Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(54)
Author: Cynthia Eden

And she’d redone the kitchen on her own. She’d worked in the bathroom with Ryan and even put in new floors with Jake and Ben. Ryan had supervised everything, of course, since construction was his business.

They’d all worked hard. Together, they’d turned the old house into her beautiful new home.

Now…

She blinked back the tears that wanted to fill her eyes.

No, the arsonist hadn’t hurt her, not physically. But maybe that had been his plan. If he’d wanted the whole house to go up—fast—she knew he could have done it. But there’d been time for her to get out. Time to run. And the cops had been there.

She bet Phoenix had seen them. He seemed to see everything. “I think he did it just to show he could.” Her words came, slowly, as she thought about the killer in the dark. Because if he’d really wanted her to burn…

The fire would have been inside. He’d run a line of gasoline all the way around her house. Outside.

“What? What do you mean?”

“The fire… I think it was a taunt. An I-can-get-to-you slap right in my face.” Because he’d wanted her to know that if he wanted her to burn, she’d burn.

No, bastard, I won’t.

“He knew exactly how to set the burn line so that the fire would stay on the edges of the house, and I’d be able to get out.” She shook her head. “If he wanted me dead, the fire would have ripped inside.” But he hadn’t wanted her dead. “He’s jerking us around.”

“Maybe not us.” His words came slowly, still rough, deep. “Maybe just you.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s been you all along.”

Lora shook her head. “Uh, no, I don’t think—”

But he was shooting up in bed. “Those first four fires, they were when you were on duty. He planned those. Every detail. Every moment.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t on duty when that last poor guy was torched—”

“Larry Powell was killed because he was a witness.”

Uh, who? Her brows climbed. “Run that by me again.”

“The dental records came back. The man handcuffed to the radiator? That was Larry Powell—”

“The survivor from the fire on LeRoy.” Her shoulders slumped. He’d escaped one hell, only to have the flames seal him in another. “Why?”

“Because I think Phoenix thought Powell was a loose end—and our guy doesn’t like loose ends.”

Lora shook her head, aware of a growing chill in the room. No, not in the room. The chill was in her bones.

“He wasn’t a planned vic, not like the others.” Kenton’s words came faster. “Phoenix didn’t have time to waste on him. He couldn’t pick the right moment. He had to act.”

The right moment?

“Changed his pattern,” he muttered, and Lora didn’t think the guy was really talking to her then. More to himself.

“You shift up rotations, right?” Kenton fired at her.

Lora nodded. “Every few days.”

“You even said it, when Monica and I—” He broke off, but she helpfully supplied…

“When you two had me stuck in that interrogation?”

“You had alibis, remember? That’s what you told me, because you were working every shift.” Kenton jumped out of bed.

Her brows rose as her eyes dropped to his ass. He had a really nice ass.

But then Kenton yanked on his pants.

Ah, well.

Lora didn’t bother getting dressed. She just watched him. He was pacing, a lot. The guy was on to something.

“It was right f**king in front of me, and I didn’t see it.”

“What was in front of you?”

He whirled to face her. “You.”

She was really not liking the sound of that.

“You’re the connection, Lora. Seth was right. You’re the link in all this.”

“There’s no way! I didn’t even know who those other vics were.”

“There’s something about you.” His eyes narrowed in an assessing stare. “Something that’s tying you to this guy. To these fires.” He stepped closer. “There’s no coincidence with perps like this. There never is. The pattern—it was your shift. He set those fires when you were working. There’s gotta be a reason for it.”

Her palms pressed into the bed. She didn’t like this. Didn’t like where this was heading, not at all.

But Kenton had his phone out and was punching in numbers with fast swipes of his fingers. Who was he calling this late?

“Hey—it’s Lake. That search we’ve been running? See if you can link the vics back to Lora Spade.”

Chillbumps rose on her arms.

“Yeah, that’s right. The firefighter.”

No, no, this didn’t make sense.

“I need this ASAP, man. Fuck, I need it yesterday.”

She pulled up the sheet, slowly, to cover her br**sts. Lora thought about the fires. The bodies.

The victims she hadn’t been able to save—the ones that haunted her.

And she thought about the games that killers could play.

Such twisted, sick games.

CHAPTER Thirteen

A pounding woke Lora the next morning. A pounding loud enough to have her groaning and shoving up in bed.

Then she realized, damn fast, that she wasn’t in her bed.

Smoke.

Flames.

Phoenix.

She was still naked. Lora scrambled, finding her shorts and her top, yanking them on just as Kenton opened the bathroom door.

Oh, he would be fully dressed.

His gaze found her and seemed to heat.

“Um… you expecting company?” Her voice came out husky. Jeez, what time was it? Seven A.M.? Had she managed to get a whole two and a half hours of sleep?

Kenton shook his head before he hurried across the room and checked through the peephole. His shoulders stiffened, but he opened the door.

Lora shoved back her hair and lifted her chin.

“Morning, sunshine.” The rumbling voice of the other agent, Ramirez, reached her easily. He shouldered past Kenton, a brown bag in his hands. When he caught sight of her, standing next to the rumpled bed—didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d done last night—one black brow rose. “Lora.” He rolled the L on her name, let it go long and deep.

The agent’s gaze raked over her.

“Watch it.” Kenton’s snarled order came right at the same time as her—

“Eyes up, buddy. Up.” She needed clothes. Clothing was definitely priority number one.