He shifted on the bed and put his hands on either side of her face, kissing her so sweetly, so tenderly that tears suddenly threatened.
His mouth still against hers, he asked, "Now tell me what you're planning."
"First promise me that you'll go back to your crew."
She had to hold firm, had to make sure she had his word. More lives than hers were at stake here. They needed to split up, attack the fire from both ends. He'd put it out and she'd make sure she caught the person responsible for the continued destruction.
"Promise me, Logan, that you'll report back to the station immediately."
She could feel the tension radiating from him as he struggled to make the difficult decision. At his core, Logan was a protector. If he could, he'd watch over them all. But there was more at stake here than her personal safety. So many lives. Houses. Slow-growth forests. All of his men.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "How can I do that when I know you're planning to dig deeper into danger without thinking about yourself?"
She smiled at him. "You do the same exact thing every single day. You're dedicated to your mission and always put others first, even when you're personally at risk by doing so."
"We're a lot alike, aren't we?"
Yes, they were both committed to their goals, no matter the sacrifice. Which was why she'd given up everything else in her life after her brother had died. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Not when time was running out on stopping Tony's case from being labeled "cold."
He threaded his hands through her hair. "Tell me what you're planning."
She simply repeated her request. "Promise me."
His mouth found hers again and when she'd almost forgotten everything but the slide of his tongue, the tingles that moved through her when he nibbled at that sensitive spot in the middle of her lower lip, he whispered, "I promise."
Relief washed over her and she let herself relax into his arms--one last time. "Someone wants to scare us, doesn't mind killing us if we don't react fast enough. It's a game I'm done playing. I'm sick of being taken by surprise."
She got up off his lap, forcing herself to ignore the sure pleasure that awaited her if she remained.
"Until this weekend, you and I only met each other once. And yet, we both seem to be targets. Is there anyone you can think of who could have seen us together six months ago?"
"I suppose there's a chance that my friend who owned the place came back early."
"And if he had and he saw us together, I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to say anything to embarrass you."
"Maybe," Logan agreed, "but why the hell would Eddie want to harm you? Or me? He sold the place a month later, moved out of town, and has been living with his new girlfriend in the city ever since."
She couldn't see a good connection. It was one more puzzle piece that either fit--or didn't.
"I'd like to ask him some questions, just to make sure he didn't come back early and see someone outside."
Logan scribbled his friend's name and telephone number on an old receipt on his dresser. "Go easy on him, okay?"
"I promise to be nice," she said with a small smile. "Do you have a spare car we could use to get out of here?"
"A motorcycle," he replied. "Do you know how to ride?"
She tried to pretend she didn't hear the double entendre, but she blushed nonetheless. "My father had a bike. He taught me how."
She needed to step away from him, away from his heat, the endless power he had over her.
"My T-shirt is downstairs. Why don't you get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'll drop you off at the hotshot station, and if you don't mind, I'll keep the bike for a while."
His eyes were dark, unreadable. "I don't care about the bike, Maya. I care about you."
Afraid of what else he was about to say, she quickly moved out of the bedroom before she could find out. Downstairs, as she bent over to pick up her bra and T-shirt from the kitchen floor, she ignored the throbbing in her skull, the flash of pain and breathlessness that told her she'd barely left Logan's truck alive. She was able to continue her investigation only because of his daring rescue.
She owed Logan more than she could ever repay.
A handful of minutes later, she was following him out his front door into a separate building when a soft snapping sound to her left surprised her and she instantly came to a standstill. Her heart pounded and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm.
Someone was watching them. The same person who had nearly killed them an hour ago.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
"Hear what?" Logan looked all around them, into the trees, the sky, back at his house.
But as the seconds crept by, no one launched themselves out of the trees at her. The only sounds were the monotonous peep-peep-peep of a nuthatch and the rustling of pine needles in the late afternoon breeze.
With the slowing of her heart rate came an acute feeling of foolishness.
"Never mind. It was nothing," she said, hating that she'd given him any reason to doubt she could take care of herself.
Logan's eyes were dark and his jaw was jumping. She knew he was thinking of a hundred reasons he needed to stay with her.
She needed five minutes alone to get a grip. Fortunately, she suddenly remembered that her samples from his garage had gone up in flames in the front seat of the truck.
"I need to get those samples again."
She hurried back toward his garage. Thankfully, he didn't follow, and even though she felt naked without her leather bag of tricks, she shook some nails out of a couple of small glass jars and used them to collect what she needed.
When she returned with the full jars, he said, "I still don't like this."
She tried to resist, tried to cut herself off cold, but she couldn't help planting a quick kiss on his beautiful mouth. "I know you don't. And it means a lot to me that you're trusting my decisions."
Soon they were sitting astride his Ducati 695, a motorcycle people went to crazy lengths to own and ride. She dropped the sample jars into the center console and slipped on the helmet Logan handed her. His clean scent assaulted her senses. She was acutely aware that her underwear was still damp from the pleasure he'd given her ... and that she'd been inexcusably alive in his arms not fifteen minutes earlier.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself enjoy his heat one last time as he revved the engine and drove out of the barn.
His motorcycle was a perfect part of the Lake Tahoe lifestyle. Too bad it was a life that didn't belong to her.
And never would.
Rage sounded in the silent forest.
They were still alive.
It had been an ideal setup. A tiny heat-activated bomb beneath the driver's seat that would randomly explode should have been the perfect way to kill them, perfectly untraceable as it melted inside the burning engine.
Revenge without penalties.
Setting the wildfire in Desolation had been a fun way to watch Logan boil in hot water, a sweet taste of revenge for what he'd done. But that bitch, the pretty little investigator with the big tits, had gotten in the way. And Logan couldn't resist playing hero again.
Risking his life so he could get in her tight pants.
Lighting her hotel room on fire with a bag of potato chips and a match should have been enough to make her run. But no. She was still here. Ruining everything.
Logan could wait.
The bitch had to die.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PRAYING IT wasn't the last time she'd see Logan, Maya concentrated on the road as she left the hotshot station, working to retrace her path to David's lab from memory. She could see why people came to Lake Tahoe for a vacation and never left. The beauty was staggering. Not just the lake, but the mountains, the trees.
And especially the hotshots.
Which was why she needed to solve this case and get out of Lake Tahoe, ASAP. She was no match for Logan. Everything he was pull
ed at her heart and made her want to give in to loving him. It wasn't just the way he touched her, wasn't simply the fact that she'd never come apart like that in anyone's arms but his.
At last David's house came into view and a pretty middle-aged blonde walked out onto the porch. "Hi. I'm Kelly, David's wife. I'm assuming you're Maya and that you need to talk to him again?"
Maya stood awkwardly on the driveway next to the motorcycle, holding her containers of evidence from Logan's garage. "I do."
She tried to smile, wanted to be friendly, but her thoughts were such a tangled mess of desires and recriminations she failed at both.
"Come on in," the woman said, holding open the door. "David just went out for a six-pack. He'll be back soon."
Maya didn't have time to sit around and wait for David to come back from his drink run. She stepped inside and set the bottles on the table.
"Could you give these to your husband?"
Kelly's eyes were startlingly blue and full of kindness. "Sure. I take it you need him to examine them quickly?"
Maya stared at the samples, wishing she didn't have to test them.
"I do," she finally said, belatedly realizing she was wearing her host's clothes. "David told me to borrow these. I hope that was okay."
Kelly wore an odd expression as she scanned Maya's clothes, and when Maya finally looked down at the T-shirt and jeans, she saw that they were filthy, covered in a myriad of rips and tears.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize ..."
"Don't worry about it. It's been a rough day, hasn't it?"
Kelly's eyes saw far more than Maya wanted her to. God, how Maya wanted to sit down and tell this stranger everything. But no amount of pouring out her soul over coffee would fix a goddamned thing.
Saying as little as possible had been her M.O. for a long time. No point in changing things now.
Fortunately, Kelly didn't seem to be the kind of woman who took silences personally. "Why don't you go ahead and grab something else out of my closet?"
Maya shook her head again. "I'm fine. Thanks."
If she got a chance she'd have the motel charge more "I Love Lake Tahoe" gear to her room.
Kelly filled a glass with purified water, then leveled Maya with a steely glance. "Drink this. I'll be right back."
It wasn't until Maya gulped down the water that she realized how thirsty she was. Kelly returned with what looked to be a very expensive pair of designer jeans and another cute T-shirt.
"I really don't think I should take those from you," Maya said. "The way things have been going, they'll probably be shredded in an hour."
Kelly dropped them on the counter beside Maya. "You need them more than I do." And then, after a beat, "How's Logan handling the investigation? I'm worried about him."
Maya's heart ached for the trouble she'd brought to Logan's door with his suspension, for his fears regarding Joseph, for his crew members who were in the hospital. And then there was the bomb someone had planted in his truck. Her knees started shaking again as she thought about just how close they'd both been to dying.
She swallowed hard, tried to find appropriate words. "He's been working with me to try to figure out who set these fires."
Kelly cocked her head to the side. "Isn't it kind of hard to do that when he's a suspect?"
"I've just released him from suspension. He's heading back onto the mountain as we speak."
The smile Kelly gave Maya said she knew this was more than an objective professional decision.
"I'm very glad to hear that," Kelly said. "How about you give me your cell phone number and I'll have David call you with the results."
Maya shook her head. "My cell phone blew up."
For the first time, Kelly looked scared. "What do you mean it blew up?"
Maya had said too much. She held up the neatly folded clothes. "Thanks for these."
Kelly reached into a purse on the counter and held out a wad of twenties. "Here. Buy a new phone at the convenience store in town, then call me with the new number."
Maya hesitated for a second, even though Kelly was right, then shoved the bills in her pocket.
"Thank you. I'll pay you back soon."
"No rush, okay?" she said as she walked Maya out to the front porch. "And take care of yourself. I'd like to see you again. Have you over for dinner. Under better circumstances, of course."
Maya kept her head down as she swung a leg over the bike, not wanting Kelly to see how much she wanted the very same thing.
The fifteen-minute ride into town to buy a cell phone should have been exhilarating, the perfect way to blow off some steam. Instead, her muscles were tight, her thoughts racing because the last time she'd driven into downtown Lake Tahoe on a motorcycle had been with her brother on his birthday at the end of last summer. Tony had wanted to show her his new firehouse and she'd been thrilled for him, thrilled that he was finally getting to live his dream. His new job was just different enough from what her father did in the mountains for it to be something Tony could claim as all his own.
Memories kept coming at her, one after another, of how he'd been on her to move to Tahoe too, to set her up with one of the guys from his station.
No, damn it, she didn't have time for this. She had too much to do in the here and now to get caught up in the past again. She owed it to this case--and to Logan--to keep moving forward. She couldn't afford to miss a thing.
Parking the bike in front of a 7-Eleven at the edge of the Nevada border where the casinos took over, she quickly purchased a disposable cell phone, then headed into a Starbucks to charge the phone in a free outlet and force herself to eat and drink something while she waited. She'd never felt less like eating, but she needed to be smart and keep her strength up.
She grabbed a seat in the back corner of the coffee shop, a spot she'd specifically chosen to make sure she could see everyone who entered the store. She couldn't forget that her life was in danger.
Thirty minutes later she hadn't seen anyone she recognized, let alone anyone who looked remotely shady. When the phone was ready to go, she pulled the telephone number Logan had given her for his friend Eddie Myers, who used to own the Bar & Grill, out of her pocket.
When he didn't pick up, she left a concise message that she was an arson investigator working with the state and she had some questions regarding his old restaurant. She called information next and had them connect her with the urban fire chief, Patrick Stevens.
"Patrick Stevens's office," his secretary said, "how may I help you?"
Maya had spoken with Cammie a handful of times during the past few months. "Cammie, it's Maya Jackson."
"Hi, Maya. Has the new chief gotten back to you yet about your brother's case?"
"Actually, I'm calling about yesterday's fire at the motel. It was in my room."
Cammie made a soothing sound. "I'm sorry, honey. I saw that note. You must be so scared."
No question about it, the note that had been left for her in a firebox had been incredibly creepy. But she wasn't about to admit fear to anyone. Not even herself.
"I'm fine," she insisted. She'd been repeating the words all day, saying she was fine, when she wasn't. Maybe if she said it enough times she'd start to believe it. "Is Chief Stevens in? I'd like to see if he's learned anything more about the fire."
"I'm afraid he's at another fire right now, but I'll be sure to tell him to call you the minute he walks in." After she wrote down Maya's new cell number, she said, "I sure hope we find out who did that to you."
Maya managed a soft "Thank you," then hung up and called information and had them connect her to the Flights of Fancy office. Finally, good news. Dennis was due to return from doing water drops in the next half hour or so.
She was going to be lying in wait for him when he arrived.
Dennis lived in a new tract house not far from the Starbucks. His smooth white stucco walls struck Maya as the polar opposite of Joseph's rustic cabin. But unlike the other, picture-perfect properties, Den
nis's landscaping was nonexistent, his lawn a sickly yellow.
Shortly after she arrived, Dennis pulled into his driveway. Stepping out of his truck, he looked thoroughly confused.
"Maya? What are you doing here?" He took a step back. "Oh shit, you want to ask me more questions about Logan, don't you?"
"Actually," she said in a slow, steady voice, "I'd like to conduct a property search. Of your house."
He frowned. "I don't get it."
"There was an explosion today near one of the housing developments. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me into your garage."
"I still don't get why you're here. I'm not a suspect, Logan is."
"No," she said, "he isn't. Not any longer."
At that, Dennis's face went beet red, as if a hand were squeezing him tightly around the neck. "Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you looking at me for? I haven't done anything! He told you I did this, didn't he, so that you'd stop accusing him?"
"You've got it backwards," she said firmly. "He's been defending you up and down all day long to me."
But Dennis's anger continued to grow. "All my life I've treated him like a brother. I should have known that this is how he'd repay me. I hope they pin this on him and he rots in prison. I'm sure the other inmates would love to feel up a hotshot."
"Dennis," she said again, in the level, reasonable tone she often used to speak to frightened fire victims, "he didn't sell you out."
"Like hell he didn't! He wrapped my dad around his little finger, just like he's done with you. Once he moved in with us I became invisible. The only time my father bothered speaking to me was when he wanted to brag about something Logan did. I got so fucking sick of hearing his name. I'm not telling you a goddamned thing, and you're not getting into my garage. Not without a warrant. I watch T V. I know you can't take any of that without a search warrant. Now get the fuck off of my property."
Quietly, she corrected him. "In arson cases, a warrant is not necessary. And I'm afraid I do need to ask you some questions before I leave, Dennis."
Nearly apoplectic, he said, "You think you're so smart. So important. But you're just like the rest of them. I'll bet you don't have any idea how many chicks he's banged. You're just another stupid slut who wants to fuck a hotshot."
Maya took a step toward Dennis, her expression menacing. "You need to calm down, Mr. Kellerman, and answer my questions: Where were you last weekend and the following Monday through Friday? Who were you with? And why did you bail out of the camping trip with Logan and your father?"