WILD HEAT

by Bella Andre

  Maya's heart ached for the trouble she'd brought to Logan's door with his suspension, for his fears regarding Joseph, for his crew members who were in the hospital. And then there was the bomb someone had planted in his truck. Her knees started shaking again as she thought about just how close they'd both been to dying.

  She swallowed hard, tried to find appropriate words. “He's been working with me to try to figure out who set these fires.”

  Kelly cocked her head to the side. “Isn't it kind of hard to do that when he's a suspect?”

  “I've just released him from suspension. He's heading back onto the mountain as we speak.”

  The smile Kelly gave Maya said she knew this was more than an objective professional decision.

  “I'm very glad to hear that,” Kelly said. “How about you give me your cell phone number and I'll have David call you with the results.”

  Maya shook her head. “My cell phone blew up.”

  For the first time, Kelly looked scared. “What do you mean it blew up?”

  Maya had said too much. She held up the neatly folded clothes. “Thanks for these.”

  Kelly reached into a purse on the counter and held out a wad of twenties. “Here. Buy a new phone at the convenience store in town, then call me with the new number.”

  Maya hesitated for a second, even though Kelly was right, then shoved the bills in her pocket.

  “Thank you. I'll pay you back soon.”

  “No rush, okay?” she said as she walked Maya out to the front porch. “And take care of yourself. I'd like to see you again. Have you over for dinner. Under better circumstances, of course.”

  Maya kept her head down as she swung a leg over the bike, not wanting Kelly to see how much she wanted the very same thing.

  The fifteen-minute ride into town to buy a cell phone should have been exhilarating, the perfect way to blow off some steam. Instead, her muscles were tight, her thoughts racing because the last time she'd driven into downtown Lake Tahoe on a motorcycle had been with her brother on his birthday at the end of last summer. Tony had wanted to show her his new firehouse and she'd been thrilled for him, thrilled that he was finally getting to live his dream. His new job was just different enough from what her father did in the mountains for it to be something Tony could claim as all his own.

  Memories kept coming at her, one after another, of how he'd been on her to move to Tahoe too, to set her up with one of the guys from his station.

  No, damn it, she didn't have time for this. She had too much to do in the here and now to get caught up in the past again. She owed it to this case—and to Logan—to keep moving forward. She couldn't afford to miss a thing.

  Parking the bike in front of a 7-Eleven at the edge of the Nevada border where the casinos took over, she quickly purchased a disposable cell phone, then headed into a Starbucks to charge the phone in a free outlet and force herself to eat and drink something while she waited. She'd never felt less like eating, but she needed to be smart and keep her strength up.

  She grabbed a seat in the back corner of the coffee shop, a spot she'd specifically chosen to make sure she could see everyone who entered the store. She couldn't forget that her life was in danger.

  Thirty minutes later she hadn't seen anyone she recognized, let alone anyone who looked remotely shady. When the phone was ready to go, she pulled the telephone number Logan had given her for his friend Eddie Myers, who used to own the Bar & Grill, out of her pocket.

  When he didn't pick up, she left a concise message that she was an arson investigator working with the state and she had some questions regarding his old restaurant. She called information next and had them connect her with the urban fire chief, Patrick Stevens.

  “Patrick Stevens's office,” his secretary said, “how may I help you?”

  Maya had spoken with Cammie a handful of times during the past few months. “Cammie, it's Maya Jackson.”

  “Hi, Maya. Has the new chief gotten back to you yet about your brother's case?”

  “Actually, I'm calling about yesterday's fire at the motel. It was in my room.”

  Cammie made a soothing sound. “I'm sorry, honey. I saw that note. You must be so scared.”

  No question about it, the note that had been left for her in a firebox had been incredibly creepy. But she wasn't about to admit fear to anyone. Not even herself.

  “I'm fine,” she insisted. She'd been repeating the words all day, saying she was fine, when she wasn't. Maybe if she said it enough times she'd start to believe it. “Is Chief Stevens in? I'd like to see if he's learned anything more about the fire.”

  “I'm afraid he's at another fire right now, but I'll be sure to tell him to call you the minute he walks in.” After she wrote down Maya's new cell number, she said, “I sure hope we find out who did that to you.”

  Maya managed a soft “Thank you,” then hung up and called information and had them connect her to the Flights of Fancy office. Finally, good news. Dennis was due to return from doing water drops in the next half hour or so.

  She was going to be lying in wait for him when he arrived.

  Dennis lived in a new tract house not far from the Starbucks. His smooth white stucco walls struck Maya as the polar opposite of Joseph's rustic cabin. But unlike the other, picture-perfect properties, Dennis's landscaping was nonexistent, his lawn a sickly yellow.

  Shortly after she arrived, Dennis pulled into his driveway. Stepping out of his truck, he looked thoroughly confused.

  “Maya? What are you doing here?” He took a step back. “Oh shit, you want to ask me more questions about Logan, don't you?”

  “Actually,” she said in a slow, steady voice, “I'd like to conduct a property search. Of your house.”

  He frowned. “I don't get it.”

  “There was an explosion today near one of the housing developments. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me into your garage.”

  “I still don't get why you're here. I'm not a suspect, Logan is.”

  “No,” she said, “he isn't. Not any longer.”

  At that, Dennis's face went beet red, as if a hand were squeezing him tightly around the neck. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you looking at me for? I haven't done anything! He told you I did this, didn't he, so that you'd stop accusing him?”

  “You've got it backwards,” she said firmly. “He's been defending you up and down all day long to me.”

  But Dennis's anger continued to grow. “All my life I've treated him like a brother. I should have known that this is how he'd repay me. I hope they pin this on him and he rots in prison. I'm sure the other inmates would love to feel up a hotshot.”

  “Dennis,” she said again, in the level, reasonable tone she often used to speak to frightened fire victims, “he didn't sell you out.”

  “Like hell he didn't! He wrapped my dad around his little finger, just like he's done with you. Once he moved in with us I became invisible. The only time my father bothered speaking to me was when he wanted to brag about something Logan did. I got so fucking sick of hearing his name. I'm not telling you a goddamned thing, and you're not getting into my garage. Not without a warrant. I watch T V. I know you can't take any of that without a search warrant. Now get the fuck off of my property.”

  Quietly, she corrected him. “In arson cases, a warrant is not necessary. And I'm afraid I do need to ask you some questions before I leave, Dennis.”

  Nearly apoplectic, he said, “You think you're so smart. So important. But you're just like the rest of them. I'll bet you don't have any idea how many chicks he's banged. You're just another stupid slut who wants to fuck a hotshot.”

  Maya took a step toward Dennis, her expression menacing. “You need to calm down, Mr. Kellerman, and answer my questions: Where were you last weekend and the following Monday through Friday? Who were you with? And why did you bail out of the camping trip with Logan and your father?”

  All at once, Dennis deflated like an emptying balloon. “Jesus, is that what
this is about?”

  She frowned. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

  He slumped down on the edge of the curb, his head in his hands. When he looked up at her his eyes were bleak.

  “I was driving all over the state talking to doctors.”

  “Are you sick, Dennis?”

  “No. My dad is.”

  Dennis's answer completely blindsided her. She knew how devastating it was to lose a family member.

  Dennis hadn't been lighting fires. He'd been trying to help his father.

  “I met Joseph yesterday.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. “You did?”

  “He seems like a wonderful man. I'm sorry about his illness.”

  “All I want is to find some pill or doctor who can operate on his brain to keep him from getting worse.”

  She had to ask. “Have you talked to Logan about this?”

  He almost looked embarrassed. “I know this sounds stupid, but I wanted to be the hero this time. Just once. When it really counted. Instead, everything's fucked up and you think I lit the fire. I didn't do it. I swear to you.”

  She couldn't help but believe him, not when he was so upset, so genuinely concerned about his father's well-being, but she still needed to confirm his story before crossing him off her list. “I'd appreciate it if you'd give me the names and phone numbers of some of the doctors you've visited, so I can verify your whereabouts.”

  He didn't argue with her this time, and ten minutes later she'd confirmed his story.

  She'd crashed into another dead end.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MAYA DROVE away from Dennis's house and headed toward the fire. Maybe if she watched it burn long enough, she'd figure out what the hell to do next. Something was niggling at her, had been digging into her gut for the past few hours, a voice that told her she already knew more than she thought she did. If only she could figure out what it was.

  Pulling off the lakeside freeway at a state park, she wound past a Smoky the Bear sign that said “Extreme Fire Danger” and continued up the packed-dirt road until she got to the peak. Taking off her helmet, she shook her tangled hair out before looking down at the smoke and flames.

  Had Joseph lit the first fire that started this enormous firestorm? she wondered. Possibly.

  But even as she took in the newly charred hillsides where tall pines had stood only days before, the truly important question remained: Who was responsible for everything that had happened since the Desolation Wilderness fire began?

  The only thing she knew for sure was that the attacks were personal. Someone wanted to hurt her and Logan, maybe even kill them.

  The obvious plan was also the most dangerous. The best way to smoke out the arsonist would be to become an open target, to put herself out in clear sight, someplace the arsonist would feel safe coming after her.

  I have to do it, Logan, she thought silently. It's the only way. I'm sorry.

  She could still feel his touch on her skin, his lips in the hollow of her neck. And she could see his beautiful face in her mind's eye, could imagine him fighting her tooth and nail over her plan to catch the serial arsonist. But she couldn't let the arsonist hurt anyone else. Not if there was a way she could stop the attacks. Even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

  And yet, even though it had been a rough twenty-four hours and danger was following her through Lake Tahoe, she couldn't help but relive those sweet moments in Logan's arms over and over again. Being with him, in his bed, wrapped up in his strength, had been some of the most powerful, most wonderful moments of her life. Just as she'd known it would be from their first kiss.

  High in the hills, with black smoke swirling all around her, it was impossible to keeping hiding from the truth: She'd allowed herself to get in too deep. Way too deep. Especially since Logan was as stubborn, as bullheaded as she was. She strongly suspected that he wasn't going to let her just walk out of his life.

  He was going to fight for her every step of the way.

  And even though she'd been honest with him and told him why she couldn't let him get any closer, the truth was that they were just words. What she felt way down deep inside was exactly the opposite.

  Every cell, every nerve, every part of her wanted to be with Logan … and he was a man who could die at any moment, who could be dying right now, for all she knew.

  Staring into the raging fire, she couldn't stop seeing Logan running as flames chased at his back. Yesterday it had been horrible to watch him run from death, but he'd been a stranger. If she had to watch the same scene again now, it would destroy her.

  She'd never be able to protect herself with a false sense of security like so many firefighters' wives and girl friends did. One day there'd be a fire he couldn't run from and he'd leave a wife and kids behind.

  Maya didn't want that wife, that mother, to be her.

  The cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she was glad for the interruption, for any opportunity to stop thinking about her pointless feelings for Logan.

  “Maya, it's Patrick Stevens.”

  “Have you learned anything new?” Her stomach churned as she waited for the fire chief's reply. He knew there had been a man knocking on her door, waiting outside her room before it was set on fire.

  He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal. “Before I reveal the man's identity, I want you to know that I'm absolutely certain he had a good reason for wanting to speak with you. And that he did not light the fire that burned your room.”

  Alarm hit her squarely in the chest. Please, she prayed, don't say Logan's name. Don't tell me someone saw him on the premises that afternoon. She couldn't be wrong about him. She couldn't be. Not when she'd willingly—desperately— taken him inside her body.

  Not when she'd practically admitted to herself that she was in love with him.

  Her heart raced as she made her lips form the words “Who was it?”

  “A hotshot.”

  No.

  “His name is Sam MacKenzie. He's one of the best.”

  It took a long moment for relief to register. Chief Stevens hadn't said Logan's name. Thank God.

  “Wasn't Sam MacKenzie one of the other hotshots who was out on the mountain during the blowup with Logan yesterday afternoon? Wasn't his brother badly burned?” Patrick confirmed this, and she said, “I was there at the anchor point. I saw Logan and Sam save him. They almost died.”

  “Sam's a good guy and everyone respects him,” Patrick said, before clearing his throat again.

  Uh-oh. “There's more, isn't there?”

  “I'm afraid there is. A couple of witnesses said he slipped something under your door. It must have burned up before we got there. I've called the station several times today, but he's been out on the fire and I haven't been able to discuss the situation with him yet.”

  She thanked Chief Stevens for his help and was about to hang up, but he kept her on the line a moment longer. “I want you to know that I've been asking around about your brother.”

  She nearly lost her balance on the motorcycle. “Thank you. But you and I haven't even sat down and talked yet.”

  “Logan called me an hour ago. He asked me to look into the case for you, to call in some favors. From everything I've read it looks like an accident, not arson, but I lost a brother too. I know how hard it is. I won't let the case drop until we're absolutely certain that there are no further leads.”

  “I don't know how to thank you, Patrick.”

  Or how to thank Logan for spearheading the renewed effort on her behalf. He was such an amazing man. Even when his head was on the chopping block, even when he was about to walk into an out-of-control fire, he was thinking about her. Helping her.

  “After reading the note that the arsonist left you yesterday,” Patrick continued, “I can't help but wonder if the motel fire had something to do with Tony.”

  She'd been wondering the very same thing, but she'd been trying to keep her fo
cus on the current case. Yet it was an incredible feeling to know that other people were out there supporting her quest.

  “I'll let you know if anything turns up,” he said, then disconnected.

  Two beeps sounded in her ear. A call had gone to voice mail while she was talking to Patrick. It was David, and she braced herself for bad news as she dialed his number. She turned away from the fire to look out at the lake, and the setting sun nearly blinded her as she waited for him to pick up.

  “It's Maya.” She got right to the point. “Have you tested the new samples?”

  “Where did you get these?”

  “Logan's garage.” The lump in her throat grew bigger. “They match the evidence from the explosion, don't they?”

  David was silent for a long moment. “They do, but there's no way Logan did this. This is a small town. Anyone could have a match in their garage. Just to check the theory, I grabbed samples from my garage; they were a match too.”

  Her hands shook on the receiver. “You shouldn't have done that,” she said in a low voice, even though she was glad that he had. With David's help she hoped to show that the evidence against Logan wasn't remotely strong enough to even charge him with the crime, let alone convict him.

  “Logan is not only my friend, he's one of the best men I know. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Hell, I'll test samples from every garage on this side of the lake if I have to.”

  A bright orange, red, and yellow ball of fire slowly disappeared into bright blue water as she thanked David and hung up. It had to be one of the most spectacular sunsets she'd ever witnessed. But the beauty was entirely wasted on her.

  Logan's radio crackled with voices as he suited up and jumped into one of the station trucks to head out to the anchor point. He quickly learned that the suburban subdivision next to that morning's explosion was engulfed in flames. Shit. It hadn't taken long for the fire to jump out of the mountains and onto rooftops. Just hours ago, he and Maya had been up on one of those rooftops.

  A knife lodged in the pit of his stomach.