I Burned Down His House (Love at First Crime Book 3)

by Jessica Frances

  “You keeping an eye on me?” His eyebrow rises, giving me a startled look before he breaks into a grin.

  “No,” I rush to lie. I might have a weird obsession with Joey, but he certainly doesn’t need to know that. “I just notice you are gone a lot. I do look after Karma quite a bit.”

  “You do, and I’m sorry about tonight. I really expected to be home sooner, but something came up and I couldn’t leave. I didn’t even think about Karma.” He sounds self-recriminating.

  How can he sound that way when I’m the one who just destroyed his home?

  “It’s okay. I’m just sorry about what happened.”

  “Me, too. But don’t worry about it; there are no hard feelings.”

  I wonder if Joey is just in shock. He should have more emotion than a shrug over his entire worldly possessions going up in flames.

  When he pulls up our street, we spy his house, which is clearly ruined. Black soot covers his blown-out windows and it looks like his roof has collapsed inward. I have no doubt the insides are just as bad.

  A few women and men are scattered about, some still wearing protective gear. A couple of them are police officers, and I assume the rest are investigators.

  Again, guilt assails me and emotions clog my throat as Joey parks in my driveway and we get out of the car, both staring over at the remains.

  I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I was in that house when the fire started, that I am the reason Joey is without a home now. He might not be able to bring himself to care, but I do.

  “Hey.” Joey wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. “It’s okay. No tears, please. You’re fine, Karma is fine, and I’m fine. That’s all that matters.”

  I nod, still unable to speak, and when he pulls me around for a hug, my tears are unstoppable.

  I can’t believe this. I burned down this man’s house and he’s the one comforting me!

  He doesn’t offer me further soothing words, just holds me, his solid body close. His touch is warm, and his hug is more comforting than any words.

  I try to pull myself together, and as soon as I have a handle on my tears, I pull back.

  Joey wipes away the stains of my tears before I can, and I hold my breath, my heart beating loudly in my chest as I stare up into his eyes.

  He gazes down at me sweetly, his eyes catching my wet ones, and gives me a small smile. “I’ll get Karma in a bit. Let me talk to these guys. You go inside, have a shower, change your clothes, and hop into bed.”

  I nod, feeling more on autopilot than anything. “Okay,” I murmur, trying to pull myself together and force myself to step back out of his arms, not that my legs cooperate.

  “Leave your back door open so I can come in that way.”

  I nod again, my mind racing ahead.

  Joey is actually going to stay with me. We need to set guidelines. We need to figure out what the rules are. I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact that Joey Kim, my crush of six months, is going to be sleeping one room away from me!

  “Teags,” Joey says quietly, moving his fingers up to pinch my chin and force me to look into his eyes. “It’s going to be okay. I know the cops in this area. We’ll get this cleared up and you won’t be charged, I promise.”

  I part my lips, but no words come out. How is it that he’s being so nice to me? Why does he care so much when he should be shouting and ranting at me?

  No one is this calm after their house burns down, are they?

  “Thanks, Joey,” I manage to croak out.

  He gazes at me a little while longer. I can’t read his expression. I have no idea what he sees when he looks at me.

  “Go on. I’ll be in soon.”

  He lets me go, and after a quick glance at the hectic bubble around Joey’s house, I enter my own home that is still unlocked. Thankfully, no one thought to try to steal from me while I took my little side trip to the police station.

  As soon as the door is closed behind me, I quickly glance over my place with a tired but critical eye. My bras and panties are hanging on a clothes horse in my living room. My coffee table is covered in smutty romance novels. My kitchen has serious evidence of my chocolate addiction, and my fridge is filled with a half-eaten, family-sized cake. Meanwhile, the bathroom has tampons scattered over the counter, as well as a couple razors. I obviously don’t entertain much here.

  I stash away the chocolate, hoping he doesn’t look in the fridge to notice the cake, and hide the tampons and razor in a drawer. After a quick glance at the spare bedroom, I change the sheets before removing my excess clothes and dumping them on the floor of my walk-in closet. After this, I finally take stock of myself and nearly cry at the sight that greets me.

  My onesie pajamas look ridiculous enough, but add in the soot, the smoke smell attached to me, and the blotchy face from my tears, I look awful.

  It’s times like these, when everything is going wrong, I demand to know why our bodies can’t have a coping mechanism where we suddenly look fabulous. Why can’t my hair fall into place just right and my skin become smooth and clear? Why can’t I suddenly lose a couple pounds so I can at least feel good about myself while everything else is going to shit around me?

  But no, my life looks about the same as what I do right now, and that exhausts and upsets me even more.

  I hate today.

  Sporadically crying, I wash off my awful night. Then, barely able to keep my eyes open, I change into some suitable pajamas, ones I don’t care if Joey sees me in, and collapse into bed.

  It isn’t until I’m almost asleep that I recall never unlocking the back door, yet I’m too far gone to jolt myself back awake to do anything about it.

  Just add it to the list of reasons I suck at being an adult these days.

  ***

  I awake groggy and wet. Groggy, because I find it’s lunchtime when I glance at the clock; and wet, because Karma is licking my face as she rests on my bed.

  “What are you doing in here?” I mumble, wiping my face then rubbing my eyes to try to wake up.

  It doesn’t take me long to remember what happened yesterday, or more accurately, this morning. Karma being with me means it wasn’t all some horrible nightmare.

  Hearing voices from the other room—male voices—it’s then I notice I’m not alone in the house. I haven’t heard voices in my house that didn’t come from a TV since I moved here.

  It’s strange to know I’m not alone, and unsettling to know that I have no idea who Joey has with him.

  At least the voices are male, and we haven’t had to cross the hurdle of him bringing a woman here. Then again, it’s still the early days. Or hours.

  I climb out of my warm bed, redoing my loose ponytail and grabbing a robe to cover myself before silently making my way out into the hall.

  As the voices get louder, I slow down, listening to what is being said.

  “… lost him last night,” a man murmurs, frustration in his tone.

  “Shit!” That’s Joey. “I’m sorry, Zander.”

  “It’s all right. You obviously couldn’t have predicted what was going to happen,” a different voice states, perhaps the Zander that Joey just mentioned?

  “Still, this is getting hot, and losing him at the worst time isn’t ideal,” Joey counters.

  I feel awful. Joey mentioned working last night. I assume they are talking about the fact that he had to leave whatever he was doing to bail me out.

  “What happened, happened. We’ll deal with it. Did you see anything last night?” the same voice, possibly Zander, mutters.

  “He met up with a woman, but it seemed innocent enough. They were fucking when I left.”

  I wince at the harsh way Joey speaks.

  “You didn’t see her pass him anything?”

  “No.”

  “His tastes didn’t delve into any dark alleys?”

  “Not that I saw. The woman was definitely faking it, though.” Joey has a smirk in his voice. I am desperate
to peek around the corner to see it. I haven’t seen a smirking Joey yet. However, I resist.

  “Like you’d know,” the first man scoffs.

  “I know,” Joey assures.

  “Whatever. What about this woman who torched your place? You don’t think she could have been paid, do you? Could it have been on purpose?” This is Zander’s voice.

  My heart squeezes painfully that Joey’s friends and possible coworkers suspect me of doing that on purpose.

  “No, she’s innocent. She came over to feed Karma, and Karma attacked her when she was starting up the fireplace.”

  “That fucking dog. She’s caused more problems than she’s helped. She made the office chaos, and now she’s part of the reason you’ve lost your fucking house. I’m not sure how she even passed puppy school, let alone apparently worked as a police dog,” the man says.

  I sneak a glance around the corner to see three men standing in my living room, where my underwear and bras are out for all to see! Damn, I forgot about them.

  I see a bearded man reaching down to pet Karma on the head. Karma basically beams at him.

  I duck back around the corner before I am seen.

  “She’s a sweetie,” Joey defends, making me flush when I consider he’s talking about me, but of course he’s not. “She just likes to warmly and enthusiastically greet everyone.”

  “You’d think she’d have better restraint than a damn newborn puppy,” the same man growls.

  When I chance another look, I see that voice belongs to the bearded man, meaning the man who looks like he could easily be a professional body builder must be Zander.

  Since the bearded man is petting Karma lovingly, I don’t think he means anything bad by his words. He’s clearly very affectionate toward Karma.

  “Can we get back on track?” Zander snaps.

  “Right,” Joey mutters. “So, Teagan said I can live here, which means I can stick to my plan. I can still keep an eye on Clayton and nothing has to change.”

  Clayton? Does he mean Hart Clayton, the man who lives across the street from me? Why would he need to keep an eye on him? He’s an absolute sweetheart. Single, clean, friendly, he is the owner of some club, I think. He also mentioned volunteering at a homeless shelter. Every holiday, he donates his time and money to help feed those in need. If he was my type, I would be all over him.

  “Good. This has already taken up too much of our time. Ava is getting suspicious.” Zander does not sound pleased.

  “You mean, the girls are spinning conspiracy theories because you hired Gemma, a woman who has barely any experience, and one who has made a point of ignoring our women, without one good explanation as to why?” the bearded man growls, sounding agitated.

  “That isn’t my story to tell.”

  “Maybe,” bearded man concedes. “But your wife might need an exception made for her.”

  “I love Ava, but you both know, if I tell her, she’ll end up telling Sasha, and then everyone will know.”

  “Whatever. Sasha is already getting suspicious. Gemma is on our payroll, yet she is hardly ever seen. And my workload has cut down by half, yet I’m putting in more hours than ever before,” Joey comments.

  “How about you guys leave Sasha to me?”

  “You can’t fuck her into submission forever, Dec. Your penis isn’t that magical,” Joey snaps. His words are crude, but at least I get a name for the final man.

  “You know that for a fact?” Dec asks on a laugh.

  “Yes, I do. Because my own penis is magical, and I’d sense if someone else with my skills was near,” Joey jokes. Well, I hope he’s joking.

  When my feet grow cold on the tiles, I shift them silently, trying to return feeling to them. I should have put socks on.

  “You are such a fuckhead.” The words are harsh, but they all sound like they have smiles in their voices.

  This is officially the weirdest conversation I have ever heard.

  “Let’s get back on track. This Teagan Bevon, you’re sure she has nothing to do with Clayton?”

  “Nothing at all. I already checked her out. She’s clean.”

  Joey checked me out? What does that even mean?

  “Okay, you need to keep her away from this case. The last thing we need is her getting sucked into this.”

  “Don’t worry; she’s oblivious,” Joey assures them.

  I’m oblivious? What does that mean? Oblivious to what? And why is he saying that like I’m an idiot?

  Hurt and annoyance build inside me, but since they continue talking, I hold down my feelings as I try to catch more of what they are saying.

  “It doesn’t take much to get sucked in, Joey. Keep nothing important here, and when you’re out of the office, check in with us constantly,” Zander demands.

  “Got it.”

  I listen as Joey walks the two guys out of my house, and then I quickly escape back into my bedroom. Once the front door shuts, I come out of my room like I’m just waking up, giving a big yawn to sell it.

  “Morning … or afternoon,” Joey says cheerfully as I move into the kitchen to make myself a coffee.

  You wouldn’t know based on how he is now that he just lost everything a few hours ago. Or did he? What was that conversation from before really about? Is he here just to keep an eye on Hart? And if so, does that mean the house was just a cover? Is that why he didn’t spend every night there?

  “Hi.” I sound groggy, which is good since it helps to sell that I just woke up.

  “I spoke to the fire marshals this morning. They confirmed the origin of the fire started in the living room like you said. There was no accelerant, but my furniture was old, and everything I owned was basically a fire hazard, so it wouldn’t have taken much.”

  “Oh,” I mutter, tipping the water into the coffee maker and adding the grounds before turning it on.

  “Anyway,” Joey carries on when I don’t give him more, “the house is lost. The structural damage is enough that it can’t be saved.”

  Guilt wraps tightly around me again. I glance up at Joey, who is standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, then hold my breath when he bounds quickly toward me, gently grabbing my hands.

  “Don’t be like that. I know it was an accident.”

  Right, because I’m oblivious. Whatever that means.

  “I still feel awful.”

  “Well, stop. Life is too short to waste on pointless emotions.”

  “Joey …” I sound exasperated to my own ears. “You just lost everything you own. No one can possibly be this okay.”

  “I guess I’m not like most people. Things can be replaced.” He gives me a warm smile, distracting me before I manage to push past the daze I seem to always be in when I’m around him.

  I shake my head, not understanding this man at all. How can he be so forgiving?

  “I’m heading out for a bit. I made myself a key.” He takes out a shiny key from his back pocket. “Think you can walk Karma for me later?”

  I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that he made himself a copy of my house key. Then again, what was he supposed to do? He is living here … for now.

  “Sure,” I finally mutter.

  He squeezes my hands briefly before letting go and grabbing an apple from my fruit bowl on his way out. “I won’t be back until late, so don’t wait up,” he calls out.

  Before I can discuss any house rules, like definitely no women, he’s already gone.

  Karma suddenly appears by my legs, looking sad and pathetic, with her leash in her mouth and hope in her eyes.

  I chug back my coffee, taking her leash and deciding to get her walk over and done with.

  Why do I get the feeling I have become a full-time pet owner?

  Chapter 3

  Days pass with barely any interaction with Joey. The only reason I know he has been back to the house is because I notice a stockpile of dirty clothes heaping up in the corner of his room.


  I assume the two men who were here the other day must have delivered them since some are clearly worn in. I have also seen a few tags floating around, so I guess Joey purchased some new clothing and shoes. I haven’t had a chance to ask him about what type of cover his insurance has, and I haven’t been asked to speak to the police again.

  After a hectic work week, where I manage a daycare center, I spend the weekend as I imagine most people do—catching up on house cleaning. Doing my own laundry, and placing my drying underwear and bras in a more suitable place is nothing new. However, entering Joey’s new bedroom and eyeing the pile of clothes thrown haphazardly in the corner is definitely not an every weekend occurrence.

  Do I do his laundry? Is that helpful or creepy? Overstepping or being nice? Encouraging him to allow me to mother him or just a one-off sweet gesture?

  After I give it way too much thought, I decide to just go ahead and do it. I have time, and I did burn down his house.

  Before I make it into his room, though, Karma begins barking furiously from the other end of the house.

  I leave to investigate, not sure why she’s going off like that. Unless she’s hungry, sees you holding her leash, or seriously needs to pee, she is usually a quiet dog. Since I only fed her an hour or so ago, which is the same time she went outside to do her business, and I am currently not holding her leash, I’m stumped.

  A knock at the door distracts me from approaching Karma, who is growling at the window looking out onto the street. She’s not barking right now, at least.

  I glance through the peephole, seeing Hart on the other side. For the first time ever, I feel trepidation answering the door.

  I have never considered Hart to be someone to be cautious around, but since overhearing Joey’s conversation about investigating him, I’m not so sure now. Without a reason to ignore him, or any evidence that Joey isn’t just investigating some fraud or another nonviolent issue, I open my front door, only to have Karma come bounding around the corner and into the hallway, charging headfirst at Hart.

  In an effort to stop her from attacking him, I slam the door before she can escape, hearing a crunch when the door impacts with Hart.