Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(22)

More.

The demand echoed in his mind, but…

Not the f*cking time.

Forcing his head to lift and his mouth to free hers, Kenton sucked in a hard breath. Lust and fury beat in his veins. “What the hell just happened? I thought that building had been cleared! The search teams had the okay to go in, it should have been stable—”

“It was stable.” Her lips were red from his mouth. Trembling.

They could have f*cking died in there.

His heart slammed into his ribs.

“This place was checked, double-checked. It was secure.”

A rivulet of blood dripped down her cheek.

“Then what happened?” But the ice in his gut told him. Before she spoke, he knew— “Someone had to come back and damage the structure. There was no reason for the upper floor to fall. It shouldn’t have given way.”

Unless someone had given the collapse a hand. Someone who knew the building’s weak spots.

Someone who might want to bury evidence.

And who’d almost buried an FBI agent and a firefighter.

Sonofabitch. Now the * was getting personal.





CHAPTER Five


You’re looking for a man who enjoys total control.” Special Agent Monica Davenport walked slowly around the police bullpen, her gaze sweeping over the men and women there. Davenport was tall, way too pretty, and icily controlled.

Lora shifted a bit in the back, aware that in her torn jeans and ash-stained clothing, she looked like a wreck. “Seriously, babe,” Max Quint said from beside her, the words a low whisper, “you look like hell.”

She turned her head, just a bit, and bared her teeth at him. This wasn’t a beauty pageant. And no way would she have missed this briefing. Even if the chief hadn’t paged her and told her to meet up at the precinct with the cops, she would have been there. She’d wanted to hear everything the profiler had to say about their guy.

A line of cops sat before the firefighters. Some propped on desks, some at attention in stiff chairs. A pecking order. The uniforms were trying to show this was their case. But the chief had said that Davenport asked the firefighters to come.

So we’ll know what we’re up against.

Smart woman.

“We’re looking for a male, most likely in his early to late thirties. He may have experience in law enforcement…” Davenport’s bright blue eyes cut to the back of the room. “He could have even worked as a firefighter.”

Ah, wow, wait a minute—

Max stiffened beside her, then shot up to his full six foot five inches. “You sayin’ it’s one of us?” His deep voice easily carried across the room.

Davenport’s expression didn’t alter. “We’re saying the perpetrator has knowledge that makes him very dangerous. Insider knowledge. The man knows about fires. He knows about staging his scenes, and he knows entirely too much about evidence.” Her dark brows rose. “Or rather, he knows exactly how to not leave evidence behind. He’s very, very good.”

Or lucky. Maybe the evidence burned away.

“You really think we got us a serial killer here? In Charlottesville?” Lora rose on her toes and saw that this came from a red-faced cop in a neatly pressed uniform. One huddled near the front.

“And one who offed Hatchen,” another cop muttered. “Sure didn’t think that would be the way the bastard went out.”

Max’s shoulder brushed hers. “She didn’t answer my question,” he said.

No, she hadn’t. Lora eased back down.

What had Hyde told her? When she’d tried to get the guy to trust her?

I can’t. But we can still use you.

It looked like the SSD would be using them all.

Fair enough, she was using the SSD.

Revenge. Not pretty, but then, life wasn’t. She’d learned that firsthand when she had been thirteen years old, and she’d watched her brother burn.

Kenton cleared his throat, pulling attention right back to him. “The SSD has reason to believe that five arsons in the area are linked.” Behind him, on a giant whiteboard, he’d tacked up pictures of the victims.

She hadn’t looked at Carter’s picture. Wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

“We’re looking for a very organized killer,” Davenport told them, her high heels tapping on the floor as she returned to Kenton’s side. “One with an obvious and vast knowledge of arson. One who likes the rush that he gets from the fire, from the death—”

“You got a fire freak.” Max crossed his arms and let his voice drift out, loud and clear. “That’s not a firefighter.” There were murmurs from the crew around them.

One of their own had fallen to this guy. The agents didn’t seem to get that they were about to cross a line with them. And the guys weren’t very forgiving.

“What I have…” Wow. The chill in that woman’s voice could have formed icicles. “Is a man who is addicted to fire. Arsonists usually begin experimenting with fire when they are kids, and the experience for this perp would be no different. Maybe he was in a fire. Maybe he played with fire, but the attraction started years ago.”

Attraction. Jeez, the woman made the fire sound like a lover.

“He traps the victims in the fire because he’s showing that the flames have the power. The ultimate say in the person’s life or death.”