The cop was pretty good.
Kenton watched the scene and waited.
Larry’s head fell. “Don’t know,” he mumbled. “D-didn’t do it.”
Same story, same verse—the one they’d gotten for the last hour. Larry had to be jonesing. His sweat soaked his clothes, and those twitches were just getting worse. But his story hadn’t changed.
Because it was the truth. Kenton had seen more than his share of liars since joining the Bureau. When perps told lies, their stories always changed. They’d swap up details and forget the original facts. It was just harder to remember a lie, especially when you were riding high on drugs.
Kenton stood, the chair legs screeching as he shoved his chair back. Larry’s head snapped up, and those bloodshot eyes widened. “Larry, what did you see last night?”
The thick lines on Larry’s forehead deepened.
The cop cut him a hard look, and Peter’s blue eyes narrowed. So? Kenton wasn’t in the mood for a pissing match. The cop had gotten his turn.
Larry swiped sweat out of his eyes. “D-don’t know what—”
“Before the fire started, did you see anyone else in the building? Hear anything?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Was… sleepin’…”
More like passed out.
“Woke up… s-smelled the smoke…” He sniffed. “Ran to the window…”
Kenton didn’t tense. “And what did you see outside?”
“You.”
Great.
Kenton turned away. This wasn’t their guy.
“Other… b-bastard didn’t help, but you—you c-came in…”
Kenton glanced back. “What other bastard?”
“Th-the one in the baseball cap… running… running down the street.”
Not many joggers in that part of town.
“Did you see the man’s face?” Peter asked.
Ah, now that would be the big question.
Larry gave a sad shake of his head.
Fuck.
The music blared, the drinks flowed, and the come-ons, well, came, but Lora sat in the back, cradling her beer and knowing that she really didn’t fit in at Mickey’s.
She couldn’t laugh with the others anymore. Couldn’t flirt. Couldn’t tease. Because she always felt like she had to be on her guard.
So tired of feeling eyes on me.
Either she was going crazy—yeah, a possibility…
Or somebody was screwing with her.
Lifting the beer, she took a long swallow. Heather wouldn’t be showing up tonight. She’d gotten the text just moments ago, and Lora knew she’d be cutting out soon, too. Can’t be here alone.
The band blared louder, voices laughed and cheered, and when she lowered the beer, he was there.
GQ.
She raised her brows and let her voice mock. “Well, if it isn’t the special agent man.”
He shook his head. “Don’t mess with me, Lora.”
Lora. She shouldn’t like the way he said her name. But with his deep voice, the name rolled on his tongue, and yes, okay, she could easily imagine him saying her name in that same way when they were alone.
And naked.
Too long without a lover.
Her fingers curled around the chilled beer bottle. “What are you doing here?”
He sat down beside her. Uninvited. It figured he’d do something like that. “You said you’d be here.” A pause. “And I needed to talk to you.”
The guy still smelled good. Looked good. “So talk.” They were getting stares already. Lora caught the eye of Tony Long, one of the firefighters on her crew. He raised his beer bottle toward her.
Ah, the night couldn’t get any better.
The news about their little meeting would spread like wildfire. Because with cops and smoke eaters filling the room, the gossip vine would run fast.
“I want your help.”
She blinked and all semblance of bitch faded. “Uh, run that by me again?” Bitch was her defense mechanism, so what now?
Those gray eyes were steady, and he seemed to inch closer. No, maybe he was just so big that he took up a lot of space. Her space. “I’m not leaving, not until I’m sure the area’s clear.”
The tension in her shoulders eased. “Good.” Because Lora didn’t think the fires were going to stop, not until they stopped the pyro out there.
“I want you to help me,” he said again. “I need a contact at the station. Someone to walk me through the crime scenes. Someone to tell me what the hell I’m looking at in the fire.” His arm stretched behind her, almost caging her. “I need you.”
Her breath came, real slow. “You have to—you’ll have to get approval from my chief.” But the chief knew the score. He’d been the one to send her to Hyde.
“Already got it.”
So the agent worked fast.
“Like I said… I need your help.”
She hesitated because there was something there in his eyes. This wasn’t just about the cases. There was a dark awareness lurking in his gaze. A hunger, a need she understood.
One that she shouldn’t be feeling.
But one that stirred in her gut anyway. One that had her thighs tensing, her heart beating a little too fast, and hell, had her wanting.
“Do you want to catch this guy?”
“More than anything.” I can still hear the screams.
“Then I guess for the time being…” He offered her his right hand. “We’ll be partners.”
Her eyes held his. Slowly, she reached for that hand. His fingers curled around hers, warm and strong.
A lick of heat shot right through her.
His mouth hitched into a half smile. “I think I’m gonna like working with you, Lora Spade.”
She pulled her hand back. “Working only, Kent.” The shortened version of his name rolled easily off her tongue. “Not screwing.”
Just to be clear.
He blinked. “Didn’t say anything about screwing.”
“You didn’t have to.” A woman knew signals. His weren’t easy to miss. Even if he did a good job of keeping those eyes up and off her chest. “I’m not looking for a lover.”
Just a killer.
“Seems a shame…” That smile faded. “But I’m not asking you to work with me so we can f**k.”
Ah, blunt. She could like that.
Like him.
But she wouldn’t.
She didn’t want any more pain. Special Agent Kenton Lake was the kind of man who could hurt a woman. Because he was the kind who’d walk away when the job was done, and leave her in the ashes.