Ride the Fire

by Jo Davis

“He? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. But his voice was low and there was a lot of background noise. I couldn’t identify him.”

  The detective’s pen paused over the paper. “What sort of background noise? People talking, car horns, dishes clanking? Anything that stands out would be a help, especially if it indicates a specific place.”

  He thought back, concentrated hard. Put himself in the moment and . . .

  “Road noise,” he said. “Like when someone has a window open and you can hear the whine of the wheels on pavement, cars rushing past going the other way? And a radio with music playing. Heavy metal.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “As sure as I can be without having been there, yes.”

  “Okay, so we think he was on the move, possibly traveling. This is good.” He paused, pen tapping the paper. “You didn’t delete the incoming number, did you?”

  “No. I started to, but something told me to keep it.”

  “Excellent. Get your phone and let me get the number off there. I’m playing a hunch.”

  “Which is?” Sean rose.

  “The phone was one of those disposable jobs, or it was stolen. If it was stolen, we’ll have his last known location, that being the city or town he stole it from. Perhaps even the exact location of the theft.”

  “That won’t tell us who we’re dealing with.”

  “Not directly, no. But it would give us a map of where he’s been as well as a time line, particularly if he made other calls. One more piece of the big picture.”

  Quickly, he retrieved his phone from the kitchen counter and scrolled through the received calls. There weren’t many, and he found the one in question with no problem.

  “This one,” he said, walking over and handing the phone to the detective. The man took the phone, jotted the number down, and gave it back to Sean. “Thanks. I’ll follow up on this number, see what turns up.” He pinned Sean with his brown gaze. “Detective Ford tells me you were a witness to the accident that took your family.”

  Oh, Jesus. Help me. “Yes. I was on shift and we got the call.”

  “I’m going to ask you to tell me about that night. Believe me, it’s necessary or I wouldn’t ask,” he said quietly. “Just take your time.”

  Sean wavered, emotion threatening to silence his voice. But Eve’s hand gripped his and he found the courage to recount the evening, in horrid detail, every event beginning with Blair being pissed that he missed Bobby’s important game, to passing out cold when he realized the burning car belonged to his wife. When he finished, he was certain there was no blood left in the hand that was clinging to Eve’s, and he struggled not to give in to the black spots dancing in front of his vision.

  “I know how hard that must’ve been,” Kayne said, his gaze sympathetic. “Just a couple more questions along this line, I promise. Okay?”

  Sean nodded, and the man continued.

  “You said your wife was really angry that you elected to work overtime instead of attending your son’s game, and that she made a heated remark along the lines of, ‘If you can’t appreciate what you have, someone else will.’ Do you have any idea what she meant by that?”

  God. Here was one wound he hadn’t bared before. Absolutely no one knew what he’d suspected and hoped would never have to see the light of day. What if he was wrong?

  What if you’re not?

  In the end, Blair was gone and couldn’t be hurt by speculation. She would’ve bared the truth herself if it meant justice for her children.

  “At the time, I thought . . . I believed my wife might be having an affair.”

  Eve sucked in a breath, but the detective showed no reaction at all. Sean figured the man had heard much worse.

  “Were there any other indicators you considered red flags?”

  “Yeah. There were small things that added up, stuff I didn’t want to acknowledge at first. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about her leaving for work early, staying late. She came from family money, but she had built a lucrative career as an advertising exec. Suddenly her cell phone was off-limits to me. Sometimes she’d get a text message and claim it was a client. Those sorts of things. But no actual smoking gun, and after she was gone, there wasn’t any point in finding out.”

  “I don’t suppose you still have her phone, computer, things that might yield clues?”

  Sean stared at him. “Her computer is still in her office. I haven’t touched it since before the funeral. We think her ”BlackBerry burned in the wreck, but the rest of her stuff is probably in a box somewhere in the basement with her clothes and other belongings. I don’t know because I didn’t pack them—my team at the station did.”

  “All right. I don’t need to see them right now, but don’t get rid of those items just yet, if you don’t mind.”

  “I . . . sure.”

  “Back to the harassment.” The cop flipped a sheet of paper on his pad. “Tell me about the items you received here.”

  “This morning I found a package sitting on the ground beside the mailbox. That’s a little unusual because the mail carrier will normally bring oversized packages to the house and leave them on the porch by the front door. When I brought it inside, I noticed it didn’t have a postmark on it, that whoever it was from had brought it by instead of mailing it.”

  The detective’s brows lifted and his expression clearly communicated what he thought of that move. “And you opened it anyway? Brilliant. You could’ve been blown to pieces.”

  Sean glanced at Eve and winced at the fear on her face before looking back to Kayne. “I’m not used to thinking like a cop, Detective. I’ve probably alienated some people in the department because of the mistakes I’ve made, but I never considered getting threats. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to find a bottle of whiskey and a photo of the accident scene.”

  “What’s the significance of the bottle?”

  “After my family died, I used alcohol to numb the pain, more and more frequently until I had a real problem. I came to work hungover a few months ago and made a grave mistake, and one of my former firefighters was almost killed. I went into rehab and just recently got out, returned to work.”

  The cop nodded. “You’re recovering. Good for you.” No judgment. “Let me take a look at the bottle and the photo.”

  They rose and Sean led him through the kitchen, Eve following. On the way out to the deck, he said, “There’s the box they came in.”

  Outside, Kayne squatted next to the small table to look at the photo, but didn’t touch it. He studied it for several long moments before he spoke. “Did both of you handle this?”

  “Yes,” he said, feeling stupid. “I guess we shouldn’t have.”

  “I doubt we would’ve gotten much off of it even if you hadn’t. It’s rarely like on TV where the print is all perfect and the culprit is rounded up neat as can be. But we’ll check, ’cause you never know. I’ll need you both to come in and get printed so we can rule yours out.” Kayne stood, gestured to the bottle and glass. “You didn’t drink any of that, I hope? Could be doctored.”

  “No, my stupidity level is about maxed for one day,” he muttered.

  “Good. I’m gonna go and get some evidence bags out of my car and I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as the detective disappeared through the sliding glass door, Eve spoke up. “I like him. It seems like he’s taking this seriously, and not because we called in a favor.”

  “Is that the only reason you like golden boy?” Dammit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  She squinted at him. “Golden boy?” A slow smile spread across her face. “You’re jealous.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Ha! You are.” The smile turned mischievous. “I could probably have a date with him before he leaves. Want to place a bet?”

  “No, I damned well do not,” he said, low and dangerous. “There’s no need because you’re not going anywhere with him.”

  She feigned an innocent look. “I’m n
ot?”

  “No, you’re fucking not, so drop the subject.” Jesus, he was growling like a rabid wolf.

  “Wrong tactic,” she said sweetly. “Rewind and try that again.”

  The idea of her following through, going out with the cop, eventually allowing him into her bed? Letting him do the things Sean had done to her last night?

  He pulled Eve into his arms and brought his mouth down on hers. Kissed her like he meant business, and he did. Because no matter how bad an idea it was to get involved with her, allowing another man to take his place trumped that one as king of the bullshit ideas. His tongue slipped past her lips and she melted against him. Warm and soft, just the way he liked. He was really getting into it when a throat cleared behind them.

  Sean broke the kiss, but took her hand before facing the detective. “Sorry about that.” But he wasn’t and they both knew it. From the cop’s rueful smile, Sean had effectively burst his bubble. Good.

  “I bagged the box and wrapping paper in the kitchen so the lab guys can test those, too. What, if anything, they’ll tell us, who knows? The most innocuous-looking objects can talk and sometimes tell a hell of a story.” He proceeded to bag the bottle of Jack and the photo, and prepared to leave. “You’ll be around if I have more questions?”

  “Absolutely. You can reach me here or at Station Five. Let me give you a card.” Reaching into his back pocket, he extracted his wallet and fished out a business card while Kayne did the same. They exchanged cards and pocketed their wallets.

  “Given what you’ve told me, I’m treating this as a threat,” the detective said. “It’s unofficial at the moment because an actual threat hasn’t been made, but the implication is there. I’ve seen mean pranks, but frankly, the tone of this strikes me as sinister. Until we find out different, that’s how I’m approaching it. I’ll let you know something soon.”

  “I really appreciate this,” Sean said. He meant it, too. “If this asshole had anything to do with my family’s death, he’s going to pay.”

  “I’d feel the same way. Let me ask you one more question.” He pinned Sean with a narrow-eyed look. “Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”

  He considered the answer, lead settling in his gut. “Almost everyone in the fire department knows what happened to my family, and me as a result. My mistake got a good man hurt. One of them might hate me enough to try and push me out.” The past niggled at his brain, like a worm pushing through soil. “There was someone else, once. We parted on bad terms, but that was over twenty years ago and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Twenty years? Most people aren’t that patient. You piss them off, they react. The first scenario seems far more likely,” Kayne agreed.

  Sean walked him to the front door. Items in hand, the detective reminded him about getting fingerprinted, said his good-byes, and left. Sean’s prints were on file with the military, but he figured going in would save the cops some time digging them up, so he didn’t argue.

  For his part, Sean was glad to be rid of both the “gift” and the cop, for very different reasons. Both posed a subtle threat to the inner peace he was trying so hard to establish.

  He turned to find Eve standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over her chest. He knew that look, the one of a woman in self-protection mode. She might have melted into his kiss before, but she wasn’t going to be distracted now. He went to stand in front of her, unsure what to say.

  “What was all of the breast-beating about? You don’t want me, but the second someone else shows an interest, you go caveman. What is that?”

  He pushed a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “All I know is whenever I see another man sniffing around, touching you or making eyes at you, like that fool Blake—”

  “Drake.”

  “—whatever, or the detective . . . Christ, it drives me crazy!”

  “You can’t have it both ways. You’re going to have to deal with me dating other men, or come up with some rules we can live with, because I can’t do this ping-pong thing. Not with you. I can handle anything but being yanked around—that I won’t tolerate, and I don’t give a shit how much you snarl. What’s it going to be?”

  “You’re asking me to—what?—make a decision about us when this thing between us, whatever it is, is a whole day old? In the middle of trying to keep sober, reestablish the respect of my men, and figuring out who wants to ruin it all?”

  She looked away, jaw clenched. “Of course not. I’m flying as blind as you are, and I just need to figure out what we’re doing. Besides fucking.”

  “Look at me.” When she did, he cupped her face. Her gaze was wary, shadowed, and he hated that he’d put that look there. “Last night was more than sex. Why the hell do you think I’m so scared? It doesn’t help that I still don’t think I’m the greatest thing that could ever happen to you.”

  “So where do we go from here?” she asked miserably. “What do you want from me, Sean?”

  Everything. I want it all, and I’m terrified to get it only to have it taken away. Again.

  “To take things one day at a time. Can we do that?”

  “I can’t settle for being friends with benefits. I can have that with Drake or anyone else, without risking my job or my heart,” she said softly.

  “Are you risking your heart by taking a chance on me?” He stroked her cheek, and fell into her ocean blue eyes.

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “I guess not. But the risk isn’t one-sided.” He took a deep breath, and took the first step out on a very thin limb. “You’re much more than a friend to me, baby. I’ve been in denial about it for the past several months. Then we acted on our feelings and I panicked because I’ve lost it all before and can again. I’m starting my life over, and it’s terrifying. It doesn’t excuse what I did this morning, but those are my reasons.”

  “You’re not going to fail, or lose the people you love a second time. I refuse to believe that fate, or whatever is responsible, could play out that way again.”

  “The odds are with you being right, but my messed-up head still needs screwing on straight. I don’t know why you’d want to put up with me, but . . . are you willing to take things slow? See what happens?”

  Her expression lit with excitement, but was tempered with caution. “Only if we’re exclusive while we’re ‘taking things slow.’ I don’t share well with others.”

  “Neither do I, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “You’ve got a deal.”

  “We’re going to have to keep this on the down-low at work.”

  “An understatement. And it won’t be easy, because those guys will be worried about you and pissed at me if they find out. I don’t care for my sake, but I don’t want any of our personal issues affecting their concentration on a call.”

  If the guys thought he might hurt Eve, the fragile new trust he’d begun to rebuild with them could degenerate into a hellish situation, fast. He couldn’t put them through that. But he couldn’t walk away from her. He’d already tried, and failed spectacularly.

  “There’s one exception.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Zack knows.”

  “What? Already?” Damn, this was going to be awkward.

  “I was upset and I had to talk to somebody,” she defended. “Besides, he’s my best friend and knows me well enough that he would’ve put two and two together in a heartbeat.”

  “I know, it’s just . . . jeez, who are we kidding? They’re all going to figure it out.”

  She deflated some. “Yeah. And Six-Pack will be the first one because he’s your best friend and he doesn’t miss a beat. The way he was staring at us last night, he suspects.”

  “You’re right. I’m surprised he hasn’t called or dropped by to ask me flat out.”

  “If you’re thinking that, he probably will. Look, there was a reason I came over. After I saw how upset you were about the package, I was going to postpone
bringing this up, but it seems I don’t have a choice.” Releasing him, she dropped onto the sofa. He’d never seen her so conflicted.

  He sat beside her, trying to catch her eye. Someone as direct as Eve, not looking at him? Not a good sign. “I can tell I’m not going to like this.”

  “I’m putting in for a transfer,” she said, her voice painfully sad.

  He’d have been less stunned if she’d shot him. “Forget it. I won’t send in the form, so get that idea out of your head.”

  At that, she snapped her gaze to his face. “It’s for the best and we both have to accept that.”

  “I don’t have to accept shit. It’s not gonna happen.”

  “You’re impossible!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “An arrogant, stubborn jackass!”

  “That’s what you like about me,” he said with a confident grin. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I came to tell you I was leaving for another station!”

  “But you wouldn’t have gone through with it, paperwork or not.” Reaching over, he hauled her into his lap.

  “Infuriating,” she whispered into his lips.

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  God, claiming her mouth was fast becoming his favorite activity. Well, second favorite, next to claiming the rest of her. Swooping in, he captured her lips, deepened the kiss. Drank in her essence. Nothing like the taste of Eve, the feel of her nestled in his arms, and he wanted more.

  She pressed against him, fingers twined in his hair. Heat ignited between them, rising in a tide of desire, sweeping him away in the current. Why swim against it? Holding her tight, he stood, erection swelling, hot and aching. His need for this woman was incredibly strong when it had been muted to near silence before, and he could only guess that the alcohol—or more accurately his inability to kick it—had been to blame.

  “Let me take you to my room? Please.” He’d beg if he had to.

  “Yes.”

  Her upturned face, the fire that reached out to touch him, was all the extra reassurance he needed.

  And he planned to ride that fire all afternoon.

  No man had ever carried her before. Not as in swept away to be ravished.