Against the Fire (22 page)

“I don’t know. It could be random.” Or it could be the guy who’s been busy burning down Gabe’s buildings. But she hated to say that to Gabe, who was already ridiculously protective. She didn’t want to add to his worries with something so trivial, at least not until she had more to go on than a few hang-up phone calls.

“Thanks, Sophie.” Before she headed for the office, Mattie drove to the hospital to check on Angel.

In a room he now shared with another teenage boy, the victim of a motorcycle accident, Angel lay in the exact position he had been in when she had been there to see him before. His eyes were closed, his coloring pale. Monitors attached to his chest beeped his vital signs. As she sat down beside him, Mattie said a silent prayer for his recovery, reached over and took hold of his cool, limp hand.

She talked to him for a while, telling him how much the people at the Zigman gallery liked Enrique’s work and that they were planning to have a show for him.

“You have to get well,” she said, “so that you can be there that night with your friend.”

But Angel made no reply and as she left the boy’s side some time later, Mattie’s heart felt heavy.

It was midafternoon by the time she reached the Coffman Building and took the elevator up to her office on the fifteenth floor.

“I thought you were on vacation,” Shirley Mack said, leaning over to deliver a fistful of messages.

“I am. Sort of.” But the minute she pushed through the doors leading into the drafting area, Aaron and two other draftsmen came hurrying toward her.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Aaron rolled up beside her. “We ran across another problem on those drawings of the school we’ve been working on.”

One of the newer guys, Matt Davidson, spoke up before she had time to reply. “And I was hoping to talk to you about your gallery project. The mechanical engineer says we need a larger pipe tunnel to accommodate the return air.”

“When you get a chance,” said the third draftsman, Joey Chin, “I’ve got a problem with that office building over on Commerce. The client’s demanding a conference room that doubles as a media room seating forty. I thought maybe if we put our heads together we might be able to come up with a solution.”

Mattie managed not to sigh. “Give me a minute to return some of these phone calls and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks, Mattie,” all of them said in unison.

As she continued toward her office, she passed Mel Freeman, whose mouth edged up in a mocking smile. Once inside, she closed the door and let her pent-up sigh escape.

She should have known better than to try to take time off. Too much was happening, too many projects needed her attention. She had a demanding job with endless responsibilities. She needed to be doing what she was paid for, not running off with Gabe in search of an arsonist.

She thought of the decision she had made when she had first started her job at the firm. Work comes first. It was her mantra. At the time, she had sworn she wouldn’t get involved in any sort of relationship.

Now there was Gabe. The nights she spent with him were amazing. She wished she could say it was just the sex, but she would be lying to herself.

She enjoyed just being with him. She appreciated his intelligence and sense of humor. She wanted to spend time with him.

Way too much.

And there was her promise to Angel. She was the one who had suggested he help Gabe find the arsonist. It was her suggestion that had gotten him assaulted. She had vowed to find the man who had hurt him.

She couldn’t let him down.

Mattie rubbed her eyes and tried not to get discouraged. Seated in her leather executive chair, she turned on her computer and set to work. With so much catching up to do, not to mention the help her associates needed, she wouldn’t be home until after six. She made a mental note to call Gabe and tell him.

Mattie bit her lip. The phone call was just one more indication that she was getting too involved.

She had to slow things down, put her life back into proper perspective. When the week was over, whether they caught the arsonist or not, she was returning to her own apartment. No more nights with Gabe, only an occasional sleepover, as he called it. Assuming he would still be interested.

A dull ache settled in Mattie’s chest.

“Looks like we’re making good progress,” Gabe said to Sam as they stood in the open, three-story lobby of the Dallas Towers.

“The building inspector was here earlier. Building passed the electrical inspection. We’re getting ready to start on the interior walls.”

“That’s great.”

“I was over at Greenwood earlier,” Sam said. “The painters are hard at it. We’re about to start putting in cabinets.”

“I stopped by on my way over here. Everything looks good.” And he had spoken to the Atlas security guard. No one suspicious had been hanging around. No one had been prowling around at night.

“At least we haven’t had any slowdowns there,” Sam said.

None so far. “We’re back down to the foundation on McKinney Court. The bad news is Wildcat Oil is getting nervous. Two of my projects have burned. They’re afraid the guy who did it will target their building again as soon as we get it up. And they don’t even know about the fire at Artie’s.”

“What did you say to them?”

“I told them the cops were going to have the bastard in jail long before their building got that far along.”

“So what about Artie’s? You really figure the fact you remodeled the place three years ago was enough for this nutcase to burn it down?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him. In fact, I’m hiring a night watchman for your place, too.”

Sam rifled a hand through his short blond hair. “You can’t protect everyone you’ve ever met, Gabe.”

“I suppose not.” But he intended to try.

One of the guys in the crew interrupted the conversation. Sam answered a couple of questions then walked with Gabe to his truck.

“So how’s it going with Mattie?” Sam asked.

“She’s great and I’m in deep trouble. How about you and Tracy?”

“Same here. We’ve been together every evening, but I still haven’t spent the night. It’s like she’s a different person, Gabe. Free somehow. She trusts me not to take advantage, and I’m determined not to disappoint her. Unfortunately, I have no idea where to go from here.”

“To bed, I would say.”

“Sounds good to me, but I don’t know what will happen once we do. I really like her, Gabe. If I take her to bed, she might treat me like the other guys she’s been with. If I don’t, sooner or later, I’ll lose her for sure.”

“Rock and a hard place.”

Sam grinned. “You can say that again.”

Gabe laughed. “Good luck, buddy.”

“You, too.”

As Gabe climbed into his pickup and headed for the Egyptian Theater, he heard a faint chiming on his phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he read the text message rolling across the screen.

Can’t you see? It wasn’t me. Next time, it will be.

A chill rose at the back of his neck. The arsonist knew his cell phone number. Either that or someone was playing a very unfunny joke.

Christ.

He didn’t know if the police could trace a text message, but he sure as hell meant to try. Being careful not to erase the call, he phoned Thomas Daily, then set off for the fire captain’s Marilla Street office.

Daily was in when he got there. “Actually, these days we can locate the sender,” the captain said as he took the phone from Gabe’s hand. “We’ve got the technology. The problem is, if it is the guy who’s been setting the fires, he’s smart. Too smart to get himself caught by something as simple as this. If it’s him and not someone playing a joke, odds are, he used a disposable phone.”

Gabe hadn’t thought of that but it made perfect sense. “Think the caller could be telling the truth? Is it possible someone else set the fire?”

“Might be. We’re looking at a couple of interesting developments. I’m not at liberty just yet to tell you what they are.”

Gabe didn’t press for more. He considered himself lucky the fire captain had been as up front as he had been, probably wouldn’t have been nearly so helpful if it hadn’t been for the favor Gabe had done for his father.

“We’ll get what we need from this and you can pick it up in an hour or so,” the captain said.

“Any word on Sanders?”

“If he’s in town, he’s staying out of sight.”

“Yeah, Clay’s good at that. Appreciate your help, Captain.”

“Stay safe, my friend.”

Gabe just nodded.

He had a hunch the message had come from the arsonist and that the captain was right. A throwaway phone wouldn’t lead them anywhere. Which meant his best bet was to find Clay Sanders.

And the place to start looking was the Jolly Roger.

Twenty-One

Mattie decided to return to her apartment and change for the evening before she went back to Gabe’s. Once he saw her dressed as a blonde Lena Sterling, he might be easier to convince.

Even though she had called and told him she was on her way, Gabe was pacing the floor by the time she arrived at his condo. Using the key he had given her, she opened the door and stepped into the entry.

Gabe stopped pacing and just stared. “What the hell?”

She did a little pirouette, allowing him to take in the curly blond wig, short white skirt, red top and big white hoop earrings. “I told you Sanders wouldn’t recognize me.”

Those incredible blue eyes of his darkened for an instant before he strode toward her, hauled her into his arms and very thoroughly kissed her. Her heart was pumping by the time he let her go.

“Why don’t we put this bar visit off until a little later?” he said gruffly.

Mattie laughed. “I guess you like me as a blonde.”

“I like you as a redhead and even better than that, I like you naked.” He drew her close again, let her feel his erection. “See what I mean?”

Mattie grinned and shook her head. “We have something more important to do and you know it. Besides, once we’re finished, we’ll have the rest of the night to make love.”

Gabe groaned. “Lady, you sure know what to say to get what you want.”

She spun around once more. “So what do you think? We go to the Jolly Roger. I go in and you watch me through the windows. I’ll talk to the bartender, see what I can find out. If we get lucky, maybe Sanders will show up and we can call the police.”

“What if the place doesn’t have any windows?”

“It does. I drove by on my way over here.”

His mouth tightened and he scowled. “Honey, you are pushing your luck.”

“You know I’m right. If you go in there asking questions, the bartender will tell Clay you’re looking for him. He’ll be able to describe you, and Clay will know you’re after him. If I go in, he won’t have a clue.”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. He didn’t want her to go. Still, she could see he knew she was right. If they wanted to find Clay, they needed information. In her sexy skirt and low-cut blouse, she had a lot better chance of getting what they needed than Gabe did.

“Time to head ’em up and move ’em out,” she said airily as she brushed past him toward the door and managed to get him to smile. “It’s from an old Western TV series. Rawhide. I had a crush on Clint Eastwood when I was a teen.”

His mouth edged up. “So you really do like cowboys.”

She glanced down, saw he was wearing his boots. “I really do.”

His eyes darkened. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I’d love some of what you’d like to give me, cowboy, but I think we’d better go.”

Gabe grinned as he urged her toward the door, then his smile slipped away. “I hate this,” he grumbled.

“Honestly, the place didn’t look that bad. At least from the outside. Besides, if something goes wrong, you can play hero and save me.”

Gabe just grunted.

Instead of taking his pickup, which Sanders might have seen, they drove her BMW with the top up and parked at the edge of the lot in a shadowy area out of the reach of the streetlights.

The building itself, a freestanding brick structure, had a covered porch with a red-and-black pirate sign out front. Neon beer signs blazed through windows that lined both sides of the bar, just as she had said. As they moved through the darkness at the edge of the parking lot, the clack and clatter of pool balls from inside the building reached them on the still night air.

“I’ll be out here watching you,” Gabe said softly. “Anything goes wrong, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Mattie knew he would be. Gabe bent down and pressed a quick, hard kiss on her mouth, then disappeared.

With a deep, calming breath, she moved toward the wide wooden steps leading up to the covered porch. Through the windows in front, she saw several other women sitting at tables or bar stools and relaxed a little. Apparently the place was at least somewhat re spectable.

As she pushed through the door, she surveyed the black pirate flags, fake crossed sabers, motorcycle paraphernalia and the skull-and-crossbones on the walls. Three men stood around a pool table off to one side and a couple sat at a small round table sipping beer they poured from a frosty pitcher.

As she had said, it wasn’t really a rough joint. It was mostly an after-work crowd in their late twenties and thirties, and it was still early enough that none of them seemed to be drunk.

She walked up to the bar and took a seat on one of the black vinyl stools. The bartender, a few years older than she, dark haired and good looking with an earring in one ear, mopped the bar in front of her.

“What can I get you, darlin’?”

“You wouldn’t have a Lone Star back there, would you?”

“Sure do.” He set a cold bottle in front of her and popped the cap.

“Thanks.” Mattie took a long, refreshing swallow and set the bottle back down on the bar.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” the bartender said.

“I’m visiting a friend. She lives a few blocks away. She won’t be home until later and I was desperate for a beer.”

“I get that. What’s your name?”

“Lena.” She smiled. “What’s yours?”

“Tommy. Tommy McClure. I’m the owner.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy.” They shook hands across the bar. “You know, my friend Mary has a friend who comes in here. His name is Clay Sanders. You know him?”