Breath of Passion (The Muse Chronicles Book 3)

by Lisa Kessler

  He hadn’t missed someone in a very long time…

  At least today had flown by. Between all the time they had spent at the police station and then two final fire-inspection walkthroughs, he’d been too busy to watch the clock.

  He was grateful for it, too. He couldn’t remember ever being so anxious for a shift to end. For the most part, he loved his job, but now, for the first time in his life, there was someone outside of work who he didn’t dread seeing. In fact, it was tough not to count down the hours until he saw her again.

  After Jack’s arrest, it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her how he felt, but hearing her crazy ex tell her he still loved her seemed to cheapen the word. And he didn’t want the first time he said it to be over the phone.

  She probably already knew anyway. He hoped she did. He told her he’d die for her. If that wasn’t love, then what was?

  The end of his shift couldn’t get here soon enough.

  “Hey, old man. Want to help me get the dry lines back on the engine?”

  He glanced up at Johnson. “Yeah.” Reed stood, pocketed his cell phone, and followed Johnson out to the garage.

  The fire hoses had been hung up to dry after yesterday’s exercises. It kept them from deteriorating with mold. It also meant they needed to be taken down, folded up, and stored once they were dry. The night before, they’d already loaded the engine with the secondary dry hoses so these could be stored to be loaded next.

  “Are they going to nail the arsonist?” Johnson asked as they folded and stacked the lines in the corner.

  “That’s the plan. Seems like the DA is being really careful to ensure we’ve got enough evidence to stick all three fires to him.”

  “Good.” Johnson smiled as they started on the next hundred feet of hose. “One of the guys says the pyro is your lady’s ex.”

  Reed bristled but tried not to let it show on his face. “Yeah. Looks that way.”

  They grunted a little as they moved the hoses. Not only were they heavy but if they didn’t get stacked just right, the whole thing would tumble and they’d have to start over. Once they were done, Johnson rolled his shoulders, loosening them up. “So, is it serious with your girlfriend?”

  Reed lifted a brow. “Lots of questions from you today.”

  “I was surprised to see her, that’s all. Word around the station is that you had a bad divorce a few years ago.”

  Reed chuckled, shaking his head. “Glad I can give you guys something to gossip about.” He nudged Johnson on the way back to the last stack of lines. “Her name was Lila. She definitely tore me up and left me wary.” He crossed his arms. “Any more questions?”

  “Just one.” Johnson backed up as they neared the engine. “Does Erica have a sister?”

  Ted held the binoculars steady, watching the women walking through the chain-link fence and into the sad excuse for a theater. Bryce fidgeted in the passenger seat.

  “Stop it,” Ted ordered. “You’re making me nuts.”

  Bryce sat still for a second. “Just nervous about the Molotov cocktails in the trunk. If one goes off, the whole car could explode.”

  “We’re safe. You’ve got to light the wick first, and the glass has to break for the fuel to ignite. Mellow out.” In the distance, a white utility truck drove into the lot. The driver’s door read Mason’s Carpentry in blue. Ted lowered the binoculars. “We’re still missing a few muses. We’ll give them a little while longer.”

  As if on cue, another car pulled in. A tall woman with shiny black hair and dark glasses got out. Trinity. Ted pressed his lips together. He’d closed that door years ago, but some sick part of him still replayed the memories of her smiling up at him.

  He dropped the binoculars into his lap and stared out the window. He would see this plan through. Sacrifices needed to be made to see the return of the Golden Age of Man. The end result would be worth it.

  But he still couldn’t watch her walk into that building. Shit.

  It shouldn’t still hurt.

  Why did she have to be the Muse of Music?

  He’d never met anyone like her. She could play any instrument you put in front of her, and her voice could tame the Titans.

  Zeus and the gods had played a cruel joke on him by making him love her.

  Enough.

  Another car pulled in. He retrieved his binoculars as the Muse of Epic Poetry and her Navy SEAL got out of her car. The man scanned the parking lot, a muscle in his cheek tensing visibly. Did he sense they were being watched?

  Ted wouldn’t be sad to see the SEAL go. He’d gotten in the Order’s way too many times. If the police detective would only show up, it would sweeten the pot considerably. Ted would be patient. The more of them trapped in the building, the bigger the victory for the Order.

  Finally, he could envision his father being proud of him.

  Erica stood with Trinity as Callie introduced them to the only construction worker in all of Crystal City who was willing to work with them.

  “Thanks for coming, everyone. Mel is busy with baby Noah, and Nate’s working on making Jack’s case stick, but I think the rest of us are all here.” Callie gestured to the tall, tan guy in the tool belt. “This is Mason Knowles.”

  She went around the semicircle making introductions. “This is my fiancé, Hunter, and that’s Tera, Lia, and you’ve met Polly. She writes the checks.”

  He tugged on the brim of his baseball hat. “Good to meet y’all.”

  Callie pointed to the rest of the group. “And over here are Trinity, Erica, and Clio.”

  Mason’s dark-green eyes followed Callie’s introductions, but his gaze lingered on Clio for a moment, coaxing out the dimple in Clio’s cheek as she smiled. “Great to meet you, Mason.”

  He took off his hat and tipped his head. “Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.”

  His deep voice, coated in a southern drawl, had Clio flushed with color. Erica bit her cheek to keep from grinning. Clio probably had the highest IQ of all of them, but she was also the youngest and had become a little sister of sorts to the other muses. Seeing her getting special attention from the new carpenter made Erica like him. He obviously had good taste in women.

  Mason put his hat back on and pulled a small, spiral notepad and a pen from his tool belt. “We better get started while the light holds out.”

  Callie took the lead, walking him around and showing him her vision for the entryway, the meeting rooms, and the walls. Trinity gave him her take on the acoustics for the theater itself, and Tera nervously showed him where she wanted ballet bars in the warm-up rooms backstage.

  Erica smiled at their shy muse. He only had to ask Tera to repeat herself twice.

  Polly had her own notebook and followed Mason around, consulting with him after each wish list about cost and timelines for completion.

  Lia came over and stood next to Erica. “Are you over here counting down the minutes until Reed gets off work?”

  Erica chuckled. “I wasn’t. But now I am.”

  “Sorry.” Lia grinned. “I think between Trinity and Tera, Mason’s got the stage and backstage areas handled. I don’t have much to add.”

  Erica nodded. “Yeah. I’d just like to talk to him about the wall coverings in the lobby. I’m envisioning song lyrics and quotes from poets and writers overlapping until there’s no bare space showing—plastering the walls in inspiration.”

  “I love that idea! And we could cover the bathroom walls with jokes!” Lia’s eye sparkled.

  Erica shook her head, barely stifling a giggle. “Leave ’em laughing, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Clio wandered over and leaned in close to Erica. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  Lia hurried off to share her bathroom idea with the others, and Erica followed Clio through the inner doors into the theater itself. The hole in the roof treated them to a bright-pink sky as the afternoon drifted into evening.

  “Mason seems nice.” Clio glanced ba
ck at the door like someone might be listening.

  Erica smiled. “Looks like he thinks the same thing about you.”

  Clio’s hazel eyes widened behind her glasses. “You think?”

  “Definitely.” Erica crossed her arms, her hip sticking out to the side. “You should talk to him.”

  “I was hoping you might help me with that.”

  Erica smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

  Her tone of voice must’ve spooked Clio, as she quickly shook her head. “Not like that. I just want to have something to say. Nothing…erotic.”

  Erica laughed. She couldn’t help it. She patted Clio’s arm. “I didn’t think you were going to seduce our carpenter.”

  “Oh good.” Clio relaxed. “You’re always so smooth with men. I thought you might give me some pointers.”

  “First off, just be yourself. You obviously have his attention, so you don’t need to do anything. A guy you have to change for isn’t a guy who deserves you.” If only she had learned that lesson before Jack had come into her life.

  Clio frowned, her eyes going to the doors once more. “But I don’t know what to say to him.”

  Erica scanned the theater. “You’re the Muse of History—how about restoring the woodwork around the stage?” She tipped her head back and pointed. “And what about the ceiling?”

  “Oh, you’re right!” Clio gasped. “How could they have painted over all that woodwork?” She took Erica’s hands and gripped them tightly. “I’m going to see if I can get Mason back in here.”

  Erica smiled as Clio hustled up the aisle. She could practically see the hearts floating over the younger woman’s head. Of all the muses, Clio was definitely the most romantic. Maybe it was all that digging into the past and reading about love stories that had changed history. Whatever caused it, Clio was cut from a different cloth, a world where men still wore armor and fought dragons, all for the love of a woman.

  And if Mason hurt her, Erica would kick his ass.

  CHAPTER 16

  “We can’t keep waiting. The Muse of Tragic Poetry and her husband must not be coming.” Ted reached into the backseat for his mask. The sun had set, leaving them in the colorless wonderland of twilight. Perfect. “Let’s do this.”

  Bryce didn’t have to be told twice. He was out, robed, and gloved up in seconds. He put on his mask as Ted popped the trunk. “The fire should destroy the security cameras, but who knows if they’re sending to a remote feed. The masks stay on, understood?”

  “Yeah.” Bryce carefully lifted the backpack from the trunk. “I have the fire bombs. You have the chains?”

  Ted leaned toward the trunk and hoisted the duffel onto his shoulder. He would’ve made Bryce carry the heavy bag, but Ted had no desire to take charge of the Molotov cocktails.

  They left the car parked on the other side of the street and jogged toward the theater. This part of town was less developed and more dilapidated than others. There wasn’t much traffic, especially after dark, and he’d never been more grateful that the muses chose this site for their theater. No one would be watching right now.

  After they passed through the fence, Ted pointed to the camera. “You have the paint?”

  “I’m on it.” Bryce placed the backpack on the ground and unzipped the front pocket.

  “Check around the entire building,” Ted hissed after Bryce spray-painted the lens of the security camera. “I’ll start chaining the doors.”

  Once Bryce rounded the corner, Ted tugged a length of chain free and plucked a Master Lock from the bottom of the bag. He didn’t bring the keys; it would be too tempting. Once he clicked it into place, there’d be no turning back. If he had keys, he’d never be able to endure Trinity’s screams.

  Slowly, he threaded the links through the door handles, careful to keep quiet. He hooked the lock through the links and snapped it closed. The sound was final. Ted swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d always left the dirty work to the enforcers for the Order.

  But this felt very dirty.

  Bryce came around the corner. “Everything okay?”

  Ted shook his head. “I need some water. Finish with the doors. Don’t forget to keep the last one open to toss in the final cocktail. Once the fire is roaring, then you lock it up, too.”

  “Okay, Boss.” Bryce went to the doors as if he were locking up a bike on a rack instead of seven women in a building that would soon be an inferno.

  Ted wandered into the shadows and lost his lunch, heaving until his sides ached. He wiped his mouth and stared at the theater. There was no going back now.

  Erica sat in one of the few working seats of the theater, watching Trin and Lia up on the stage with Mason. Polly was seated in front of her, tallying up figures.

  Erica leaned forward, her elbows on the back of the chair. “How’s it looking?”

  “It’s going to take longer than we planned before we start bringing in money, so I may need to pull more from the trust fund than I anticipated.” Polly glanced back at Erica and smiled. “But the money isn’t inspiring anyone while it’s locked in a bank, right?”

  Erica nodded. “True.” She pointed toward the wings, where Clio was trying to pretend she was reading instead of watching Mason measure the track for the stage curtains. “Our girl has eyes for the carpenter.”

  Polly chuckled. “She’s a hopeless romantic.” She sobered. “But if Nia’s death taught us anything, it’s that even though we’re working on something important, we still need to live every single day. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  Polly turned in her chair to face Erica. “Speaking of, your Guardian seems like a great guy.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Erica smiled. “I got really lucky.”

  Polly patted Erica’s hand. “Happy is a good look for you.”

  Erica opened her mouth to respond when something crashed. She spun around. “Did you hear that? I think it came from the lobby.”

  Before Erica could get up to check it out, something came flying in through the hole in the roof. When it hit the ground, glass shattered, the stage burst into bright-orange flames.

  Erica dropped to her knees when another fire ignited. Her heart hammered as fire rained down from the edges of the hole in the roof like they were in a war zone. She dialed 911 on her phone, coughing as the smoke billowed. Screams came from everywhere. She squinted to see through the heat waves and the smoke. Trinity was running down the side steps of the stage, pulling Lia behind her.

  Polly was still in her chair. Dammit. Erica crawled back. But when she reached her, Polly wasn’t responding. Erica couldn’t find any injuries, though.

  She slapped Polly’s cheek gently. “Polly! We need to get out. Polly, wake up!”

  The Muse of Harmony and Hymns finally blinked her eyes open and sucked in a lungful of smoke. Erica helped her out of her chair, hauling her back toward the aisle. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”

  Polly nodded, stumbling beside her.

  The fire was eating up the stage curtains, the heat almost unbearable. What had Reed said? Stay low.

  Erica bent over, getting as close to the ground as she could. When they reached Trinity and Lia, Erica turned around. The stage was completely engulfed in flames, the fire roaring like a hungry beast.

  Erica shouted. “Where are Tera and Clio?”

  “They were on the other side of the stage.” Trin coughed and shook her head. “Maybe they’re already out.”

  Erica nodded, praying her roommate was right. They ran for the doors to the lobby. Erica placed her hand on the door. It was warm but not too hot to the touch. Regardless, the only way out was through those doors, so hot or not, she was going.

  She opened the door, and another wave of heat washed over her.

  Polly screamed, her legs giving out. Erica called to Trinity. “Get out of here! I’ll help Polly!”

  Suddenly, Hunter burst through the inner door from the lobby. “Trucks are on the way. Come on.”


  He picked Polly up and carried her to the only door to the outside that wasn’t blocked by a wall of fire. He kicked the door, but it only opened a fraction of an inch. Both of them fell to the ground.

  Callie came toward them with Tera in tow. “I can’t find Clio.”

  Hunter got up and threw his shoulder into the door like a battering ram. “Shit!” He turned to face them. “Someone locked the door. I’m going to have to try one of the others.”

  Callie frowned. “The fire’s too hot at the other doors.”

  Sweat rolled down his face. “We can’t stay here. We need another exit. Now.”

  Callie nodded. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Hunter squeezed her hand and disappeared into the smoke.

  Thank the gods they hadn’t gotten the roof fixed yet or they’d probably be dead. Reed had explained to her about heat rising. The gaping hole in the roof was the only thing keeping them from being cooked.

  Polly got to her feet and gripped Erica’s hand. “We have to find Clio.”

  Erica followed Polly back through the inner doors into the theater. The stage was barely recognizable, gobbled up by flames. They moved farther down the aisle, the smoke getting thicker.

  “Erica!”

  She turned and through the fire licking at the seats, Mason was cradling Clio in his arms along the other aisle. “She’s injured!”

  Erica turned to Polly. “I’m going to help them. Can you get back to the lobby on your own?”

  “Yeah. Help Clio.”

  Erica kept the bottom of her shirt over her nose and mouth. Her chest burned from smoke and lack of oxygen, but she pushed through the inner doors. She made her way through the lobby to get the other theater doors opened so Mason could get past her. Clio’s head lolled to the side, and one of the pant legs of her jeans was soaked in blood.

  “What happened?

  “The metal track for the curtains fell. I think her leg is broken.” Mason looked at the doors. “Why are you still inside?”

  Erica shouted over the cracking of the fire. “The doors are locked from outside.”

  Mason clenched his jaw, carrying Clio toward the exit. He laid her down and slid his hammer from his tool belt. “Maybe I can break it down.”