Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)
Cynthia Eden
She shouldn’t like the way
he said her name.
“I want you to help me,” he said. “I need a contact at the station.” His arm stretched behind her, almost caging her. “I need you.”
Her breath came, real slow. She hesitated because there was something in his eyes. A dark awareness. A hunger, a need she understood.
One 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 had her wanting.
“Do you want to catch this guy?”
“More than anything,” she said. She was hoarse. I can still hear the screams.
“Then I guess for the time being…” He offered her his right hand. “We’ll be partners.”
His fingers curled around hers, warm, 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.”
For Dr. Laura P.—a great friend
and an all-around incredible lady.
Acknowledgments
First, thank you very much to my fabulous editor, Alex Logan. Alex, it is a pleasure to work with you, and I greatly appreciate your insight!
For my agent, Laura Bradford, thank you for believing in my work.
For my husband and son—thanks for being so patient with me during the times I “disappeared” into my own mind. When I’m daydreaming, I promise it’s totally work related. I’m not ignoring what you say to me, really.
And for the readers, thank you for opening this book and entering the world of my SSD agents. I hope you enjoy the story.
Prologue
The fire came at him, fast and hot. The orange flames licked across the floor, climbed the walls, and rolled in hungry waves.
The screams filled his ears. His mother’s cries. She called for him, over and over, but he didn’t answer her. Couldn’t. The flames and smoke had stolen his breath, and all he could do was watch.
So beautiful. The flames danced for him. Danced and whispered. Crackled and rose. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.
Smoke billowed around him, trapping him in a fog. His fingers curled tight over his precious prize. Won’t let go. Won’t ever let go.
The fire touched him, biting his arm, but he didn’t cry out.
He just watched.
And his mother stopped screaming. Just like his dad had stopped. He’d stopped long ago…
The flames were bigger. Rolling toward him now. Faster, faster. So hot. His lips began to curl.
Then the monsters came. Giant beasts with long noses, robot eyes, and tubes shooting from their mouths.
One grabbed him, slapping at his left arm, and he screamed.
But the monster didn’t let him go.
Water shot at the flames. Cold, icy water that hit his skin.
The monster’s arms were tight around him. And then the monster ran, taking him right through the thick smoke and letting him see those dancing flames again.
Again. More.
The fresh air hit him. He choked at the first taste and the monster was there, always there, but yanking off a mask and it was—
A man. “The kid’s alive! Get me some oxygen! Get the damn EMTs over here!”
More hands. Touching. Stroking. Hurting. Another man shoved a mask over his face. No, don’t want it, don’t want— The mask pressed too hard against his nose and mouth.
The same man rubbed something ice-cold on his arm right over the fire’s kiss. Then the guy wrapped bandages around him and slapped tape around the edges.
They put him on a stretcher. As they hauled him toward an ambulance, he saw his house. Firefighters stood on the roof, swinging with their axes, sending fire and smoke billowing into the sky.
The windows at the front of his home exploded, and giant shards of glass flew onto the porch.
Firefighters ran out of the doorway, yelling. One had his mother in his arms.
She wasn’t moving, and her body…
He glanced down at his hand, still clenched so tight around his prize.
“It’s gonna be okay, boy. You’re gonna be fine…” This came from the man who’d pulled him out. A big guy, with red cheeks and dark green eyes. “You’re safe now.”
But his mom wasn’t. Neither was his dad.
A shout came, an order for backup, and the man turned away.
His fingers uncurled.
The match lay in his hand. The red tip was black now.
“Got to be arson, sir… the way the fire is spreading… accelerant…” Another firefighter, talking fast to a guy with a big radio.
He let the match slide from his fingers. It fell to the ground and sank into the grass.
“All right, kid.” The EMT was back. Looking pale, tense. “It’s time to get you to the hos—”
“My mom’s dead.”
The man swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at that fire. So bright now. “My dad, too?” He already knew.
“We got a call in to your grandparents—”
He didn’t cry. Didn’t blink.
“We’re gettin’ you to the hospital.” A woman appeared at his side. They lifted him up and put him in the back of the ambulance. The doors slammed closed, shutting out the fire.