CHAPTER Fifteen

Lora had just stepped into the fire station when she heard Kenton’s voice behind her. She turned around and saw him. The drumming of Lora’s heart echoed in her ears even as she shoved her way past the guys who wanted to make sure she was all right.

“Lora, damn, woman,” Garrison called out, “just slow—”

She almost slammed into Kenton.

He caught her, and his hands rose to lock around her arms. A furrow pulled down his brows. “Lora—”

“We need to talk.” Right then.

But he shook his head. “I’m here to see Malone.”

Malone? Pete?

“He’s not here,” Jon told him. “Garrison said the guy cut out before word came to detain him.”

Lora’s eyes widened. “Why do you want to detain Pete?”

Kenton leveled a stare at Jon. “Malone’s father was a firefighter.”

“Saul Malone wasn’t just a firefighter,” Lora said, blinking. “He was a damn great firefighter. He died in the line of duty while he was saving some kids back in the eighties.”

But Jon’s lips thinned, and his gaze didn’t stray from Kenton. “Was he now?”

“When you call the station, talk to Monica,” Kenton ordered. “Get her to bring you up to speed. And make sure the cops are searching this town for Detective Malone.”

Kenton pushed Lora into the conference room, then slammed the door behind her. The little speech she’d prepared for him flew right out of her mind. “Pete? Are you suggesting Pete had something to do with this? Because, Kent, you’re wrong. He—”

“How well do you know Peter Malone?”

Ah… she licked her lips and managed to hold his stare. “Well enough.”

His eyes bored into hers. The air got real thick. “Shit. You’ve slept with him.” His hand ran through his hair. “That was what Seth meant.”

Seth? Great, so he’d been spreading gossip, but so what? She had a past. Big deal. “Before us, yeah, I did. He’s a good guy.”

“Fuck! Now I understand why you weren’t worried about going over his head. You could do pretty much any damn thing, and he wouldn’t get mad, right?”

She pulled back, stumbling away from him. “Whatever happened between me and Pete, it’s over. I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart, you do.” He stalked forward. The back of her thighs bumped into the conference table.

Her chin lifted. “Have I asked you for a list of ex-lovers? Huh?”

“My lovers might not be involved in murders. Murders.”

“Pete isn’t involved. He’s the cop investigating the case, for God’s sake. Not some—”

“The guy investigating,” he repeated, and she could hear the banked fury in the words. “The guy who happens to know about every single piece of evidence we’ve got. You think cops don’t go bad?”

Pete wasn’t just a cop, though. He was her friend.

“Did you sleep with him before Carter?” He fired the question at her. “Or after?”

She swallowed. What did this matter? “After.” Three months after. The three-month anniversary. They’d just had one night.

“Who else?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Someone you work with? You—”

She shoved him back and used enough force that he staggered. “Watch it, GQ.”

His hands snaked out. He grabbed her and pulled her close. “Am I just another in a line for you? Never good enough, because I’m not him?”

The question blasted between them, and she sucked in a breath. Then…

Silence.

His eyes squeezed shut. “Christ, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re damn right you shouldn’t have.”

Kenton’s eyelids lifted, and he stared at her. “I can’t think when it comes to you. I’m not like this. I—” He took a breath. “From the beginning, I was lost when it came to you.”

Her own breath rasped out. “And you think I wasn’t?” Was the man blind? “I wasn’t ready for you. Hell, I still don’t think I am, but when we’re together… lost, yeah, that pretty much sums up the way I feel.”

“Lora.” No man had ever said her name like that. Like it was breath. Life.

“You’re not a stand-in for anyone.” That first night… “I wanted to forget. I tried with Pete.” She’d be brutally honest because he deserved that. “It didn’t work. The next day, I just felt…” Dirty. Ashamed. “Empty. Then I met you. From that first moment…” Jeez, she’d punched him. The heat had surrounded them, and she’d struggled to get him out of that fire. “You got to me.”

His gaze seemed to bore into her, and there was so much heat and intensity in his eyes.

“The more I’m with you…” This was what she’d needed to tell him. “The more I want you, Kent.” Stark truth. “I’m not using you to forget anyone or anything, because when I’m with you, I can’t remember anything else.” And that was her shame. That was why she’d gone to the cemetery.

To say good-bye.

“This isn’t me. I’m not the jealous type, not possessive, not—” His head lowered toward her. “I can’t even think of the case. Just you.” His lips skated over hers. “Just you, and when I think of you with someone else…” His breath blew over her cheek. “This isn’t me.”

Maybe it was just him without all the fancy trappings.

“Carter was my best friend for seven years. I worked with him, day in and day out. He saved my ass. I saved his.” As she spoke, Kenton watched her. “Then we became lovers, and I loved him.”

His body was so still.

“Everything with him was so simple. Dating, becoming involved.” No fear. No uncertainty. Not with easygoing Carter. She’d always known how he felt and always known that he was there for her.

Then he’d been gone.

“You’re not easy,” she told him and meant it. “You drive me crazy. You make me want you so much that I want to scream.” Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders. “But it’s not easy. It’s scary and wild, and I don’t know what to expect next.”

He caught her hips and lifted her up. Kenton set her down on the edge of that long table. “You’re the kind of woman who can make a man beg.”

“I don’t want you to beg.” She held his gaze. “I just want you.”

His fingers tunneled under her hair. He tipped her head back, and he kissed her. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and it was what she wanted.

He was what she wanted.

Kenton pushed between her legs. She pressed closer and tightened her mouth on him. The kiss took. Claimed.

Hers. Because she was the possessive type, and Kenton was most definitely hers. She knew it, deep inside. Her sex moistened for him. Her nipples ached, and she wanted him. It didn’t matter where they were or who waited down the hallway.

Dark need. Hot passion. Wild with him, always wild.

He might say she tempted him and pushed him past his careful reserve, but he drove her right to the edge.

And made her want more.

So much more.

She grabbed his hips and arched closer against him. Lora opened her mouth wider, and her tongue slid against his.

His left hand smoothed down her body and paused over her racing heart. His fingers feathered over her breasts, and his touch made the flesh ache even more.

“I want you naked.” His words, but they could have been hers. “I want you alone,” he whispered as his lips hovered just above her mouth. “I want you spread out on the bed. And I want to make a fucking feast of you.”

Oh, okay, wow.

“When this is all over, I want you to come with me. Just us. A few days at my cabin. You and me—no killers. No past. Us.

That sounded so good, but she didn’t want to wait that long. She wanted him, now.

His lips pressed against her throat, just under her right ear, that spot that made heat pool between her legs. The spot that made her quiver and moan.

He’d learned her body well.

Her hands slid down his chest. Moving down, down until her fingers rubbed over his arousal.

“Lora.”

And she’d learned his body.

“I want you…” he told her. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” His admission had her heart racing faster.

Voices rose outside.

A radio blared.

Her hands stilled on him.

His scent was around her. His strength and his flesh. She needed so much more.

But she wouldn’t get it. Not yet. Not here.

“I’m trading days and working the shift tonight.” She took a breath and swore she tasted him. “I’m off at 7:00 A.M.

Kenton’s head lifted. His pupils were big, dark, and full of need.

Her hands pushed him back, and she eased off the table. “Pick me up then.” She stood on her toes and skimmed her lips over his jaw. “And you can have me ten minutes later.”

His body hardened. “Aw, damn.”

She smiled, took a breath, and then made her hands free him. “But until then, you’ve got a killer to catch.” One who was making her life hell. “So go get the bastard.”

He eased back, but he kept his stare on her, and Lora’s knees trembled. Her panties were wet—no big surprise. She wanted him driving that cock deep. She wanted to scream, and she wanted to come, and she didn’t want to care about who would hear her.

Control, oh, it was weak.

But Kenton took another step back. Maybe his control was better.

“The case…” He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again, “The case is hitting close to home.”

Pete. “You’re wrong about Pete. Just like you were wrong about Garrison. When you find him, Pete will clear this situation up.” Her voice was husky. Hell, she sounded as if she’d just gotten out of bed. No, as if she wanted to get into bed. “He’s not the kind of guy you’re looking for. He’s not—”

“Any man can kill.” His stare swept over her. “Sometimes, all you need is the right motivation.” Then he turned and reached for the door.

The safe house was out of his kill zone and out of the reach of the Bringham fire station. Ah, deliberate, that. The Feds had obviously noticed his play area and mapped it out.

Maybe they thought that they were being smart by hiding the witness here, where he didn’t like to hunt.

They were wrong.

He lifted his binoculars and watched the house. The two guys on the front stoop, leaning back so nice and easy, had to be cops.

Did they think he was stupid?

His fingers tightened around the plastic. They’d stashed the witness in a classic one-story house. Five windows lined the front of the house, and he figured that there had to be at least two exits.

How many cops were inside?

How many folks would have to die in order for him to take out Bob Kyle? And yes, he knew that was the asshole’s name. Thanks to his contact, he knew everything about Kyle.

The guy had lived a fucking wasted life. A life that would end today.

Outside his range? His lips curled. No. No one was outside his reach.

He measured the roof and saw the weak patches. He could start the fire there, let it blaze and burn, but he had to make certain Kyle was trapped. No more mistakes.

He’d started to become sloppy because he was having so much fun. And to think, it had begun as a job. Someone had needed to step up to the plate. He’d stepped.

A small movement on the side of the house caught his eye. Something was—

A window opened. A leg shot out. Then an arm. A few seconds later, a guy fell to the ground, hitting hard.

Laughter spilled from him as he watched.

Sonofabitch.

He wouldn’t have to go after Kyle.

The guy stumbled to his feet and ran for the alley. The cops on the stoop never even glanced back at him.

No, he wouldn’t have to burn the house around the bastard. The witness had just made the game much easier.

He tossed the binoculars onto the seat of his borrowed car. Not the pickup this time, just in case old Kyle had seen it. With a flick of his wrist, he cranked the engine. He knew where that alley led.

And knew exactly where to find his prey.

Kenton straightened his jacket as he stalked down the narrow hallway. He could still feel Lora on him. Her breasts, pressing against him. Her sex—sweet hell—right over his cock. Her lips skimming along his jaw…

His arousal pressed hard against the front of his pants and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Seven A.M. couldn’t come fast enough for him.

His phone vibrated. He tugged it out of his pocket and winced a bit. Monica. Kenton answered the call immediately. “You got Malone?” He didn’t want her to start the interrogation until he was there. “Hold off until—”

“Malone’s not answering his phone. We sent a unit out to his house, but he wasn’t there.”

Dammit.

“All units are searching for him,” Monica said, but there was something in her voice, a tension skirting under the words that told him she was worried. “But we’ve got another problem.”

When Monica worried, it wasn’t just a problem, it was a big damn deal. “What is it?”

“Bob Kyle is missing.”

Kenton froze near the station’s check-in desk. A banner waved over the door. We love our firefighters. The sign was filled with hearts and the oversized scrawl of schoolchildren. “Run that by me again.” The guy was supposed to be safe. Lawrence had promised that he’d keep his best men on Bob.

All the cops on that team knew the order. Bob Kyle was to be protected.

Fuck, he was outside Phoenix’s kill zone. His placement there had been a deliberate move to add extra security for Bob.

“Bob was in his bedroom. The cops thought he was sleeping.” Her voice lowered. “Officer Daniels went to check on him, and he was gone.”

“Phoenix?”

“The window was open. They think he left on his own.”

Why? “What do you think?”

“I think Bob Kyle is a man with severe medical and emotional problems. I think he’s been off his medication for a long time.” A sigh. “I think we need to find him, right now, because I have a knot in my gut that’s telling me this isn’t going to end well.”

When it came to Monica’s instincts, he listened to them. “You already start the search?”

“Five minutes ago.”

Malone and Bob missing? Hell, no, that wasn’t a good sign. Kenton ended the call and rushed for the door. The uniforms were there. He’d arranged for them to take over Lora’s watch. “Jon…”

The other agent glanced up at him.

“Our witness is gone.”

“Fuck.”

Yeah, that about summed things up.

As Bob Kyle staggered out of the liquor store, he lifted a bottle to his mouth. Liquid dropped down his chin and spilled on his clothes.

Figured. The guy needed his fix.

Where had he gotten money? Maybe from the cops. The idiots probably hadn’t even noticed when he’d swiped it. Or maybe they’d given it to him. Payment for ratting him out.

Kyle staggered down the street, drinking, guzzling as fast as he could.

Phoenix followed him. Not too close. Though it probably wouldn’t have mattered. But, no, not too close. Not yet.

That guy was spilling booze all over himself. The bitter scent filled the air.

Kyle stumbled over the broken road and wandered back into the alley. And Phoenix followed.

The match rolled between his fingers. He wouldn’t need an accelerant. The fool had provided it for him. Hell, he didn’t even have to pour this time. Just light ’im and watch the fire burn.

Too easy.

“Cathy!” Kyle’s bellow had him freezing, then glancing back over his shoulder. A scream like that would alert too many people. It was daylight, and cars were buzzing down the street.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Talk to me! Cathy, t-talk to me!”

What the hell? Was someone else with him?

Phoenix hurried his steps. Kyle had disappeared behind a garbage bin. A big, green, stinking bin.

Glass shattered.

Phoenix yanked off his cap and shoved it into his backpack. If this was some kind of trap, he wasn’t falling for it.

“Comin’ home… comin’ home, C-Cathy…” Kyle mumbled. The words were so faint that he almost didn’t catch them.

Then a gasp, choked off.

He hurried around the bin.

A gurgle rattled in the air and had him tensing. “Buddy, are you—”

Kyle’s body shuddered as it slammed into the wall. Kyle’s muddy eyes were open wide, with streaks of bloodshot red in the white. His hand was still at his throat, and he was still holding the broken bottle of whiskey that he’d shoved into his neck.

Blood poured down from the wound, soaking his shirt, mixing with the alcohol, and clogging the air.

The guy wheezed, twitched, and slid down to the ground. His eyes were still open.

Still looking right at him.

Some days, this shit was so easy.

Kyle’s chest rose, then slowly fell. And the blood kept coming.

How long would the guy last? Not more than a few more minutes.

Guess he didn’t have to worry about the witness anymore.

Phoenix reached into his bag and pulled out his cap. As he settled it on his head, he said, “You just saved me some trouble.”

Kyle’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Of course not, the guy had ripped his throat to hell. No way to scream now.

He pulled out his match.

That alcohol was strong. The thick stench of booze was stronger than the scent of blood.

Kyle only had a few minutes left, maybe not even that long.

“But I do like my fire, and since you’ve made it so easy…” He struck the match on the brick wall above his prey and watched that little flame flare to life.

Then he smiled and dropped it into the pool of whiskey right between Bob Kyle’s legs.

He jumped back as the flames shot up, catching Kyle, and greedily following the trail of that booze. The fire blazed right up his soaked chest and right over his skin.

For a moment, he just watched and enjoyed that sweet burn.

Kenton paced inside the safe house. He glared at the plainclothes cops who’d been on duty. “You’re telling me the guy just walked out of here?”

The short cop with the thinning red hair jerked his thumb toward the window. “Climbed out. Man, we were here to keep him safe, not to keep him locked in. I didn’t know he was a runner!”

“The man is schizophrenic, just back on his meds. He could have done anything.” Kenton clenched his teeth and gritted out, “And Officer Daniels, you knew that. I briefed you myself.”

The guy’s eyes dropped as he glanced down at the floor.

Dammit! “We’ve got to find him. Now.” Before Bob disappeared for good. Either of his own volition, vanishing into the streets—the guy had to know places to hide in this city. Or if Phoenix happened to find him, well, then he’d be disappearing into the flames.

No, his identity was protected. Phoenix couldn’t know.

But Malone had known about Bob Kyle. Half a precinct full of cops had known. They’d all been there when he was brought in and put in Interrogation.

“We’ve got cruisers searching the streets.” Not from Daniels. These words came from the other cop there. The guy with the thin, craggy features and the direct gaze. “We’re combing the streets, sir. We’re gonna find him.” He sounded confident.

If only.

“Has anyone checked the train yard?” Kenton asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. That was across town, but maybe—

“Kenton.” Jon stood in the doorway. “We think we found Bob.”

“Thank Christ. All right, let’s get him secured, set up in a new house, and—”

But Jon just shook his head, and the hard punch in Kenton’s gut told him the news wasn’t going to be good.

• • •

The stench hit him. Even before Kenton rounded the corner and crossed into the dark alley, the smell had already clogged his nostrils.

A uniform ran out of those dim recesses. His shaking hand covered the lower half of his ashen face. The cop took two steps away from the alley entrance and vomited.

Dammit.

Kenton’s shoulders stiffened as he hurried forward.

Monica appeared before him as she skirted around a garbage bin. “We’re going to need dental records to determine for sure…”

An image of Kyle, shaking at the Interrogation table, flashed through his mind. Where’s Cathy?

Kenton stalked forward and gazed over the tech’s shoulder.

Christ.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another image he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Fuck.

“I think it’s safe to assume that we’re looking at Phoenix’s work.” Monica’s voice was as cool as you please. They were standing over a body that had been savaged to hell and back, cops were puking all around them, and the woman sounded as if she was talking about the weather.

Control. He was supposed to have it.

Monica’s hand brushed against his arm. “Kenton, are you okay?” Her question was whisper quiet so the others wouldn’t hear. She’d never let a team member look weak.

He opened his eyes and stared into her blue gaze. How do you do it? His lips pressed together, and he bit back the question.

Monica had worked some of the most gruesome cases out there. She’d nearly lost her lover to the last killer they’d tracked, but she still did the job. Day in and day out, she got into the minds of killers.

And, somehow, she stayed sane.

More than that, she acted like the killers never touched her.

“Kenton?” Worry threaded her voice.

“He fucking slaughtered him, Monica.” Bob Kyle hadn’t deserved this. No one did. Kyle had gotten one raw deal after another. Losing his wife, losing his mind…

Now his life.

“We’re going to get Phoenix,” she promised. But he was tired of talking about catching the freak.

He wanted him locked behind bars, thrown so far into a hellhole jail that he’d never see daylight.

And never hurt anyone again.

He swung away from the body. Can’t see it anymore. There was a red fire extinguisher on the ground, lying just a few feet away. A tech snapped pictures of it. Somebody had tried to help Kyle.

Too little, far too late.

“You’re sure it was this man?” Jon asked, and Kenton’s eyes glanced toward him. He had a photo in his hand, had to be of Kyle, and he was flashing it to a jittery-looking guy in shorts.

“H-he was in my s-store… bought wh-whiskey.”

Kyle had left the safe house to get booze?

Kenton bent, stooping under the yellow police tape, and hurried toward the guy talking to Jon. “Kyle paid for the whiskey? He didn’t steal it?”

“P-paid with a twenty.” The guy—in his early fifties with graying hair and a grizzled goatee—swallowed a couple of times. “I was taking a cig break and saw the smoke.”

“Mr. Dumont here grabbed his fire extinguisher and raced over,” Jon explained.

“Th-thought garbage was on fire.” He took a deep breath, fumbled, and yanked out a cigarette. “Didn’t expect to see no person.” He flashed his lighter, sparking the flame, and he lit the tip of the cigarette with trembling fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can still smell him.”

Not like it was a smell you could easily forget. “Mr. Dumont, when you came into the alley, did you see anyone else?”

“I–I just saw the fire, man.” Dumont took a long drag on his cigarette. “Somebody else could have been there—fuck if I know—I just saw the fire.” That cigarette was burning down fast.

“When the victim was in the store,” Kenton pressed, “was he alone? Did you see anyone with him?”

Dumont gave a hard shake of his head. “Nah, nah, he was alone.” The cigarette dangled from his nicotine-stained fingertips. “If—if that’s him, in the alley, something was wrong with him.” His eyes skated to the alley, then back to the agents.

“Wrong?”

Dumont nodded. “Yeah, uh, he kept talkin’ to himself. Callin’ for some broad named Cathy.”

Kenton exhaled. “Did he say anything else?”

“Just—just that he wanted to go home.” Ash dropped to the ground. “He said he was goin’ home to Cathy.”

Kenton glanced back at the alley. It looked as if Kyle was home now. And God willing, maybe he was even with his Cathy.

“What kind of freak would do this shit?” Dumont’s lips twisted in disgust. “That poor bastard.”

Kenton nodded curtly and turned away from the witness. That “poor bastard” hadn’t deserved to go out that way. He pulled out his phone and called Sam. She answered on the second ring, and he could hear the voices rising behind her at the police station. “Sam, any sign of Malone?”

“No.” Her sigh rustled over the line. “The cops are patrolling for him but—”

“But maybe they’re not looking hard enough.” His fingers tightened on the phone. Malone was one of their own, and sometimes, cops didn’t like to think a brother in blue could be a criminal.

If the cops couldn’t find him, Kenton would. And if he had to, he’d rip apart the town.