WILD HEAT

by Bella Andre

  “A couple of weeks ago, I dropped by to check on him just as he was coming back from a hike. I noticed ash on his treads, but when I asked him what he'd been doing, he couldn't tell me. He didn't know. Two miles up the trail I found a fire burning in a circle of rocks to the side of the footpath.”

  “I don't get it. Why would he have lit a campfire in the middle of the day during a short hike?”

  “I've been trying to figure that out, and the only thing I can come up with is that the fog was pretty heavy, so maybe he got cold. Or maybe he got hungry and was cooking something to eat.” He let her digest what he'd said, practically able to hear the gears churning in her head.

  “Okay, so that could possibly explain what started the wildfire, but what about everything else? The anonymous tip? The fire in my motel room? The explosion? The bomb in your car? Who hates me and you and all of the hotshots enough to try to kill us all? Because there's no way Joseph could be involved with any of that.”

  Thank God, she wasn't blaming Joseph for everything, wasn't leaping out of bed and calling the police to go after an old man who wasn't hurting anyone.

  “Someone is obviously watching us. Following our every move. We need to find out when that bomb was put in your truck. In your driveway? Or was it earlier?”

  He went to the window to look down at the smoking vehicle. He wasn't worried about it sparking a fire on the wide swatch of gravel. But there was no way they were going to be able to sort through the wreckage until it cooled down.

  “It'll be hours, at least, before we can get close to the truck.”

  She stood up, letting the sheet fall away completely. God, he thought as his chest constricted just looking at her, she is absolutely beautiful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

  Taking her once wasn't enough. Not nearly. Where Maya was concerned, he was insatiable.

  Their relationship wasn't going to end with the resolution of this case. He wanted to be with her, and not just because of the hot sex. How could he let go of a woman this fearless, this resilient in the face of daunting odds and death threats?

  “I can't just sit here and wait for the truck to cool down.”

  She reached for her underwear and pulled it on before jamming her legs into the severely beaten-up borrowed jeans. And then, suddenly, she looked up at him, a strange look on her face.

  “You need to get back to the fire.”

  He heard the words coming out of her mouth, but he could hardly believe they were real.

  “Say that again?”

  “You've told me absolutely everything. I know about your pyromania. About Joseph. Even about your relationship with Dennis. I also know you didn't light any fires. You didn't put a bomb on the hillside or in your own truck. You're completely innocent. I'm not going to wait another second to take you off suspension.”

  Holy crap. She'd just offered him the one thing he'd wanted most—and hadn't expected: The chance to get back to his crew, to keep his men safe, and to make sure they put the fire out in the most expedient way possible, before it struck down anyone else.

  And yet, how could he go? The last thing he wanted to do was leave Maya alone. Especially after their near escape from the truck.

  He couldn't let anything happen to her.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I'm not going anywhere.”

  Maya stared at Logan in utter confusion. Why wasn't he already halfway out the door? He'd said his men needed him to put out the fire. What the hell was going on?

  “If you're worried about that letter from McCurdy, I'll make sure he knows this is entirely my decision. I've never met him in person, but from everything I've heard he's a fair man. And he wouldn't want an innocent hotshot sitting around twiddling his thumbs while a fire is raging.”

  Logan was across the room in a heartbeat, his hands on her rib cage. His strength and warmth were far too welcome, his faint five o'clock shadow making him look far sexier than any man had a right to be.

  “Thank you for your willingness to go to bat for me, but there's no way I'm leaving you alone.”

  She shivered, even though his gaze was hot. Possessive. No man had ever looked at her like that. She hadn't known how much she'd like it. But she did know that she couldn't possibly allow herself to get used to it.

  “I don't need you to protect me,” she said softly, even though until she nailed the arsonist, potential danger lurked around every corner.

  “Some point or another, we all need help,” he said. “Even a tough arson investigator like you. I don't want to see you get hurt. I couldn't live with that.”

  His reaction to her declaration of independence was not what she'd expected. She'd gambled on stubborn, not protective. She wasn't at all certain how to respond, could barely wrap her head around the idea that he was more concerned for her safety than his job and his responsibilities to his men.

  “None of this makes any sense, Maya. Hell, I wish it did. Everything would be different if your life weren't in danger. But someone set your hotel room on fire. Someone wants to hurt you. It'll be harder for anyone to get to you if I'm there too.” His eyes were dark and impassioned. “I won't let anyone harm you. No matter what.”

  She should have pushed him away, but she couldn't stop herself from running her hands down his back. He winced and she couldn't believe she'd forgotten for one second about the beating he'd taken to protect her from the explosion.

  “You're bleeding again,” she said. “You should have told me to stop, you know, earlier.”

  His answering grin took her breath away. “I wouldn't have even if I'd noticed. Which I didn't.”

  “Where's your first aid kit?”

  He stepped away from her and pulled it out from a bottom dresser drawer.

  “Sit down,” she said, and when he sat on the edge of the bed she pulled out what she needed. “This is going to sting,” she warned, but he barely reacted as she gently swabbed his back with alcohol.

  As she worked, she grew more convinced that Logan needed to return to his crew. Not only to fight the fire, but because someone was trying to kill him. She hoped that putting him back in action would get him out of harm's way.

  According to the note she'd been left at the motel, this was personal. What had she and Logan both done six months ago to piss off an arsonist? And could it have something to do with her brother, with something—or someone—he'd been involved in before he'd died?

  Logan looked at her over his shoulder. “I'm not going to like what you're thinking, am I?”

  No. He wouldn't be happy to hear that she had no plans to hide away from the arsonist, to run scared.

  In fact, the more she thought about it, the less afraid she became of dealing with the crazy bastard herself. One on one, no more bullshit, no more bombs in cars and setting hillsides on fire.

  “Your crew needs you out there, Logan. Especially after what happened to Robbie. Please, go.”

  He was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. “You're putting your job on the line by letting me off suspension without getting the thumbs-up first, Maya.”

  “If they want to fire me, fine. I'll find another job.”

  He shifted on the bed and put his hands on either side of her face, kissing her so sweetly, so tenderly that tears suddenly threatened.

  His mouth still against hers, he asked, “Now tell me what you're planning.”

  “First promise me that you'll go back to your crew.”

  She had to hold firm, had to make sure she had his word. More lives than hers were at stake here. They needed to split up, attack the fire from both ends. He'd put it out and she'd make sure she caught the person responsible for the continued destruction.

  “Promise me, Logan, that you'll report back to the station immediately.”

  She could feel the tension radiating from him as he struggled to make the difficult decision. At his core, Logan was a protector. If he could, he'd watch over them all. But there was more at stake here than her personal
safety. So many lives. Houses. Slow-growth forests. All of his men.

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “How can I do that when I know you're planning to dig deeper into danger without thinking about yourself?”

  She smiled at him. “You do the same exact thing every single day. You're dedicated to your mission and always put others first, even when you're personally at risk by doing so.”

  “We're a lot alike, aren't we?”

  Yes, they were both committed to their goals, no matter the sacrifice. Which was why she'd given up everything else in her life after her brother had died. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Not when time was running out on stopping Tony's case from being labeled “cold.”

  He threaded his hands through her hair. “Tell me what you're planning.”

  She simply repeated her request. “Promise me.”

  His mouth found hers again and when she'd almost forgotten everything but the slide of his tongue, the tingles that moved through her when he nibbled at that sensitive spot in the middle of her lower lip, he whispered, “I promise.”

  Relief washed over her and she let herself relax into his arms—one last time. “Someone wants to scare us, doesn't mind killing us if we don't react fast enough. It's a game I'm done playing. I'm sick of being taken by surprise.”

  She got up off his lap, forcing herself to ignore the sure pleasure that awaited her if she remained.

  “Until this weekend, you and I only met each other once. And yet, we both seem to be targets. Is there anyone you can think of who could have seen us together six months ago?”

  “I suppose there's a chance that my friend who owned the place came back early.”

  “And if he had and he saw us together, I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to say anything to embarrass you.”

  “Maybe,” Logan agreed, “but why the hell would Eddie want to harm you? Or me? He sold the place a month later, moved out of town, and has been living with his new girlfriend in the city ever since.”

  She couldn't see a good connection. It was one more puzzle piece that either fit—or didn't.

  “I'd like to ask him some questions, just to make sure he didn't come back early and see someone outside.”

  Logan scribbled his friend's name and telephone number on an old receipt on his dresser. “Go easy on him, okay?”

  “I promise to be nice,” she said with a small smile. “Do you have a spare car we could use to get out of here?”

  “A motorcycle,” he replied. “Do you know how to ride?”

  She tried to pretend she didn't hear the double entendre, but she blushed nonetheless. “My father had a bike. He taught me how.”

  She needed to step away from him, away from his heat, the endless power he had over her.

  “My T-shirt is downstairs. Why don't you get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'll drop you off at the hotshot station, and if you don't mind, I'll keep the bike for a while.”

  His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I don't care about the bike, Maya. I care about you.”

  Afraid of what else he was about to say, she quickly moved out of the bedroom before she could find out. Downstairs, as she bent over to pick up her bra and T-shirt from the kitchen floor, she ignored the throbbing in her skull, the flash of pain and breathlessness that told her she'd barely left Logan's truck alive. She was able to continue her investigation only because of his daring rescue.

  She owed Logan more than she could ever repay.

  A handful of minutes later, she was following him out his front door into a separate building when a soft snapping sound to her left surprised her and she instantly came to a standstill. Her heart pounded and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm.

  Someone was watching them. The same person who had nearly killed them an hour ago.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Hear what?” Logan looked all around them, into the trees, the sky, back at his house.

  But as the seconds crept by, no one launched themselves out of the trees at her. The only sounds were the monotonous peep-peep-peep of a nuthatch and the rustling of pine needles in the late afternoon breeze.

  With the slowing of her heart rate came an acute feeling of foolishness.

  “Never mind. It was nothing,” she said, hating that she'd given him any reason to doubt she could take care of herself.

  Logan's eyes were dark and his jaw was jumping. She knew he was thinking of a hundred reasons he needed to stay with her.

  She needed five minutes alone to get a grip. Fortunately, she suddenly remembered that her samples from his garage had gone up in flames in the front seat of the truck.

  “I need to get those samples again.”

  She hurried back toward his garage. Thankfully, he didn't follow, and even though she felt naked without her leather bag of tricks, she shook some nails out of a couple of small glass jars and used them to collect what she needed.

  When she returned with the full jars, he said, “I still don't like this.”

  She tried to resist, tried to cut herself off cold, but she couldn't help planting a quick kiss on his beautiful mouth. “I know you don't. And it means a lot to me that you're trusting my decisions.”

  Soon they were sitting astride his Ducati 695, a motorcycle people went to crazy lengths to own and ride. She dropped the sample jars into the center console and slipped on the helmet Logan handed her. His clean scent assaulted her senses. She was acutely aware that her underwear was still damp from the pleasure he'd given her … and that she'd been inexcusably alive in his arms not fifteen minutes earlier.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself enjoy his heat one last time as he revved the engine and drove out of the barn.

  His motorcycle was a perfect part of the Lake Tahoe lifestyle. Too bad it was a life that didn't belong to her.

  And never would.

  Rage sounded in the silent forest.

  They were still alive.

  It had been an ideal setup. A tiny heat-activated bomb beneath the driver's seat that would randomly explode should have been the perfect way to kill them, perfectly untraceable as it melted inside the burning engine.

  Revenge without penalties.

  Setting the wildfire in Desolation had been a fun way to watch Logan boil in hot water, a sweet taste of revenge for what he'd done. But that bitch, the pretty little investigator with the big tits, had gotten in the way. And Logan couldn't resist playing hero again.

  Risking his life so he could get in her tight pants.

  Lighting her hotel room on fire with a bag of potato chips and a match should have been enough to make her run. But no. She was still here. Ruining everything.

  Logan could wait.

  The bitch had to die.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PRAYING IT wasn't the last time she'd see Logan, Maya concentrated on the road as she left the hotshot station, working to retrace her path to David's lab from memory. She could see why people came to Lake Tahoe for a vacation and never left. The beauty was staggering. Not just the lake, but the mountains, the trees.

  And especially the hotshots.

  Which was why she needed to solve this case and get out of Lake Tahoe, ASAP. She was no match for Logan. Everything he was pulled at her heart and made her want to give in to loving him. It wasn't just the way he touched her, wasn't simply the fact that she'd never come apart like that in anyone's arms but his.

  At last David's house came into view and a pretty middle-aged blonde walked out onto the porch. “Hi. I'm Kelly, David's wife. I'm assuming you're Maya and that you need to talk to him again?”

  Maya stood awkwardly on the driveway next to the motorcycle, holding her containers of evidence from Logan's garage. “I do.”

  She tried to smile, wanted to be friendly, but her thoughts were such a tangled mess of desires and recriminations she failed at both.

  “Come on in,” the woman said, holding open the door. “David just went out for a six-pac
k. He'll be back soon.”

  Maya didn't have time to sit around and wait for David to come back from his drink run. She stepped inside and set the bottles on the table.

  “Could you give these to your husband?”

  Kelly's eyes were startlingly blue and full of kindness. “Sure. I take it you need him to examine them quickly?”

  Maya stared at the samples, wishing she didn't have to test them.

  “I do,” she finally said, belatedly realizing she was wearing her host's clothes. “David told me to borrow these. I hope that was okay.”

  Kelly wore an odd expression as she scanned Maya's clothes, and when Maya finally looked down at the T-shirt and jeans, she saw that they were filthy, covered in a myriad of rips and tears.

  “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize …”

  “Don't worry about it. It's been a rough day, hasn't it?”

  Kelly's eyes saw far more than Maya wanted her to. God, how Maya wanted to sit down and tell this stranger everything. But no amount of pouring out her soul over coffee would fix a goddamned thing.

  Saying as little as possible had been her M.O. for a long time. No point in changing things now.

  Fortunately, Kelly didn't seem to be the kind of woman who took silences personally. “Why don't you go ahead and grab something else out of my closet?”

  Maya shook her head again. “I'm fine. Thanks.”

  If she got a chance she'd have the motel charge more “I Love Lake Tahoe” gear to her room.

  Kelly filled a glass with purified water, then leveled Maya with a steely glance. “Drink this. I'll be right back.”

  It wasn't until Maya gulped down the water that she realized how thirsty she was. Kelly returned with what looked to be a very expensive pair of designer jeans and another cute T-shirt.

  “I really don't think I should take those from you,” Maya said. “The way things have been going, they'll probably be shredded in an hour.”

  Kelly dropped them on the counter beside Maya. “You need them more than I do.” And then, after a beat, “How's Logan handling the investigation? I'm worried about him.”