by Cowan, Debra
He looked up, his face guarded.
“Can you tell me anything? Should I not ask?”
“I can tell you some.” He sat back, laying down his pen and easing his chair a few inches away from the table. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you have a different name?”
“The first name is Greg. I shouldn’t tell you the last name.”
She tilted her head. “I can’t see you as a Greg.”
“You’re not the only one,” he said drily. “Sometimes, I still don’t realize people are talking to me when they call me that. It’s weird. I want to tell them my real name.”
“That has to be hard.” And it sounded agonizingly lonely. “You said you work as a car mechanic. Are you a volunteer fireman?”
“No. If you’re in the Witness Security Program, it’s best to keep away from any aspect of your former life. Or that’s what they say,” he added bitterly.
“You can have friends, though, right? You don’t have to stay away from society, do you?”
“No, not at all. I have friends. My neighbor Ralph and I play poker one night a week. He’s not as good as Aaron, but he’s beat me plenty.”
She caught the wistfulness in his words. “Do you socialize with anyone from work?”
“Not really. I get along with all of them, but don’t feel comfortable just hanging out.”
“Ever spend time with women?” The question was out before she could stop it.
His gaze measured her. “No.”
She couldn’t imagine that he’d been celibate since their breakup and she wanted to ask if he’d been with anyone. On second thought, she didn’t want to know.
“Most nights, I work on trying to figure out the mystery ingredient in the disappearing accelerant.” A grin hitched up one corner of his mouth. “Have you learned how to cook? Or do you eat out all the time?”
“Hey, I cook a little!”
“Pouring cereal in a bowl isn’t cooking, Meredith.”
She laughed at his dry remark. “Okay, I usually pick up something and eat at home, unless Terra or Robin take pity on me and invite me over for a meal.”
She remembered all the times he’d cooked for her. Especially his wonderful breakfasts in bed after she’d worked a wretchedly long shift. It would be better not to bring that up.
She gestured toward his face. “Are you planning to grow a beard?”
“No. I just can’t shave—I mean, I haven’t shaved yet.”
Maybe he wasn’t strong enough yet to shave on his own? Or his shoulder hurt too badly? “Do you need help? I could help you.”
“No.” The word was flat, hard and his face closed against her.
“I don’t mind.”
“No touching, remember?” He didn’t snarl the words, but close.
Meredith’s spine went to steel and she sat up straighter. So, last night had affected him.
His gaze fixed on her mouth, so long that she felt her body start to soften.
Flustered by his focus, frustrated by how badly she wanted him, she spoke without thinking, “We’ve done fine when I check your wound. That involves touching.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Not the same thing, not by a long shot.”
“It wouldn’t take very long. Think how good it would feel to shave it off.”
“No.”
“Oh, good grief, Gage! I didn’t say we would do it naked.”
His eyes went dark, savagely hot as he said in a harsh voice, “You touch me, I’m touching you.”
She blinked.
“How much of that do you think I can stand?” He stood, his chair scraping across the tile floor. “Hell, I couldn’t even close my eyes last night. All I could do was feel you.”
“You’re the one who wanted to share body heat,” she muttered.
He gave her a scathing look. Her heart hammered hard.
He jerked his thumb toward the bedroom which they had to pass through to get to its adjoining bath. “If you’re up for it, baby, let’s go. Give me a green light. I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on you again.”
Oh, wow. She couldn’t breathe. The heavy-lidded look he gave her burned right through her clothes. Had he always been this intense?
He was aroused. So was she. But she also sensed pain beneath his words.
She rose, palms slick with sweat. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve realized, but…I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or anger that had his jaw firming. She wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her. Talk about walking right into stupid.
“I think I’ll get ready for bed.” Her voice shook.
“I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”
“We should take shifts, keep watch.”
He grunted.
Feeling hollow, she walked around the sofa, heading down the hall. “Let me know when it’s my turn. You need to rest, too.”
He didn’t say anything. A glance over her shoulder showed him sitting back down. Instead of immediately opening his notebook, Gage closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tension vibrated in his body.
Last night had affected him as much as it had her. It didn’t give her any satisfaction to learn he’d been as wound up over it as she had. Instead, she felt sad.
She shut the bedroom door, her heart aching.
All day, she’d wanted to touch him. She still did. She told herself to dismiss it, to stop thinking about that kiss, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Because she wanted him, too. And that was the worst thing for both of them.
She was killing him. Being this close to her was going to snarl his guts into a permanent kink, especially now that he’d finally had another taste of her. Gage wanted to hit something. Even now, hours later, he could still taste her. And one kiss wasn’t going to be enough.
Thanks to Meredith being plastered to him like cling wrap last night, Gage had been hard and hurting for hours. It wasn’t until they got to the cabin that he had finally managed to get a little relief. Then she’d asked questions about his other life and started in on the shaving thing. That had fired him up again and brought back the feel of her lush curves against his back, the dark sweetness of her mouth.
Arousal had mixed with anger, started a slow boil inside him. Which was why he had told her point-blank what she could expect if she touched him. She couldn’t just change the rules whenever she felt like it. If she couldn’t make up her mind about what she wanted, he’d do it for her. Because he knew exactly what he wanted. Her.
She may have finally gone to bed, but her scent still lingered. Even so, that was easier to deal with than her sitting in the living area looking at him with those liquid blue eyes.
He bit back a groan. He’d nearly tumbled her onto that couch and kissed her until she agreed to do anything he wanted.
His resistance to her was thisclose to finished. Despite the smallness of the cabin, he planned to keep as much physical distance between them as possible.
He hadn’t been able to gather his thoughts while she moved around. Went back and forth. Breathed.
With his concentration split like that, it would’ve been easy to miss something helpful in his notes so he started at the beginning. It took him fifteen minutes to settle down and focus his attention.
After a few hours, a headache throbbed behind his eyes. He rose from his chair at the table and walked to the narrow window left of the front door. Bracing his good shoulder against the wall, he stared out into the night, over the shallow porch, the red packed-earth road, the trees beyond. The moon was a cold sliver of ice in an inky sky.
“Is everything okay?” Meredith asked.
He started, his head whipping toward her.
“Sorry. I tried not to come up on your right, but your other side was against the wall.”
He wished he hadn’t told her about his loss of peripheral vision, but with her training there was no way to get around it. She was
barefoot, which explained why he hadn’t heard her. Her hair was down and she wore her pink leopard-print pajama bottoms and the pink long-sleeved cotton top that snugged her breasts just right. In two seconds, he could slip right under her shirt and have his hands on her.
He directed his gaze back out the window. “Everything’s fine. Why?”
“I saw the light on. Is it my turn to take a shift?”
“No, go on back to bed. I’ll do it tonight.”
“But you said you didn’t get any sleep last night.”
He sure as hell didn’t need her to remind him. “I took a nap this afternoon. Plus I want to go over my notes again.”
“Any luck figuring out your mystery accelerant?”
“Not yet.” Even the smell of recently brewed coffee didn’t mask her light frothy scent. He straightened, cursing softly. “The answer’s probably right under my nose, an ingredient or a combination I haven’t considered.”
She came closer, close enough that if he reached out, he could stroke her silky skin. Jamming his hands in his jeans pockets, Gage clenched his jaw tight.
“Would it help to talk it out? I know a little chemistry.”
Talking wasn’t what he needed help with. He needed to get her out of pouncing distance. “I don’t know.”
“I might see something you didn’t.”
Her chemistry background would be helpful, but he’d only just gotten his body past their earlier conversation. As he dragged his gaze over her, he wanted to move in closer, kiss her, peel off her clothes. Especially when he saw her nipples tighten under his perusal.
She realized where he was looking and backed up a step, a delicate blush playing over her cheeks. Seeing her brother’s denim shirt on the back of the chair where Gage had hung it, she grabbed it and slipped it on. Folding her arms, she met his gaze defiantly.
It didn’t matter that she was warning him off. If possible, his body wound even tighter. Accepting her help would force him to share more space with her than he wanted, but he needed a fresh pair of eyes. And if he tried anything, she would knock him into next week. “All right, yeah.”
Her blue eyes widened. “Oh. Okay, good.”
He moved around her, trying to ignore her provocative body-warmed scent. She followed him, taking the chair next to his and scooting closer.
Hell. She’d told him she wasn’t interested. That should’ve been enough to cool him off, but it wasn’t. He pushed his notebook to her and while she began reading, he recounted his progress.
“So far, I’ve determined the accelerant is an egg-based gelled flame fuel.”
She looked up, frowning. “Gelled, like jelly?”
“Right.”
“Not a liquid.”
He shook his head. “If it were, there would be a trail of accelerant. Even concrete can soak up liquids and none of the surfaces in these blazes—concrete, wood or fabric—have retained anything. The fire-starting material has to be something that doesn’t penetrate.”
“And a jellylike substance wouldn’t?”
“It normally would, but it could be coated to prevent that from happening.”
“Coated? With wax?”
“Probably.”
“So, the flammable gel is made of eggs—”
“Egg whites.”
“Okay. Egg whites and gasoline then thickened with—” She glanced down. “Salt and tea leaves?”
“Those are only two possibilities. Further in the notes, you can see I also tested cocoa, sugar, baking soda, Epsom salts.” He leaned over her to flip the page and point to the details he’d noted.
His muscles clenched against the teasing drift of her breath against his cheek. When she bent her head to read, her hair brushed the back of his hand.
He pulled away.
“A lot of things can work as a thickener, but I’m trying to determine if more thickener is the secret to making the accelerant disappear or if it’s a specific ingredient.”
“That’s why it’s taking so long to find an answer.”
“Yeah.”
As she went back to reading, he eased away, his attention fully engaged by her even though he wasn’t looking at her. He was riding the edge of want. Was she?
After a few minutes, she looked up, her eyes crystal-blue in the light. She indicated a place in his notes. “I think you’re right about the coating on the flammable jelly being wax. It would prevent a rapid breakdown, but wouldn’t the wax also leave a trace?”
“Generally, but I think the reason it doesn’t is because of what is mixed with it.”
“And that’s what we need to figure out.”
He murmured agreement, forcing his gaze away from the pulse tapping in the hollow of her throat.
“So, egg whites, gasoline, thickener and wax. What kind of wax? Candle-making wax?”
“I tested that and also the wax used for preserving food, for canning. So far, that one seems to work the best.”
“Isn’t wax flammable?”
“Yeah.”
“Which means if it’s too hot when the gas-jelly is dipped in it, a fire could start if the temperature is misjudged by even a small bit.”
He nodded. “That’s why I think whoever is behind this is someone with extensive fire training.”
“Or they’re a chemist.”
“That’s possible, I guess.” Gage had considered that in the beginning, but his gut said no.
She thumbed through a couple of pages. “You’ve tried granulated cane sugar. How about powdered sugar? Brown sugar? Or syrup?”
He grinned. “I like the way your mind works.”
The slow smile she gave him had his heart knocking hard against his chest.
“Let’s make a list of what I’ve tested and similar products I haven’t,” he suggested.
Meredith read aloud while he jotted down the possibilities. She was methodical and thorough, one of the few people who had ever matched him in that regard. They had always been able to help each other with problems in their jobs, but they hadn’t ever done it while trying to ignore this fierce awareness between them.
He didn’t know how long he could hold out.
Chapter 7
The next day, just before noon, Meredith stood at the front window of the cabin, her nerves jangling. Where was Gage? What was taking so long?
He had left a note saying he’d discovered a flat on the SUV this morning and had gone to get a new tire. The drive from here to the nearest gas station took about twenty minutes. So, there and back equaled less than an hour. Maybe another half-hour to pay for the tire and mount it himself. But he’d been gone nearly four hours.
What if that Julio guy had found Gage? Or what if Gage had seen the Hispanic man and tried to lose him by going back up into the mountains, then was unable to find his way down? He had a cell phone, she consoled herself. So, if something had happened, he would’ve called.
Unless he was hurt and couldn’t.
What if Julio had hurt him and Gage disappeared? Just like a year ago.
The thought put a hard knot in Meredith’s belly. What would she do if he didn’t return? What could she do? Call his friend, the State Attorney General, and tell him.
Meredith wasn’t typically a worrier, but from the moment Gage had shown up in her lake house, bleeding profusely, things had been unpredictable and weird to say the least.
The crunch of gravel and the soft rumble of a motor had her easing to the side of the window, out of view. A silver SUV passed by—Gage’s vehicle—and she leaned into the wall, eyes stinging at her overwhelming relief. He was all right.
After a few seconds, the automobile’s door slammed and she walked to the back of the cabin, making sure it was Gage who got out of the SUV. Quickly wiping her eyes, she opened the door as he walked across the frozen, pine-needled ground and took the two steps up to the deck carrying a small plastic bag. Clean sharp air swirled inside as he walked through the door.
Not wanting him to know how worried she’d be
en, she managed to keep her voice light. “Everything go all right?”
“Yeah.” He frowned as he shut the back door with his foot, glancing at his watch. “I guess I was gone longer than I expected, but we can’t risk not having a good tire when we need to leave.”
She preceded him to the kitchen, where he placed the bag on the counter next to the sink. “I bought a couple of cell phones—untrackable.”
Not wanting to reveal how worked up she’d made herself, she kept her face averted.
“There was no trouble,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t followed. And I wasn’t.”
“That’s good.” She stared blankly at the plastic sack.
Behind her, he opened the refrigerator door and studied the contents inside.
“The tire shop at the gas station where I stopped wasn’t open yet so I had to wait.”
“I see.”
He hesitated then peered around her shoulder to look at her. His breath grazed her temple. “You weren’t worried, were you?”
“No.”
After watching her for a few seconds, he reached for her hand, then pulled back. “You were worried. I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”
She wanted to brush off his apology, say she was fine, but instead she said, “If you’d gotten into some kind of trouble, I wouldn’t have known what to do. Or how to find you. Or who to ask for help.”
He stilled, as if the possibility had only then occurred to him, too. “If something happens and I can’t contact you, call Ken Ivory. I’ll write down the number for you.”
“Okay.”
He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Were you afraid I’d disappear? Again?”
That was exactly what she’d feared. She looked at him then, her pulse skipping when she saw the concern in his blue eyes. After a moment, she nodded.
“I really am sorry.” His gaze stroked over her, making her skin heat.
At that moment, Meredith really wanted to touch him. She caught herself and stepped away, giving a brittle laugh. “I’m fine. You know how I think everything to death. I just got carried away.”
“Meredith—”
