Flaming Crimes

by Chrys Fey

  “What do you want to do on Saturday?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to celebrate the day my wife was born.”

  She bit into a fry. “You know I don’t like a big fuss.”

  “It won’t be a big fuss. It’ll be the two of us.”

  She sighed. “Donovan—”

  He cut her off. “For me.”

  She blinked.

  “If not for you, then for me.”

  A smile broke apart the frown on her face. “Okay, so what do you want to do with me on Saturday?”

  He picked up his bottle by the neck and gazed into Beth’s eyes. “I’ll think about it and surprise you.”

  “A Goldwyn surprise is my favorite kind.”

  After dinner, they caught the end of the evening news. Most of the coverage was about the fires burning through Central Florida. A reporter stood in front of black rubble. “Five houses burned to the ground in this neighborhood in Volusia. Five families left homeless with not a possession left other than the clothes on their backs. One family even lost their two dogs.”

  Beth moved her head back and forth on Donovan’s shoulder. “That’s so sad. Gosh, I couldn’t imagine.”

  On the television, an image of Central Florida came on with little flames to indicate active brush fires. Seven.

  “I wish this would end,” Beth muttered sleepily. “Pretty soon, there’s not going to be anything left.”

  Chapter Three

  Beth tightened the pony tail at the back of her head as she went down the stairs. The wide-screen television in the living room was on. She paused beside the couch for the weather. The temperature in the corner said her city was at eighty degrees, a rather warm April day. She listened to the news about the fires. One had been put out, but two more had cropped up during the night.

  Someone was out there setting those fires. She was sure of it. The first fire, maybe even the first two, might have been because of the dry earth and blazing sun, but the rest had to be malicious. She knew that ashes and embers from one fire could start another fire blocks away, but these fires were separated by many miles. They were in all different cities. Since this started, every city had at least one fire. Her city seemed to be the main target, though.

  The fire fighters were working day and night and were stretched thin. Trucks from down south and farther north were coming to Central Florida’s aid. Even trucks from Georgia were heading down to offer assistance. Beth hoped the fires came under control soon, or what she had said last night would become reality.

  She met Donovan at the kitchen counter.

  “Good morning, milady.”

  Beth snorted at the term. “You’re way too happy in the morning.”

  “Only when I see your beautiful face.” He kissed her on the lips as she rolled her eyes.

  She accepted the cup of coffee he gave her. “Do you want something for breakfast?”

  “I was just thinking about cereal.”

  “That’s another reason why I love you,” Beth said as she took down the Cocoa Puffs. “We think the same.”

  They ate a bowl of cereal then left—Donovan to look over his truck for the big day tomorrow and Beth to teach self-defense classes.

  During the drive to her studio, she went her usual route, bringing her to the neighborhood that had been bursting with flames the day before. The roadblocks and firetrucks were gone. She slowed her car as she looked. The houses had been miraculously spared. Blackened earth circled each lot, but green grass in their front and backyards remained intact.

  On the highway, she glanced toward the southbound side to see the land over there charred by the flames that had been flickering dangerously close to her car. The fire was out now, but piles of ashes still smoked. Smoke-tinged air seeped through the vents and dominated the tropical scented car freshener. When she got off the highway, the smell dissipated. The good thing about being in a big city was that brush fires couldn’t reach it, because concrete couldn’t catch on fire. In the heart of the city, she felt safe.

  She parked along the side of the strip mall and entered her studio. The orchids on the front desk sweetened the air by the front door. She inhaled the scent, filling her lungs with it. Closer to the mat, she smelled the antibacterial she used to wipe down the equipment between classes. Beneath that was the tang of sweat. Sweat earned.

  She picked up the vanilla bean room spray from behind the front desk and decompressed the nozzle while she made a full circle around the room. Then she checked to make sure the small refrigerator near the front door was well-stocked with bottles of water.

  From the storage closet, she hauled out a bag full of boxing gloves to the blue mat and went back for the helmets. Many of her students came with their own equipment, but her beginner students didn’t, and that was the class that started out each day. She opened the first bag, took out a pair of gloves, dropped it at her feet, and set a helmet with them. She did this several more times until she had enough equipment out for her students.

  Corissa, her front desk receptionist, arrived shortly after. She had recently graduated with a Master’s Degree in psychology and was looking for jobs at psychiatrists’ offices. Until then, she would continue as Beth’s receptionist. Part of Beth, the selfish part, didn’t want to see Corissa go. She had hired Corissa when she was fresh out of high school and kept her on during her college years. They had developed a friendship, and at times, Beth felt motherly toward her. She’d hate to lose Corissa to a psychiatrist, but she also wanted Corissa to follow her dreams.

  The beginner’s class was always Beth’s favorite. She enjoyed teaching nervous, scared students how to find the confidence to defend themselves. The techniques were simple. Anyone could do them. She had students as young as sixteen and as old as sixty. Each of them were treated the same. They came to her for all different reasons. Some wanted to be stronger. Some just wanted a good workout. Parents sought her class for safety lessons for their adolescent children. Others needed her classes to stay alive.

  After the beginner’s class, she had a moderate class. Then lunch and a second beginner’s class. The final class of the day was always the advanced students. For this class, she relied on an assistant. She had hired Dave two years ago when she needed the help. Donovan disliked the man, saying Dave purposefully flirted with Beth in front of him. She reminded him of another man who purposefully flirted with her, their good friend Detective Thorn.

  “The difference is I know Thorn would never do anything inappropriate,” he had said.

  “He kissed me full on my mouth once.”

  “Yeah, well, I had wanted to hit him then. The point is, I trust Thorn, and I like him. I don’t trust or like your assistant.”

  The topic had been dropped, but his death glare whenever he saw Dave near her hadn’t escaped her notice. She knew what Donovan was saying. She had noticed Dave’s flirtations, too, but had ignored each and every one of them. Many times, she had even put him in his place, but that didn’t make Donovan feel any better when Dave had to put his hands on her during lessons.

  Beth always had thirty minutes before the next batch of students usually started to arrive. She went to her office, shut the door, and stepped into her private bathroom. She stripped out of her sweaty workout clothes and used wet disposable towels to freshen up. From her bag, she pulled out the second change of workout clothes she always brought for a mid-day change. She slipped on black, paint-splattered yoga pants and a teal jog bra. She applied more deodorant, a spritz of body spray, and redid her ponytail before turning to leave and nearly running into Dave.

  Seeing him there, watching her, sent chills down her spine. She had been naked moments ago. And she was doing things, like putting on deodorant, that no man had ever seen her do, with the exception of Donovan. “What the hell are you doing? How long have you been standing there?”

  He frowned at her. “I just got here.” He backed away from the door, letting her pass.
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  She looked toward her office door, the one she had shut, which was now cracked open. “I didn’t hear a knock.”

  “I didn’t knock,” he said. “Corissa said you were back here. I thought you were working at your desk.”

  She didn’t believe him. Any normal person would’ve called out her name after not seeing her sitting behind her desk. She would’ve told him she’d be out in a moment and would’ve hastily shut the bathroom door to ensure her privacy. And she wasn’t completely sold on him not having seen her naked, either.

  “What do you need me for?”

  “I was wondering if we could discuss people assisting you during the moderate classes.”

  She frowned at him but didn’t say a word.

  “I think the moderate students could use some extra training before the advanced classes, to learn a few maneuvers that require partners.”

  “They do work in partners.”

  “Yes, I know, but some of the maneuvers we teach the advanced students in the beginning could be taught during the moderate lessons.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Are you saying I’m not teaching my students what they should be learning when they should learn it?”

  “I think we’re wasting our time—”

  She cut him off. “I know my students. I know what they’re capable of and I know when they’re ready for certain techniques. I only move students up to the next class when I feel they have a good grasp on the previous lessons and can handle a tougher routine. I never push them ahead of schedule. All of my classes are tailored to my students’ strengths and weaknesses. The advanced students aren’t professionals when they start. They have to work up to it. I know what I’m doing.”

  Before Dave could reply, she stalked out of her office to the main studio. She usually wouldn’t have gotten so heated so quickly, but after he snuck up on her, she couldn’t contain her anger. Besides that, where did he get off telling her how to do her lessons?

  “Set up the equipment, Dave,” she called over her shoulder as she went to the front desk where Corissa was reading a book.

  Corissa slipped a bookmark into place. “I, uh, sort of heard you talking a little loud back there. What’s going on?”

  Beth flipped through the sign-in sheet to make notes of who, out of her frequent students, had missed the day’s lessons. She liked to catch up the previous week’s absent students in the next lesson so they wouldn’t be behind. “Dave walked into my office, no knock, no nothing, when I was changing.”

  Corissa gasped. “Seriously? I told him you were changing.”

  Beth looked up. “You said that?”

  “Yeah. I mean, come on. It’s not rocket science. You always change now, but when he said he wanted to talk to you, I warned him. Did he…see anything?”

  “I honestly don’t know. He said he didn’t and made it sound like an accident.”

  “Donovan wouldn’t believe that,” Corissa said with her right brow quirked.

  Beth knew exactly what she meant by those words and with that look. “No, Donovan wouldn’t.” She glanced at Dave, wondering what she would do with him when the door behind her opened and the bell jingled.

  “Hi, Beth.”

  She smiled at Amanda, her best student. Amanda was eager, skilled, and smart. She reminded Beth of herself when she was an assistant for the self-defense instructor who taught her everything. Amanda had her strawberry-blonde hair in a bun atop her head, and she wore light pink workout pants with a gray fitness top. She always appeared bright-faced and happy, despite her past with an abusive boyfriend who had once stabbed her in the stomach, a secret only Beth and Donovan knew.

  All the other students arrived shortly after, and Beth began class. Today’s lesson was about getting out of choke holds. Beth went around to every pairing to correct positions and offer tips to help them use their differences of height, weight, and strength to their advantage. Every one of her students was different. Male and female. Victims, teens, grandparents, business people. They were her family. If they cried, she cried. If someone was hurt, everyone stepped in to offer support. Watching them grow filled her with pride. Many of them came looking like frightened puppies with tails between their legs, but they all found their courage with each lesson they completed. Nothing made her happier than seeing her students blossom.

  Once they accomplished the escape, she showed them a new maneuver with Dave’s assistance. After that, they had free-style time. This was her students’ favorite practice. They each took turns being the bad guy by grabbing their partners from behind. They had to find some way to get free. With the advanced students, the game was always fun. Because they were good and knew what to expect, it took more work for them to get away.

  Beth and Dave went around selecting individuals at random to test. Beth chose Amanda. She planted her feet and locked her arms around Amanda’s waist. Amanda went for the typical points of attack. She lifted her foot to stomp on Beth, but Beth snapped her foot out of the way. She thrust her elbow back, and Beth twisted clear. She threw her head back. Beth dodged it. When she struggled from side to side, looking for the leverage she’d need to send Beth flying over her to the mat, a shout hit the air.

  Amanda froze.

  Beth released her as she looked for the source of the shout.

  “You touched me, you sick bastard!” One of her students, a young woman named Maria, was pointing an accusing finger at Dave. Her entire body shook. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Beth hurried over.

  Maria went to her as if she was a child needing consoling. “He touched me, Beth.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Dave said.

  Beth ignored him and blocked him from the girl’s view. “Tell me what happened.”

  “H-he put his h-hand between my legs and touched me. He grabbed my…crotch,” she whispered the last word. Her cheeks were a searing red.

  Hearing Maria’s statement and seeing her distress enraged Beth. She knew this girl to be soft-spoken and shy. Getting her to come out of her shell had taken a lot of gentle coaxing on Beth’s part. Maria had been raped by her uncle. She was fragile, and from past experience, Beth knew she would never lie, not about something like this.

  Beth rotated stiffly to Dave. Her chest was tight. She wasn’t breathing. She glared at her assistant, daring him to speak, to lie, to make an excuse. Working closely with people while teaching self-defense meant there was some degree of touching that couldn’t be avoided, but grabbing a private area couldn’t be done by accident. Never in her entire career had she ever grasped anyone between his or her legs. It just didn’t happen. And when you worked with individuals who had experienced trauma like rape and molestation, you were especially careful.

  Dave’s upper lip was beaded with sweat. His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing heavily. Usually that would’ve been a sign of a heavy workout, except for one thing—the bulge in his pants. Dave tried to hide it with his hands and sweaty T-shirt, but there was no hiding it.

  Given what happened before class, she did not believe this was an accident. The girl behind her had a figure that could get the attention of any man, especially in tight workout clothes. If Dave could flirt with Beth and stare at her body, then he could do that with any of her female students. She felt awful for not realizing it before, for not seeing the potential danger she was putting them in. She had always thought Dave was her problem, but she was wrong. She hated that she let it get this far.

  She faced Maria. “Let’s go to my office.” While leading Maria to the back, she paused next to Emmett, a black man she lovingly called Bear, and told him to make sure Dave didn’t leave.

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Emmett said in a deep voice.

  In her office, Beth ushered Maria to a loveseat she had positioned along one wall. She gave her a bottle of water and a tissue. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.” Before leaving, she turned on her radio to let a soothing piano melody fill the room. She used it whenever she had to calm distraught s
tudents. Many tears had been shed in her office.

  Angry at Dave, with herself, she marched back into the main room. Everyone was clustered in a group on the mat, looking toward Dave who stood near the front desk. Bear was blocking the door with his arms crossed.

  Beth went straight to Dave. “Outside.” Bear shifted to the side, and Beth followed Dave out the door onto the sidewalk. She tried to speak softly, but it took all her restraint. “First, you’re inappropriate with me. That I could get over. One thing I will never forgive, or forget, is you being inappropriate with one of my students. How dare you take advantage of a girl who was raped.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask my side of it?”

  “I think your side is in your pants. That’s all I need to know. You’re fired.”

  Dave’s face turned red. His eyebrows drew together. Rage radiated off him. “You bitch!”

  He advanced on her.

  She lifted her chin and stood her ground. “You really want to do this with a room full of people well versed in the art of self-defense inside? You’d lose, so get out of here before I call the police.”

  Dave stood there a moment. His body visibly vibrated. Beth expected him to swing a punch at her, and she was ready for it if he tried. He didn’t retaliate, though. He whirled around and stalked to his car in the parking lot.

  Curse words drifted to her; words that would offend many women. She let them roll off her back as she returned to her waiting students. Seeing them standing there around the front desk, in case she needed them, made her smile. She nodded at them. “It’s handled. He won’t be back.”

  Chapter Four

  Donovan came home after his day practicing jumps and racing to see Beth sprawled on the couch in her work clothes, with a beer in hand. She never popped open a beer before eight o’clock, and she always took a shower to wash away the day’s sweat as soon as she got home.

  On the TV was one of those mind-numbing, egotistical, totally BS reality shows that she detested. Seeing her that way immediately told him something was wrong. He set his keys on the counter and went to her.