyons had been in her late 40s when her husband had perished in the Cattleman’s Crossing Fire. Now she stood, considerably older: her brown hair shoulder-length and mostly gray and her face lined—though her smile was genuine. She wore a long, flowy blue skirt and matching blouse, and though she was thin, grief hadn’t diminished her. She stood straight and strong, and her grip as she walked to Lucas and pulled him into a warm embrace was sure.
Lucas knew why. Mrs. Lyons didn’t believe her husband was truly gone, not in a place she couldn’t reach him. That’s why she was here, wasn’t it?
Adele laughed lightly. “You’re not a little boy anymore! Look at you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Lyons.”
“Oh, call me Adele. You’re not nine anymore.” She pulled away, but still held his arms fast. There were tears in her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Lucas.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Mrs. Lyons had sent him birthday cards each year, little notes with twenty dollar bills inside, like she was his kindly aunt. He hadn’t understood it when he was young, but his parents explained that she was sad because she lost her husband and felt a special connection with Lucas—one who had survived, the last one to see him alive. Maybe the one with answers to where her husband had gone, though she’d never asked.
Would she ask now?
He stepped back and noticed a skinny, floppy-haired teenaged boy standing behind Adele, a huge grin on his face.
The boy stepped forward. “Hey! I’m Tucker Dixon. My parents own this place. I do the front desk.”
“Oh?” Lucas’s eyes drifted to Laney and a shot of anger ran through him. She was allowing a kid to be here? Why hadn’t she told him this?
“It’s so awesome to meet you,” Tucker continued. “The shit you must’ve seen here…man. I’d kill to have experienced what you did.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Lucas said, trying to remain polite but firm. He’d been bothered enough to know that Laney and Mrs. Lyons would be spending the night here alone, but to bring a boy into it? That wasn’t cool at all.