by Jill Shalvis
Before he could answer, Zach walked up to their table. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Aidan said in surprise. “Kenzie, this is Zach. Zach, Kenzie is—”
“Blake’s sister.” Zach’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “I miss your brother.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Me, too.”
Zach turned to Aidan and handed him a file.
“What’s this?”
“I wanted you to have it while I was gone. In case you need it for anything.”
Aidan opened the file and instantly knew what he held. All the evidence Zach had gathered over the past few months on the mysterious arsons. Zach had been the first one to suspect something was going on and the first to go to Tommy for answers. Closing the file he met Zach’s steady gaze. “Thanks. Want to join us?”
“Can’t. Brooke’s waiting for me. I just talked to Eddie and Sam. Did you know there was another explosion last night? The hardware store on Sixth.”
“Injuries?”
“Several, and one death. Tracy Gibson.”
Aidan’s stomach dropped. The woman Blake had had a crush on for months before his death.
Kenzie divided her gaze between them. “Who’s Tracy?”
“She was an employee at the hardware store,” Zach told her. “Same setup as Blake’s Girl,” he said to Aidan, tapping the file with meaning. “So keep this.”
Aidan understood. Zach thought he might need the info in the file when he was gone.
“Nice meeting you,” Zach said to Kenzie. With a squeeze to Aidan’s shoulder, he left.
“So what does that mean?” Kenzie asked. “If there was a similar explosion, maybe Blake’s boat wasn’t an accident.”
“Maybe.”
“A new serial arsonist?” she scoffed. “What are the chances of that in a small town like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know,” she said. “Next to nil.”
She was watching him with sadness still in her eyes, along with a sense of sharp intelligence that said she wasn’t going to let this go. The brash tilt of her chin alluded to a strength of will, of passion, he knew firsthand, and suddenly he was afraid for her.
For her, of her, and of the feelings she invoked inside him. Damn, not again…Not falling for her again, he told himself. But it didn’t matter that he was seated across from her in a crowded café, surrounded by people.
She was all he saw.
He watched her push her food around the plate for a few minutes, then wrapped his fingers around her wrist, guiding her fork to a large bite of eggs and bringing it to her mouth.
She took it into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, all with her gaze never leaving his. “You keep looking at me like you care.”
“I do.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not going to care about you back.” At that, she broke eye contract and stared down at the food. “At least not like I did before.”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.” He also believed that she just might get her big wish, because looking at her sitting there, knowing she’d be walking away from him this time, caused a strange sensation deep inside him. He’d have sworn it was his heart rolling over and exposing its underbelly.
Kenzie took another bite of food as his cell phone buzzed. It was Dispatch. “Sorry,” he said, standing. “I have to take this.”
“No problem.” She was suddenly engrossed in her food, not even looking up when he went outside to get good enough reception to hear that two firefighters had come down with the flu. They needed replacements for the next shift. So much for a day off—he was going back on duty, starting now.
He turned to go back inside the café and nearly bumped into Kenzie. “Sorry,” she said, flashing a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’ve got to go.”
Huh. That had been his line.
“I paid the bill—”
He reached for his wallet. “Let me—”
But she put her hand over his and shook her head. “It’s on me. Consider it a very small down payment.”
“For what?”
“For what I owe you for saving my life.”
“Kenzie—”
“Thank you,” she said softly, looking into his eyes, making his head spin. “I’m not sure I said that enough. I am extremely grateful.”
Wait. That sounded like a good-bye. “Okay, hold on a second. Are you—”
Going up on tiptoes, she put a hand to his chest, leaned in and kissed him on the jaw. She added a smile to the mix, one that went all the way to her eyes this time as she touched her fingers to her lips and then blew him another kiss.
Then she turned and walked away.
As he’d once done to her. “Kenzie.”
But she’d already gotten into her car. Where the hell was she going? She revved the engine and was gone, out of the lot, perhaps out of his world. He stood there a moment, absorbing a barrage of emotions, starting with regret and ending with a surprising hurt, and then he shrugged it off and walked inside to say good-bye to Sheila. That’s when his head stopped spinning and it hit him.
Kenzie had stolen his file.
10
UNFORTUNATELY FOR KENZIE, the doggie convention was still in town. She tried a couple of B and Bs and got excited when a cute front desk clerk recognized her and said he’d stir up a room. But then he picked up his phone and yelled, “Ma! Get out of the room, I’ve got a girl!”
Kenzie shouldn’t have been surprised, since her karma was clearly still on vacation. She made the clerk leave his mother in the room and escaped. Back in her car, she sighed, feeling very alone.
She missed Blake.
And dammit, she already missed Aidan, too. Missed his voice, his smile, his touch.
How was that even possible? She’d just left him. She’d stolen his file for God’s sake. No doubt he was cursing her right this minute.
And definitely not missing her.
She pulled into the library and made herself comfortable on a large chair in a far corner, then opened the file. Almost immediately she felt an odd prickle of awareness, and then the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
She was being watched again.
She craned her neck left and then right, but no one in her immediate area was so much as looking at her. Behind her was a set of shelves, and she shifted, trying to see through a gap to the aisle on the other side.
Nothing.
Clearly she was still in the process of losing her mind. Determined, she went back to the file. Zach and Aidan had been thorough. There was a list of fire calls from Firehouse Thirty-Four over the past six months, five of them highlighted. The questionable fires, she realized.
The arsons Blake had ultimately been accused of starting.
Attached were details of those five properties: architectural plans, permits, a history of ownership, purchases and sales. Each had been plotted out on a map, and scrutinized up one side and down the other, including everything that had been found on site after the fire.
Zach had noted finding a metal mesh trash can at each site, and even had a picture of one, from the fire just before the one at Zach’s own house. As she was looking at it, her cell phone vibrated. She nearly ignored it until she saw it was the same local cell phone number as before, and she grabbed it. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
When several people in chairs nearby glared at her, especially one older woman going through a stack of history books, Kenzie hunched her shoulders, mouthed a “sorry” and whispered “hello” much more softly.
An equally soft voice spoke in return. “Forget about it, forget about all of it, and go back to Los Angeles.”
Kenzie clutched the phone. She couldn’t tell if she recognized the speaker because the voice was purposely being disguised. “Is that a threat?”
“You’re going to be stubborn. Goddammit.”
&
nbsp; “Who is this?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. Just get the hell out of Santa Rey.”
“So you are threatening me.”
“If I said yes, would you go?”
“No.”
“Shit.” There was a beat of silence. “Okay, listen to me. There’s only one way out of this.”
“What?” she said, forgetting to whisper, receiving more glares for that. With effort, she lowered her voice. “What do you mean?”
“Your laptop was destroyed in the boat fire?”
“How do you know that?”
“You have backup.”
“What does that have to do with—” She went still as it hit her. She and Blake had shared files. Music files, movie files…they’d e-mailed and IM’d each other regularly. And once a week he’d send her a large backup file from his laptop so that if it ever crashed, she could just send him back what he needed. She’d done the same. She’d saved all her stuff, and Blake’s, in her Yahoo account. All she had to do was get to another computer. “Who are you?”
“Check the demos. That’s the key.”
“What?” Kenzie clutched the phone. “What does that mean? Who are—”
But she knew before she even finished her sentence that he was gone. But who was he? A friend of Blake’s? “Dammit.”
“Shh!” everyone around her hissed.
Yeah, yeah, fine. But the prickle in the back of her neck hadn’t gone away. She got to her feet and moved to the end of the aisle, peeking around the corner just in time to catch sight of the back of a guy running away. No red shirt this time but she knew it was the same guy she’d seen at the hospital. She hightailed it after him, but when she got to the other end of the aisle, she plowed directly into the librarian.
“No running in the library!”
“Sorry.” Kenzie stepped around her, but it was too late. Her helpful mysterious caller was gone. She turned back to the librarian. “Can I use an online computer?”
“You have to sign up.”
“Okay, where?”
“We’re closing in half an hour, and the computers are in use until then. How about the morning?”
“Fine.” She’d spend tonight going through the boat and Blake’s place for anything that could help her. Then she’d borrow Aidan’s computer—if he let her—or come back here to prove that Blake had been set up. Because that was the only answer she was willing to accept.
Someone had framed him, was still framing him.
And she was going to find out who.
AT THE STATION, Aidan was run ragged by one call after another. Near the end of the shift, his unit was called out to a secondary fire at the hardware store, where the explosion from two days ago had killed Tracy. Looking at the scene woke Aidan right up. The new fire wasn’t from any smoldering spark left over from the explosion. No way. This fire had been set.
Purposely.
In a wire mesh trash can.
Tommy was already there, and at the look on Aidan’s face, shook his head. “Don’t start.”
“Arson.”
“I said don’t start.”
“Let me guess. We’re not going to have this conversation.”
“Bingo.” Tommy sounded extremely tense. “And this time I’ll tell you why.” He got up in Aidan’s face.
“Because I’m close, okay? I’m very, very close to finishing this. So you need to let me do just that. Got it?”
Aidan didn’t see that he had a choice. Later, back at the station, he stretched out on the station couch, closing his bleary eyes, needing to think.
Somehow it was all connected, he just knew it…He fell asleep trying to piece it all together, and then dreamed of a certain hot, curvy, sweet woman. A hot, curvy, sexy woman who happened to also be a thief.
He woke up when someone sat on him.
And then bounced on him.
Opening his eyes, he met Cristina’s frowning ones. “Trying to sleep here.”
“No, you’re not. Your eyes are open.”
“Watch this.” He closed them again.
She bounced again, a maneuver that threatened to break his legs. “How’s Blake’s sister?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you’re sleeping with her. Is she okay?”
He shook his head. “How? How do you know what I barely know?”
“Rumor mill.” Her derisive humor hid her misery. Cristina was hurting. Hurting over losing Blake, her partner. Hurting over somehow blowing it with Dustin. She was so hard on the outside that they all forgot how soft and sensitive she was deep inside. She’d loved Blake like a brother, and cared about Kenzie by default.
“How is she, Aidan?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“She hasn’t returned my phone calls.”
“So you’re losing your touch, too.” She broke off, momentarily distracted when Dustin walked into the room.
The tall, tough-bodied, soft-hearted EMT pushed up his glasses, glanced at Cristina and a muscle jumped in his jaw.
Cristina didn’t appear to breathe. Five agonizing seconds passed, and finally, she looked away first.
Dustin merely sighed.
The two of them had been doing some kind of emotional tap dance for weeks now. Dustin said he wanted more. Cristina said she didn’t.
Now the tension in the room was so thick Aidan could hardly even see them anymore. “Hey, here’s an idea. You two could lust after each other in secret and then ignore each other in person. Because it’s not awkward at all.”
“Shut up, Aidan.” Cristina sent a glare in Dustin’s direction, one that said you’re an idiot.
Without a word, Dustin walked away, into the kitchen.
Cristina expelled a low breath.
“Looks like I’m not the only one losing my touch,” Aidan noted. “What did you do?”
“How do you know I did something?”
“Please.”
Cristina sighed. “He’s got his panties all unraveled because I went out with an ex.”
“Ouch.”
“No. No ouch. It was just dinner for God’s sake. No biggee.”
“Yeah. But it was dinner with a guy you’ve gotten naked with.”
She shrugged, but dejection had settled over her pretty features. “Whatever.”
“Cristina.”
“I told you, it was just dinner.” She got off of his legs, making sure to get an elbow in his gut. “And if he can’t see that then screw him.”
“Why don’t you just talk to him? Tell him the truth?”
“Talking isn’t what I want.” She headed outside, slamming the door as she went.
Aidan’s cell rang and he leaped for it, hoping for Kenzie, but he got Tommy instead.
“Might want to get down to county,” the inspector said in an undecipherable tone.
“Why?”
“Because I had your girlfriend arrested.”
“You arrested Kenzie?”
“You have another girlfriend I don’t know about?”
“She’s not my—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the hell happened?”
“She’s in for trespassing and interfering with a crime scene, so you figure it out. You don’t control your women very well.”
“She’s not my woman!”
“Either way, I’d hurry. Oh, and get your checkbook. This date’s going to cost you big.”
11
JAIL WASN’T NEARLY as adventurous as it’d been that time Kenzie had been arrested on her soap. Then she’d had a costume director and a makeup artist. Oh, and nice, soft, flattering lights. Plus she’d been able to walk off the set when the director had yelled “cut”, and had sipped her iced tea and laughed it all off.
No such luxuries today.
Real life sucked.
She was given her phone call—which went to her attorney, who promised to work on getting her out. With Ke
nzie’s own checkbook, of course.
After several hours in a holding cell, during which she contemplated the odd and unwelcome turn her life had taken, and also chewed on a few nails, she was handed her see-through baggie of personal belongings—that was twice in two days—and shown the door.
Standing in front of it wasn’t her attorney, but her own gorgeous, personal savior.
Aidan was dressed in his firefighter uniform, which told her he’d come right from the job. He still wore his firefighter badass expression, too, and was looking more than a little bit temperamental as well.
Yeah. Not exactly thrilled to see her.
Nor was she thrilled to see him.
Okay, so a little part of her was. The bad girl part of her, which reared its horny head and begged Oh, please can we have him just one more time?
She ignored that and her quivery belly, and tried to brush past him.
“What, no thank you?” He shifted so that she was forced to bump into him.
Backing up, she put her hands on her hips and sent him a glare as mean as she could conjure up after a few hours spent in jail. “I didn’t call you.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
There were several people milling around, all from a different part of society than she was used to. The guy closest to her might have been fifty, or a hundred and fifty, it was hard to tell with the multitude of hats and coats he was wearing, despite it being summer. He pulled out a cigarette and a match, and even though she saw it coming, when he struck the match to the matchbox and the little whoosh hit her ears, she cringed.
Aidan was there in a second, holding her steady, which only further embarrassed her. “Easy.”
“Damn.” She let out a shaky breath. “What is that?”
“Post traumatic—”
She waggled a finger in his face. “Don’t say it.”
“—stress. Why didn’t you call me, Kenzie?”
“Who did?”
“Tommy.”
“Rat-fink bastard.” It was coming back to her, her childhood here—the small town mentality, the utter lack of secrets, the way everyone stuck their nose in everyone else’s business. She’d had enough of that from her early years to last her a lifetime.
