by Laura Scott
“Dear Lord, thank You for keeping Jayme safe all these years. And thank You for this food we are about to eat. We pray You continue guiding us on Your chosen path. Amen.”
She didn’t respond, mostly because her throat was too tight. She’d never in her life heard anyone pray out loud, and certainly no one other than Linc had ever included her.
“Dig in,” he urged, not seeming to think anything was wrong. “I’m curious to know if you like the mahi-mahi.”
She picked up her fork and took a bite. The tangy taste had her eyes widening in surprise. “Wow, it’s really good.”
“What, you were expecting dog food?”
“Of course not. But I never thought of fish having this kind of flavor.” For someone who liked to write, she couldn’t seem to come up with the words to describe it. Food was generally fuel, something she ate to keep up her strength. This was delicious. “I’m sure this is much better than your swordfish.”
“Take a bite, see for yourself.” He cut a small piece and put it on her plate.
“It’s good,” she admitted. “But I like mine better.”
Linc laughed, the husky sound rippling over her in a way that made her long for something she couldn’t have.
Him.
His phone rang. He frowned at the screen, then glanced at her. “I need to take this. Might be about the case.”
“Go ahead.”
Linc rose as he spoke into the phone. “This is Quade.”
She wished she could hear the other side of the conversation, but Linc walked through the restaurant to go outside. For some reason, the secrecy jabbed deep.
What, he didn’t trust her? She’d told him everything about her past, thinking he might open up more about his wife and daughter.
But he hadn’t.
Whatever. This little interlude was just a temporary blip in both of their regular routines. A disruption that wouldn’t last for long.
Or so she hoped.
Linc was a great host, falling over himself to make her feel welcome, but it wasn’t easy for her to relax her guard in his space.
She continued eating her food, thinking his was growing colder by the minute. When he returned, she lifted a brow. “Good news?”
“That was Kevin Leib’s parole officer. He was just filling me in on Kevin’s progress.” He took a bite of his swordfish. “I was hoping the guy was back to setting fires, but according to the parole officer, there haven’t been any suspicious fires in Nashville over the past few weeks.”
“How often does Kevin have to report in?”
“Weekly, although the parole officer has the right to ask him to come in at any time.” Linc eyed her across the table. “If Leib doesn’t report within the hour of being contacted, he’d be considered in violation of his parole and would be tossed back in jail.”
“Wow.” Jayme was glad she’d never been arrested. She’d been close, but thankfully, she had always been given the benefit of the doubt and released. “Harsh.”
“They’re out on parole rather than being in jail, so not so harsh,” Linc said. “Anyway, this guy is going to request Kevin report in on Monday. I’ll head over to meet with him, see what he knows about any of the fires here in Sevierville.”
“I’d like to go with you to Nashville. It’s not like I’ll have to report in for work at the clinic, thanks to the fire.” She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t lose her job over the stupid firebomb. How long would it take them to repair the damage and replace any broken equipment?
Probably too long.
Linc reluctantly nodded. “Okay, you can tag along. But you can’t say anything or be a part of the conversation with Kevin. You’re a victim in these fires, you’re not part of the investigation.”
“Fine with me. I just want to see what Kevin looks like. Seeing his mug shot, there was something a little familiar about him.”
“Could be you saw someone who strongly resembles him,” Linc said.
“I know.” She couldn’t place him in any particular situation, so Linc’s assumption was probably on target. But she wouldn’t know that for sure unless she saw him up close and not wearing prison orange.
They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Jayme ate every last bite of her mahi-mahi to the point her stomach was uncomfortably full.
She should have saved half for a future meal. Yet she still had her leftover spaghetti and meatballs in Linc’s fridge.
As Linc took care of the check, she excused herself to go to the restroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, Linc was standing nearby. “All set?”
“Yes.” She led the way outside. The fall air was crisp and cool, and she lifted her face to soak in the breeze. Winter was lurking around the corner, bringing Caitlyn’s graduation from her two years of college and then the holidays.
She wondered about the other foster kids. If they were still alive and doing well. At the time, splitting up had been the right decision.
But now, maybe because her future seemed rather empty, she’d been thinking more about the others. Wishing she could see them, check in with them. In fact, maybe she shouldn’t ask a stranger to move in but rather extend the offer to one of the fosters. Once she found them.
She reached for her purse, then frowned. “Wait!” She spun back toward the restaurant. “I’m sorry, I need to go back inside. I left my purse hanging on the hook on the restroom door.”
“That’s fine, we’re not in a rush.” Linc turned to follow her back into the building.
She’d barely reached the door when a loud explosion rocked the earth, sending her flying off her feet and hitting the solid structure.
Linc hit her from behind, knocking the breath from her body. Sandwiched between Linc and the door, she tried to understand what just happened. Then the door opened, and Linc managed to pull her out of the way as customers streamed from the restaurant.
He wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her with his body. “Stay down,” he whispered. Or maybe he wasn’t speaking softly and she simply couldn’t hear. Because all the sounds were muffled.
She managed to turn her head enough to see the source of the explosion. Flames blazed from the vehicle about thirty yards from where they’d been standing. A familiar black car.
Linc’s SUV.
She blinked, hoping she was wrong. But she wasn’t.
The arsonist had followed her long enough to know she was with Linc.
Targeting his car proved it.
Chapter Eight
Linc clutched Jayme close, sweeping his gaze over the area for the person responsible for blowing up his car, or for anyone who might have been injured. It must have been a relatively small bomb or the blast would have killed them.
Then again, if Jayme hadn’t forgotten her purse in the restroom, they’d have been closer to the explosion.
This latest incident only reinforced his thought that this guy wasn’t your typical arsonist. A firebug liked fire. Not necessarily planting bombs.
Sirens indicated help was on the way. He gingerly rose to his feet, drawing Jayme up too. Still, he kept his body in front of hers, just in case the assailant was still out there with another Molotov cocktail, or whatever device he’d used on his SUV.
“It’s my fault you’re involved in this . . .” Jayme’s voice was low. “He must be following me to have seen us together.”
“I’m glad I was here with you.” He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her temple. “We’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He sent up a silent prayer, thanking God for watching over them again.
This attempt had been far too close.
“For how long?” Jayme’s bitter tone made him wince. “Seriously, what is he going to blow up next?”
“We’ll find a safe place to go.” He couldn’t deny she made a good point. If this guy continued his current escalation pattern, her house and his would be the next targets.
With a goal of killing Jayme.
The impact of that thought hit him with th
e force of an iron beam. This guy was using fire to scare Jayme before killing her.
Something Simon Penske a.k.a. the Preacher might do, if the guy was still alive.
Or maybe the perp was someone who knew her story? One of her foster siblings? He couldn’t discount the possibility. Even Marco Edgar could have hired someone who’d uncovered the truth about Jayme’s background. Enough to use it as a way to threaten her.
But out of all the suspects, he kept coming back to the Preacher. Seeing Simon and Ruth’s obituary hadn’t convinced him they were truly dead. Well, one of them was, they had found human remains in the fire. But which one? Couldn’t the ME say for sure if the remains were male or female? Maybe there just wasn’t enough to tell.
From what he’d heard of Jayme’s gut-wrenching story, he’d say the Preacher was someone who would save himself above all others. Even his wife.
According to Jayme, none of the foster kids had seen him get out of the house through the most logical exit, the doorway located farthest away from the fire. But he easily could have gone out a window in one of the bedrooms.
“I can try to get a loan to pay you back . . .”
“No.” He tightened his arms around her. “Jayme, this is not your fault. The person who made the bomb and set it off is the one responsible. Besides, this is why I pay car insurance.” His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. “Please, don’t worry about me. Let’s just figure out where to go from here.”
“That’s just it.” She rested her head against his chest for a long moment before pulling out of his arms. “No matter where I go, who I stay with, it’s clear danger will follow. I refuse to put anyone in harm’s way.”
“I’m not leaving you alone, Jayme.” He glanced over as the fire trucks and the police arrived. For the second time that day, he crossed over to meet up with the team.
“Same perp?” the captain asked.
“I think so.” He scowled. “Only this time he went for more of an explosion rather than just tossing a firebomb through a window.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Although he looked again to make sure he hadn’t missed seeing anyone who’d been hit from the explosion. “The blast knocked us off our feet, but we aren’t hurt.”
“Linc? I think there’s a woman who has been hurt.” Jayme abruptly rushed over to an area on the opposite side of the burning car.
He followed, hoping, praying the injury wasn’t serious.
Jayme reached her first, dropping to her knees beside her. The older woman was leaning against the car, holding her head. “Hurts,” the woman whispered.
“Let me see,” Jayme gently removed the woman’s hand. He used his phone flashlight app to brighten the area. “I see a bruise forming, but you’ll need to go to the hospital for testing. I’m concerned you might have a concussion.”
“Are you a nurse?” the dazed woman asked.
“No.” Jayme glanced up at him. “Is the ambulance here? They should come and examine her.”
He lifted his arm, waving the fire captain over. The ambulance crew arrived a moment later. The EMTs checked the woman over before placing her on the gurney and rolling her toward the ambulance.
Satisfied the woman would survive, he turned his attention to what was left of his SUV. The vehicle was still smoldering, but the fire had been quickly doused by the firefighters. Upon closer inspection, it appeared as if the origin of the damage was focused on the front passenger seat.
Where Jayme would have been sitting.
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how the bomber had gotten the device into his car. The windows were shattered, so he couldn’t tell if the passenger window had been somehow cut open or if the bomb had been sitting beneath the seat for the past few hours. The idea of Jayme sitting on top of a bomb that could have gone off at any time made him feel sick. Then again, if that was truly the case, then the perp could have hit the trigger to blow them up while they were driving.
Or when they’d parked outside the restaurant.
No, he felt certain it had to have been placed while they’d been inside the restaurant. He reviewed the timeline in his head. The guy must have seen them approaching the car, hit the trigger a second or two earlier than he’d intended at the exact same time he and Jayme had turned to go back inside to retrieve her purse.
God had saved them.
“I hope her concussion isn’t too bad.” Jayme’s comment interrupted his thoughts. “I feel awful enough knowing your car has been destroyed. If that woman had been killed . . .”
“Again, this isn’t your fault. You’re a victim here, just like that woman.” He cupped her shoulders in his hands. “Please stop carrying the responsibility for this arsonist’s actions on your shoulders. He’s the criminal, not you.”
“In my head I know you’re right. But in my heart?” She shook her head. “I can’t help but feel guilty.”
“For what? Surviving a fire thirteen years ago? For escaping an abusive foster home? For creating a new life for yourself and your younger sister?” He tried not to let his frustration show. “You’re a woman to admire; there’s nothing at all for you to feel guilty about.” He blew out a heavy sigh and gentled his tone. “Jayme, I really wish you could put your faith and trust in God. To know that He is watching over us and has a plan for us.”
She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something but then hesitated. “I’m amazed you can say that after the tragic way you lost your wife and daughter.”
“It hasn’t been easy. There were months when I was so angry at God for what He’d done. But returning to church helped, and slowly, over time, my faith grew stronger. I think what helped me through the most was knowing that Gina and Melody are in a better place. That they’re in heaven together and with God.”
Jayme’s gaze clung to his as she slowly nodded. “I have to admit that sounds really nice. We didn’t hear anything from the Preacher about heaven.”
“Maybe because he’s the devil and has no knowledge of what God has in store for those of us who believe in Him.” He shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable in his role as pastor. “From what you’ve described? That man never ever spoke God’s word. He told lies, upon lies, upon lies.”
“Like the devil,” she whispered.
“Yes, exactly like the devil.” He drew her into his arms. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe. And we’re going to find the person who is trying to hurt you.”
A tremulous smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “I believe in you, Linc. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”
Her words humbled him, and he sent up a prayer asking for the strength he’d need to make good on his promise. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Their lips brushed, then held. As before, sparks flew as he deepened the kiss.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of her sweet taste. Of her warmth and generous spirit.
The kiss was over far too soon.
“Sorry, I just needed to be held for a moment.” Jayme pulled away from him and drew her hand through her hair. “Thanks for being such a great friend.”
“Anytime.” He hoped she didn’t notice how much of a punch her kiss had packed. He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, as if another bomb hadn’t gone off in the region of his chest. “Give me a few minutes to talk to the firefighters, then I’ll get you out of here.”
“Okay. I’ll get my purse from the restroom.” She lightly touched his arm before turning away.
He sucked in a quick breath in an attempt to clear his head. Linc glanced over to where the firefighters were gathered and headed toward them. He couldn’t bear the thought of failing Jayme. The night of the storm, when his wife and daughter had been sideswiped by a semitruck and killed, there hadn’t been anything he could have done to change the outcome. He’d been working his twenty-four-hour shift and hadn’t even known about Gina’s last-minute road
trip to visit her parents in Memphis.
A decision followed by a freak accident that had cost him his family.
This was different. Jayme was being stalked by someone who wanted her to relive the fire she’d escaped thirteen years ago. A man who made attempts against her right under Linc’s nose. He felt compelled to keep Jayme safe.
To protect her.
With his own life, if necessary.
Because this might be the reason God had changed the course of his life. To be here in this moment to shield Jayme.
A calling he would not refuse or ignore.
Jayme ducked into the restaurant bathroom to grab her purse, then stood outside and watched Linc talking to the firefighters on scene, doing her best to ignore that kiss. She really needed to get her impulses under control. The poor man had made it clear he’d never love anyone but his wife and daughter.
So why on earth did she keep throwing herself at him?
It needed to stop. Especially since she didn’t need more rejection in her life.
Granted, Linc was too nice to make it that obvious. No, he’d let her kiss him, even though he didn’t want anything more than friendship.
Her brain must be misfiring for some reason. She normally avoided romantic entanglements. The moment her former boyfriend had left because she’d refused to sleep with him and apparently kept herself aloof, Jayme remembered thinking to herself, Thank goodness he’s gone.
Her gaze returned to the charred frame of Linc’s car. If Eli had still been in the picture, one incident like this would have had the guy running away from her as fast and furious as possible.
No way would he have offered to help her out, much less attempt to keep her safe.
She drifted closer to Linc and the firefighters, catching parts of their conversation through the faint ringing in her ears.
“. . . the passenger seat,” Linc was saying. “I want the SUV towed to the garage so I can examine it more closely.”
She turned to look back at the SUV. Passenger seat? Did Linc believe that to be the location from where the bomb went off?
