Spontaneous Combustion

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Spontaneous Combustion Page 20

by Bobby Hutchinson


  “Stick to fiction, it’s safer that way.”

  “Okay.” Her mind was racing, because she hadn’t actually figured out the finer points of all this until now. “I’ll say my theory is that you were in that warehouse wearing the silver because someone paid you to set the fires. If Odom did hire someone, he’ll know that isn’t true, but he’ll also get nervous and do his best to get you off the trail. He might just be antsy enough to do something that’ll incriminate him.”

  “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

  “Shows how wrong you can be. So what d’ya say? Are we partners?”

  The humor suddenly went out of his voice. “Why the hell do you want to be involved in this, Shannon? It could be dangerous, it’s bound to get nasty. There’s no logical reason for you to be part of it.”

  “Oh, yes, there is.” She was clear about this. “I’m proud of what I do,” she said fiercely. “I’m proud of the hall I work at. How do you think it makes me feel, knowing that the battalion chief from my station is a rotten crook? That he’s actually bringing stuff into the country that can destroy the ozone layer, and he’s using insider info to do that?” Her voice hardened. “And then there’s the little matter of my private vendetta with the slimeball. He deliberately took advantage of his position to come on to me, knowing that I probably wouldn’t fight back, and I didn’t. So other female firefighters will be up against the same thing with him—or worse. Believe me, I’ve got a whole list of reasons why I want to see Odom busted, John.”

  He looked at her for a long time, then reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek. “You’re a fine piece of work, Shannon O’Shea. A bona fide original.”

  She didn’t say anything. She’d already covered every argument she had. Now it was up to him.

  It took a while. She was thinking it was game over when he finally sighed and said, “Okay, Shannon.”

  “Yes!” She punched a fist in the air, narrowly missing his nose.

  He jerked back. “Go easy on me, okay? My jaw is still aching from the last time. Now here’s how it’ll go. We’ll play Odom your way, because I think it actually might work. But there are conditions, and you have to abide by them.”

  Wouldn’t you know? Male ego, front and center. “What conditions?’

  “I guess you won’t just make me a solemn promise without me spelling them out?”

  “You guess right. Why would I? A person always has to read the fine print.”

  “You’re a hard woman, O’Shea.”

  “No. I just drive a hard bargain. There’s a difference.”

  He smiled at that, but the smile faded fast. “These are the rules. If and when a situation comes up that I feel has the potential to be physically dangerous, you’re out. No arguments, no discussion.”

  She opened her mouth to debate that and shut it again when she recognized the steely glint in his eyes. “Okay. And?”

  “And it’s my way or the highway when it comes to decisions. No second-guessing me.”

  She snorted. “Talk about a typical alpha male.” But again, the look in his eyes told her that there was only one acceptable answer. “All right. You Tarzan. Me Jane.”

  “One more, and it’s a biggie. You don’t make any moves without checking with me first.”

  There was no need to swear in blood, was there? “Right. So when do we start?”

  “We’re both on shift tomorrow. When you get a chance, ask to talk to Odom in private, and make sure the meeting happens in daylight, in a public place, preferably with me nearby.”

  She blew out a breath. “I’m not physically afraid of that little worm. I could easily knock him senseless if I had to.”

  “Probably. And here’s your first directive as my partner. Nobody can win against a weapon, Shannon. Keep in mind that this isn’t an arm wrestling contest. Odom and Gruber are dangerous, and they have no morals. What they probably do have is guns or knives or explosives. So absolutely no heroics, understood?”

  “Gotcha.” She traced a finger down the seam of his jeans and back up again. “So, are we all done with the work part now?”

  “I’d say so.” He reached down and pulled her up on the sofa beside him, wrapping her close in his arms. “What did you have planned for recreation again?”

  “I know these really great Pilates exercises.” She put her mouth on his and outlined his lips with her tongue, and then kissed him until she couldn’t get her breath. “Only problem is,” she gasped, “we have to do them naked.”

  He heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Well, I guess if we have to, we have to. Anything for physical fitness.” He undid the buckle of his belt and then paused. “Where are the dogs, by the way?”

  Remembering the fiasco they’d created the last time, she smiled. “Locked in the dog run.”

  “And you’re certain your upstairs boarder is up to no good with Uncle Donald?”

  “Nearly positive. But just to be safe, let’s move to my bedroom, where there’s both a door and a lock.”

  “Practical and smart, what a lady.”

  “Guess again, Sebastian. I’m no lady.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  FORTY MINUTES LATER, Shannon collapsed into the curve of John’s arm. Her breath was none too steady, and neither was her voice.

  “Lordy. We’ll have to try that again on a slower speed.”

  “I kept saying whoa, and easy does it, but you weren’t listening.” He pulled her down and snuggled her tight, wrapping strong arms and legs around her. “There’s always the next time. Just give me a moment here. I’ll recover and then I’ll try to do better.”

  “Practice. We need lots of practice.”

  “Mmm.” He was quiet for such a long time, she thought he’d drifted off to sleep.

  “Shannon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay with this?”

  “Pretty much. Your leg’s a little heavy, but hey, I can live with it.”

  “I meant with us. You and me. Being together this way.”

  She knew exactly what he was asking. “You mean this hot sex, short-term, no holds barred, no-promises thing we’ve got going?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Apart from lying about everything else, you have been honest about your lack of intentions.” This was taking fortitude. “You told me up front you weren’t a forever guy.

  Here today, gone tomorrow is pretty much how I interpret it. Am I right?”

  The silence this time was much longer. “Yeah. Right. That about sums it up, I guess. Not that I’m gonna walk out on you without a word, or never call again. That’s not the case at all. It’s just that because of my job, I won’t be in Courage Bay very long. I’ll be going back to New York. I just wanted us to be on the same page with this, Shannon. No misunderstandings.”

  “Absolutely not.” She understood, of course she did. That didn’t mean she felt good about it. In fact, she felt pretty rotten all of a sudden, the kind of rotten that needed privacy. She rolled away from him and stretched, pretending to get a glimpse of the bedside clock.

  “My lord, look at the time. We have to get up in a couple hours if we’re gonna make it to work on time.”

  “Maybe I ought to head back to the hotel, let you get a little sleep.”

  So now even spending the night was too much of a statement for him. “Yeah, that’s probably the most practical idea.”

  He rolled out of bed and located his clothes. When he was dressed, he leaned over and kissed her.

  She kissed him back. She couldn’t help herself, and besides, it wasn’t his fault.

  “Don’t get up,” he whispered. “I’ll find my own way out. I’ll use your keys to lock the door and then leave them in the mailbox.”

  “See you at work.” She waited until she heard the kitchen door close before she let out a stream of curses. They didn’t make her feel any better.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around her naked belly. This was
pathetic. It was such a cliché, falling for an unavailable guy. What was wrong with her? Besides letting herself love John Sebastian Forester McManus, of course. But then, did anyone plan that sort of thing?

  He has no intentions of doing anything more than giving you a really good time in bed, she reminded herself. He’s said so, twenty times to Sunday. So get over it.

  Except she didn’t know how to get over it. She didn’t have the energy. She was tired, no question there. It had been an eventful day. She went over it, deliberately doing a freeze-frame when she reached the part where she got to hold the new baby.

  I want one of those, she thought, and a mental image of a baby girl with John’s gentle smile appeared in her mind. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, as her father was fond of saying. It was obviously time to break out the pecan ice cream and the chocolate sauce.

  WHICH WAS PROBABLY WHY her stomach was upset the following day—or could it be from being in the same space as Victor Odom? Shannon wondered.

  The same small space. They were in Joe’s office, and the door was firmly closed. Odom was lolling back in Joe’s chair, and she was across the desk from him, thank goodness for small mercies. Even so, his weaselly eyes were running all over her like greasy smoke. She’d need another shower when this was over.

  “I saw the article in California Woman. Congratulations, O’Shea. Too bad they didn’t do a centerfold.” He tipped the chair back and smirked at her. He had the kind of smarmy voice she associated with dishonest politicians. “Now, what exactly did you want to see me about?”

  “I needed to talk to you privately about the warehouse fire, the first one. Maybe the second, too, I’m not sure.”

  She watched closely, trying to discern the slightest reaction, but Odom’s pale gray eyes weren’t giving anything away except his lecherous nature. They were focused on her breasts, and she resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  “Oh yeah? What about the fires?”

  “I have good reason to believe that John Forester was the man in the silver who pulled me and the dog out of the warehouse after that first fire. And I think—I’m almost certain—that he was the one who started it.”

  Odom frowned, and now he looked at her face. He had quite a line etched between his eyebrows. Smuggling must be a high-stress job. Had he heard of Botox?

  She amused herself by imagining him getting an overdose of botulism.

  “That’s a pretty serious accusation, O’Shea. What do you have to back it up?”

  She launched into the story she and John had agreed on, detailing her suspicions about John doing drugs, emphasizing that he’d confided in her about his need for money. She hinted that she’d taken John to bed and he’d told her that something of value had been hidden in the warehouse.

  “So if he figured there was something there worth money, why the hell would he torch the place?”

  “I think he was deliberately destroying evidence, maybe for somebody else. Whatever was stored there was illegal, and he burned the warehouse to hide the evidence. And I’ve followed him a couple of times. He was poking around there again after the second fire, too. Maybe he started that one as well.”

  Odom pursed his fleshy lips and narrowed his eyes even more. “Doesn’t sound as though you have anything concrete to go on, O’Shea. I’d recommend keeping your mouth shut about all this unless you have definite proof. You talked to anyone else besides me?”

  “No, sir. I felt it best to come straight to you.”

  “Smart thinking. Leave it with me. You can be certain I’ll look into it.” He got to his feet and was around the desk before she made it out of the chair. Damn, he was fast as a snake, even without the venom. She sidestepped him, but there wasn’t a lot of space to maneuver, and by the time she got to the door, he had his hand on the knob.

  “Thank you, sir.” She waited for him to open the door, and when he didn’t, she gave him a questioning look.

  “You can come to me anytime, O’Shea. I want you to know that.” His smile sent a shudder through her. She reached for the doorknob, but he went right on holding it.

  “Next time maybe we oughta meet somewhere more private.”

  She put her hand over his and wrenched at the door. He slowly drew his arm back, managing to touch her breasts before she got the door open.

  When she bolted out, she saw John kneeling only a few feet away, supposedly checking and repacking first aid kits. Odom walked away without giving any sign that he’d noticed or recognized him.

  Shannon saw the look that John shot after the battalion chief, however, and once again a shudder went up her spine. John’s brown eyes, usually filled with humor, were icy cold, and the expression on his face was murderous.

  HE’D KILL THE BASTARD.

  John saw the way Shannon bolted out of the office, and how close Odom was to her. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out that the man had had his hands on her again.

  It took every ounce of control John could muster to keep from springing to his feet and grabbing the asshole by the neck. Somewhere, sometime, you’ll pay for that, he silently promised Odom.

  The PA system came on just then, and they were called to a rooming house in a run-down area of town. An old man had died in his bed, and the other residents hadn’t realized anything was wrong until the smell of his decomposing body began to permeate the entire upper floor. There was nothing the firemen could do except wait for the police, and they were back at the fire hall before John had an opportunity to talk to Shannon in private.

  They met in the workout room. Shannon was using free weights, and John retrieved a set and sat down beside her.

  “I think he believed me,” she said in a low voice. “But he’s a really good actor. There wasn’t the faintest sign that he knew what I was talking about, or that it upset him in any way. In fact, I had the feeling he didn’t believe me. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea after all,” she said in a forlorn tone.

  “It was a great idea, and I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’ll be on my case before the day is over.” John hefted the weights, working on his biceps. “What did he do to you, anyhow? You came out of there like you were shot from a cannon.” He managed to sound simply curious.

  “Nothing, really. Just his usual, copping a feel whenever he’s within arm’s reach, stripping me with his eyes.” She shivered.

  “Nice guy, our Mr. Odom.”

  “I hope you win the bet, John.”

  One of the other men came in just then, and there was no more opportunity to talk. But after supper John was called to the phone.

  “Battalion Chief Odom here. I’m in my car, black Olds, parked up the street. I want a very private word with you, Forester. Now.”

  “What about, sir?” John tried to combine respect with a good dollop of nervousness.

  “Don’t ask questions, just get your ass out here, and don’t broadcast where you’re going.”

  “Yes, sir.” John hung up and walked out through one of the bays into the darkness, making his way to Odom’s car. He opened the passenger door and slid inside.

  Odom was smoking, and it was obvious he smoked a lot. The leather interior of the luxurious car smelled like an overflowing ashtray.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” Again, John tried to sound both nervous and respectful, one of the toughest acting jobs he’d ever taken on. One of Odom’s pudgy hands was resting on the steering wheel, and John imagined those sausagelike fingers touching Shannon, and then allowed himself to visualize slowly bending them back until they snapped. Violence was a thing he’d always detested, but at this moment he could see its advantages.

  “I hear you might have some interesting news about the two warehouse fires.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Belatedly, because it almost choked him, he added, “Sir?”

  “There are no secrets around a firehouse, Forester. You must know that by now. Let’s just say a pretty little bird whispered in my ear that you might have pyro tendencies.” He snickered.<
br />
  The bloody creep. He didn’t even have enough loyalty to protect Shannon. If John really were the arsonist, Odom would be deliberately putting her in danger.

  “So how much of what she says is true? Did you set those fires, Forester?”

  “No.” John did his best to sound outraged. “Why the hell would I do a thing like that?” He pretended to segue into anger. “I never set any fires. But I’m pretty sure something valuable was stored in that warehouse before it was torched. I figure that’s why it was torched.”

  “Oh, yeah? Valuable like what?”

  John paused, waiting until Odom looked directly at him. “Like Freon. Before I came here, I’d heard via the grapevine that there’s a shitload of money to be made on the black market by bringing that stuff into the country.”

  “Yeah? Who told you that?”

  “This guy I met from Venezuela. He said his brother was making big money smuggling it in. He mentioned Courage Bay. And then after I got here, I overheard one of the firemen saying there used to be a lot of it around our hall, that it was used as a fire suppressant. And the fire inspector figured something valuable had been stored at the warehouse. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

  “Yeah? I never heard the inspector say that.”

  “Maybe you’re out of the loop, then.” Shannon was right; not a flicker of an eyelash. This guy was cool.

  “That Freon stuff’s illegal,” Odom added. “Who do you think would be smuggling it in?”

  John shrugged, holding the man’s gaze. “No idea.” He wondered how far to take this, and decided the hell with it. He might as well go for broke. “I don’t give a shit who’s doing it. I’m just interested in getting in on the deal.”

  “Yeah? And what makes you think there’s any money to be made?”

  “You never know your luck. I’ve always found that information can be valuable, in the right hands.”

  “What information would that be?”

  “I took a good look around that warehouse after the second fire, and I found evidence.”

 

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