by J. R. Ward
As he went back downstairs, his sinuses were pissed from the mold and dust, his ribs sore from that messy rescue the day before, and his head pounding from the alcohol and the no-sleep he’d pulled during the night hours. And yes, he refused to see any parallels between the state of his life and the condition the old house was in.
Nope.
There was no connection between the two.
Off in the distance, he heard a low growl. “’Bout fucking time.”
As he went out the front door, Moose’s bumblebee-yellow Charger was stopping behind his truck, and the guy unfurled his heft from the driver’s side with a glower.
“You got a helluva nerve.”
“Good morning to you, sunshine.” Danny put his cig out on the tread of his work boot. “What took you so long. You’re late.”
Moose stomped over and did not come up onto the shallow porch. He looked tired with the bags under his eyes, and his hair was messy like it had taken a page from his beard’s book and was trying the disorderly routine out at a higher elevation. New Brunie FD shirt was tight around the middle, looser than it had been on the shoulders, testament to brawn turning into paunch—oh, and naturally, his heavy khakis had the faded stains of motor oil all over them.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guy said.
“You’ve never done a training exercise by yourself.”
“You’re suspended.”
“Do you have the accelerant?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
As Danny thought about Anne showing up in the middle of the night, that anger of his came back. “Fine, how’s Deandra. She ask about me lately?”
Moose went still. “No, she hasn’t. And don’t be an asshole.”
“Sorry. I thought I was being polite. You wanna talk about your car instead?”
“Don’t get pissy with me about Anne, okay? That shit’s on you—”
“You should never have called her.” Danny went down the steps, ignoring that follow-the-nails rule on rickety shit. “She’s got more than enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me or anybody else.”
“Come on, Danny. What am I supposed to do, huh? There’s talk about you and not just at the station. Jack’s worried about you, too—”
“I’ll tell you what to do. Live your own life. If you can stand it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Even though Moose had inches and pounds—note: horizontal inches—on him, the other man looked away.
“You think you’re paying me back for Deandra?” Danny stepped up even closer. “Because she called me the other night?”
As Moose seemed surprised, Danny wanted to curse himself. He really didn’t need to bring up the guy’s nightmare—and besides, Moose was a good man in a bad situation. It was his wife that was the problem.
“I told you,” Danny muttered, “she’s no good. I warned you—”
Moose’s head ripped back around. “You always got to win, don’t you.”
“You’re the only one who’s competing here. I’ve never given a shit about her.”
“That’s your problem, Danny. You don’t care about anyone or anything.”
“Spare me the moral superiority when it comes to women. Not only do I know too much about you, I’ve covered for you too many times. All I care about is keeping Anne out of this. Do you understand me. No more phone calls to her.”
Ever since the two of them had met in Economics 101 freshman year at New Brunie, there had been a keep-up element to Moose, a foster-kid leftover that dragged down the adult, a fault line under the thick bluster and big-man facade. And that was why Danny knew that this was the last time they were going to have to talk about this Anne issue.
“I don’t want you calling Sister ever again,” he repeated. “Not about me. Are we clear?”
After a moment, Moose looked away. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Good, now, you want a cig?” Danny asked. “I just opened this pack.”
As he held out the Marlboros out, he knew Moose was going to take one. And the guy did, but not before he made Danny wait there for a while.
Danny shared his Bic. “So we gonna light this place on fire or what.”
“Chief’s not going to let you work this drill.”
“He’ll get over it.”
Right on cue, Tom Ashburn’s SUV pulled up behind the truck and the Charger, and Anne’s brother got out of it like he was prepared to hop into an octagon and break someone’s head.
Oooooor maybe he won’t get over it, Danny thought.
* * *
“I can explain,” Anne said as she got to her feet. “I, ah . . .”
Don came in and walked around the desk. As he looked down, Soot shrunk back into the crate, ducking his head and letting out a soft growl—which might have been threatening if the dog hadn’t been shaking like a leaf.
“Poor kid,” Don murmured. “Poor damn thing.”
“Look, I didn’t mean this to happen. This morning. I mean.” She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that I called the vet to check on him, but they’d let him go to the city pound and I was worried he was going to be put down. I had to go on the way here or risk—”
“What’s his name?”
“Soot. You know, ’cuz he’s gray.”
Don backed away. “So about those emails you sent last night.”
Anne looked at dog. Looked at her boss.
Don’s face was utterly composed. And when she seemed confused, he raised an eyebrow. “The three emails you sent. At ten p.m.? Or were you sleep-typing.”
“Right.” She pushed her hair back. “So, ah, yes, you have to agree that there’s a pattern. Six fires in the last two years. All in that same zip code with an unusual amount of office equipment at the scenes. It’s an arson cluster.”
“Or it’s a bunch of abandoned buildings in a bad area of the city known for drug deals and gang territory disputes. I’m not sure we need to call 60 Minutes yet,” he said dryly.
“Did you read my report?”
“Twice. While I was on the StairMaster this morning.”
“There was too much plastic noted in three of the reports on those other scenes.”
“So?”
“If the buildings were abandoned, what’s all that office equipment doing in them?” She shrugged. “Looters are not picky and very thorough. They take everything that isn’t nailed down, but in half of those sites, there is forensic evidence suggesting things like cell phones and computers were in those buildings. Why?”
“Previous use. Recent abandonment.”
She shook her head. “The blaze I was in last November? There were old cubicles and office stuff on the first floor, granted. But when the collapse happened, I remember getting hit with a laptop from above—and it was MacBook. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’m beginning to wonder, though, given what I observed yesterday—especially in light of the debris noted on those reports. What if someone’s using these fires as a way of disposing of the goods? Or the information in computers? Or for some other reason.”
Don shrugged. “You hear hooves, don’t think zebras. But keep digging.”
“I intend to.”
Her boss turned away. “Departmental meeting in an hour.”
Anne hustled around the desk. “Wait, I’m sorry, I have to be clear here. I’m not fired for bringing him in? I mean, Soot?”
“I just told you about a departmental meeting. You think I’d can you in front of the whole team?”
“Well, it might be a good way to reinforce—or establish—a no-dogs policy.”
Don looked over her shoulder, in Soot’s direction. “If it were a cat, it’d be different. I don’t like cats.”
“So . . . I can keep bringing him? During this adjustment period.”
“Do you always push the limits?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
Don crossed his arms and stared off into the hall, his lips flattening, but not because he was angry. He was trying not to smile. “You are going to drive me nuts. But you stay on task, I’ll turn a blind eye on the damn dog, deal?”
Anne started to smile. “Have you ever watched The Office?”
“Why?”
“No reason.” She glanced at Soot and gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks.”
chapter
18
On the way home from work, Anne stopped by Petco. She wanted to take Soot in with her, but she didn’t know how he would react to the stimulation and it was a very cool day, so she rolled the dice and left him alone in her car. Inside the store, she was quick as she could be, grabbing dog food, treats, a seat belt restraint for him, a dog bed and a second crate for her home. When she came out, she half expected to have a fire engine by her old Subaru, one of the teams breaking the windows of her Outback to free the dog as he went crazy and chewed everything to shreds.
Nope.
As she came up to the car, she found him curled in her seat, and he lifted his head and wagged at her. “Good boy!”
She picked up a salad on the way home, from the Greens-R-We drive-in, and she talked to Soot the whole time, telling him about the departmental meeting, her investigation, that cluster. The fact that her mother had called and left a message about something or another. Pulling into her driveway, she—
Slammed on the brakes. As Soot did a quick scramble so he didn’t hit the dash, she cursed. Danny Maguire was sitting on her front stoop, his black hair and his big body bathed in the setting sun’s orange rays and taking up every inch of concrete step there was. He was smoking, but he pinched the ash off the tip of the cigarette and put the butt into his jeans as he got to his feet.
“Shit,” she muttered as she put the car in park.
Getting out, she shut the door so Soot didn’t get any ideas about eating the guy.
“Hey.” Danny came across her lawn. “You need help carrying stuff in?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize. For last night.”
“Which part?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Apology accepted, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go inside—”
“You got a dog?” As he leaned in, Soot sank back against the driver’s-side seat and Danny nodded. “He’s a rescue. Good deal. What’s his name?”
Anne looked away to the clear blue autumn sky. Him asking about her dog, carrying pet supplies in, walking through her house felt all wrong. Like they were entering a time warp with this day-to-day normalcy. A time warp that tried to pretend Everything Hadn’t Happened.
“Danny, we’re not doing this.”
“Let him out so we can be properly introduced.”
“He doesn’t like strangers. Especially men.”
“He’ll like me.”
“Your ego can be exhausting.” When Danny just stood there, like he was prepared to wait until Christmas, she shrugged. “Fine. He bites you, it’s on you.”
She opened the door and took the leash. “Come on, Soot. Let’s get you into the back so you can meet your yard.”
Anne gave a tug, and the dog resisted, his caramel eyes on Danny. “Don’t worry about him. He’s not going to hurt you. Come on.”
Soot’s head tilted to the side and then he skulked across the seat. As he jumped onto the ground, she turned to Danny and—
Danny wasn’t standing behind her. He was on the grass, flat on his back, his arms stretched out, his feet crossed at the ankles, his eyes closed.
“What are you doing?”
When he didn’t speak or move, Soot sniffed the air. Took a step forward. And another. Danny stayed perfectly still except for breathing, his big chest inhaling and exhaling slowly.
He stayed just like that as Soot closed in, the dog’s weight as far back into his butt as he could make it, his tail a flagpole of alarm.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Danny murmured with his lids still down. “Take your time.”
Soot sniffed a hand first. Reared back. Sniffed the arm. Sniffed the chest. Sniffed the face.
Danny slowly opened his eyes. “I’m a friend of your mom’s. It’s good to meet you.”
Soot and Danny stared at each other for what felt like an hour. And then the dog curled into a sit, his skinny body leaning against Danny’s torso. It was only then that a hand lifted and gently stroked the animal’s flank.
“See? I told you he’d like me.”
Anne crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the pair of them. She’d had to offer bribes of Fiber One, FFS. But for Danny? Soot gave it up for free.
Men.
“So,” Danny said, “you got any dinner plans?”
Anne opened her mouth. Closed it. And somehow ended up muttering, “Just leftover pizza and a salad.”
“Perfect. I’m starved.”
There was a long moment of quiet, and then somehow, for reasons she didn’t want to look too closely at, she took him into her house, into her kitchen, over to her table. And after she had reheated the pizza, she sat down across from Danny with her salad.
“So what are you working on?” Danny said between bites of the pepperoni-and-onion.
She tried out the salad and decided it tasted like cardboard. “You know what a fire investigator does.”
“How’s it going?”
“Okay.”
“Your salad good?”
She put her fork down. “Danny, this is—”
He wiped his mouth with a paper towel. “Look . . . I just wanted to see you when I was sober. Last night, I was outta my mind, and not making any sense. And I would have called first, but you’d’ve told me not to come over.”
“So you just showed up. Have you ever waited for an invitation in your life, Danny?”
“Not any more often than you have, Anne.”
“I hate when you smile like that,” she muttered as she poked at her lettuce some more. “And can we just stipulate that you’re sorry about trying to kiss me—”
“I’m not sorry about that.” When she looked up at him, his lids lowered. “I’d be lying if I told you otherwise.”
Instantly, she was back in that dark, messy apartment of his, standing face-to-face with him, her name a hoarse sound leaving his lips. And then his mouth was dropping toward hers.
Arousal came hard and fast to her body, and she shifted in her chair. “So I’m working on a fire just like ours, actually. I mean, our last one. You know.”
Danny sat back and crossed his legs, ankle to knee. Then he peeled off a piece of crust and offered it to Soot, who had curled up on his new bed. After a moment, the dog hobbled over and took it as gently as an English nobleman, whispering back to his bed and chewing it down on a oner.
“He’s so quiet,” Anne said. “And mild-mannered.”
“That’s a good dog, right here. You lucked out. Both of you.” Danny’s shoulders eased up. “So what about this fire you’re on. Which one is it?”
“Warehouse downtown.”
“The one on Harbor Street? From two days ago?”
“Yes, that’s it. Same vintage structure as the one we were—well, you know. Anyway, there are some similarities between the two. And get this, there have been others. I’m wondering if there’s a connection.”
“Lot of crazies in that area. Sometimes they burn shit for fun.”
“True.” She put some lettuce in her mouth.
“Is it safe for you to be down there? Do you go in a pair or something?”
“I have a handgun. I’m licensed to carry concealed.”
“Good girl.”
“Woman.” She chewed. “Not girl.”
“Sorry.” He smiled a little. “So can we go back to the elephant in the room?”
“Did Moose come into my house and I somehow missed him?”
Danny frowned and then laughed. “I already talked to him. He’s not going to bother you anymore.”
“This mean you’re going to turn over a new leaf and stop acting like an idiot on the job? Great. I feel this is a really good decision on your part. And I’m so glad you’re cutting down on the drinking and putting Uber in your contacts—”
“Can you ever really forgive me?”
Anne lowered her fork. God, with Danny, she kept falling into these holes of emotion, the floor of her logical side giving way and leaving her at feelings’ mercy.
“No offense,” she said, “but I’m not the one who has to do that.”
“Did I cut some other person’s arm off?”
She lifted her prosthesis. “This is not that big a deal.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
Anne studied his face and resented the shit out of the guilt she saw there. Abruptly, she put her fork down. “How much time do you have?”
“When? Now? I have no plans.”
“I’ll be right back.”
• • •
Sitting at Anne’s kitchen table, Danny listened to her move around upstairs. She was walking right above him, her footsteps purposeful and quick. Then again, when was the last time she had meandered about anything?
“More pizza crust?” he asked the dog.
Soot got himself up and came over, accepting the final length of crust with the softest mouth this side of a Labrador.
“Listen up, my man.” The dog went back to his red-and-black bed and curled up, looking over as he chewed. “I need you to watch over her, okay? She’s tough and she’s smart, but she lives here alone.”
Well . . . at least from what he understood she lived alone. And he didn’t want to think of the alternative. Had she dated anyone? Shit, the idea any other man had been with her made him want to go get an elephant gun so he could eliminate the competition.
