Trial by Fire (Southern Heat Book 4) Read online

  Seth took one last look at Maya’s door. It was still closed. He shifted into first, grinding the gears with his impatience. Maya was safely tucked away and it was time he went to work. He pushed down on the accelerator and moved out of the parking lot, turning onto the highway, and headed for the judge’s house. This time, he pulled up around the corner, parking the truck out of view. He grabbed his safety gear and flashlight out of the truck and headed for the front door. Once inside, he mentally divided the rooms into a grid and started searching, starting downstairs. The carpet near the missing front door was burned away, as were most of the furnishings in the room. It had been hot down here. Furnishings that were likely polyester based had burned away. Seth sucked in his lower lip, worrying it with his teeth, running through his training in his mind. A hotter fire didn’t always mean arson, but put together with other factors, it was a pretty damning sign. The FBI had called it right.

  The burn patterns led from the stairs to the front door. If he had to guess, Seth would have put his money on accelerant splashing down the stairs and then puddling at the front door, igniting as the arsonist left the building. With that amount of flammable liquid, plus the sheer amount of soft furnishings and excess decorative carpets and drapes in the judge’s home, the place would have gone up like a tinder box. Anyone still inside would have been in deep shit. So why hadn’t Jesse gotten the hell out of there? He pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos, then moved on.

  Following the burn patterns up the stairs, Seth dodged along, grabbing onto a cracked handrail in places where the step creaked and flattened beneath his foot. He reached the top and looked toward the door of the room at the end of the hall, the judge’s bedroom. The char was intense on the walls surrounding it, with a large V outlined against one nearby wall—a classic point-of-origin sign. Burn patterns indicated a rapid spread across the floor, walls, and ceiling. He thought back to the night of the blaze. In the heat of the moment, all that mattered was getting the flames out, but afterward, standing in the smoky rubble, had he smelled anything? Gasoline and other accelerants were surprisingly easy to detect just from the scent, even after they’d blasted the scene with water or foam. He snapped a few more images to compare later. Just how much of the scene had Liam had a chance to investigate before he was ushered off the premises? He would have had with him tools and detectors Seth didn’t have ready access to himself. Even in total-loss fires, accelerants could still be detected with the right equipment. Was it possible even now? He’d have to ask.

  He stepped forward down the hall, the warped floorboards creaking under his boots. They hadn’t made it into the bedroom that morning. Seth didn’t blame Maya for not wanting to go in there. He’d never lost anyone in his life in such a violent manner, but just the smell of chocolate-chip cookies sent memories of his grandmother every single time. She was always happiest cooking up a storm in her kitchen, with grandchildren milling around, stealing fresh baked treats. A glass of milk and freshly baked cookies were his favorite, and there was nothing like his grandma’s homemade ones. Big enough that he could barely hold two in his hand when he was younger, still warm and doughy in the middle with the chocolate chips perfectly melty and soft enough to lick off his fingers when he was done. The room where her brother’s body had lain had a distinctive smell too, one Seth was sure he’d also remember for the rest of his life. The smoke that invaded everything and the acrid smell of charred wood along with the chemical tang of melted plastics. Every fire was different, and yet in a way they seemed exactly the same. The smell of destruction, and often death. This time, it had been Maya’s brother’s death.

  He pushed the temporary door that had been tacked there aside and walked into the room. He hadn’t been able to stop her brother’s death, or protect her from the aftermath, but he could make it so she never had to enter this room. His gaze roamed the room, taking it all in. If anything, the fire had been even hotter in here, perhaps trapped in the room until the windows had burst open from the heat. Two dark stains were still visible on the floor, not distinct enough to look like bodies, but obvious to Seth what had lain there. The floor beneath them was heavily charred, patterns showing that something had been there for a long time, burning and then smoldering. Seth took a deep breath, swallowing the bile in his throat. Which one was where Jesse had fallen—near the bed or closer to the door? The fact Jesse had come upstairs again at all frustrated the hell out of Seth. What had been so damn important that he’d risked his life? Sure, he hadn’t been trained the way that the boys at the firehouse all were, but surely anyone could tell that running into a house engulfed in flames was a seriously bad idea.

  He blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, then turned to start back down the stairs again. The floor creaked and groaned beneath his weight. Seth stopped in the middle of the stairs. The fire that night had burned hot and fast. It was impossible for him to determine for sure which point of origin had been the first lit without proper equipment and examination. A flashlight and boots on the ground in the dark six months later just weren’t going to cut it. Still, he had his hunches—hunches that he could likely confirm if he came back in the daylight with Liam in tow. For now, it was highly likely that the stairs at least had been compromised by the time Jesse had made his way down from the bedroom. Had he been injured and that was what had stopped him from making it back down in time? Maybe he couldn’t move fast enough to get out. Liam hadn’t mentioned any injuries to the body, but maybe Maya knew.

  He sighed, making his way back down the stairs. He wasn’t going to find any more answers here. Seth knew what his next step needed to be, but to do that he had to hurt Maya all over again. He knew she’d want him to ask, want him to go to any lengths if it meant proving Jesse innocent, but already she mattered to Seth more. Could he do it, ask the question that needed to be asked, if all it was going to do was bring her more pain? He huffed out a breath, hating himself even as he knew the answer. He’d do it, because it was what she wanted. He’d find tomorrow if she could forgive him at the end.

  11

  Maya

  Maya rolled over, punching her pillow. It was lumpy, and with the paper-thin walls letting her know exactly how much her next door neighbor enjoyed late-night infomercials, any rest that night had been fleeting at best. So far, she’d managed to avoid using any over-the-counter sleep aids, but the night had nearly driven her insane. She’d grabbed about five minutes sleep—maybe ten—among the tossing and turning, along with cursing at the FBI, whomever had left that damn note, and even herself. And Jesse. She sat up, pushing the covers aside, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cool floor, but the sensation had little impact. Guilt ran through her, blocking everything else. Her head slumped forward and her hands curled into the sheets, her shoulders shaking with tears unshed. Her chest was tight and her stomach churned, her throat so thick with it that she could choke. Why the hell had it all happened? Why him? Why her? Growing up, she’d hero worshipped her big brother. Nearly ten years older, he’d seemed all grown up even from her earliest memories. By the time she hit five and could remember anything much properly, Jesse was dating and playing junior varsity football. By the time she’d found her place in elementary school, Jesse had moved to the varsity team. A junior in high school, he was one of the popular crowd—good-looking, athletic, and kind. He was talented, but he worked his ass off and never expected anyone else to treat him differently because of it. Her friends had sighed and made starry eyes whenever they’d been over and Jesse had been home. It had made her popular too as she’d grown up, girls wanting to come over to Maya’s house to hang out and maybe catch a glimpse of her hot brother.

  She sighed, running a hand through her hair and then pushing up off the bed. At the time, she’d missed him like crazy, but maybe she should be glad that he’d been away at college by the time she became a teenager and discovered a whole new interest in the opposite sex. Maya could only imagine what her high school life wo
uld have been like had he still been around, being the younger sister of Jesse Graves. She shuffled across the floor, the carpet threadbare and stained, and wrestled with the broken latch on the kitchenette cabinet. She needed caffeine if she was going to even contemplate being awake, but the coffee pot didn’t want to cooperate. Maybe she’d just take a shower and grab a cup down the road. She walked into the bathroom, wrinkling her nose. The as-yet-unidentified smell in the room was more potent in the bathroom—sort of a dusty mildew mixed with greasy takeout and wet dog. She looked into the shower. It was serviceable, even with the orange rust stain dripping down from the tap. Despite the griminess of the shower, she’d be in and out in five minutes and there would be soap involved to wash away anything too terrible. That had to beat sitting in a musty motel room all day.

  The damn note.

  Who the hell had left it there? They had to know who she was and what she was doing in town, right? The message scrawled over the thick paper made little sense otherwise. Her chin trembled and she locked her jaw. She was not crying again. The note, coupled with Liam’s warnings the day before, had just about sent her into meltdown, especially after she’d opened her door and found nothing but a dark parking lot, the wind picking up as the sun fell away.

  She shivered. The morning’s air was still cool, but it shouldn’t have been cold enough in the room to give her goose bumps along her exposed skin.

  She’d listened to Liam, and Seth when he’d joined in, but mostly she’d just made the promise to be careful to keep them happy. Neither of them would have agreed to help her if they’d thought it would be placing her in any real danger, and she needed them. God knows no one else with any official pull was paying her five seconds of attention anymore. But she hadn’t actually thought Liam was being totally serious. She wouldn’t be getting any clandestine visitors in the night leaving vague, threatening warnings. That was just ridiculous. No one outside of B-grade movies ever pulled that kind of stunt. She laughed, a short, sharp retort, clapping her hand over her mouth at the sound. What if they were still out there?

  Maya skittered over to the door, pressing her eye against the peephole, sighing loudly at the lack of view. This was stupid. All she could see was a small circle of the world immediately outside her motel room, distorted beyond any usefulness anyway. All the bad guy would have to do is take two steps to the left and she’d never see it coming. She huffed another breath, snorting that time. She was being ridiculous. There were no big bads hulking around outside her motel room, waiting to grab her and snatch her away. She’d thoroughly pissed off several people recently, true, including Jesse’s Assistant Director, but if he wanted to take her out of the game, all he had to do was arrest her. He could flash his badge at the motel clerk—actually, from Maya’s impression of the clerk, even that much probably wouldn’t be necessary—and she’d be stashed at Gitmo by the morning. Or maybe he’d make a deal to ship her off to a CIA black site. Either way, it wouldn’t take much to absolutely screw her over. They didn’t need to lurk outside her room, shoving vaguely worded missives under the door.

  But then who did?

  She’d only arrived in Monroe two days ago, going straight to the motel at first, too exhausted to do anything else, only to toss and turn that night, too, before arriving before sunup at the firehouse. From there, it had been back to the motel, until she’d spent the last two days with Seth. She thought back. Had someone seen them at the house? Apart from that, she hadn’t done anything that would leak her motives to anyone. The diner, and then a visit and lunch at Promise House. It was all totally innocent. Meg, Liam, and the chief were the only people who knew what she was really doing there, and Maya couldn’t imagine any of them talking about it to others. Not at all. In fact, Liam had expressly advised against it.

  But would they talk to other firefighters? There had been others from the firehouse at Meg’s yesterday afternoon. Some had brought their partners too, girlfriends and wives. There had been others, too, people who helped Meg around the house, neighbors, local drop-ins. Already Maya could tell that Meg never turned anyone away. She frowned. It wasn’t impossible that someone had found out what she was doing in town. A small bit of gossip, a quick exchange in the grocery store checkout line, completely innocent—but that’s all it would take.

  Maya flopped back on the bed. She trailed her hands over the mess of folders and bits of paper decorating the end of the bed. She hadn’t even bothered to sweep it away before she’d gone to sleep, just stacked it into a haphazard pile and chucked it at the foot of the bed. What was the point? It wasn’t like she needed the room. She wouldn’t be sharing the bed with anyone anytime soon.

  Seth. His name whispered itself through her mind, leaving her almost breathless, sated. She tilted her head into the crappy pillow, closing her eyes as she remembered saying goodbye to him the night before. The touch of his hand on hers, the soft brush of his lips across her cheek. Her body heated at the thought as her hand sneaked downward, her fingers brushing over her thin nightshirt in a poor imitation of what Seth’s hands would do if he ever . . .

  Oh, for God’s sake! The man had been handing her leftovers, not wooing her over a candlelight dinner. Maya’s hand dropped away, landing on the mattress with a soft thump. What the hell was she doing? She was attracted to him, that much at least she’d accepted. It was obvious. When he’d stood next to her the day before, somewhere as simple as in Meg’s backyard, it was as if she could feel his presence, softly vibrating under her skin. Even when he’d been out of direct line of sight, she’d never lost track of him. It was as if he was the only one in the yard, his position obvious. And then the touches, small at first; his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to a spot on one of the bench seats set out, his thigh occasionally touching hers when he shifted next to her, their hands brushing when he reached for the same dish, folding back the collar on the jacket he’d lent her when the afternoon had given way to a cooler evening. They’d been leaning up against one of the tables, watching a group of young children tumble around on the grass. Maya had laughed at their enthusiasm, and then grinned at their delight from something so simple as blowing a dandelion and chasing the seeds as they floated across the yard. When had she lost such guileless enchantment with the world? It had felt good, leaning back and watching them at their play, but then a cool breeze had arrived, making her shiver.

  Without saying a word, Seth had picked up his jacket from the bench nearby and wrapped it around her shoulders. She’d ducked her head, still smiling, and as she slid her arms into the sleeves, he’d stepped closer. Maya had frozen on the spot, the nearness of his body causing vibrations through hers, and then he’d smiled, reached up and flipped the jacket’s collar over, smoothing it down. His fingers had lingered just a moment longer than necessary, so subtle that she wasn’t sure Seth had meant anything by it. Maya wasn’t even sure she hadn’t imagined the whole interaction. That didn’t stop her skin from tingling for a long time after he’d stepped away. What would his touch feel like without the bulky jacket in the way, skin sliding against skin?

  No. She was officially losing it. The last thing she’d come to Monroe for was to start a relationship. Even a one-night stand was a stupid idea, and besides, Seth didn’t seem like the type. He was caring, open, and loyal. If he asked someone out, Maya had a feeling it would be because he wanted more, and not just a quick fuck before going their separate ways. She frowned, her eyebrows pushing together. Then what the hell had his invitation out to breakfast meant? Crap! She’d been lost in her random musings, and forgotten all about it.

  Maya jumped back up from the bed, faster than she had the first time that morning, and grabbed her cell, stabbing at the buttons until the screen illuminated and she could read the time. Eight forty. Thank heavens. She had just enough time to run through the shower and throw on some clothes before he got there. She pawed through her suitcase, grabbing the first things her hands touched that didn’t clash too badly and tripped her way to the bat
hroom, snagging her toiletry bag on the way with her hands already full. She rushed through her shower, closing her eyes to rinse out her hair—and also so she could ignore the lovely rust stain on the porcelain—and then forced her still-damp legs into a pair of jeans. She completed the ensemble with a tank top and patterned loose-fitting sweater and slid her feet into lace-up boots; a much better choice if they were going anywhere related to the fire again today. She was just manhandling her hair into some semblance of a ponytail when a knock sounded at the door. She jogged to the room’s door, sliding past the small table on her way and scooping all her crap into a messenger bag. Her hand automatically recoiled when her fingers brushed against the note, but she picked it up, pinching it between her thumb and finger, and dropped it in the bag. As much as she’d like to ignore it entirely, she should keep it on hand, just in case.

  The knock sounded again and Maya took a deep breath. She stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole. This time she could see everything she needed to see; Seth was standing on her doorstep. Damn, how did the man manage to make a flannel button-down over a T-shirt and jeans look so good? She stepped back, sucked in what she hoped was a calming breath, and opened the door.

  “Ready for the best breakfast you’ve ever had?” He rocked back on his heels, grinning. “Sausages and hash brown casserole or cheddar cheese grits with bacon, with biscuits so flaky they’ll melt in your mouth. Or, if you prefer, French toast or a cinnamon roll.” He reached over, taking her bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “From the way you practically drooled at the cupcakes yesterday, I’m guessing you have a pretty wicked sweet tooth.” They reached the car and he swung her door open, waiting until Maya had slid inside to pass her bag over and then push the door closed. He jogged around and opened his door, still talking about the wonders of Southern breakfasts. “I’m partial to their waffles Benedict myself.” He patted his flat stomach. “Gotta have enough protein to keep me going.”