CHAPTER Five
You’re looking for a man who enjoys total control.” Special Agent Monica Davenport walked slowly around the police bullpen, her gaze sweeping over the men and women there. Davenport was tall, way too pretty, and icily controlled.
Lora shifted a bit in the back, aware that in her torn jeans and ash-stained clothing, she looked like a wreck. “Seriously, babe,” Max Quint said from beside her, the words a low whisper, “you look like hell.”
She turned her head, just a bit, and bared her teeth at him. This wasn’t a beauty pageant. And no way would she have missed this briefing. Even if the chief hadn’t paged her and told her to meet up at the precinct with the cops, she would have been there. She’d wanted to hear everything the profiler had to say about their guy.
A line of cops sat before the firefighters. Some propped on desks, some at attention in stiff chairs. A pecking order. The uniforms were trying to show this was their case. But the chief had said that Davenport asked the firefighters to come.
So we’ll know what we’re up against.
Smart woman.
“We’re looking for a male, most likely in his early to late thirties. He may have experience in law enforcement…” Davenport’s bright blue eyes cut to the back of the room. “He could have even worked as a firefighter.”
Ah, wow, wait a minute—
Max stiffened beside her, then shot up to his full six foot five inches. “You sayin’ it’s one of us?” His deep voice easily carried across the room.
Davenport’s expression didn’t alter. “We’re saying the perpetrator has knowledge that makes him very dangerous. Insider knowledge. The man knows about fires. He knows about staging his scenes, and he knows entirely too much about evidence.” Her dark brows rose. “Or rather, he knows exactly how to not leave evidence behind. He’s very, very good.”
Or lucky. Maybe the evidence burned away.
“You really think we got us a serial killer here? In Charlottesville?” Lora rose on her toes and saw that this came from a red-faced cop in a neatly pressed uniform. One huddled near the front.
“And one who offed Hatchen,” another cop muttered. “Sure didn’t think that would be the way the bastard went out.”
Max’s shoulder brushed hers. “She didn’t answer my question,” he said.
No, she hadn’t. Lora eased back down.
What had Hyde told her? When she’d tried to get the guy to trust her?
I can’t. But we can still use you.
It looked like the SSD would be using them all.
Fair enough, she was using the SSD.
Revenge. Not pretty, but then, life wasn’t. She’d learned that firsthand when she had been thirteen years old, and she’d watched her brother burn.
Kenton cleared his throat, pulling attention right back to him. “The SSD has reason to believe that five arsons in the area are linked.” Behind him, on a giant whiteboard, he’d tacked up pictures of the victims.
She hadn’t looked at Carter’s picture. Wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
“We’re looking for a very organized killer,” Davenport told them, her high heels tapping on the floor as she returned to Kenton’s side. “One with an obvious and vast knowledge of arson. One who likes the rush that he gets from the fire, from the death—”
“You got a fire freak.” Max crossed his arms and let his voice drift out, loud and clear. “That’s not a firefighter.” There were murmurs from the crew around them.
One of their own had fallen to this guy. The agents didn’t seem to get that they were about to cross a line with them. And the guys weren’t very forgiving.
“What I have…” Wow. The chill in that woman’s voice could have formed icicles. “Is a man who is addicted to fire. Arsonists usually begin experimenting with fire when they are kids, and the experience for this perp would be no different. Maybe he was in a fire. Maybe he played with fire, but the attraction started years ago.”
Attraction. Jeez, the woman made the fire sound like a lover.
“He traps the victims in the fire because he’s showing that the flames have the power. The ultimate say in the person’s life or death.”
Lora caught Seth nodding. Right, figured he’d be totally on board now. Like he hadn’t been dodging her calls for weeks. But there he stood, to the far right of Kenton, acting like he was part of their team. All ready to catch a killer.
“This man doesn’t have a distinct signature. Not the same accelerant, not the same victim type.” Davenport glanced at the victims’ board.
Lora glanced at the floor.
“But the trap—that’s his mark. And I’m thinking there have been other cases. Maybe it wasn’t so obvious that the victim was trapped. Perhaps he started the game by staging the scenes as accidents—”
“Because he wanted to see if he could get away with murder,” Kenton broke in.
Lora’s gaze flew up. “So far, he has.” Okay, that pissy snap was hers. Lora couldn’t help it. The words just slipped out. Control hadn’t really ever been her strong suit.
Kenton shifted, and his gaze zeroed in on her. “So far. Not forever.” Of course, he’d heard her. His stare held hers, bright and hot, then drifted to her cheek. His lips tightened.
“Uh… excuse me.” Seth stepped up, brushing just past Pete. Not surprising that Seth had aligned with the cops instead of the firefighters. These days, he spent more time with the cops. Besides, he and Pete were friends. Had been, for years. Those two guys usually agreed on things, but not this case.
Seth cleared his throat. “If he was getting away with the crimes, then why’d the perpetrator start calling 911 and telling the dispatcher about the fires? If he hadn’t called in with Hatchen and Skofield, there wouldn’t have been any link—”
“Attention.” Davenport’s flat answer. “The guy is good, and he wanted some recognition for his talent.”
“Good?” Okay, that one broke free, too, and now she had Monica’s eerie blue eyes focusing on her. Lora squared her shoulders. “He’s not good. He’s a twisted freak who gets off on starting fires and killing people.”
“Yes.” A quick nod. That gaze was way too assessing. “I do believe he gets off on the flames, and the death, and I think he probably watches, very, very closely to see what happens at all of his scenes.”
“So from now on, you’re to watch the crowds.” Kenton’s stare tracked back across the room. “Note the faces. The body language. If he lights a place, our guy is there. We’ll be doing searches of surrounding buildings. We’ll write down car tag numbers. We will find this guy.”
“Before he kills someone else?” Ah, now Pete was speaking up. He’d been scribbling down notes during the briefing, but now his pen was poised in the air. “Sounds to me like you’re already factoring in his next hit. We search the crowd after the fire. We canvass the area after. What are we gonna do before he strikes?” His eyes narrowed, and his handsome face hardened. “What are we gonna do so that we don’t have to ID another poor bastard by using his dental records?”
Now this was why she and Pete had dated once upon a time. He went after the bad guys. And he tried to keep the victims safe. The guy wasn’t perfect, but he was a good cop. One who’d just been thwarted by his boss.
No one ever wanted to admit the problem was too big. The brass at the Charlottesville PD sure hadn’t wanted to admit they might have a serial on their hands. Better to bury their heads, bury the dead, and hope the guy left town.
Stupid.
“We’ve got members of the SSD cross-referencing fires that resulted in fatalities in the area.” A muscle flexed along Kenton’s jaw. “We’re going to review the files in the county arson investigator’s office and see what connections we find.”
“The key in cases like this,” Davenport added in her smooth voice, “is finding an early crime. You need to see what set off the serial. What drove him to cross the line that first time. Finding an earlier case could lead us right to our killer’s identity.”
Now that would be something.
“And we’re working on victims.” Kenton pointed at Pete. “Malone, I want you manning a team and ripping through the lives of the vics. There’s a reason he picked those people. They weren’t random—”
“They rarely are,” Davenport agreed.
“When we find the connection between them, we’ve got another piece of the puzzle. Another clue to finding him.”
Sounded better than just sitting on their asses.
“But if there is another fire…” Kenton began.
“He means when,” Max said. Lora drove her elbow into his side. Straight into solid muscle.
“Then you need to be on your guard.” Kenton paused. “Because I think he likes playing with you.” He meant the firefighters, all of them, right? But he was looking only at her. “He’s getting personal. He took one of yours down. You have to stay on guard because he’s drawing you into his game.”
His sick, twisted game. “All right.” Kenton clapped his hands together. “Team leaders will stay to get their orders. Stay sharp, people. There’s a perp out there, playing in your town, and you’ve got to be ready for him. Twenty-four seven, be ready.”
“You heard the man!” Police Captain Jason Lawrence finally stepped up. Jerk. He should have stepped up long ago. He should have been the one to call the SSD. “We’re hunting this perp—we’re stopping him.” The perp he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But now, his beady eyes were bright with excitement, even if his forehead was showing more than a trickle of sweat.
“He’s gotten a taste of blood, and he’s going to want more.” Davenport touched the pictures of the victims. First Jennifer. Tom Hatchen. Charlie Skofield. Carter.
Christ. Carter. Smiling. Wearing his fireman’s helmet. Handsome. Young. Alive.
Not anymore.
“Good job, Spade.” She glanced up at Chief Garrison’s gruff voice. His green eyes glinted at her.
“Sir, I didn’t—”
He caught her hand and pulled her to the side as the others filed out. “Glad you called ’em in. If you hadn’t, I would have.”
Her gaze darted to the line of uniforms filing out. “I was tired of seeing bodies.”
“Me, too.” His broad shoulders, football shoulders, rose and fell. “And I don’t like burying my men.”
Her chin came up. “No, sir, that fucking sucks.”
She caught his stare as it raked her face. Since Carter’s death, even the chief had been going easy on her, and the guy with the nickname of Grizzly wasn’t supposed to go easy on anyone.
“You okay working with those agents?”
She nodded.
He leaned in close. “Get ’im, Spade. Burn the bastard.”
Then he was gone, heading toward the group of firefighters waiting near the exit.
“Lora, you comin’?” Max called out. Pete and Seth were huddled behind him, talking fast. “We’re heading to Mickey’s.”
Probably to blow off steam. “No, I—”
“I need to brief her.” Kenton caught her arm. “Now.”
Max’s brows rose. “Uh, okay.” Surprise flashed over the hard lines and angles of his face.
Then Kenton pushed her in the office to the right. He slammed the door behind them, and she forgot about Max.
“You’ve still got blood on you.”
Ah, yeah, so she wasn’t pristine. “No time to change.” The guy might carry spare suits around with him, but she didn’t. “Not like I could—”
He kissed her. Drove those sexy lips right on hers and plunged his tongue deep.
Well damn.
Her fingers rose and clamped around his shoulders. Because she was tall, they stood almost chest to chest. Almost. Lora rose on her toes, held him tighter, and felt the heat from the hard ridge of his cock press against her.
Wow. No pity there. Need. Lust. Passion.
Pleasure.
Give me what I need. He could. She knew it. Lora sucked his tongue, pressed harder against him, and heard the growl in his throat. He liked that. Then he’d sure love everything else she’d do to him.
His hands locked on her ass. Curled and pulled her against the swell of his cock.
No mistaking that arousal.
Or her own. Because Lora knew her panties were getting wet. A dozen cops within shouting distance, and she wanted sex. Right now.
His tongue swiped against hers, and her nipples pebbled.
Right now.
Her fingers dug into his upper arms, urging him closer. Needing more.
His mouth tore from hers.
Dammit, she’d been enjoying—
His lips pressed against her neck. Right under her ear. Her weak spot. Oh, Christ.
She trembled, and her sex creamed. Definitely wet panties.
Her nails bit harder into him. “Kent…” So not the right place. She could hear everyone outside, voices rising and falling, phones ringing. “Not… now.”
He tensed against her. His breath feathered over her neck, and a chill skated down her body.
Sex with him would be phenomenal. No doubt.
She’d scream. She’d come. She’d forget.
Is that what I want? Is he?
His head rose, and those gunmetal eyes met hers. She could see the lust on his face. Hard need.
Take him.
Didn’t she deserve something, someone for herself? Pleasure… just a few hours.
He wouldn’t know her past.
He’d take her, she’d take him, and to hell with what others thought.
So very tempting.
“M-my house…” Did she just whisper that?
Yes.
His eyes widened, and the raw lust on his face had an ache shooting through her.
Her hands feathered over his chest. She rose, licked his lower lip, and heard the hitch of his breath. “I’m not into displays, so I’m not screwing here.” She sounded cocky. Confident. Good. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that her knees were shaking. “Just me and you, Kent. My place. Tonight, when everything’s—”
A hard rap on the door. She glanced over and saw the blinds shaking beneath that pounding. What?
Kenton’s fingers clenched around her. “Someone has piss-poor timing.”
Right. Blame them. “Um, can you let go of my ass?” Her stare turned back to him.
His eyes narrowed, and his fingers pressed harder, but after a moment, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “For now.”
Ah, promises.
Kenton’s gaze dropped to her lips. “Have I told you that you taste like sin?”
Her knees shook harder. Another knock rattled the door.
“Come in!” Kenton barked.
The door shoved open, and a uniform stuck his head in. That same red-faced guy who’d asked the question in the briefing. “We got a call!” The man’s voice broke with excitement. “Agent Davenport wants you, now, says it’s him!”
Lora shook her head. No, the cop couldn’t mean—
“Fuck me.” Kenton ran out of the room.
Him.
Lora knocked the cop back when she torpedoed through the door.
The silence hit her first. No more rumbles of voices. No more whispers. All the cops in the bullpen stood at attention—and that attention, it was all on Agent Davenport. She stood near the front of the room, arms crossed, staring at the phone on the desk near her hip.
“I’m Phoenix.” A high, whispering voice.
A voice that filled every inch of the room.
Distorted, just like before, on the 911 tapes. Metallic, robotic, but whispering.
“Just called,” a cop whispered behind her. Some young guy with bright red hair and muddy brown eyes. “He called John at the front desk, asked to talk to the FBI bastards.”
Her brows rose. “Uh, what?”
“FBI bastards.” His face had flushed almost enough to match his hair. “He knew they were here.”
And that wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“I burn and I rise and the weak die.”
Peter stood beside Davenport. “Tracing,” he mouthed the word.
He’d called the station. Ballsy. She hadn’t expected that.
“And how do you decide who the weak are?” Davenport asked, inching closer to the phone. Static crackled over the speaker. “How do you pick who burns?”
“The fire burns. She kills. She judges the wicked.”
Lora’s heart shoved into her ribs. That voice… a whisper.
Makes him real. Not shadows and ash anymore. A real perp. A killer.
“No.” Davenport’s voice snapped out. “You judge. You trap the victims. You start the fire.”
“The heroes arrive too late. Can’t beat the flames. Can’t beat me.”
“You’re setting up a game—”
“I’m Phoenix. I burn and I rise and the weak die.” Laughter, hoarse and grating. “Time’s up, bitch.”
The sound of a dial tone filled the room.
Lora sucked in a hard breath. She looked up and found Davenport’s eyes locked tight on her. And over the agent’s shoulder, Carter’s image smiled at her.
“I guess the perp decided to come out of the closet.” Kenton led the way into the small office they’d been assigned and threw himself into the chair behind the desk. Wheels squeaked, and cheap leather groaned. “Hell, did you see those guys?” he asked Monica. “They aren’t gonna keep this quiet. Ten-to-one odds say at least two of them are running to the nearest news station right now.”
Monica closed the door. Her face was tense as she said, “Then I guess we’d better run faster.”
He stared at her, and, after a moment, a slow smile lifted his lips. He always got to handle the press. Sometimes he rather enjoyed that part of the job. Other times, not so much.
“He called because he wants attention,” Monica said, and he knew she was right. “The fires started small. The crimes not as obvious. But he just got bigger and bigger.”
Kenton rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension that knotted his muscles. “He kept killing because he got hooked on the thrill.” And now the bastard wanted the world to know just what he was doing.
Monica walked toward the small window. “He wants everyone to know he has the control. It’s his game. He’s calling the shots. Calling us. He knew we were investigating, getting the teams ready. It would fit with his need for control.” She glanced back at him.
Kenton rose and straightened his clothes. “Then I guess it’s time I went out there and snatched that perp’s control away.” He’d slant the coverage before the press had a chance to splash their version of Phoenix’s story on all the TV stations and newspapers in the area.
“He’s not going to like this,” Monica warned. “He’ll see you as a threat.”
Kenton smiled. “Good.” That was exactly what he wanted. If Phoenix wanted to target someone, he could target Kenton. “We’re not gonna be dancing on his damn puppet strings.”
Monica’s lips curled. “No, we’re not.”
Lora flipped on the TV. When the black screen vanished and Tom Myers, always-perfect newsman for Channel Five, popped on the screen, she tossed the remote and tugged the towel from her head. She’d rushed through her shower, wanting to hurry in case—
“Tonight, we’re bringing you a very special, exclusive live report from our Channel Five studio.” Tom’s handsome, if bland face filled her screen. His deep green eyes were boiling with intensity. “Rumors have been flying around the city about a so-called Phoenix serial arsonist.”
The news already had the story? What? Had the cops run to the station? Not the firefighters, not her team, they wouldn’t have—
“I’m here with Special Agent Kenton Lake of the FBI. Agent Lake is a member of the elite Serial Services Division, and he’s here to tell us exactly what nightmare our city faces.”
The towel fell to the floor.
The camera panned back, and there he was. Sitting at the news desk with good old Tom. That still-perfect suit hugging his chest. His hair in place. A grim smile curling his lips.
“Agent Lake…” Tom turned to face him, giving his trademark profile shot. Figured. The guy was always flashing his best side. “Tell us, should the city be afraid? Are we in the sights of a calculating killer?”
Christ. Did the guy want to give old women heart attacks? Or just drive his ratings numbers up his own ass?
Kenton’s smile eased away. “Not a calculating killer, Tom. There’s an arsonist in the city, true. But he’s a sick individual, one whose fascination with fire has caused him to lose all touch with reality.”
Uh-oh.
“This man suffers from severe psychological problems. He’s not a criminal mastermind—no genius killer. He’s a guy who needs psychiatric help, and when we catch him—”
Lora’s knees gave way, and her butt hit the couch.
Kenton’s smile flashed again. “We’ll make sure that he’s given the opportunity to get counseling and medication in prison.”
The guy had just waved a red flag right in the bull’s face.
“Fucking bastard!” He picked up the television and slammed it into the wall. “You are fucking dead!” He’d been so careful with his phone call. Staging the scene so well…
Now this asshole was in his face. Blasting his lies to the world.
Lake didn’t know what he’d done. That dick thought that he could lie about him? Take the spotlight? Get his face plastered all over the TV while the guy laughed at him?
Lake wouldn’t laugh when the flames came for him.
No, he wouldn’t laugh then.
But he might beg.
And then he’d burn.
Bastard.
“Cut! That’s a wrap, people.”
Kenton yanked the microphone off his lapel.
“Good job, Lake.” Monica emerged from the shadows. She hadn’t come on-camera during the shoot. The woman liked to leave the dirty work to him.
He grunted and pushed out of the chair, glad the camera was off. “Think our boy caught the show?”
“Oh, I’d count on it.”
The holster at Kenton’s side was a light weight against him. One he’d be keeping real close for the next few days. Until he had the pyro locked up. “So I guess I got his attention.”
Her gaze was steady. “You understand that you just made yourself a target?”
“No, I made myself the target. And that was our plan, right?” They stalked away from the set. “We wanted to piss him off, and I’d say we did.”
Monica smoothed back her hair. Not that it needed smoothing. “I’d say you did. You’re the one he saw. The one he’ll come after.”
But that had been their goal. To rile the perp and to throw him off his game. The rage would make him weak. Fury caused killers to get sloppy. “When he comes…” Not if, when. “I’ll be ready.”
“I know you will be.” Monica’s lips tightened at the corners. “Just—watch your back, okay?”
A warning Kenton didn’t need. “Always.”
Monica watched Kenton drive away. He wasn’t heading back to the hotel, and it didn’t take magical profiling skills to figure that one out. She’d seen the way that his eyes kept darting to the female firefighter. The one with blood on her cheek and fury in her eyes.
A whole lot of heat came from that one. Heat that seemed to be drawing Kenton right in.
And she hadn’t missed the red, swollen lips the woman had, either. No way those two had been discussing the case when they ran out of the office at the station.
“What do you want me to do?” The man’s voice came from the shadows. She didn’t jump, didn’t flinch. She’d known he was there.
Not many would have known, but she’d gotten pretty good at spotting Special Agent Jon Ramirez, ex-sniper and all-around spook. The guy could get into and out of almost any place without being seen.
He was also one hell of a tracker.
Monica glanced at her watch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
A gruff laugh. “I like to keep you guessing, Davenport.”
And he did. Of all the agents she worked with, Monica had the least success in figuring out Ramirez. The guy laughed at death, hunted killers with a single-minded fury, and kept his emotions as closed as, well—
As I did.
Until Luke had come along and blown her control.
“Kenton didn’t realize you’d arrived.” He’d been too busy staring into the camera, delivering their message right to the killer.
Come on, let’s play.
She just hoped this game didn’t backfire on them. Monica knew it was dangerous. When you tried to manipulate a killer, the world could explode. Or, in this case, burn around you.
“I think Lake had other things on his mind.”
A killer. A woman. Sex.
Kenton had always been easy for her to read. “Stay on him, okay? I don’t want this going down like the one in Jasper.” She could still see Sam’s pale face.
Samantha Kennedy. She’d been so carefree and happy before. Then a killer touched her. Broke her.
“Not like Jasper,” she said again. “You can tail anyone.” One of his specialties. “Make sure he’s safe.” She’d have to get another agent in for backup. Two sets of eyes on Kenton. And she’d keep working the profile.
Something would give. A mistake would be made and she’d find a link. It was just a matter of time. “Make sure he’s safe,” she said again.
And the sniper smiled. “He won’t even know I’m there.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about. I don’t want our killer to know.” Because if they could lure him out and catch him—
Game over, Phoenix.
The doorbell rang, and Lora’s heart slammed into overdrive. She rose, the robe shifting lightly against her thighs, and she hurried for the door. Lora pressed her eye against the peephole and saw her late-night visitor.
After one glance, she jumped back and flipped the locks. Eyes narrowing, she wrapped her fingers around the knob and yanked the door open.
“Are you insane?” she snarled, glaring at Kenton. “Or do you just have a death wish?”
His brows rose. “Guess you caught the news.” Then his eyes raked down her body, and his lips parted. A soft sigh. Then, “Damn.” Appreciation flavored the curse.
She grabbed his shirt and hauled him inside. “What were you thinking?” Lora slammed the door behind him, barely hearing the groan of the wood. “Were you thinking? Do you want the freak to target you because you pissed him off? Do you want—”
“Yes.”
Insane. The guy was certifiable. “Run that by me again,” she snapped, her voice cracking with anger.
“I want him coming after me.” His eyes lifted back to her face, and yeah, she recognized lust when she saw it. Her fingers shook a bit when she tightened the belt on her robe. Not that there was whole lot to the robe. “I want him coming after me”—his voice was gruff and deep—“instead of trapping some poor bastard in his fire and letting him burn.”
“Do you want to burn?” Lora asked. Kenton didn’t know what it was like. When the fire came and it kissed you, and the pain stole your breath even as you tried to scream.
“I know the game. He’s not going to get me.” His head lowered. She saw his nostrils flare. “But I’ll get him.”
She hoped. God, she hoped. But she’d already seen one lover die.
“I got your address from your records.”
Her eyes widened. Oh, right, she’d forgotten to tell the guy where she lived. Luckily for her, he was a special agent man.
“You said… Christ, you smell good.”
Raspberry body wash. It’d been a gift last Christmas from Amanda Adams, the only other female fighter at the Bringham station.
Kenton cleared his throat. “You said tonight… after…” His fingers tightened around her. “You said—”
Just me and you. My place. Tonight.
But that had been before. When the need was high and the lust was beating in her blood. Before—before he’d gone on TV and challenged a killer.
I won’t lose another lover.
Didn’t he understand what he’d done?
If she had to drag his body from the flames…
Their eyes held. His body pressed against hers. His lips were so close.
Dammit. Damn him.
She grabbed the back of his head and yanked him toward her. Their mouths met, no tentative touch. No light caress.
She was angry with him. Furious at the risk he was taking. She was angry and afraid, and she wanted him.
The press of her lips was hard against his. Demanding. And he met her—dead on. Lips, tongue, tasting, taking. His hands were on her, lifting her and shoving her against the wall. He pushed between her legs, his cock heavy and full and riding high at the top of his pants.
His fingers tangled in her robe and jerked it free while his mouth stayed locked on hers. He kept thrusting that tongue deep, even as his chest eased back, even as his fingers wrenched the robe away and left her—
Naked.
His head snapped back. “Fuck.”
They’d be getting there, soon.
His hands closed over her breasts, cupping the mounds, stroking the nipples, and her head tipped back against the wall. This, this was what she needed. The heat of her blood. The tight yearning in her sex.
“Bed… or I take you here.”
Tempting. Especially when his dark head lowered and his lips closed around her right breast. He took the nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking—
“The first room…” She choked back a moan when she felt the edge of his teeth. “Top of the s-stairs… right.”
He growled. Pulled back. Started stripping. Nice.
The jacket first. Then—
Weapon. Gun.
His hand went to the holster. He secured the weapon and seconds later, his shirt hit the floor.
Bare chest with muscles gleaming. A light covering of dark hair.
Better than nice.
She slid away from him. Being naked had never bothered her. So she lifted her head and smiled at him when he froze. She said simply, “Come get me.”
Then she was gone. He’d follow, she had no doubt. And she’d be waiting in bed.
Lora ran up the stairs, her feet thudding on the steps. She heard Kenton behind her, the rasp of his breath and the hungry whisper of her name.
The light from the hallway spilled inside her bedroom. She’d barely stepped over the threshold when he caught her. Kenton spun her around and yanked her up in his arms. Two steps, and they were on the bed. Crashing down. Falling hard into the soft mattress.
He caged her arms over her head, holding them with one hand even as he took her mouth.
That other hand—yes!—drifted down her stomach and pushed between her legs. He’d find her wet, she knew it. One kiss, and she’d been wet for him. Creamy, hot. Ready.
So long.
All those nights. Staring into the darkness. Wanting.
Alone. But not tonight. By God, not tonight.
It might be wrong. Might be too fast. Might be a million things—
She didn’t care. Screw reason. She’d tried to be a good girl and go that route. She’d never been into the whole good-girl scene.
His fingers parted the folds of her sex. His thumb pushed against her clit, and every muscle in her body tightened. “Easy.” His whisper in the darkness.
But she didn’t want easy. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted pleasure.
She shuddered against him. “No.”
Kenton stilled. “What? Lora, don’t—”
“Not easy.” She lifted her head and bit his shoulder. She tasted the salt on his skin. “Hard. Wild. Give me everything.” Because that was what she wanted.
He pushed up onto his elbows, and his eyes gleamed down at her. “Be careful what you ask for.”
“I know what I want…” His hand was between her thighs. That thumb pushing against her clit wasn’t enough, not even close. She wanted—
He drove two fingers into her. Then pulled them back and drove deeper.
Yes.
His mouth took her breast. Licking. Sucking. The peak was so sensitive that it almost hurt, but the pleasure, yes, it was there, pulsing through her, heating her, driving through her blood.
She tore her hands free of his hold and raked her nails down his back. He still had his pants on. She wanted them gone. Wanted his cock out, slamming into her while she held on for the ride.
“You’re tight… Damn, sweetheart, you’ll be—”
Those fingers plunged again. A slow swipe of his thumb over her clit.
“More!” Not a whimper. Not a plea. A demand.
The stubble on his cheeks rasped over her flesh as his mouth moved down her stomach. Wait, no, what was he—
He withdrew his fingers and parted her thighs. Wider. Opening her fully.
No, she didn’t want that. She just wanted sex. Hot. Dirty. Fast. Not—
She stiffened when he put his mouth on her.
This room, right here, the last time, it had been—
“Stay with me.”
Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t realized she’d shut them.
“Stay with me.” A snarl from Kenton, and she realized he knew.
She’d slipped into the past. Another lover’s arms. Oh, no, she hadn’t meant—
He rose up and kissed her. Fury and lust.
Her fingers caught the front of his pants. She wasn’t going back. Couldn’t go back.
Kenton. She wanted him.
She yanked the clasp, and a button popped free. His zipper came down with a hiss. No underwear.
Lora almost smiled. Almost, but the moment was too tense.
His eyes were on her.
His body surrounding hers.
Her legs were still open. Her breasts tight and aching.
She closed her fingers around him and pumped, base to tip. The guy was impressive. Long, thick, easily wider than her wrist and—
He yanked out his wallet.
“Wh—”
Condom. “Put it on,” he told her.
She licked her lips.
“Hard and fast, right?” His voice rumbled, dark with lust and fury. “I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart. But you’ll remember it’s me.”
Lora took the hit. Using him. No, that’s not what she’d been doing. Not really. She—
She tore open the condom and rolled it down his hard flesh. And squeezed, because she liked the way he sucked in his breath when she touched him. “I want you,” she said. Stark. And not a lie. She’d ached for him since that kiss at the precinct.
The cream between her legs wasn’t a lie. The tightness, the yearning in her sex was for him.
Not for the ghost who haunted her.
“Then you’ll have me.” He leaned over her and turned on the light that sat on her nightstand.
She flinched against the brightness, turning away.
“And you’ll know it’s me.” Her gaze snapped back to him.
She could see him. All of him. Rippling muscles. Heavy cock. Strong thighs. All that power—hidden beneath the suit.
His hands caught her thighs again. His eyes lowered as he licked his lips. “Now let’s fucking try this again.”
Lora knew, he was going to—
He parted her folds, and he tasted.
Her breath choked out at the first touch of his mouth. Wet and warm.
Her fingers dug into the covers, and she closed her eyes.
“No, Lora.” His breath blew against her flesh, and her eyes flew open.
“Watch me.”
She shoved up onto her elbows. When her gaze met his, those gray eyes narrowed. “Good.”
Every muscle in her body tightened when she felt the wet lick of his tongue. Right on her clit, stroking that tight nub and making her breath shudder out.
The need wound up inside her as her heart raced, and she lifted up against his mouth, because the man knew how to work his lips and tongue, oh, he knew.
Kenton eased back, just a little.
“Kent—”
Then his tongue drove into her sex. His name tore out on a moan. And she came. A hot explosion that rocked through her and she watched him, watched him lick and suck and taste her as she came.
Kent!
Even as her sex convulsed, he rose, swiping his tongue over his lips. His cock pushed against the entrance of her sex, just nudging inside.
She kept watching him, and as his eyes held hers, he plunged inside.
It was a tight fit. He was big, and it had been a while for her. Lora’s sex was swollen and sensitive from her climax.
He started to pull back. Probably to give her time to adjust to him.
Her legs rose, clenching around his hips. “Don’t stop.” An order. She wanted this. More pleasure. Him.
Demanding? Greedy? Yeah, that was her.
His lips curled. “Not a problem.” He thrust into her and plunged deep. So deep.
The bed creaked while the lamp cast a soft light on them.
Thrust. Withdraw.
Thrust. Deeper. Harder.
Just what she wanted.
Lora’s hands reached for him, wrapping tightly around his broad shoulders, her nails biting into the flesh. She arched her hips against him, driving up to meet him with her breath heaving and her heart racing.
Pleasure was so close. Her sex squeezed him, and she shivered at the rush of sensual sensation. The release was so close. She’d come again, a fierce blast that would make her vision dim, make her body quake and—
Make her forget.
“Say my name.” His hands dug into her hips.
“Kent—wh-what—”
“Right.” His cock drove balls-deep into her.
Good, good, better than good, it was—
He rolled them over, a fast, hard roll across the bed.
She slammed her hands on his chest, shooting up, straddling him, and taking his cock in even deeper.
Her knees dug into the mattress, and his fingers curled tight around her ass.
And that cock—so far inside her. Her sex flexed around him, clamping tight, already milking him.
“Fuck,” he groaned out the word.
Yeah, that’s exactly what they were doing.
She rose up and slammed down, taking control of the rhythm away from him. Up, down. Again, again.
His hips pistoned up to meet her. Powerful, hard thrusts that had her sex throbbing. Her body heating. And need tightening in her gut.
With her climax coming so close, her inner muscles began to convulse, and she—
Pleasure. It hit her. Slamming into her and stealing her breath. She saw his eyes and saw the flare of his pupils and the flush on his cheeks as he shuddered beneath her. His cock swelled even more inside her, and Kenton growled her name.
She came, then he erupted with passion, lust, and sweet, hot release.
She’d needed this for so long.
Kent. He’d given her exactly what she needed.
And more.
Her mouth locked on his. She kissed him, but lighter and softer now. A press of her lips, open-mouthed, against his. A lick of her tongue. A moan that trembled in her throat, only to be swallowed by his lips.
Then she gazed at him. Her fingers smoothed over his chest. She stared at Kenton and didn’t know what to say.
So she put her head down, leaning over his chest. Her ear pressed against his heart and she just stayed there.
Just for a moment.
The steady beat filled her ears. Fast at first, then deeper, steadier.
His arms came around her, and he held her close. “You can fuck me,” he told her, his voice deep and gruff. “I’ll give you all the pleasure you need, but I won’t be a stand-in for the lover you lost.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. It hadn’t been like that. She hadn’t wanted a body in the dark so she could pretend Carter was touching her. If she’d wanted that, hell, she could have gotten it months ago. Finding a new lover wasn’t hard with all the eager cops and smoke eaters around.
But she knew that he’d sensed her hesitation when he’d first pressed his lips against her sex. She took a deep breath. It would be easier to be honest in the dark. Maybe that’s why she kept her eyes closed. “I wasn’t trying to screw a ghost. I just wanted you.” But it had been hard, dammit, harder than she thought, to shove away the past.
Some memories didn’t fade so easily.
His hands slid down her back. Warm hands, strong and solid. A man’s hands. It felt good to have him hold her.
Not alone. Not now. It wouldn’t last, nothing ever lasted, but—
His hands froze. “What the hell?”
Ah, how had she forgotten? This always came up, sooner or later.
Her eyes opened, and she pushed up, the better to stare down at him. “Scars, Kent. They’re just scars.” A line criss-crossed the base of her back. Old scars. Not like they hurt anymore. They were just a reminder.
Like she would have ever forgotten.
“What happened? Damn, it must have hurt like a bitch.”
“Yeah, the kiss from fire can be a real bitch.” He had that right. She forced a smile. She didn’t want to talk about the past right then. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.” Lying in the dark would have been much easier.
The thick ridges would always be there. Sure, she could probably do some kind of surgery to get them reduced. But why bother? What would be the point?
So she wasn’t perfect. She never had been.
Lora gazed down at Kenton. No, she’d never been perfect.
“I see you,” she told him. “Not Carter.” She wanted to be completely clear. Not an old lover. Not memories. It was just them, and they had the rest of the night.
“But who do you see?” she asked him. Just because she’d been hurt once, that didn’t make her a victim, no matter what some of her former lovers thought. She didn’t want pity. Not a victim. Not just a woman chased by the flames.
His fingers were still on the base of her back, lightly tracing the scars. “I see the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
Ah, now that sounded promising.
She lowered her head to hide her smile. “Good answer.”
They were screwing. Through the binoculars, he stared at the light glowing in Lora Spade’s bedroom and knew that the agent was fucking her.
Barely in town a few days, and Lora was already spreading her legs. What a fucking whore.
She’d played the fire widow, crying and shaking. But she’d given it up fast enough to the Bureau bastard.
Should have known. She was just like so many of the others on the inside.
Twisted. Wicked.
She’d learn. They’d all learn. And when he was done lighting up this town, no one would ever forget him.
Sweat beaded his brow as he stared at the window. He didn’t make the mistake of getting too close to a scene, not when he was scouting. It never paid to have witnesses see you before a fire. Hell, he’d learned that with the Skofield kill. One slip. Now he always cased from a distance—the better to observe his target.
And Lora’s lovely house, the house she was so damn proud of… he wanted to set that place on fire, to let the flames run loose.
Not yet.
The rage ate at him, but he pushed it back, knowing that he had to be careful. He had to plan his moves, wait for his attack.
He had to be sure that his prey would suffer. When he struck, that bastard Lake would die screaming.
And Lora—she’d watch. Just like before.
Because Lora liked to watch the flames.
Dance and burn.