Down in Flames (Wildfire Hearts Book 5)

by Savannah Kade

  His thoughts tumbled and swirled as he once again tried to stitch all the pieces together.

  Tierney caught his gaze. "I'm going to go."

  She was already turning away as he reached out and lightly grabbed her arm. "Please don't. Vander clef was at your house. You said he followed you down the road."

  She nodded. "He seemed to be playing bumper tag with me. He got close enough that I could see his face in my rearview mirror. He wanted me to know it was him."

  "He followed you right to your front door?"

  She shook her head no. "That's just it. I took an odd turn, went the long way so he wouldn't follow me. When I got home, everything was fine. Five minutes later, there he was at my front door."

  She stared at Ronan as if to challenge him. To be sure he knew she didn't lead Vander clef to her.

  Not that it mattered anyway, Ronan thought. The number of dead rats, and even the orange cat that looked so much like Mr. Kittens, had made it very clear that Vander clef knew more than enough.

  "I don't think you're safe by yourself," he pleaded.

  Tierney offered a bitter laugh in return as she pulled her arm from his hold. "You're not safe by yourself, Ronan."

  The comment made Ronan's head snap back.

  But she wasn't done. "I don't know that he's gotten into my house." She tapped her own chest in anger to make the point. "But we all know he's gotten into yours."

  The finger jabbed out at him, making the accusation harsher. And pointing out a reality Ronan hadn't quite grasped yet.

  But she was still going. "This was inside. This dead rat was on your kitchen counter. You told Gomez all the doors were locked!"

  Shit, Ronan thought. Whether it was Vander clef or someone working for him, whoever it was had come in, done the damage, and left without a trace.

  As he was still trying to sort that, Gomez came back inside. "I hate to do this to you, but I'm going to get a tech out here. They'll lift some prints. So you can't go in your kitchen at all until we're done."

  After Ronan nodded his agreement, Gomez started again. "I'm going to check all your locks and windows. Give me a minute." He was back on the phone then, even as he walked around the house and took pictures. He checked every bolt and doorway, every window or point someone could have come in. He looked inside and out, before he announced. "I didn't find anything. All the screens on the windows look intact."

  Tierney crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow at him as if to point out that Elliot proved he could get inside Ronan's house. He'd already proven he could get inside the fire station.

  The unease settled deep in Ronan's gut as what he believed about himself began to crumble.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Three Days, Ronan thought.

  It had been three days and he was about to explode from sheer frustration, impatience, and boredom—a combination he hoped never to face again. He was still four days out from his doctor's appointment to clear him. Even if he sailed through that checkpoint, it would be the next day at the earliest before the chief managed to get him back into the rotation. Likely not even that fast.

  For three days, he had not spoken to Tierney at all, though he'd seen her.

  He'd driven around town, looking out for Elliot and spotting Tierney where he could. He'd not driven aimlessly, so he watched her as she clocked into the bar or out. He was probably obvious, driving up and down a side road that he had no reason to be on, just to make sure that he saw her car in the back lot.

  He went to the park and ate a sandwich on an icy cold picnic table and crunched his shoes into the small inch of snow at his feet. He'd examined his footprints in detail. Then he fed the remainder of the sandwich to the ducks who, for whatever reason, didn't have the minimal intelligence to fly south for the winter and headed home. . . still alone.

  He was almost grateful for the effort the first evening alone had provided him. The crime scene tech had come in after Tierney left. She'd made as much mess as she'd cleared. In her Tyvek suit, she bagged up the rat, then swabbed the blood and dusted everything for prints. She’d even taken Ronan aside and used a digital capture to get all ten of his fingerprints and then his palm.

  He'd gone along but asked, "Why do you need these?"

  "For comparison." She'd grinned through her clear face shield. "Unless you cleaned the counter with bleach right before the rat was laid there, some of your prints are probably in the mix too. We don't want to get them confused."

  "But my prints are on file with the city. All firefighters are."

  "I could use those. But these right here—" She held up the small scanner. "—are ready to go. Plus, I can see you right now. Unless you're a twin—"

  "I'm not," he assured her.

  "Then I am my own best evidence." It took a long time but eventually she cleared out, taking the rat but leaving black dust.

  At least scrubbing everything down had been something to do. Siorse would have been proud of him for the job he did keeping the house so neat. Though honestly, maybe it was simply because he didn't have anything better to do.

  It was easy to keep the lonely house clean. No one got the toys out in Paddy's small room to make a mess. No one threw parties and had friends over. No one made dinner for a whole family and had to slide the highchair back into the corner. When he was finished eating there weren't multiple plates and glasses and bowls. Hell, there were rarely even pots and pans that needed scrubbing. He ate take out too much of the time and watched too much TV.

  Deciding he was done with staring at stupid programming he wasn't even really watching, Ronan threw his empty soda can into the recycling bin and passed through the kitchen. He tried not to look at the counter that now gave him the willies. Grabbing his keys from the dish, he shrugged into his coat and headed over to Tierney's.

  It didn't matter if she didn't want a relationship with him. They were friends. They were at least family, and that couldn't quite be shaken despite the loss of their tie. Maybe she was right and Vander clef was now after both of them. Then the least she could do was talk to him about it.

  The drive didn't take as long as he needed to get his head ready, and he found himself on her doorstep with no plan. Knocking, he waited and was almost ready to knock again, when the sheers at the front window jostled ever so slightly.

  She opened the door and greeted him with, "It's not really safe for you to be here."

  "It's not safe for me to be anywhere apparently. You pointed out it's not safe for me to be in my own house." He almost added aren't we safer together? but he didn't continue. He just stared at her as if to say he didn't want to have this conversation on the front porch.

  Stepping back, she waved him inside before closing the door and turning both the bolts. The sound of metal sliding into place for a moment overrode the mews of tiny kittens.

  He headed over and looked at them. It seemed an easy thing to do. Their round little bellies and spindly little legs somehow noticeably bigger than the last time he'd seen them. Leaning down, he scratched each tiny head and asked her their names again.

  Patiently, Tierney provided each one and it made sense. The orange ones were Dorito and Cheeto. The paler one Pringle. Still, she was staring at him as if to ask, why are you here?

  Finally, he stood up and faced the truth. "I just needed to check on you."

  "Well, you've done it. Every moment you're here, every interaction you have with me, is another chance for Elliot to think something is going on." She said it so calmly, arms crossed as if daring him to disagree that he just exploded.

  "Something is going on!" He yelled it, surprised at the force of his own words. "We laid waste to the shag carpet in front of my fireplace. You do remember that, right?"

  Her gaze darted away, her head turning as if the blow glanced off her. But she didn't reply.

  "It was amazing." The words made him feel as if he was taking a knife to his own chest and pulling his heart out for her to watch it beat. "Don't deny that."

&nbs
p; The last statement was a dare, but she still didn't look at him. The only satisfaction that he got was that she didn't say he was wrong.

  "And then you just walked out."

  He didn't say the rest, but the words flared in his thoughts. The way things had gone when he'd woken up ... She'd been almost animalistic toward him. Turning him on in ways that he either hadn't felt in so long he'd forgotten them, or maybe never felt before at all.

  Was he in love with her? Or was he just so mad that his emotions were pinging too wildly for him to read? Maybe he'd known her for so long, and he knew her so well, that it seemed impossible he could suddenly feel whatever crazy lust this was without it being something deeper. But did it matter? Tierney had tilted his world on its axis and then walked away.

  Had she known she was going to leave while she was screaming his name?

  "You need to leave." She said it with no intonation. Maybe that was worse than if she'd yelled it.

  He didn't get to ask what she'd felt that morning.

  "You need to leave, Ronan."

  "We're stronger together," he countered, falling back on the argument against Elliot rather than the one for them.

  She shook her head. "The longer you're here, the more you're a target."

  "I can handle Vander clef!" He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he'd made a blazing, stunning mistake.

  All of her calm facade disintegrated in a blink and she exploded at him. "No. You can't! You think you can. You think that because you haven't seen him in action. Your car accident was caused by him. He intended to kill you over a month ago, before anything happened between us!"

  Was that true? Ronan wondered. Was it really before anything had happened between them? Or had Elliot set his sights on Ronan because he could see even then—even before Ronan had known himself—that Ronan was a threat.

  "Ignore all of that," Ronan told her, thinking he could just put his feelings on hold until she was safe. "We have a connection. It goes way back."

  "We do," she agreed, raising his hopes. But then she dashed them just as quickly. "You were married to my sister once."

  "Not that."

  "Yes, exactly that," Tierney argued. Then added again, "I need you to leave. And if you don't leave, I will make you."

  He shook his head at her. The threat only made him plant his feet and cross his arms. As if she were big enough to push him out of the way! What was she going to do? Call the police?

  He shouldn't be so stubborn. He shouldn't go against her wishes, but they needed to have this conversation.

  "You don't want this, Ronan." Her tone was laced with warning.

  Was she going to pull the gun on him?

  "You're just some guy who was married to my sister. Some guy I fucked one night."

  He stayed stoic, pretending her words didn't hurt. He hoped his blank facial expression called her a liar.

  "Fine, if that's how you want it." She waited another beat, giving him another chance to leave but he refused to take it. "Do you know why I hate Wayne Davies?"

  Ronan frowned, cracking his own facade. What was this?

  "I hate him, because more than once, when I came home early with Sean, I found him and Siorse fucking at my parents’ house."

  The hit was a lightning bolt to the center of his chest. He calculated the math, thinking she had to be wrong. But if Sean was born, then he and Siorse had been engaged or married. He should feel more than he did, but the very thought was too overwhelming to do anything other than numb him. It was worse than a bullet. "You what?"

  But Tierney was true to her word. She was going to make him leave. Apparently, she didn't need a gun or any physical force to do it. "Paddy was blonde," she said, pulling out yet another verbal dagger and slashing him to ribbons. "I'm not even sure he was yours."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Tierney almost vomited again. The only thing good was that Ronan had left, that it had worked. He likely didn't realize that it hurt her almost as much as it hurt him.

  When she first said it, he looked so stunned. He hadn't known at all. Then he had looked at her as if to accuse her of lying. But she wasn't. Unfortunately.

  She'd hoped to never tell him. She'd certainly thought that if it ever did come out, it would be some kind of midnight confession, and that it would happen because he suspected it anyway. She'd not thought to use it like a dagger to wound him. Because there was almost no way he could learn that and have it not wound him.

  Hopefully it would make him stay away.

  She could face Elliot on her own. Where before she'd been afraid the Vander clefs would put her in prison and she'd never see Sean again, she was willing to take the hit now. Sean could stay with Raven and Raven would surely read about the case. Her son would have the best life he could.

  Though the elder Vander clefs weren't anywhere near as bad as Elliot, they'd certainly allowed him to be what he was. They backed him when he told his lies, whether they were about Tierney or anything else. Though they cajoled her with bribery rather than threats, they still seemed to think they could insist she marry their son. They told her that she loved him, despite her own refusal.

  Barely managing to keep her breakfast down this time, Tierney plopped down onto her couch, her head sinking into her hands. Then she cried. She heaved great sobs for Sean, who might be scared without her. For Ronan, who she'd had to wound, because she couldn't face Elliot with Ronan nearby.

  She only allowed herself the respite for a short while. It suddenly occurred to her that Elliot could maybe see her. She hadn't found any cameras in her home, but who knew what he could do?

  Sitting up, she wiped her tears, headed into the bathroom, and washed her face. If Elliot had seen her cry, the damage was done. He would know that pushing Ronan away had hurt her and he would know that going after Ronan would damage her further. What if he threatened the man she loved? Would that be enough to override her concern for Sean? Or would she simply have to let Elliot do his worst and hope Ronan could defend himself? As he so ardently believed that he could. Maybe she'd shown him what it would be like. He sure hadn't believed her when she told him that Elliot's worst wouldn't come with bullets or even fists.

  With a deep breath, she plopped back onto her couch, sinking low, so a well-placed bullet couldn't crack her front window and go right through the back of her skull. She turned on the TV and flipped channels for longer than she should have until her phone buzzed.

  Pulling it from her back pocket and expecting the worst, she still thought maybe a distraction was welcome. As she looked at the screen, she felt her face pull into a frown. The text message read "911" from Dad. Her dad wasn't much for texting, and 911?

  Scrambling and ignoring the stupid show she'd left the station on, she tapped at her screen to call her dad, frantic until it started to ring.

  But her father didn't pick up. Why would he text her and then not answer? Was he not able to answer?

  She looked up at the wall clock. She'd been in earlier to open the bar but hadn't even stayed for the lunch rush today. The time told her that her dad would likely be starting the evening shift.

  Scrambling out the front door so fast she almost forgot to bolt both the locks behind her, Tierney wondered if it would keep Elliot out. He'd certainly gotten into Ronan's home.

  She checked her phone again as she ran the short distance to the car, and reminded herself to be cognizant of the snow and maybe ice on the roads. As she looked and found that she hadn't heard anything from Ronan or her Dad, she climbed into the driver's seat and hit the gas. She'd been topping the tank up every time that she could, not wanting to be caught unable to run far and away if she needed to, now she was glad.

  In a few moments, she was squealing her way into the last employee spot and slamming through the back door. She skidded past the office, but the door was open to show it was empty. The front of the house was starting to grow noisy as people came in for beers and early dinners often after they left an early wor
k shift.

  "Dad? Dad!" she called as she scrambled into the front of the restaurant to see he stood behind the bar talking to Axel, one of his oldest friends who often came in when the crowds were low. The two men were just chatting and her father turned, both of them looking surprised by her presence.

  "Hey, Tierney." Her dad said, an odd look on his face. "What's going on?"

  "You messaged me!" she told him. Then as things became more confusing, she added, "You messaged me 911."

  He looked at her oddly and her heart started to sink. He hadn't messaged her.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." But she was starting to shake and trying to hide it. Holding out her hand, she asked as politely as she could. "Can I see your phone?"

  Though he was still looking at her askance, he readily pulled it from his back pocket. That gesture alone making her think the information had been false. If it was in his pocket, how would Elliot have gotten it to message her with it?

  She scrolled through and, sure enough, her dad's last text to her was different, one she remembered from a few weeks ago. He didn't show the incoming call though. But it had rung on her end. Who had she called?

  Fuck. She almost let the word slip out. Her father would have chastised her. She might be behind the bar, but she was in front of paying customers. She held her phone up to him as way of explanation. It was better that they all knew what was going on, even if she hated that it had happened.

  Her incoming message said "Dad" at the top and the little icon was the picture she'd taken of him years ago. She constantly used her phone. What she hadn't noticed before was that there were no previous messages in this thread.

  "What does this mean?" her dad asked as he paused his usually busy hands. That alone told her he was worried.

  "I don't know. I don't know if he got his hands on my phone physically and set this up. Or if he just managed to hack into it. Either way, he made me think you were having an emergency, then not answering your phone."