Controlled Burn (Scarred Hearts) (16 page)

“This is your chance to help her, to find out if your relationship is real or one-sided.”

Dreading what he knew he’d see if he turned, he shored up his defenses and faced his sister. “Why are you here?”

“Doing my sisterly duty.”

“You mean ghostly?”

“Whichever.” She ran a finger around her wineglass until it whistled with a high pitch. “I’m making sure you don’t let fear get in the way of what you said you wanted.”

“Delancey?”

“A partner who needs you like you need her.”

“I never said that.” But he’d thought it.

“See. It is what you want.” Ashley pointed to the living room. “There’s an amazing woman on your couch who makes you happy. You want me to stay gone? Don’t screw it up.”

He should be used to the terrain of his life constantly changing beneath his feet. Meeting Delancey, spending time with her and getting to know her had felt like good changes. She was the perfect woman, except for being a firefighter who put her life in danger.

When he’d opened the door to find her on a crutch, the beat of his heart had slowed by half before slamming into hyperdrive. It had stayed at that speed until Ashley’s appearance.

Slightly settled, he filled the Ziploc bag with ice and grabbed a regular ice pack and a couple of towels for wrapping them in. He was no less bothered by her job-related injuries when he joined her in the living room, but he was trying to take Ashley’s advice to not screw it up.

“Sorry it took so long.” He held up the two ice bags. “Which do you want on your ankle?”

She pointed to the regular one and smiled when he settled the gel pack over her ankle. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Incredibly, taking care of her, even something as simple as getting an ice pack, gave him great pleasure. That sensation alone, impressive in its weight, set his hands to shaking again.

She slipped her arm through her shirt sleeve and took the Ziploc bag and a towel from him. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” His eyes followed her hand as she gripped the bag in the towel and rubbed the ice in circles over her shoulder. Her extremely bruised shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?” Delancey asked.

He nodded and moved to sit beside her, nodding at her shoulder. “The floor didn’t do that.”

“While my foot was pinned a wall fell.”

“You were pinned beneath a wall?” Memories of being trapped beneath the weight of a beam clashed with images of Delancey being trapped. He’d spent the entirety of her shift trying not to think about what calls she might be responding to.

Sleep had been elusive when he’d been freshly out of the hospital, but he’d gotten some. Sleep while Delancey was on shift, especially after the time they’d spent together the last time she was off, had been impossible. He took it as a clear sign he had fallen for her. Or if he hadn’t already fallen was well on the way to doing so.

“I can say anything you want to try to minimize what happened.”

“But you’re not going to?”

She shook her head. “Anything I come up with would be a lie. We both know fires are dangerous. And we both know I can’t do what I do and avoid it.”

“That’s the problem I’m having.”

“What?”

“You being in danger. Me sitting around here, trying to work or sleep but only succeeding at thinking about you and the dangers you may be facing.”

Delancey chewed on her bottom lip, staring straight ahead. Her chin shook. Her voice trembled. “Do you want to stop seeing me? Would that help?”

“It might.” He linked his fingers with hers. “If I didn’t care so much for you.”

Tears pooled on her bottom lids and threatened to spill when she faced him. “You care about me?”

“Yes. And it’s scary as hell.”

Her tears left shiny tracks on her cheeks before flowing around the curve of her smile. “I might know a little something about that.”

The whispered admission had him inching closer on the couch. His question came out as a ragged whisper almost too afraid to be heard. “Really?”

She chuckled. “Don’t we make a pair? Both too wounded or afraid to believe they might have found a special someone.”

Aware that she hadn’t said “the” special someone, as if leaving room for an escape, he tapped a finger against his knee. He wasn’t going to question it, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t want the escape. “Cowards unite.”

Chapter Sixteen

Delancey opened and closed her mouth several times and played with the ice bag rather than actually using it. Where their previous conversation had been easy, if occasionally uncomfortable, this one felt heavy and painful.

“Logan,” she started again. “I have to tell you something.”

“Sounds as ominous as ‘we need to talk’.”

“Because it is.” She rubbed the ice bag over her shoulder in a circular motion. “It could give you the closure you need or it could increase the pain you’re already fighting.”

“You trying to protect me again?”

“No. I’m trying to make sure the memory of Ashley is treated with the proper respect.”

Definitely as ominous as
we need to talk
. “How’s she not getting that?”

“I heard today Schneider’s working with the cops on the investigation into Ashley’s death.”

He didn’t want to think about it, because his time with Delancey was the one time his mind relaxed. She was robbing him of that peace, but she was offering an equally important honesty. The approach simultaneously suggested and demanded respect. “And?”

“And your willingness to meet and talk with them might make their jobs easier.”

“I’ve done what I can to aid the investigation. I’ve given a list of our clients to the cops.”

“But you haven’t talked to Schneider or the cops recently, which means you don’t know what they’re planning.”

Darkness shaded the edges of his mind. “No.”

He may not like to talk about the fire, but he was a man who responded best to directness. Delancey seemed to have figured that out because she never wasted time with useless or idle talk when it mattered most.

“They have a surveillance video of the fire from a nearby business. Someone is fleeing the scene just before you go in.”

Hope, the tiniest and brightest ember, winked from within the darkness. From that ember sparked a memory he hadn’t recalled before. Someone had run out of the building while he’d been on his way in.

He’d given the arson investigator a list of clients. If they’d found an image of the suspect, someone, the cops or Schneider, should have brought it to him first. Since he couldn’t ask why they hadn’t, he went for something she might know. “Before I went in? Does it show a face?”

“Only Schneider and the cops know that. For now.”

The darkness blotted out the ember of hope with her dread-filled words. “What does that mean?”

“They’re going to play it on the news to see if anyone will come forward.”

The darkness deepened. Having his life’s worst day splashed on the news once had been hard enough. Hearing it was going to be done again, only with video, carried him through pain to anger.

Months had passed since the fire. Though he understood investigations took time, it wasn’t unrealistic to think a story should lose media interest after so long. “They don’t care if what they do bothers me, do they?”

“I’m sure if you asked them that they’d claim the end justifies the means.” She set the ice bag and towel on the table and shifted to more directly face him. “You could try to stop them.”

“How do you see that happening?” He may actually take her advice if it meant ending the public viewing of his loss.

“Call Schneider. Tell him you’ve been thinking about his last visit and ask if he has any new information.”

“You think that will work?”

“I think it gives them the chance to include you.”

“You sure you weren’t a cheerleader? Or are you on mood stabilizers that keep you forever positive?”

“Optimism is easier in the long run and is preferable to a perpetual bad mood.”

Natural or not, she made him want to try her approach. If a conversation with Schneider kept his life from becoming news and ended the media coverage he’d have a reason to be happy. “You win.” He reached for his cell. “I’ll call.”

Delancey kissed his cheek while he dialed. As he talked to Schneider she curled against Logan with her fingers laced with his. Her outlook made him want to try for happiness. Her connection, the impression of her body against his, gave him the courage to try.

“No, that will be fine. See you then.” With the phone call over, Logan gently tossed his phone onto the table. He couldn’t say a weight had been lifted, but it had at least shifted to a more bearable spot for the moment.

“What did he say?”

“He’ll stop by.”

“When?”

“As soon as he gets in touch with the detectives in charge of the case. Hopefully within the hour.” Logan wasn’t keen on the idea of more than just Schneider coming over, but the man made a compelling point that the police should be involved since it wasn’t a simple arson case.

She traced a nail along the collar of his shirt, lightly tickling him. The touch spiked his heart rate and heated his blood. Now that he was expecting Schneider, he wanted nothing more than he wanted to be alone, naked, with her.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“I could eat.”
You.

“We could order something.” She ran that fingernail down his chest and flicked his nipple through his shirt. “Or we could make out until they get here and eat after.”

The woman made reaching for happiness very easy. “I may not stop at making out. In fact—” careful not to move her too fast, he pulled her onto his lap, “—I quite like the idea of having you before and after.”

“Less talk.” Delancey, always quick to respond, slipped her fingers into the waist of her workout pants and lifted her hips to shove them down. “More having.”

Hard and ready, he followed her cue and slid off his own sweats. He’d barely settled his ass back on the couch before she was straddling him. He grabbed her hips and held her close when he shifted up, deeper. “And I thought all women needed to get warmed up.”

“Logan.” She nibbled at his neck, a spot she now knew drove him crazy. “For a man like you, a woman is always warmed up.”

Thrusting into her silken heat, he grinned. “Wonder how long that will remain a truth for you.”

A grin brightened her face, lighting her eyes with a brilliance more stunning than the most brilliant diamond. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and sighed as her inner walls massaged him through orgasm.

The bliss of her sigh soughed through his soul and in the hushed span between two heartbeats, when their bodies and gazes were interlocked, he saw another truth.

He didn’t just like Delancey or care for her. It happened gradually, but somewhere between meeting her gaze in the fire and putting an ice pack on her swollen ankle, he’d lost himself to love.

Logan’s sense of calm vanished at the doorbell’s ring. Sweat beaded his palms and the nape of his neck. He wiped his hands on his pant knees and blew out a long breath.

“You want me to answer it?” Delancey asked.

“Yes.”

She moved to stand, but he shot a hand out and grabbed hers. Patience and understanding, like she saw into him better than he did himself, was all he saw when he looked into her gaze. The sensation was as settling as it was unsettling.

“I need to do it.” Allowing her to be his buffer was a weakness that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, and because it wasn’t, it therefore needed to be avoided if he was to ever stand on his own. “And you need to stay off your foot.”

“Would you feel more comfortable handling this alone?” she asked with a nod toward the door.

“Maybe.” Because if he was alone he could tell himself he was strong enough to handle life alone. Ashley would tell him real strength came from allowing himself to rely on someone else. “Please stay.”

Delancey settled into the couch cushions and propped her ankle on the pillows. Pleasure more pure even than when she orgasmed graced her lips. That pleasure, raw and rare, buoyed his resolve.

In its infancy, his resolve wavered when he opened the door to find Schneider and two cops. In pressed jeans, button-down shirts and jackets, the cops, obviously detectives, were more crisply dressed and sharper eyed than Schneider, who looked and smelled like he lived in a fire.

“Mr. Mathis,” Schneider said. “This is Detective Holley and his partner, Detective Parish.”

The detectives nodded when Schneider said their names. Parish said, with a lingering look at the left side of Logan’s face, “Thank you for seeing us.”

Logan swallowed the urge to shrink away and wished for his hoodie as he motioned for them to enter. He kept them on his right as much as possible. Parish’s stare had him regretting the decision and wishing he had done a better job of it. Holley didn’t seem able to look elsewhere either.

“What’s this new lead?” Logan sat in the chair on Delancey’s left, leaving the men the opposite end of the couch and the other chair. “Why’s it just now being found?”

Schneider remained standing and pointed at Delancey. “You’re a firefighter.”

She only nodded.

Schneider looked from her to her foot and then back. “You were injured at today’s house fire.”

Logan didn’t miss the note of you-wouldn’t-have-been-if-you-were-in-your-place-as-a-woman in Schneider’s voice. Logan leaned forward, ready to put the inspector in his place, until Delancey shrugged and said, “It’s nothing major. And I’m not why you’re here.”

“You are why they’re here,” Logan said. “I won’t pretend they intended to call me.” He looked at the detectives and Schneider, not trying to hide his dissatisfaction with them. “Why is it, by the way, that I wouldn’t have been contacted about case updates before you turned to the news to see if you could learn more?”

Detective Holley cast a hard glance Schneider’s way. The inspector leaned back in his chair and seethed. Holley faced Logan. “Parish and I had no intention of moving until speaking to you. You shouldn’t have heard about the video the way you did.”

Marginally appeased to be dealing with Holley instead of Schneider, Logan nodded.

Parish stepped into the conversation while pulling his phone from his jacket’s inside pocket. “A business owner near your building called this morning. While reviewing his security tapes because of an employee issue he discovered some footage of the fire.”

That they’d only had the recording since that morning made it easier to digest.

“We contacted Schneider to validate the date and time and to see if he might recognize the man leaving the building.”

Logan nodded at the phone. “And?”

Parish told him everything Delancey already had, but he upped the ante when he passed the phone to Delancey, who handed it to Logan.

He touched the screen to start the video. He felt Ashley’s presence behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder while she leaned close to see the screen. Unable to stop himself, he raised his left hand to his right shoulder, covering the weight of her ghostly touch. Together they relived those early moments.

When the man exited, Logan tapped the screen again to pause it. He tried to put himself in the scene, to go back and see the man face-to-face. All he managed was to watch the limited view of the screen.

“That’s him,” Ashley said.

An identification made by his sister’s ghost wasn’t going to do anyone any favors. He didn’t recognize the man, and he wouldn’t lie about it.

“Do you recognize the man?” Holley asked.

“I’ve never seen him.”

A plethora of questions sprang to life and had to go unanswered if Logan wanted to stay out of the crazy ward.

“Never?”

“I saw someone running out as I arrived, but my mind was already inside with Ashley. You think he’s the arsonist.” It was sound logic, but he couldn’t identify a man he hadn’t really seen.

“He’s definitely the man who hit me.” Ashley spoke again, as if she could be heard or Logan could repeat her answers and make them the truth.

Her identification of her killer and Logan’s incapability to perjure himself was his clichéd rock and hard place. He didn’t want to see the video on the news, but he needed to see her killer arrested and prosecuted. He needed to see the investigation end.

“Does he have a tattoo? I remember something about a dragon.” His head ached with the effort to come up with a logical identification.

“There was a Chinese symbol on a wing,” Ashley said.

Logan wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, because it felt like he was trampling the line between honesty and lies, but he reworded what Ashley said and made it sound like he was remembering for the first time. He assuaged his guilt by telling himself Ashley deserved a voice in her own death.

Holley and Parish pulled out notebooks and jotted notes.

Memories of that day mixed with memories of Ashley’s post-death visits.

“You have any Chinese clients?”

“A few, but no one I’d have thought capable of murder or arson.”

Holley and Parish exchanged glances before turning back to Logan. Leaning forward, Holley braced his elbows on his knees. “Mr. Mathis, I understand you called because you heard we were going to run the video on the news.”

He nodded. He’d hoped to stop them from running it, but knew he’d failed to give them reason enough.

“It could be a sound way of getting an ID.”

“Or put a target on anyone he thinks is too close,” Ashley said.

No closer to answers, Schneider and the detectives saw themselves out. Logan ran their client list through his mind, mentally searching for any Chinese connections, but finding none that rose alarms.