“Or you can tell me to fuck off. Hell, you can tell me to fuck off after the kiss if you want, but, sweetheart, I’ve been dying to know…”
Mistake. She knew it, but—
She wanted him. Wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone in so long. Was it wrong?
“I’ve been dying to know,” he said again, “how you taste.”
Oh, hell. Her right hand grabbed the back of his head, and she yanked him down toward her.
Their mouths met. Open. Ready. Lips kissed. Tongues licked. And—damn.
Yes, she wanted.
The control she’d held so tightly began to crack. She jerked in her seat, struggling to press against him. He took her mouth. Tasted her. Tormented her. And she met him. No, she fought him, fought him for more.
His hands locked around her, and her breasts shoved against his chest. Her nipples were tight, aching, and her sex began to cream.
From a kiss.
Zero to sixty… faster, faster…
The man had one wicked tongue.
When he lifted his head, she wasn’t surprised to hear the ragged sound of her own moan.
“Thought it’d be like that,” he said.
Unfortunately, so had she and that didn’t help her.
“But where we go next, if we go anywhere, that’s going to be your call, sweetheart.” His fingers curled around hers and pulled her hands from behind his head where she’d been clinging oh-so-tightly.
Because he was right about her. She did like to run red-hot. Passion. Lust. Lora was well-acquainted with the fiery need.
As acquainted as she was with the loneliness.
“Where do we go?” he asked softly.
I don’t know.
“We work the case.” He took a deep breath and yeah, his voice broke a bit around the edges as he said, “I keep my hands off you.”
But those strong hands felt good on her flesh. And for just a few minutes there, with him, she’d forgotten…
Fire. Screams. Death.
And remembered pleasure.
She’d always loved her pleasure.
“Or we take option two.”
Lora waited.
“We work the case each day, and we see just how hot we can make the nights.”
When she licked her lips, she tasted him. Spicy. Wild.
“I’ll make you scream,” he promised. “I’ll make damn sure you’re satisfied, every time.”
“Don’t doubt it.” She hesitated. “But I—”
His eyes hardened. “Is there someone else?”
Did a dead man count? Guilt stirred now, squeezing her heart, but Lora shook her head. “No.”
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice rumbled. “Damn, Lora, I swear, your mouth was made for sin.”
He still held her hands. She wanted his mouth back on hers. And because she wanted him right now, that wanting scared her as much as it aroused her, so she said, “I can’t.” Not then. Too fast. She needed to think. To make absolutely sure this—he—was what she wanted.
I won’t make another mistake.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. He eased away from her, sliding back into his seat. “Clear.” Clipped. “We’ll work the case. I won’t—”
“Give me some time,” the words tumbled out. She hadn’t meant to say them, but the need twisting in her gut had other plans. “Because you know I want you.” Just not yet. Not then. The lust was too raw. Her hands shook, and the past kept teasing her. “Give me some time,” she said again.
They wouldn’t have long. Kenton would only be in town long enough to catch the arsonist. Then the case would end.
He’d leave.
And she’d move on. Like she always did.
Take the pleasure. There’s no pain with him. No risk to your heart.
He wouldn’t be there long enough to hurt her. But maybe, just maybe, he could make her nights better, for a while.
Take the pleasure. Yeah, that sly voice was sure whispering to her.
Pleasure, but no pain.
Her interior light flashed on when Kenton shoved open her door. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
And her special agent was gone. Walking into the dawn.
Her fingers curled around the steering wheel. That last sweetheart, it hadn’t been the sarcastic drawl he’d used before. It had been slower. Deeper.
A lover’s caress.
Pleasure.
She knew he could give it to her.
Now, the question was… could she take it?
The light from the rising sun shot across the sky just as Kenton climbed out of his rented SUV and hurried toward the hotel at the edge of the highway.
Ah, hotels. Sometimes, it seemed as if he spent all his nights in run-down hotels.
And usually alone.
Damn but the woman tasted good. Not sweet. Not her. Hell, no. Rich. Tangy.
He wanted more.
But he’d get a cold shower. Shit.
Room 106 waited just a few feet away. And so did that very, very icy—
The door to room 107 opened, and Kenton tensed, his hand automatically going for the weapon at his hip.
“Late night, Special Agent?”
“Hyde?”
His boss flashed his shark’s smile. “Got your message.” He stepped forward, the shadows sliding off his dark skin. “Figured I’d come and take a look at Charlottesville myself.”
Kenton shook his head. “We’ve got a problem here, sir.” He unlocked his door, driving the keycard in with a quick punch of his fingers. “My gut tells me the crimes are linked—”
“And what does Lora Spade tell you?”
Kenton crossed the threshold but glanced back at Hyde. “The same thing I’m betting she said when she talked to you.”
Hyde’s expression never altered. He walked inside the hotel room, slowly. The door closed behind with a click.
Kenton’s fingers curled around his gun, and he brought out the weapon.
“Ah, so you already know about that bit of business, hmm?” The one chair in the room creaked as Hyde made himself comfortable.
Kenton placed his gun on the bedside table before he faced Hyde again. His brows rose as he said, “I don’t think Lora was too impressed with me at first.”
“That’s because she had to pull your ass out of a burning building.” The shark’s smile was gone, and the words fell heavy in the room.
Well, hell. The woman really had called his boss and ratted him out. Huh.
“I heard a man calling for help; I went in.” Because dammit, it was his job to save lives. “Jerome was in that building, sir.”
“I know—I already read your report.”
Figured. Hyde was always fast—one of the reasons the guy was the boss.
“Interesting, don’t you think, that the man who called to make a deal with some arson tips wound up in a fire like that?” Kenton asked.
Hyde eased back against the chair cushions and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I’d call that very interesting.”
“There was another fire tonight.” Glancing down, he saw the line of ash on his white shirt. Another one. Dry cleaning would be a bitch. “The vic was handcuffed to a radiator. He didn’t make it out.”
“Back-to-back fires?” Hyde’s brows shot up. “If we’re talking the same perp, that’s some serious escalation.”
“I know.” Kenton rolled his shoulders. Christ, he hurt. Tension knotted between his shoulder blades and right then he sure could have used a massage.
Preferably one from Lora. The woman had great hands. Long fingers. Delicate bones.
After stretching his arms over his head, Kenton said, “I’m gonna need Monica on this.” Because when it came to killers, Special Agent Monica Davenport was the best.
“Done.”
“I could sure use Sam, too.” He watched Hyde carefully now. “It seems like the fires stopped for almost six months… then started again with a freaking vengeance.” And a break period
like that just wasn’t normal. “I’m thinking our guy just went somewhere else for his fun and games. Sam could do a check for me, cross-reference fires in a three-county radius and see if—”
“Not Sam.”
But when it came to patterns, Samantha Kennedy was a genius. Give her a computer, hook her up to the SSD’s files, and the woman could have a dozen linked cases in an hour.
“How is she?” Kenton asked bluntly, because he knew the other agent had been through hell. On their last big case, Sam had been captured by the perp. By the time they’d found her, the guy had already gotten off on torturing her and making Sam wish for death.
Beg for it.
It wasn’t easy to come back from something like that. He knew.
Some crimes—they killed the victim right away. A quick, clean kill.
Others—they left the shell of the vic alive, but on the inside, the person slowly died. One piece of the vic’s soul at a time.
“Sam took some extra time off,” Hyde told him, voice smooth. “She’s getting some rest. Taking it easy.”
Getting help. Christ, yes, she needed to talk to someone.
He’d seen her eyes in that hospital room. He knew when he was staring into hell.
“I’m trying someone new for the tech work right now. A guy who finished from MIT with Sam and did well at Quantico.” Hyde inclined his head. “I’ll get him to run your search.”
“I’m investigating the scene today.” Kenton took a quick breath. Time to lay it all out there. “I’ve asked Lora to be my local contact for the cases.”
No flicker of surprise. But then, when had Hyde ever been surprised? “From what I hear, Lora’s one of the best firefighters Frank has on his team.” He gave a slow nod. “You can use her eyes on the scene.”
Yes, he could.
“Just be careful, Lake. Until we know exactly what we’re dealing with here, we need to keep our investigation very, very secure.”
In other words, don’t trust the locals with all the case details. That was a lesson he’d learned the hard way before. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER Four
Who the hell are you, and what are you doing at my scene?” The snarl came at him the minute Kenton and Hyde crossed under the yellow line of police tape at the torched house on Byron Street.
A tall guy, with blond hair and narrowed brown eyes, glared at them, crossing his arms over his chest.
“We’re the FBI,” Hyde told him, in that deep, booming voice of his. The voice that made the words sound like I’m God—who the fuck are you? “And, son, this is our scene.”
The muddy eyes became slits then. “I don’t think so.”
“Serial Services Division.” Kenton pulled out his ID. Just to be official. Sometimes, you had to follow the rules. “We believe this case is linked with a series of arson-related murders in the area, and we’re taking over the investigation.”
“Didn’t get your name…” Hyde said, but the words were a definite demand.
“Gentlemen, you’re looking at Chief County Arson Investigator Seth MacIntyre.” The husky words came from behind them.
Kenton spun around. Ah, there she was. Right on time.
Lora had on a black T-shirt, faded jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes. Casual, but damn, still sexy.
The woman always was.
As he watched, Lora pulled on a pair of gloves. One blond brow rose as she turned her gaze on Kenton’s boss. “And you’re Keith Hyde.”
Hyde turned his head slowly and locked his eyes on her. “Spade.”
Her head inclined, just a bit.
“What? Hold on, just hold on a minute here!” Seth snapped. “I don’t need any Bureau boys coming in, telling me how to do my job. Clear my scene, now. I haven’t even had time to check for—”
“Seth, you’ve been here for five hours.” Lora’s cool-as-you-please voice. “Forget the pissing match. They’re taking over because we’ve got to stop this bastard.”
The man’s face flushed red. “I’ve got this, Lora. I can—”
“We’re all in over our heads. They’re the SSD—this is what they do. They stop the serials.”
“W-we can’t even prove all the cases are linked,” Seth sputtered. “With Jennifer Langley—”
“Let us worry about the links,” Hyde told him, stepping into the charred house. “You just worry about collecting arson evidence from the scene.”
The scent of smoke burned Kenton’s nostrils. Two of the walls were all but gone, leaving blackened studs struggling to hold up part of the roof. Ashes covered the floor. Burnt insulation hung from the sagging roof.
“The SSD. I heard about y’all but…” Seth’s jaw clenched.
But you didn’t call us in. You had a serial hunting and you thought you could handle him on your own? Kenton stared at the guy. Just stared.
Seth swiped his hand over his face. “What are you hoping to find here?”
Kenton didn’t answer as he headed inside. Lora followed close behind him, then she swept past them all, going to study the partially intact wall in the back.
Seth took a deep breath. He’d come in behind them. “There’s no signature, okay? With the arsonists, there’s always a tag. They like to start ’em the same way. Same place. Origin’s usually fixed.”
Not with this guy.
The arson investigator shook his head. “I know these guys. They have a pet accelerant. One they always use to get the burn just right—”
“I told you, Seth. This jerk likes to change his fires.” Lora tossed this back without looking over her shoulder.
Seth’s shoulders sagged a bit. His face didn’t look quite so tense and angry then. Fear flickered in his eyes. “Another call came in?” A little bit of fear there, probably because the guy knew.
“Yeah,” Kenton told him. “It did.”
A rough sigh slipped past Seth’s lips. “I didn’t—I wasn’t told—”
“Your fires might be different, son, but the victims are all trapped and the killer—he wants to make sure we know he’s the one behind the flames.” Hyde stalked around the interior, being careful not to touch any of the evidence. Like the chunk of radiator that still had a handcuff closed around one blackened pipe.
Poor bastard.
“He’s a serial,” Hyde said. “And he’s ours.” Pissing match over. They’d take these cases, and Seth could work with them, or not at all.
Seth’s fingers clenched. “The first two—they were so different. A woman in her apartment. A guy in his garage. Not tied. Not bound. Not…” His gaze darted to Hyde and the radiator. “Cuffed.”
“And then the third kill came.” Kenton watched him, curious about the investigator’s reaction.
“His own body trapped him.” A hard swallow. “If the bastard hadn’t called us in on Hatchen…”
“He wanted us to know.” Lora turned around and put her hands on her hips. “The guy gets off on the fires, but he wants attention, too. He didn’t claim the first kill, but he’s claiming them now. Every one.”
“He wants the world to see how good he is.” Hyde’s eyes were on Lora. Studying her, weighing her.
“He wants the world to see that he’s fucking better than we are.” She shook her head. “Maybe Jennifer Langley was some kind of test, to see if he could do it. And when he torched her…”
He saw he could get away with murder.
Lora exhaled. “He sets it up as a race, the fire versus the firefighters, and every time, we lose.”
And sometimes, they died.
“That’s sick, Lora.” The arson investigator’s lips twisted.
“That’s what we’re dealing with here, Seth. I told you after the second kill—before Carter went into that fire—he’s setting us up. Getting us all to play his way.”
He frowned. “I checked. Those two—Langley and Hatchen—didn’t seem linked.”
The guy’s voice was gruff, and his shoulders couldn’t drop much more. The attitude was gone now, finally, so ma
ybe they could get someplace. It sure looked like the arson investigator knew he was in over his head now. “But after Creed died, you knew what was happening, didn’t you?” Kenton asked.
“We all knew about that call.” Seth’s chin came up. “But there weren’t any more fires, everything seemed to stop after that, and I thought—”
“There have been two fires within the last few days.” Kenton stared him down. “Both claimed by the arsonist. I think it’s safe to say our boy is back in business.”
Seth exhaled. “Yeah, yeah… aw, Christ. I thought it was over!”
Kenton figured that it was just getting started. Two fires, so fast…
“What do you have on the vic?” Hyde demanded. “Cuffed to the radiator? That’s one hell of a way to go.”
He would have seen the flames coming at him. Probably nearly ripped his own wrist off trying to get free.
“D-dental records. The cops will have to ID him with dental records.”
No big surprise.
How is he picking the victims? The question was driving Kenton crazy. If he was going to link all the crimes, the victims would be the key. He needed Monica down there, yesterday.
Lora went back to pacing the perimeter. Part of the roof had fallen, a large chunk of wood and shingles. She bent down, inching along the remains of the tiled floor. “Ghost marks,” she whispered.
Kenton frowned. Ghost marks?
Lora glanced back up. “You can tell a liquid accelerant was used here because the gasoline bled under the tile.” She pointed to the stained outlines. “Like a ghost leaving a trail behind.”
“We already took samples, Lora,” Seth rushed to say.
“Glad to hear it,” she muttered and turned to head deeper into the hull of the house.
“That’s not too stable!” Seth lunged after her, his right leg sagging a bit behind him. “You need to—”
“I see something.”
Kenton crossed to her instantly, barely beating out the other guy.
“Small bag… looks like cocaine,” Lora said.
“It’s a drug house.” Seth bent toward her. “No big surprise—”
“The bag’s half-full…” She pulled it out, holding up the small, plastic bag. “That’s real unusual for a place like this.”