by Multi-Author
She picked up a piece of pie crust and stuck it between her lips. “Yeah, he does. But, you’re here aren’t you? So I guess the story he told me isn’t so crazy.” Her smile was just a little bit smug and Duncan had to bite back a curse. She’d tricked him into verifying her source.
“What exactly did he tell you?” Hilda asked.
“That Mr. Yves…” She glanced at him. “Can I call you Duncan?”
“No.”
She went on without acknowledging his rudeness. “—has investigated several fire scenes over the past two months that were set by him…The Artist…and that the arsonist left his signature behind—“
“Wait a minute,” Duncan interrupted. “He admits to being this arsonist?”
Her smile widened.
Duncan realized his mistake immediately and tried to correct it. “Alleged arsonist.”
“Nice try, Duncan. I’m afraid the fact that Ms. Bennet is sitting here with us proves at least part of his story.” Oggs picked up her phone and tapped the screen, turning it for them to see. “He sent me this picture to prove what he was saying.”
Duncan’s pulse spiked as he looked at the picture she showed them. If he wasn’t mistaken he was looking at Hilda’s living room floor just as the fire was getting started. The picture had captured the square of dark hardwood with the freshly created signature at its center. Flames danced around the dramatically crafted letter “A” and smoke had begun to create a haze that softened the edges.
From the sample of flooring he’d sent to the lab, Duncan learned that the firebug had treated the wood around the signature with fire retardant to slow the fire’s progress in that area, preserving a portion of his signature for Duncan to find.
Hilda gasped as she realized what she was looking at. “That’s my house.” Her gaze shot to his, her pretty face paling. “Duncan, he was in my house while I was sleeping.”
Duncan reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it for comfort as much as to warn her not to say too much in front of the reporter.
Oggs’s sharp gaze was fixed on him and she was still smiling. She knew she had him.
Duncan shoved anger away, knowing it wouldn’t help, and decided to try to reason with her. “Look, I’ll admit I’ve been investigating the possibility of an arsonist. But I haven’t had any conclusive proof until now.” He jerked his head toward her phone. “That picture would prove to my superiors that the arsonist does exist.”
Oggs pulled the phone away as if afraid he’d try to snatch it from between her long fingers. “How is it possible you have no proof? The Artist claims he left a signature just like this one at every scene.”
“In red wax, which was melted mostly away by the heat and flame.”
She didn’t look sold on Duncan’s explanation. “Why would he do that? It’s clear he wants recognition for his crimes. He’d have to be stupid.”
It was the question Duncan had been asking himself for weeks. He’d come to believe the man was trying to get inside his head for some reason. The whole thing seemed much too personal. “Or he’s trying to discredit me with my boss and peers.”
Her eyes widened. “You think these fires are targeted at you? If that’s true you must have an idea who the Artist is.”
“No. I wish I did. But whoever’s doing this, his calling you and accusing me of hiding information seems to verify my suspicion that this is personal.”
“Then why did he try to kill me tonight?” Hilda asked.
Duncan wanted to swear. He didn’t look at Oggs but he could sense her perking up at the news. “Hilda…”
“He attacked you, Ms. Bennet?”
Hilda shook her head. “No, Duncan. We need her help.” She caught Oggs’s eye and held it, almost daring the other woman with her gaze. “Bernie wants to get to the bottom of this as much as we do, don’t you Bernie?”
The reporter gave Hilda a shrewd look and then sighed. “Despite what you seem to believe, Duncan, I don’t want to accuse you of something you haven’t done. But if there’s an arsonist loose in the city, we need to warn people.”
“I agree,” Duncan said. He hesitated, realizing his tone was defensive, and tried to soften it. “I’ve been just as frustrated by my inability to publish the news as you probably are at hearing we’ve been keeping it quiet. Unfortunately, the Fire Prevention Bureau has to take into consideration the possibility of creating a panic and it would be irresponsible of us to run that risk if the threat isn’t real.” Spewing the company line in defense of his inaction left a sour taste in Duncan’s mouth. But he couldn’t have Bernie Oggs going off half-cocked and creating a firestorm in the community.
She frowned. “But you’ve suspected you’ve been dealing with an arsonist?”
He searched the woman’s face for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was trustworthy. Finally, he realized he didn’t have a choice. He’d need to read her into at least a small portion of the investigation or she’d run with what little she had. “I have.”
“Why?” She cocked her head, seemingly sincere in her wish to know.
Duncan stared at his clasped hands for a moment and then finally looked up. “This has to be off the record.”
She started to shake her head.
“It has to be, Bernie. For now. But as soon as I have enough to go forward with the story I’ll give you the exclusive on it.”
She thought about his offer for a long moment and then nodded. “Deal. Now tell me what’s been going on."
* * *
He walked through the place first, taking in the coldly contemporary décor and lack of clutter. Even the walls were cold and white, with only a few, brightly colored paintings in stark black frames speckling their vast emptiness. The place didn’t feel like Hilda at all.
But it smelled of her. Her familiar scent coated the ugly surfaces within the cold walls in immutable warmth.
In the bedroom he found a few of her things…a silky nightgown draped over the back of a chair, the soft fabric still smelling of smoke. A hair band on the bedside table, which sported a few long strands of her midnight colored hair that had caught in its fibers. And some toiletries in the bathroom that she must have purchased since the fire that gutted her place.
Pulling a bottle of shampoo from the shower, he opened and sniffed it, enjoying the memory rush the flowery scent gave him. Confident and capable Hilda Bennet might be, but she’d always smelled like a girl, even when she didn’t act like one.
He smiled and dropped the lid back onto the bottle, giving it a few quick twists before placing it back on the shelf.
He moved over to the mirror hanging above a pedestal sink and stared into it, seeing a confident, handsome face reflected there. The eyes were expressionless, brittle and cold. They’d always been that way. Even when he was a child. He’d recognized it for what it was, a visible sign of the reality that he was vastly superior to everyone around him. The arrogance shining in their depths was a comfort…reminding him why he needed to be the person he was…do the things he did. But it had cost him dearly.
Nobody understood his aloof nature. Nobody wanted to be around someone so obviously superior. Nobody that is, except for one person…and she’d given him up when somebody better had come along.
The cold, handsome mask staring back at him from the glass folded into fury. The well-formed lips tightened under the rage of that long ago betrayal. The eyes brightened, filling with the fanatic light of a man on a spiritual mission.
His lungs tightened around the breath they held, releasing air in stingy wisps that brought stars to burst before his eyes. His skin prickled under the surge of fiery emotion.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of red wax, raising it to a spot just above the glass. As his hand started to move, transferring the objects in his mind onto the smooth surface, the anger began to leech away and he could finally breathe again.
He was the Artist. His canvas was the fire of gods
and men before him…a ravaging force that purified as it burned. Only a god could control the flame, turn it to his specific purpose. And as that god, it was his duty to use the gift wisely.
Purging the world of vile betrayal and wickedness at all costs.
* * *
“Turn right here,” Hilda told Duncan. “I really appreciate you giving me a ride home.”
Duncan pulled the truck into a parking lot and parked as the sun peeked over the horizon just beyond the gray brick building in front of them.
She glanced his way. “You don’t need to come in. I’ll be fine.”
He opened his door. “I don’t mind.” Duncan climbed out of the truck and started around to open her door, leaving Hilda feeling frustrated and just a tiny bit panicked. The last thing she needed in that moment was to find herself alone with Duncan. She was tired and just a little bit scared and his nearness was like a drug she knew she shouldn’t try that first time because she was certain it would be addictive.
He pulled the door open and gave her his hand, helping her down. “Whose place did you say this was?”
“My friend, Sissy’s. She’s in Europe for the summer.”
“It’s nice of her to let you stay here.”
Hilda nodded, chewing her bottom lip as Duncan guided her toward the door with a hand on her back. The heat of that hand seemed to burn through her clothing, sending residual heat spiraling to her sexual core.
They took the elevator to the third floor apartment in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze. Hilda suddenly couldn’t wait to be alone in the apartment. Embarrassment made her face heat as she remembered his kiss, and the shameless way she’d reacted to it.
She knew Duncan didn’t have the same kind of feelings for her that she’d had for him. Sure, he’d gotten caught up in a moment, probably reacting to seeing her almost die, but it was clear he was no longer affected by whatever emotion spurred him to the kiss. And she was nothing but affected.
At the door, Hilda turned to him and forced a smile that felt tight and false. “Thanks again. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Duncan watched as she punched in the code to unlock Sissy’s door. “Just let me do a quick search of the place and then I’ll leave you in peace.”
She shook her head. “It’s really not—”
Duncan placed a finger over her lips. “Humor me. That whole thing at the restaurant has me spooked.”
Hilda nodded, biting her lip. She didn’t want to admit it but she was spooked too. Losing her house had been devastating, and she still didn’t feel like she’d recovered from the terrible sense of loss. But, where the loss of her house had felt like an unfortunate accident, the fire at the restaurant had the feel of a direct attack…personal. She couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody wanted her to suffer and maybe even worse.
Duncan preceded her into the apartment and did a quick search of the bedroom, the kitchen and the second bedroom. After checking closets and even the balcony overlooking the green common area at the center of the complex, Duncan rejoined her in the living room. “You’re good. Everything looks fine.” He touched her arm. “Get some rest. I’ll call you when I’ve scheduled the meeting with Chief Bitters. Hopefully, with Bernie Oggs’s information and the picture the arsonist sent her, I can finally convince him to move forward.”
She nodded.
He stood there a moment longer, his gaze locked on hers. Hilda tried to hide the fear that had spiked when they entered the apartment, even forcing a smile that she hoped made it to her eyes.
But Duncan didn’t appear to be fooled. “It’s going to be all right, honey.”
To her horror, tears blossomed. Nodding, she scrubbed her fingers under her eyes. “I know. I’m fine. Really.”
Still he didn’t move. He held her in an inquisitive gaze as she fought to repress tears of panic.
“Aw, Hilda, come here.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight as she cried. She tried to step back after a moment, so embarrassed she thought she might die, but he wouldn’t release her. “Stop it now. Just get it out of your system. You’ve been trying to hold it all in and that’s fine. You’re strong and capable. But last night you nearly died. That takes a toll on a person.”
She laid her cheek on his chest and inhaled deeply, trying to bring calm to her system. Unfortunately, what she found as she inhaled his hot, clean scent was anything but calm. Her body tightened in a natural, almost visceral reaction.
Her fingers curled into his shirt and held on, fear and pain forgotten under a deluge of much more pleasant sensations. Duncan held her tight, one big hand sliding up and down her arm to comfort and soothe. Little did he know that, along with the proximity of his hard form and delectable scent, his touch was doing exactly the opposite of soothing.
Before Hilda knew what she was doing, she’d turned her head and placed her lips on the tanned slash of sexy flesh showing in the vee of his button down shirt.
He stilled as she pressed a lingering kiss to his chest, his breath speeding. She tightened her grip on his shirt in case he thought about stepping away and slid her tongue over the hot skin beneath her lips.
He sucked in a breath, his hands sliding down to cup her buttocks. “Hilda…” Her name was a sexy caress, filled with heat that matched her own.
Suddenly unwilling to wait, she tugged on his shirt and it separated, sending a few buttons flying to skitter across the hardwood floor. Her searching lips traced the hard, golden mound of his pecs and stopped over the small, rigid bud of one nipple. She nibbled the sensitive peak and he moaned softly. His hands slid upward, underneath her tank top and along her sides.
As she kissed her way over to his other nipple, Duncan’s fingers found the swollen mounds of her breasts beneath her bra and skimmed over that oh-so-sensitive flesh, sending lust a few notches higher.
“Are you sure, Hilda? If we start this I’m not sure I can stop.”
She lifted her head and captured his sexy upper lip between her teeth, biting just hard enough to make him moan. “Don’t you dare stop, Duncan. I don’t want to stop, either.”
With a groan, Duncan slid his hands beneath her buttocks and pulled her off her feet, snugging her mons up against the rigid bulge at the front of his jeans.
She cried out as he pressed against her, delicious sensation jolting through her, and wrapped her legs around his hips.
Duncan captured her mouth in a kiss that just about made her ears smoke. She twined her arms around his neck and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.
Hilda opened her mouth and slid her tongue between his lips, tasting and claiming the space as her own. His lips pressed hers almost painfully as Duncan wrapped his big hand around the back of her neck and pulled her more deeply into the kiss.
She pressed her mons shamelessly against him, her breath coming in fits and starts as pleasure swirled. Her stomach jumped under each jolt of delicious pleasure threading through her and she was so hot she thought she might combust.
In desperation, Hilda broke the kiss and told him, “I need you inside me, now!”
“Which bedroom?” Duncan gasped out, before his lips found the tender pulse point at the side of her throat.
“First one, on the right.”
As she nibbled her way over his sexy throat, Duncan carried her to the partially closed door, kicking it open without missing a stride, and laid her down on the bed. He tugged the button on her shorts and pulled the skimpy cutoffs down her legs.
He sucked air when he spotted her fully shaved mons, sans panties. “God, Hilda, you’re even more beautiful than I’d imagined.”
She spread her legs, reaching down to press her fingers against the throbbing nub at their apex. “Make love to me, Duncan. I’m so unbelievably hot right now.”
He dropped to his knees and, grasping her legs at the knees, pulled them wide.
Excitement flared as she realized what he was about to do. She
dropped her head back on the bed and held her breath in expectation. Despite the delicious anticipation, nothing could have prepared her for the incredible sensation of his hot lips covering her clitoris.
Hilda cried out at the first hot, wet pull of his talented lips and threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him there. Her body was already climbing toward delight, her skin blooming with heat and the coil of lust in her belly tightening to an almost painful state.
Duncan slipped his tongue along the wet crease of her pussy and she shuddered with pleasure. He opened his mouth wider, sucking harder as she thrashed helplessly beneath his tender work.
Each pull of his lips on her mons made her gasp. Each blissful tug carried her higher and closer to the point of no return. Her fingers tightened, spasming against his scalp as she felt herself sliding over the edge, hesitating in delightful expectation, and then plunging downward into knee melting release.
She gasped under the first decadent wave, crying out in helpless joy as pleasure swelled, and then shuddered with delight as she crashed down into a melting pool of golden ecstasy.
Her body languid and loose, Hilda reached for Duncan, suddenly unable to wait another second to have him buried deep inside her. “Come,” she instructed him in a breathless voice.
Duncan rose to his feet and, watching her with hungry eyes, unzipped his jeans and started to tug them off. He stopped and a look of pure panic transformed his face. “I don’t have a condom.”
She felt her eyes go wide. “Oh. I don’t either.” She frowned, lifting to her elbows. “I’ll bet Sissy does though.” She searched one of the nightstands and Duncan searched the other but they came up empty.
He looked at her. “Bathroom?”
Nodding, Hilda jumped up and planted a leisurely kiss on his lips and then, laughing, dodged out of reach as he grabbed for her. She was grinning like a loon when she went into the bathroom and looked around, deciding the medicine cabinet would be the best place to find what she was looking for. She’d left it open that morning so she quickly spotted the box of condoms. With a squeal of delight, she grabbed the whole box and stepped back, closing the mirrored front of the cabinet.
