Spark (12 page)

Layne cantered her horse along the path in the woods, the breeze in her face stealing tendrils of hair from under her helmet. The sun had barely risen, streamers of red and yellow filtering through the trees to light the trail.

She wasn’t supposed to be riding out here alone, especially when no one was at the farm. Especially bareback. Especially when she’d left her phone sitting on the tack trunk, and if she had a bad fall, she’d have no way to call for help.

Reckless. She didn’t care.

Looking at her phone reminded her of Gabriel’s note, his handwriting in her notebook.

She’d stared at it last night.

She’d even dialed, but never found the courage to actually call.

The trail started downhill, a gentle slope, but at a canter, Layne had to shift her weight and focus. This was why she’d come out here. Stupid circles in a stupid ring would have done nothing to take her mind off Gabriel.

What had Kara said? He is insanely hot.

He was. And he knew it, too. He probably saw Layne as a conquest. He was the kind of guy who’d keep a list of all the girls in school and check each one off when he was done with her. God, she watched him check out Taylor every day.

I’m not perfect either.

Oh, that had sent her heart tripping in her chest for a long while.

Until she remembered that he probably had a whole cache of one-liners.

The cool air made her horse fresh, and he skittered sideways when a bird flew across the trail. She gave him a quick pat on the neck, checking the rein to remind him that she was up here, in control.

Ha. In control.

This was just about the only place she ever felt in control. Of anything.

But at least the horse was fooled. He settled, relaxing into a rolling stride that she could sit all day. The trail was open ahead, the sunlight painting dapples across the grass. Peaceful. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

And then she was in the air, no horse beneath her.

And then she was hitting the ground.

Her fingers still had a firm grip of the reins, one of those things they teach you early. Presumably so the horse wouldn’t get away.

But not only was he getting away, he was also dragging her.

It hurt.

Let go. Let go. Let go. Her fingers wouldn’t work.

Then they did. Layne crumpled into a heap on the path. She wished her helmet could protect her whole body. She hadn’t even hit her head, so a fat lot of good that did. Her hip was making a good case that it would be protesting this venture tomorrow.

The horse must have spooked. The fall had been one of those hard ones where the animal is suddenly gone from underneath you, leaving nothing to catch you but dirt. Stupid, to close her eyes like that. God, what kind of idiot closes her eyes while cantering on the trail?

The same kind of idiot who takes a full ten seconds to realize you should let go of the reins.

Thank god no one was at the farm, though she didn’t have much time. If her horse made it back without her . . . well, there’d be hell to pay. They’d call her father.

Like he needed one more disappointment in his life.

Layne sat up on the trail, dusting off her breeches, assessing damages. Nothing hurt too badly. She looked back to see what could have frightened the animal though sometimes it didn’t take much.

But there was someone sitting in the middle of the trail. Sitting up, dusting himself off, doing the same things she was doing.

Holy crap, she’d run into a man.

She’d left her glasses on her tack trunk next to her phone, so she wasn’t able to make out features, but the filtered sunlight let her identify shorts, a sweatshirt. Athletic shoes.

For a second, she considered the implications of being alone in the woods with a man, but she’d just plowed into him with her horse, and a little courtesy probably wasn’t out of line.

Layne stood up and started walking toward him. Her knees weren’t a big fan of this activity, and her head wasn’t feeling much better. She unsnapped her helmet and clipped the strap through a belt loop, shaking her hair free so it wouldn’t be matted with sweat across her forehead.

“You all right?” she called. “God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention ” She broke off the apology, hearing her father’s voice in her head. If you’re ever in an accident, don’t apologize.

It immediately implies guilt. . . .

But how could she not apologize?

He was staring at her now, and she was relieved to see that he wasn’t a man man, but a teenager, with dark hair and features that were slowly coming into focus as she got closer.

Features that shifted into something like surprise. “Layne?”

She stopped short on the path. “Gabriel?” Then she hesitated. “Or Nick? I’m sorry ”

“It’s me.” His voice was rough. “Gabriel.”

And just then, all her rationalizing went straight out the window. He looked . . . overwrought. Rumpled sweatshirt, disheveled hair. That shadow across his jaw had turned into true stubble overnight.

Regret twisted her gut. She should have called. He’d apologized and left his number, and then she’d as good as smacked him in the face.

No, she’d trampled him with her horse.

Get over yourself, Layne. He’s probably hungover.

She straightened, folding her arms. “Are you hurt?”

He must have heard her voice turn flat, because his expression hardened. “I’m all right. You?”

“I’m great.”

And then he was standing, looming over her, an abrupt shift from vulnerable and wounded to vaguely threatening. “What are you doing out here?”

She always had to battle with her emotions when he looked like that. One part of her wanted to back away to get a little more air. The other part wanted to step into him, just to see what it felt like to share his warmth.

“Riding,” she said. “What are you doing out here?”

“Running,” he said, like it should have been obvious and really, it kind of was. His eyes flicked down her form, and she wished riding breeches weren’t quite so formfitting. “I guess I should be glad you weren’t driving a car.”

“Shut up.” Then she realized what he’d said. “Wait. You live around here?”

He lifted one shoulder and looked around though they were surrounded by trees, so she had no idea what he was looking for. “Nah. I’ve been running for a while.” He pulled an iPod out of the pocket of his hoodie and glanced at it. “Four miles, maybe.”

Layne blinked. “You ran . . . four . . . miles? ”

“Yeah. I didn’t realize my morning run could get fucked up, too, but maybe that’s just my week.”

His voice was sharp enough for her to feel an edge against her skin. But somehow it didn’t seem directed at her. He’d reacted the way an animal would lash out if it was in pain. Layne frowned, afraid to dig at an open wound but kind of afraid not to.

She opened her mouth to ask, but her words died at his expression. Eyes hard, jaw set. His hands were in his pockets, but it didn’t make him look relaxed. It made him look like he was trying not to hit something.

Layne let the air out of her lungs. She smoothed her jacket against her hips. “I need to walk back . . . catch my horse ”

“How far?”

“What?” Her eyebrows went up. “Oh, he probably ran back to the barn. Half a mile, I guess. The trail’s a loop. I just don’t want someone to find him and call my dad. If they knew I was out here alone . . .”

Her voice trailed off again. Gabriel was simply looking at her with that inscrutable expression, so Layne turned and started walking, calling over her shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry about running into you. I guess I’ll see you around school.”

He didn’t say anything. Sneakers ground against dirt behind her, and she knew he was taking off, running for home or wher-ever.

Then he drew up beside her, falling into step.

Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”

“You think I’m going to leave you alone in the middle of the woods? What the hell kind of guy do you think I am?”

She glanced up at him. A streak of dirt ran across his face, and it took everything she had not to reach up and rub it off.

She wondered what his cheek would feel like.

She swallowed. “I have no idea.”

Gabriel snorted. “I don’t think that’s true.”

She hunched her shoulders, feeling the muscles pull. Having a conversation with him was like navigating a minefield. She bit the inside of her lip and concentrated on keeping her mouth shut.

But after a while, he said, “I should have heard you.”

His voice was cautious. She didn’t look at him, worried this was just another mine waiting to explode.

“I had the music too loud,” he said. “I don’t usually run like that it’s a good way to get hit by a car. I didn’t even look when I came out onto the main trail. I just . . .” He hesitated.

Layne held her breath. Her dad once told her the best way to get the truth out of a witness was to be patient enough to wait for them to tell you. Everyone likes to talk, he’d said. The trick is letting them talk long enough.

Gabriel glanced over, making a frustrated noise. “You ever just have to do something to get all the thoughts out of your head?”

Layne nodded. That, she understood. “So you ran four miles?”

He shrugged and stared out at the trees around them. “I had to get out of the house.”

The words rolled around in her head for a moment, and she could practically see a construction worker throwing a flag in her path. Proceed with caution.

She went with something safe. “I’m surprised you’re not saving all that energy for tryouts. They’re after school, right?”

He shook his head. “Not for me. You were right. Anderson caught on.”

Layne almost stumbled on the trail. “What do you mean, she caught on? ” God, if her dad knew she’d fixed some kid’s test especially the future felon’s he’d have her off to an all-girl’s boarding school before she could explain herself.

Yeah, and what explanation would you give? Sorry, Dad. He was hot.

“Not you.” Gabriel’s voice was flat. “She just figured out I was cheating.”

“So you’re off the team? Are you suspended? Are you ”

“A week and a half. She gave me a week and a half to hand in perfect homework and take a unit test myself. Then I can try out for the team, if I can pass.”

She stared at him. “But . . . that’s great! You can just do the work, and ”

“It’s not great.” His words could cut ice again. “I can’t even do the goddamn homework; I’m not going to pass the test.”

“But I can still help you ”

He put out a hand to stop her. “Yeah? Why?”

Breath fought its way into her lungs. “Because because ”

His eyes were fierce. “What, you want to put some do-gooder activity on your transcript? Helped the resident fuckup pass a math test? Why do you even give a shit, Layne?”

She jerked back. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and she had a suspicion that if she put a hand against the front of his sweatshirt, she’d find his heart beating every bit as rapidly as hers. Sunlight was pouring through the trees now, and sweat crept along her neck.

Abruptly, he turned away, blowing out a long breath and running his hands back through his hair. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about you.”

Layne wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but she wasn’t sure how he’d take it. What had he said? I had to get out of the house.

She kept her voice careful. “So your parents are pissed?”

“No.” His hands dropped, falling into his pockets again. He had to have a cell phone or something there; she could see him fiddling with something. He started walking again, saying nothing, so she hustled to catch up.

“My parents died when I was twelve,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“My older brother is twenty-three, so he has custody.”

She had no idea what to say.

He glanced her way. “It’s been five years,” he said flatly. “I’m over it.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute. “So . . . your older brother . . . is he pissed?”

“He would be, if he knew. We had a big fight last night about . . . other stuff.”

She had arguments with Simon, but she imagined Gabriel wasn’t one to fight with words and tears and threats to tell a parent. “No sense adding fuel to the fire, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you going to get Nick to help you?”

Gabriel hesitated. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Another pause. “Nick and I aren’t speaking.”

Wow, pain hid behind those words. She only had bits and pieces of this story, like reading the first sentence of every chap-ter in a book. Something powerful had happened she just couldn’t piece it together.

He’d been banned from the team, from a sport she knew he loved God, even Simon practically worshipped Gabriel’s athletic ability. He was fighting with his twin brother, and they had to be close, the way they seamlessly switched places in front of teachers and other students.

And then he’d searched for her in the library. He’d wanted to talk to her in private. He’d apologized, and she’d known how much it cost him to do it. He’d seen right through her defenses, leaving that perfectly charming sentence in her notebook.

No, not charming. Honest.

Desperate?

It hadn’t been a game. He’d wanted her to call.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair again. “Sorry,” he said, his blue eyes dark and full of emotion. “I’ll shut up. It’s been a shitty week.”

Layne took a deep breath.

Then she stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him.

Gabriel stiffened when Layne’s arms went around his neck.

With the way his life was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find her goal was to choke him.

But then she was just holding him, her slender arms full of strength, their height difference putting her head against his shoulder.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this.

Yes, he could. That mother, after the fire. But hers had been a motion of gratitude and desperation. It hadn’t been about him.

He should be pushing Layne away. He could slice right through her offer of comfort and make her as miserable as he’d been last night. He’d made himself vulnerable once; he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

But the warmth of her body made it all the way through his sweatshirt, and the scent of her hair was in his nose, one of those fruity shampoos like raspberries or apricots. Beneath that, something natural and fresh and outdoorsy, like cut grass or no, hay. Had to be hay, from the farm.

It felt nice.

Push her away.

He should. He would. The last thing he needed in his life was something else to screw up.

But right now, this second, when the thought of being at home or at school made him feel like a caged, rabid animal, standing in the middle of the woods being held wasn’t all that bad.

“Thanks,” he said, dropping his head to speak against her hair. Her cheek was right there, if she’d just lift her head. Her cheek, the slope of her jaw, the curve of her ear. He wondered what her skin would feel like, what her lips would taste like. He let his hands find her waist.

She stiffened.

Gabriel froze. Maybe he was reading this wrong. She hadn’t called last night. Maybe a hug-without-pretense just meant she felt pity for him.

Christ, even his thoughts wanted to screw with him.

There was a tree right here. He wanted to bang his head against it.

No, he wanted to push the hair back from her face and kiss her, to cut this cord of tension between them.

But maybe that cord was the only thing holding him together.

He slid his thumbs along the jacket, just below her ribs, barely a motion, half an inch, if that. But he heard her quick in-take of breath, felt the minute shift of her body as she drew back.

Damn.

He couldn’t take another rejection. Especially from Layne. She wasn’t like other girls. She saw him. Every single weakness.

And that was the reason for the hug. She wasn’t interested.

She felt sorry for him.

He let go of her waist. He kept his voice flat, uninterested, like her hanging off him was a random inconvenience. “Come on. I don’t have all morning to play escort.”

She yanked her hands free, stepping back to stare up at him.

Jesus, he sounded like such a dick.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?” He pulled the iPod from his pocket and un-wound the cord. He could see buildings through the trees from here, and he nodded down the trail. “You’ve got to be close, right?”

“Yeah, but ”

But he didn’t hear the rest of what she said. He plugged the headphones into his ears, turned his back, and ran.

Gabriel hoped Michael would be gone by the time he got home, but his brother’s red pickup truck was still sitting in the driveway when Gabriel stepped out of the woods behind the house.

He had half a mind to fall back into the trees.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Layne.

Gabriel hadn’t even recognized her at first. Her hair had been down, a spill of chestnut brown that fell almost all the way to her waist, with a few damp tendrils curling around her face. No glasses. Skintight gray pants that left nothing to the imagination, with knee-high leather boots. Hell, if she wore that getup to school, she’d have half the male population trailing her in the halls. Even her maroon jacket had an athletic cut, fitting snugly along the curve of her waist. The black ribbed turtleneck had pretty much been the only familiar thing about her.

So what? She pities you.

He walked around to unlock the front door quietly, hoping Michael would be in the shower, or even better, still sleeping. At the very least, in the kitchen, hidden from view.

Nope. Michael was sitting on the staircase, a cup of coffee on the step beside him.

Gabriel couldn’t make himself shut the door. The sunshine was a welcome weight against his back.

“Don’t run,” said Michael. His voice was even.

Gabriel scowled but he didn’t take his hand off the door.

“I’m not running from you.”

“You look like you’re ready to bolt.”

“Yeah, well, you look like a ”

“All right, stop.” Michael held up a hand. “I didn’t wait here to pick a fight with you.”

“So what do you want?”

“That girl Hannah the firefighter?”

“What about her?”

“Her father is the county fire marshal.”

He must have looked blank, because Michael added, “That means her ‘unofficial’ visit might have been pretty damn official.”

Gabriel waited, unsure what response would be safe. Really, saying anything could be a mistake. Michael had almost seen through him last night. He kept hearing his brother’s accusation on the porch. Are you the one starting these fires?

Michael picked up the coffee mug and stood, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

Gabriel kept his hand on the doorknob, as if letting go would leave him trapped, a prisoner to half-accurate accusations.

“Look, I’ve got school ”

“This will only take a second.”

Gabriel sighed, but followed.

Michael’s laptop was open on the kitchen table, and he slid his fingers across the trackpad to wake the screen. At first, Gabriel had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at. He recognized the local newspaper’s Web site; he’d been reading about the Ravens’ defensive line all week. The main story was something about a neighborhood dispute in Federal Hill. Big whoop.

Then he saw the headline just below it, in slightly smaller print.

ALLEGED ARSON SUSPECT IMPERSONATES FIREMAN AT LAKE

SHORE BLAZE

Shit.

Gabriel clicked on the link.

“That was last night,” said Michael.

“Thanks. I can read.” Gabriel’s eyes were locked on the article.

A fire broke out in the Lake Shore commu

nity last night, injuring three firefighters, one critically. Preliminary investigations have determined that this fire may have been started by the same arsonist who allegedly initiated fires at Magothy Beach Road and Kinder Farm Lane.

Blah, blah. Gabriel skimmed farther.

Firefighters on the scene report an unidentified man wearing protective gear that matched that of local volunteer fire companies. No description of the suspect is available. Fire Marshal Jack Faulkner would not comment on the investigation, but an anonymous caller who claims to have been on duty at the scene stated, “This guy’s got a hero complex, starting fires just to play fireman. We lost a guy this week.

We’re going to catch him before he kills someone else.”

A hero complex. Were they fucking kidding?

Not only did his brothers think he was setting fires to kill people, but the firefighters did, too.

Michael was still standing there watching him. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Gabriel slapped the laptop shut and turned for the hallway.

“Hey,” said Michael. “Let’s talk about this.”

“What do you want me to say?” Gabriel called over his shoulder. His throat felt tight, and if he stopped, if Michael kept up this let’s-work-through-it-together crap any longer, he was going to seriously lose it. “Congratulations, Detective, you solved the case.”

“Goddamn it, Gabriel, this puts all of us at risk. Do you understand me?”

“So turn me in.”

“Keep acting like this, and I’ll be forced to.”

That made Gabriel stop short on the steps, but he didn’t turn.

He could barely breathe through his anger. Michael wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Gabriel didn’t even know who he’d turn him in to. The cops, the Guides?

Did it really matter which? He wasn’t starting the fires. If he and Hunter stopped, nothing would change.

Except more people might die.

“Please,” said Michael. “I don’t want to think you’re doing this, but ”

“But what? You can’t help it? I’m such a frigging screwup that it has to be ”

“Cut the crap. It’s obvious you’re involved somehow. Would you just tell me what’s going on?”

Gabriel started walking again. “Why bother? You sound like you’ve made up your mind already.”

“I can’t help you if you won’t ”

Gabriel slammed his bedroom door. Then leaned against it, hands in fists at his sides.

He could just shower at school. He didn’t even have to wait for his brothers; he could cut through the woods and be there in half an hour. Plenty of time. He grabbed a duffel bag from his closet and shoved some clothes inside.

Then he paused, his hand on a T-shirt. Maybe he should pack some extra clothes, in case there was a fire tonight.

Then he remembered the line from the article: We’re going to catch him before he kills someone else.

Michael could kiss his ass. But real firefighters they’d be looking for him now. They knew he had the jacket, the helmet.

He needed to stop. He’d talk to Hunter. Seriously, they should stop.

But last night’s fire had been raging. Whoever started that fire wanted people to die. That fireman had come through the floor.

He wouldn’t have survived.

Neither would that little girl.

Christ, his head hurt. Gabriel kept shoving clothes in the bag.

Either way, maybe he could just crash at Hunter’s. Hell, he’d sleep in the woods.

Whatever, he didn’t have to come back here.

Where he wasn’t wanted.