Without a Trace

by Lynn Hagen

  He concentrated on calming Rhinestone before opening his stall, and the horse reared again. Red would’ve been struck by Rhinestone’s hooves if strong arms hadn’t wrapped around him and pulled him away.

  He knew it was Lincoln because the guy cursed as he let Red go and grabbed Rhinestone, smacking the horse on his ass to get him moving.

  “He’s panicked and isn’t thinking,” Lincoln said. “You could’ve been hurt or killed.”

  “So could Rhinestone,” Red shot back. He’d developed a sort of friendship with the horse and wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.

  “All the horses are out,” Brett shouted from the entryway. “Get your asses out of there.”

  Red spun, ready to run to fresh air, when a wall of flames rose in front of him. The bales of hay that had been stored close to Rhinestone’s stall had caught fire and were burning quickly.

  Now Red was the one panicked and not thinking. All he saw were the flames growing closer.

  “This way.” Lincoln grabbed his hand and tried to lead him to the other end of the stable, but that end was engulfed and burning bright.

  They were trapped.

  Red swung around in circles, trying to find a way out. Already he was sweating from the intense heat, and his skin felt hot. The smoke was the worst part. Red couldn’t stop coughing and feared he would die of smoke inhalation before they found a way out of there.

  If they found a way out. Everything was on fire, and there didn’t seem to be a safe way to go.

  “Lincoln,” Red called out.

  “Right here.” Lincoln wrapped something around Red’s face. “We’re going to run through that wall of flames.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “If we wait much longer, we won’t make it out of here alive.” Lincoln grabbed his hand, and they dashed toward where the hay was burning. The guy was out of his ever-loving mind! Red was not about to jump through fire.

  He tried to tug his hand free, dig his feet in, to stop himself from being pulled into the wall of flames, but Lincoln was too damn strong and yanked Red along. Red’s heart nearly gave out when the fire touched him.

  He screamed and flailed around, but Lincoln kept going, refusing to let Red go.

  “Get him!”

  Someone grabbed Red and threw him to the ground. He had no clue what was going on until he was rolled around. Mercy. He was there with a blanket, slapping the material against Red’s body.

  “Lincoln!” Red shoved to his knees, though Brett was trying to make him lie back down. “Lincoln!”

  Through his watery eyes, Red saw a Bengal tiger, gorgeous and regal-looking, with soft-looking fur walking toward him. That was when Red noticed a pronounced limp.

  “He’s hurt.” Red coughed, and his eyes felt as if they were on fire as he heard sirens approaching.

  “Tilt your head back,” Mercy said.

  Red did as instructed, and Mercy flushed his eyes with water.

  “Do you know how terrified I was?” Mercy asked. “I kept shouting your name, and Lincoln’s, but neither of you shouted back.”

  Mercy’s voice was tight, as though he would cry at any second.

  “Sorry,” Red croaked out. His throat was dry and scratchy, like he’d sucked on gravel. “I was going for a dramatic exit. How’d I do?”

  “Stop being so damn charming.”

  Red blinked several times, trying to focus. The water had helped, but his eyes still felt dry and were stinging. “Where’s Lincoln?”

  “Your boo is right next to you.” Mercy chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rhyme.”

  Red turned and came face to face with the tiger. The sirens grew closer. “You have to go inside before anyone sees you.”

  Red must’ve still been in shock, because he wasn’t freaking out about the enormous predator in front of him.

  “He’s right,” Mercy said. “Let’s go, Lincoln.” Mercy looked at Red. “You, too. Lincoln won’t be able to rest unless he knows his mate is next to him.”

  “How did you know?” Red hadn’t said anything to anyone. Had Lincoln?

  “Duh. Lincoln’s known since you got here.” Mercy looked down at Lincoln and petted his side. “And for the record, shifters love it when their mates call them mate.”

  “That might take some getting used to,” Red said.

  “Why?” Mercy asked. “If he were human, would you call him your boyfriend? How’s calling him your mate any different?”

  Brett joining them saved Red from telling Mercy that he’d never actually had a boyfriend. Red had had sexual partners, but no one had ever stuck around. One or two had even said Red was too damn smart for them, that he’d made them feel dumb. That had never been Red’s intention.

  He thought he’d been charming and amiable. Not the case. So Red gave up on finding love and simply settled for bed partners.

  “We’ll deal with the fire department,” Brett said. “Adam is already in the pasture with the horses, and Roger is trying to make sure the fire doesn’t spread. We’ve got this covered.”

  Brett helped Red to his feet and walked to the house, Lincoln limping beside him. “Is he going to be okay?” Red asked.

  “He just needs time to heal.” Mercy opened the door and waited for Red and Lincoln to enter. “By the way, your shirt is inside out and backward.”

  Clearly Red didn’t know how to dress in a crisis. He’d just thrown his clothes on and shot out the door. His first thought had been to keep Lincoln safe. His second was getting the horses to safety.

  “He was burned on his side.” Mercy examined the tiger. “And one of his paws is an angry red. He’ll have to rest for a few hours to heal.”

  “Just like that?” Red’s brows shot up.

  “Just like that,” Mercy said. “Nonhumans can heal from virtually anything. The burns won’t even be there when he wakes up. You can stay with him while I help Brett with the firemen. I need to know how badly the stable was damaged.”

  Red also wanted to know how the fire started. There wasn’t anything in the building that would cause combustion. Anything like that was kept in a large toolshed that was far enough away from the other buildings.

  Unless one of the horses had taken up smoking, Red suspected foul play.

  Lincoln sank down on the floor by the couch. Red crawled onto the couch and settled, knowing he wasn’t going to get much sleep, let alone return to the bunkhouse.

  He wanted to go outside and help, but Mercy had said to stay by Lincoln’s side. Besides, keeping a low profile meant not interacting with the townsfolk.

  Red petted Lincoln’s orange fur, hoping that helped his mate. Wow. That word had just popped into his head, coming naturally.

  “Sleep,” Red said. “I’ll be right here guarding you.”

  He knew what it was like to be hurt and vulnerable, and Red wasn’t about to let anything happen to Lincoln. Someone had deliberately set that fire. He was sure of it. Could it have been the men who’d tried to kill him several months ago? Had it been Jason looking for revenge?

  Red had no answers, but one thing was certain. He was setting up security cameras just in case the culprit struck again.

  * * * *

  “Gasoline.” Fire Chief Dalton Knowles tapped his nose. “It only takes a little in a building filled with hay.”

  Dalton, a huge guy who stood around six feet five inches, had been the fire chief for close to ten years now. Lincoln trusted the guy at his word. That, and the fact he was a bear shifter, which meant he had a heightened sense of smell.

  “You got enemies, Lincoln?” Dalton took a seat behind his desk and set the file down. “I highly doubt you store that kind of stuff in that building.”

  “Aside from saddle conditioner and DW40, I don’t keep any chemicals in the stables.”

  Dalton scratched at his dark beard. “I’ll write up my report and send a copy to the sheriff. Mitch needs to know you’ve got trouble.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Do you h
ave any idea who might have done this?”

  Jason popped into Lincoln’s head. If he’d been pissed enough to attack Red, there was no telling what else he was capable of. “I have my suspicions.”

  “Care to share them?”

  “Not yet,” Lincoln said. “If it’s not him, I don’t want to tarnish his name and blackball him in this town.”

  Jason had handled the rejection all wrong, but Lincoln didn’t want to take away any chance of him making a livelihood. But if he was the one who’d set the fire, Lincoln was gonna kill the bastard. Two of the horses were being boarded on his ranch, and the cost to replace them if they’d died in the fire would have been a hefty price.

  The owners wanted Lincoln to work with them, hoping to turn the thoroughbreds into racehorses. Lincoln would’ve had to shell out around fifty thousand. Well, his insurance company would have, but his premiums would’ve gone through the roof after that.

  “Jason Peter.” Dalton nodded. “Word around town was that he quit.”

  Lincoln forgot that secrets didn’t stay secrets in Fever’s Edge. It was a small town with a lot of residents who not only knew each other but went to the same churches or businesses. Gossipmongers.

  “Can you not link his name to this until I’m certain?”

  Dalton sat back, making his chair squeak from his weight. Lincoln was a big guy himself but felt dwarfed by Dalton’s presence. “You know I’m a fair and just man. I would never point a finger, not even if I knew for certain Jason had done it. That’s not how I operate.”

  Lincoln stood, and so did Dalton. They shook before Lincoln headed toward the door. “Thanks for your help. I suspect I’ll be hearing from Mitch soon.”

  Sheriff Mitchell Greeley. He hadn’t been sheriff for long. Mitch had replaced the last sheriff after Barney Powell had up and disappeared. The humans of Fever’s Edge hadn’t a clue what happened to him but the nonhumans did.

  He’d been in league with the mayor, who turned out to be a hellhound. Lincoln had never liked Ari Gray, had always steered clear of the guy. And with good reason since he’d found out the mayor had been a hellhound. Most of the nonhuman residents had been fooled, considering Ari had kept away from them, always in his office or at home.

  Since Ari’s departure, the town seemed to have come alive, brightened in ways that made Lincoln proud to call Fever’s Edge his home.

  He left the fire station and climbed into his pickup. When he got home, he found Red and Mercy in the kitchen.

  “Am I done babysitting now?” Mercy arched a brow.

  Lincoln was unrepentant about having Red watched. “Until I find who set the fire, my mate isn’t allowed to be alone.”

  Red tossed a grape into his mouth. “I’m sitting right here. You can talk to me, or you can keep talking about me. Whatever blows your skirt up.”

  Mercy chuckled. “I really do like him. I’m glad we get to keep him.”

  “I’m even housebroken,” Red teased. His smile faded when he looked at Lincoln. “What did the fire chief have to say?”

  Lincoln told them about his conversation with Dalton.

  “Gas?” Mercy’s eyes narrowed. “I swear, if it’s Jason, I’m beating him over the head with my cast-iron skillet.”

  “I’ll ruin his credit score.” Red slapped the island counter.

  It was the oddest threat Lincoln had ever heard, but scary as fuck. His mate had a certain set of skills, and Lincoln never wanted Red to use them against him.

  “I knew you were holding back,” Mercy said.

  “And that’s my cue to get back to work.” Red stood and turned, running right into Lincoln. The contact was instant and intense, and Lincoln curled his hands around Red’s arms to steady him as they gazed at one another.

  “I think you mean that’s my cue to leave.” Mercy walked out of the kitchen but poked his head back inside. “There’s a brand-new bottle of lube in the drawer by the sink.”

  Red frowned. “Why would you have lube in a kitchen drawer?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Mercy sniffed before he disappeared.

  “Before you ask, I have no idea,” Lincoln said. “Mercy lives in his own happy little world.”

  Red smiled, and Lincoln’s heart skipped a beat. “I guess we all have our quirks.”

  Lincoln ran his hands up Red’s arms and then back down. “I never asked how you were doing after last night.”

  Red’s blush was deep. “The biting?”

  It took a moment for Lincoln to understand what Red was talking about. He grinned and let his hands fall away from Red’s arms. “I wasn’t referring to the sex, though it was amazing.” He winked. “I was talking about the fire.”

  “Oh.” Red’s brows shot up as his blush deepened. “Oh! I mean, yeah, the sex was great, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The fire. Right. You were talking about the fire.”

  Lincoln cupped Red’s face and planted a deep, sultry kiss on his lips. His mate moaned and leaned into him, sliding his arms around Lincoln’s waist.

  This was so much better than his mate running from him, dodging him at every turn. Red melted against Lincoln and sighed into his mouth.

  “How’re you feeling now?” Lincoln nipped Red’s bottom lip.

  “What were we talking about?” Red smiled at him with a dreamy look in his eyes. “Something about a hand job?”

  A burst of laughter escaped Lincoln’s chest. “Yep, that’s exactly what we were talking about.”

  Red pulled away. “You wish I was that thoughtless. I have work to do. You don’t pay me to sit around and stroke your ego.”

  “But we were talking about stroking, right?” Lincoln followed Red to the front door. “And you’re not going out there without an escort.”

  Red rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep a lookout for trouble, but I have chores to do. I’ll have Brett or Roger babysit me.”

  Lincoln’s spread wasn’t huge, but it was large enough that someone could sneak onto the property without notice. There were the stables, the barn, the bunkhouse, Adam’s one-bedroom cabin, and the large toolshed, as well as Lincoln’s home. There were too many places a person could hide and wait for the perfect moment.

  He couldn’t keep Red prisoner in his house. Lincoln knew that. But damn if he wasn’t tempted. He grabbed his mate’s arm to stop him from walking out. “I just want you to be safe, to take precautions. You and I both know that fire was set deliberately.”

  Red rubbed a hand on his chest, over the old scars. “Trust me. I’m taking this very seriously. I’m not letting anyone else get the jump on me.”

  Lincoln gave Red a quick kiss, forcing himself not to take it any further. “Just be careful.”

  “You, too.” Red walked away after Lincoln had let his arm go.

  Lincoln watched his mate trot down the steps and walk toward the barn. Brett spotted Red and started his way.

  Brett and Roger knew how important Red was to Lincoln. They’d keep an eye on him, though Lincoln would prefer to have Red at his side.

  Lincoln walked out and headed toward the pasture. The stable would have to be repaired, if that was possible, but in the meantime, he still had his own work to do, though he was keeping his head on a swivel. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to his mate or his property. If the culprit returned, Lincoln was going to end their life.

  Chapter Eight

  The repair to the stables would start today, the paperwork was finally caught up, and one of the thoroughbreds was ready to return to his owners. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad couple of days.

  Lincoln took his cup of morning coffee out to the porch that was shaded by trees and sat on the swing, stretching his legs out and tossing an arm over the back.

  He watched as the men he’d hired to do the repairs arrived. This was their third day, and already Lincoln saw the improvements.

  The screen door opened, and Mercy walked out, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a simple navy blue T-shirt. He had a cup of tea in his hand,
and his dark hair was rumpled. He sat on the wicker chair close to the swing and sighed as he folded his legs underneath him. “I love the early morning. It’s so peaceful before the day starts.”

  The only thing missing from this enjoyable morning was Red. He’d insisted on sleeping at the bunkhouse, no matter how much Lincoln had argued otherwise. Lincoln didn’t like waking up alone or the fact that someone was targeting his ranch, which meant he would feel better with his mate right next to him.

  “The trailer should be here today.” Lincoln took a sip of his coffee. “We’re sending off twenty head of cattle.”

  “Do you have all the paperwork ready?”

  “It’s sitting on my desk.” Lincoln had spent a large portion of his time figuring out his new computer and the software Red had installed. He didn’t consider himself a dinosaur, but Lincoln wasn’t as adept as the younger generation when it came to technology.

  He sat forward when a flatbed delivery truck with a Towmotor attached to the back pulled in with the needed lumber and supplies. “I guess my day is starting.”

  Mercy grabbed Lincoln’s mug as Lincoln headed toward the steps. “Go do what you have to. I need to get my chores done and run errands in town.”

  A portly guy wearing an ill-fitting uniform climbed out of the truck, a clipboard under his arm. He wiped at his forehead as Lincoln approached, as if the effort of exiting the truck had been strenuous. His dark hair was as unkempt as Mercy’s. “Mr. Wheeler?”

  Lincoln nodded.

  “Where do you want the offloaded lumber put?” The name sewn on a patch on his shirt said his name was Reggie.

  “I’ll let the men doing the project decide that.” He waved toward the pickup that had brought the workers a few minutes ago. “Jack Kilmer will sort you out.”

  Jack was talking with two men Lincoln had never met. Jack had a travel mug in one hand, the kind that carried coffee, brushing his hand over his head with the other. The young men seemed eager and nodded vigorously at whatever Jack was telling them.

  Lincoln had known Jack for about a year, had met him in town, and had discovered he was a wolf shifter. They’d talked over a beer at Cresting Moon, an open-air restaurant where they’d shared a meal, too.