Explosive Forces

by D. D. Ayres

  He wore a gun.

  He’s a police officer, she reminded herself, accustomed to the sight of Jarius carrying his service weapon. Even so, her reaction to Noah carrying wasn’t staying casual. He hadn’t been wearing a gun the other times they’d met. A ripple of tension rolled through her. Something had changed.

  She lifted her gaze to his face, but her question died on her lips.

  He looked big, solid, and very dangerous. Felons probably backed down from this man. But she wasn’t afraid. Not when her body was still vulnerable to memories of the night before. Even now she could remember the feel of his warm hard hands sliding over her body, directing her up and down and all around his shaft. And the feel of his day-old stubble brushing her nipples.

  Yet there he sat, lost in some male reverie, completely unaware of his effect on her. Maybe she needed to come at this from something less than her usual very direct angle.

  “How do you like my outfit?”

  He frowned at her. “You call that dressed down?” His voice was a little too neutral to be natural.

  She touched her shamrock-spangled hoodie. “Too much?”

  “Not if you want to start a riot. You’re wearing goddamn fuck-me boots.” He reached forward to start the engine.

  She leaned in and grabbed his wrist. “Hold on. You said dress casually. I’m causal.”

  He turned a hard face toward her. “Well, I’m not.’

  His gaze skimmed her hoodie, pausing where her breasts thrust gently behind two big shamrocks with golden-circle centers. Though he couldn’t possible see them, Carly felt her nipples harden in response to his stare. When he looked up, his gaze was no longer angry, or disapproving. It was hot, his pupils blown wide by his own arousal. She suspected he must be seeing the same in her gaze. So then, maybe he wasn’t so angry as horny. This she could work with.

  She scooted sideways in her seat, drawing close enough so that she could lean into him. She felt him tense, as if to move away, but he didn’t. Encouraged, she pushed her nose into the collar of his shirt, the better to inhale the scent of the man inside. He had showered recently. Just past the end of her nose, a bit of shaving gel still clung to his jaw. It was sexiest thing she could imagine.

  “Carly.” He said her name as a rasp of sound.

  “Hm?” She heard his breath catch and then hard hands were framing her shoulders. Not to pull her close but to push her back into her seat.

  His gaze was hot, avid, something she’d never thought blue eyes could be. But his expression said, Back off. Totally mixed signals. “What’s wrong?”

  Noah shoved a hand through his hair, completely devastating the neatly combed rows of tawny waves. “I can’t even think about answering that question without getting us both so far off topic I might not be able to crawl back to it.”

  As if to prove the point, one wayward curl sprung forward forming a C-hook above his left eye. The result was impossibly boyish, and totally at odds with the stern lines of his face.

  Okay, so maybe he was feeling as much at sea about his feelings as she was about hers. She didn’t have to be told he didn’t share easily or much of himself with others. She supposed that came with the territory of being an officer of the law. Or, something else entirely was going on. That made her really really look at him. And reevaluate.

  He looked exhausted, and tense as newly strung barbed wire. She remembered what he’d said over the phone about being followed. Her playful mood evaporated.

  “Maybe we should find a more private place, to talk.”

  “Damn straight.” His gaze generated enough heat to perk coffee before he looked away and put the truck in gear.

  As they pulled out of the parking lot, Carly hauled into her lap a large purse Noah hadn’t noticed her carrying. Some detective. Just the sight of her screwed with his ability to think straight.

  In quick order, she pulled out another hoodie, olive drab, and a pair of plain white sneakers. Faster than he’d have thought possible in the small space, she changed and tucked away the spangles and stilettos. But not before he noticed that she wore only a lace cami under her hoodie. It was stretchy and clung to her body, revealing the milk chocolate aureoles of her nipples behind the gauzy material. Lust shot through him like a backdraft, blowing his control all to hell.

  Noah tore his gaze away, grinding his teeth. He didn’t check her out again until she had pulled out a black knit stocking cap and pulled it down over her head, covering her fountain of curls.

  She turned to him. “Better?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shook his head like a bear with an earache, trying to hold on to his scowl. But it slipped into a curve of exasperation. “Hell. You’d stop traffic wearing nothing.”

  She cocked a brow at him. “As I recall, you make a pretty bold statement that way yourself.”

  They both broke into laughter. But it didn’t mend the rift. Once the humor died down there didn’t seem to be an easy way to continue. They glanced at each other uneasily several times, neither wanting to be the one to break the silence that might have consequences that Noah, at least, was certain he couldn’t afford.

  Out of sheer desperation, he turned on the radio to fill the vacuum. After a few moments of “I’m to Blame” blaring in accusation at him, he switched to a jazz station where the lack of lyrics wouldn’t blast his shortcomings in his face.

  Carly pulled her feet up on the seat, wrapped her arms about her legs, and leaned her chin on her knees. Tucked up like that, she looked younger, and fragile, and vulnerable. Part of that had to be that she wore no makeup. Her skin was perfect without any artifice. That stunned him. No false eyelashes or goopy mascara or sticky lipstick for Carly. She was dressed down, as he’d asked.

  So, her original getup had been a tease. He wished he’d been in the mood to enjoy her sense of humor. All he could be grateful for now was not having to talk while he watched for signs that the tail he’d lost might have found him again.

  He’d gone home to change and feed Harley after the Speedway job, risking being picked up again by a determined tracker. But at least he’d been on his home ground, with all the resources that implied. He was prepared to hunker down until morning, when he planned to confront Durvan with his theory. Then his cell rang.

  Carly’s phone call had scared the crap out of him. She was poking around in things that could get her hurt, or worse. Still, if he didn’t hear her out, she would continue without telling him. That much he’d learned about her. Nothing stopped this determined woman. Not even the threat of being burned up.

  Protecting her sat uppermost in his mind. That’s why he’d agreed to see her. At least this way, he could be with her for a while without feeling that he was breaking his promise to himself not to further involve her in his personal life.

  Except that, now that she was here, he knew it was mostly a lie. He wanted her, to be with her, in every way possible. And some he’d be making up in his head as he went along. One touch and he combusted around her. Like a teenager with his first hard crush. Only he wasn’t inexperienced and nervous. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it with a woman. And, he wanted it only from Carly.

  He glanced at her. She wasn’t only beautiful, she was smart, and tough, and loyal. She didn’t have to be here with him. Ninety-nine out of a hundred people would have run from the situation. Hell, women and men opted out of relationships every day for much less reason. Not that they were in a relationship. One night of screwing didn’t make a relationship.

  “Is your son okay?”

  He jumped inwardly. “Yeah. Fine. With my parents in south Texas until this blows over.”

  “You’re lucky to have parents for backup.”

  “Uh-huh.” Damn. She’d asked about his family. What had he told her about Andy? He couldn’t remember.

  He wondered fleetingly if Andy would like her.

  His hands tightened on the wheel as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

  He’d never considered int
roducing Andy to a woman he was seeing. He didn’t even talk about his son with the women he dated. This thing with Carly was—he didn’t know. What he did know for certain, being with her felt good, selfish bastard that he was.

  But he had to have ground rules around her. When she touched him, all his critical thinking disappeared into his pants. And he needed to concentrate, on protecting himself and his very precious cargo.

  After fifteen minutes of silent musing, Carly straightened up and looked around, surprised to find they were deep on the southwest side of town. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere we’re not likely to be recognized. But first, I’ve got to eat something. You hungry?”

  Harley, who’d been dozing in the backseat, sat up and barked several times. Clearly he understood “eat” and “hungry.”

  “Guess that’s a yes.” Noah swerved to cross three lanes of highway traffic to take an exit ramp at the last instant.

  Carly reached for the dashboard to halt her sudden sway and turned big eyes on him. “You cut that close.”

  “Yeah, well, Harley only saw the golden arches when it was almost too late.”

  Ten drive-thru minutes later, they were back on I-20 West in a truck cab smelling of burgers and French fries, an order of chicken nuggets, three cherry turnovers, and one child’s cheese sandwich.

  Biting into the golden warmth of toasted bread and cheese, Carly watched him exit I-20 West onto 377 South. Then she saw a mileage sign. “Granbury?”

  “Maybe.” He glanced at her. “You good with that?”

  “As long as the food lasts, I’m good.” Carly reached over and grabbed two fries from his bag.

  He gave her body a quick sweep. “I thought models had to watch their weight.”

  She snorted. “Ex-model. I eat like a horse.”

  He drove on, devouring two burgers in under two minutes. The food helped settle him. He’d skipped breakfast. The one expensive roasted turkey leg he’d bought at the auto show had been eaten mostly by Harley. He grabbed for his cup and took a swallow of the scalding brew without a flinch. Mainlining coffee for that jolt of wakefulness was something every first responder was familiar with.

  He glanced over at his suspiciously quiet partner. Carly was feeding him pieces of chicken nuggets, and bouncing her head in time to the music on the radio. She looked ridiculously cute in that knit cap, and happy. Too bad. Time to get real.

  He reached over and turned off the radio.

  She glanced over at him in surprise.

  “You wanted to talk. So talk.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Carly fed Harley the last of the nuggets. “All gone, boy. Sorry.”

  She wiped her hands on a napkin and then looked at Noah. “I want to help you solve this case.”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m a professional investigator. I work alone.”

  “And you’re doing a superior job.”

  He slanted her a dark look from beneath lowered brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you even have a statement from me, the only eyewitness?”

  He hunched a shoulder. “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “That’s right. The professional arson investigator couldn’t even wheedle the truth out of a sympathetic witness. At this rate you’ll have the case solved in no time.”

  “Not helpful, Carly.”

  “No.” She said the word softly as she reached for another French fry. She swirled it through the ketchup and held it out as a peace offering. “Sorry.”

  He gave her a sharp-eyed look before he grabbed the fry with his teeth.

  She watched him chew before asking, “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know the events of the night of the fire. Every detail you recall. Nothing’s too small.”

  Carly gave her version of the events in sequence, even the phone calls from her aunt, and her inclination not to investigate the barking dog even after she noticed the door was ajar.

  Noah listened in silence, stopping her only for clarification. “You’re sure the fire hadn’t started when you entered?”

  She pulled the knit cap off and tossed her head, bringing the cascade of blonde curls to life. “I’m not brave enough to have gone in after a fire started. I was trying to free Harley when I heard a sound like the pilot on a hot water heater come on. And then there were little flames along the baseboard. I was in total denial for a moment.”

  He glanced at her. “What changed your mind?”

  “Fire.” She said the word softly. “There was a real fuckin’ fire.”

  He nodded. “Why didn’t you just get the hell out and call for help?”

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I tried. But there was Harley, and you. I had to help.”

  Noah recalled the jelly belly feeling he’d felt the first time he went into a burning house to save a civilian. And he’d been fully prepared in turnout gear.

  He glanced at her. She, too, was staring straight ahead, remembering things best forgotten. Time to change the subject.

  “What prompted your call today?”

  She turned her head, looking almost surprised to see him. “Okay, but first you should know Investigator Durvan came to see me this morning.” She snagged another fry and offered it. He took it like a fish took bait. “He said he needed to tie up a few loose ends.”

  An uneasy sensation moved in Noah’s gut. “What were they?”

  “All the same questions he asked the first time, about the night of the fire.”

  “What questions did he press you on?”

  “That’s just it.” She reached for the final fry. “He didn’t seem to know what to make of my answers.”

  “He admitted that?”

  “Not exactly.” She dragged the fry back and forth through the ketchup. “I once made a living projecting emotions through attitude and body language. Believe me. Investigator Durvan isn’t sure about squat.” She popped the fry into her mouth.

  Noah smirked. He could just imagine Durvan’s reaction to being told his give-nothing-away attitude had been breached by a former lingerie model.

  “Did he ask about me?”

  “You mean, if I helped you start the fire?”

  Noah did a double take. “He asked you that?” Durvan had pressed him with that question in the hospital. But he thought he’d dropped that line of questioning.

  Carly’s generous mouth flattened into a thin line. “We had a moment. He tried to bring up some old mess about my husband’s death. I questioned his ability to conduct an impartial investigation.”

  “How did Durvan respond?”

  She reached for a cherry pie. “I might have also mentioned that if he was going to pursue that line of investigation, I might have to get my side of the story out to the press first.”

  “Well hell, Carly.”

  She slid the warm fried pie out of its cardboard sleeve and took a bite. “He pushed. I don’t like being pushed.”

  He grinned. “Point goes to Carly Harrington-Reese.”

  She shrugged and offered him some of her pie. “After he left, I had a lot of questions of my own. That’s why I called. Too many things don’t make sense.”

  Noah took a bite, all but finishing her offering. “For instance?”

  She looked at the rim of crust left between her fingers, then shrugged and popped it in her mouth. “Why did the arsonist choose that store? There’s no easy access. It’s not a standalone or even a corner store like Flawless … was.” He saw her frown, then watched it pass.

  “There’s a restaurant across the street and a pizza place on the other end of the strip. Parking often spills over into our lot. People would be around at night who might notice something shady going on. Why not choose a place where the arsonist had all the time in the world to start the fire and make certain it took?”

  He slid her a funny look. “Did you come up with any answers?”

  She twisted toward him in her seatbel
t, animated by his interest. “It must be time-related. He had a window of opportunity, not long, to get you from wherever—where did he pick you up?”

  “I don’t know. But let’s say it was outside The Collective Brewing Project over on Vickery. That’s the last place I remember.”

  “That’s only a five-or six-minute drive from the fire.” She reached out and brushed her thumb down the side of his mouth. “Cherry filling.” Without seeming to think about it, she licked her thumb clean.

  Noah’s body jerked as if she’d applied her tongue to his own. What the hell had she said? Oh yeah. “That’s coincidence, at best.”

  He saw her reach for the second pie. He was hungry all right, but not for pie. “I’ve got more. I talked with Mr. Wise, my landlord, this afternoon.”

  “Where was that?”

  “In the parking lot behind Flawless. I went to check on the restoration work. He said he was doing the same. I asked him about footage from the cameras in the parking lot.” She took a big bite of the fried pie before turning a smug expression his way. Her lips were now shiny red with cherry filling. “Guess what?”

  “There isn’t any footage.” God help him. He wanted to pull over and lick her mouth clean.

  Her expression deflated. “How did you know?”

  “If Durvan had me on security footage I’d be behind bars.”

  “No.” She paused to lick her own lips free of filling. Watching her was torture. “Then we’d know who forced you into the store.”

  He slanted her a grin. “You really believe me.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” She pointed to his shoulder holster. “How did he get the drop on you?”

  “I’m not always armed. But what makes you think it was a he?”