Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(37)

“Yeah, me. Hell, even the newbie, Wade, is friendlier than me. Ask anyone.”

“Wade Copeland.” Monica gave a nod. “That’d be the probationary firefighter, hired—”

“A few weeks back. Chief can tell you.” The scratch on her cheek was better today. He hadn’t even thought about any bruises or scratches last night.

Though he was pretty sure she’d given him a few.

“So this is the deal? You’re pressing us all, getting us to spill station gossip so you can see which suspect shakes loose?” Lora’s brows climbed. “And here I was thinking an interrogation from the SSD would be trickier.”

“Not everyone gets the same questions,” Monica murmured. “And trust me, sometimes the questions get much harder.”

And Kenton was struck by the two women. Complete opposites, not just physically.

Monica—pretty and poised, with dark hair, an almost perfect black. Calm, controlled, with icy blue eyes.

Lora—sexy but tense, with short, thick blond hair, wild. With those golden eyes that could scorch a man if he wasn’t careful.

Kenton was trying really hard to be careful.

Monica offered Lora a faint smile as she asked, “How long have you known Frank Garrison?”

Lora’s whole body tensed. “Almost twenty years. And believe me, you’re way off base with him. Garrison is not the one you—”

“He was almost pushed into early retirement earlier this year, wasn’t he?” Kenton asked.

Lora slanted those golden eyes his way. “There were cutbacks, but luckily the brass realized that we couldn’t afford to lose someone like him.”

“I bet Garrison didn’t like the idea that he’d be pushed out of his station,” Monica murmured.

“No.” Clipped. “He didn’t like it all.” One brow lifted. “And I’m sure he told you just that very fact when you interviewed him. Garrison doesn’t believe in bullshitting.”

Lora’s gaze centered on Monica. “I think I was wrong,” she told Monica, studying the other woman carefully. “I think you know just how to lead your suspects, how to press buttons, and how to get right under the skin.”

Monica stared right back at her. “Tell me, Lora, why did you become a firefighter?”

Lora’s hands flew across the table, and she snatched the file away from the agent in a blink. “Isn’t that in here? Isn’t everything in here?”

Yeah, it was.

Lora’s voice stayed low and hot as she fired back, “Isn’t this little talk more about you watching us, observing, seeing our reactions up close and personal so you can decide who might be the weak link here? Who just might be verging on the edge of crazy?”

Monica didn’t make a grab for the file but just watched Lora. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Tell me, have you danced with crazy lately?”

Kenton tensed. What the—

Lora laughed and tossed the file onto the tabletop. “Every single night. That’s what happens when you pull someone you love from the fire, and you watch them die. When you can’t do a thing but watch.”

Monica’s face went blank.

Lora inched in closer. “What about you, Special Agent Davenport? Have you ‘danced’ real close with crazy?” she whispered. “ ’Cause something tells me that you’ve done it more than me.”

Holy shit—Monica flinched.

Lora shoved away from the table. “I’m done here.”

And he watched the fine sway of her ass as Lora stormed out.

Silence. Then Monica turned to stare at him. “Better be careful with her,” she said with a bit of admiration. “That’s a lot of fury there.”

“You know she’s torn up about Carter.” Kenton kept his voice even with an effort. It had been six months, but the rage still burned bright for Lora.

He might be getting her body, but it looked as if Lora’s heart belonged to a dead man.

Monica shook her head. “I don’t think she was talking about Carter.” She lifted the file. “The SSD’s report came in on Lora and all the firefighters at this station.” Monica gave a little shrug. “The killer is targeting them for a reason, you know. This city, these firefighters, this station… there’s a link, somewhere.”

He knew it. The perp had a target zone for his kills—a zone that wrapped all the fires up and had them locked to station eleven on Bringham Boulevard.

Kenton stared at the file. He’d read a preliminary file on Lora before, but not the newest data from the SSD. His fingers flexed, and he remembered touching smooth skin. Soft, like satin.

Smooth skin, then—

The rough line of scars that ripped across the base of her spine.

Blue eyes stared back at him. “What do you know?” Monica asked.

He exhaled on a long sigh. “She was hurt. A long time ago, probably in a fire.” This hadn’t been in the first report, but he’d learned that secret in the darkness.

“Yes, she was thirteen.”

So young. Hard to imagine Lora young like that.

Before the fire.

“The flames spread at her house, too fast. She was hurt. Her brother—the fire caught him, burned over 60 percent of his body. The doctors didn’t think he’d make it, and her dad, well, he only lived a few seconds after getting pulled out of the house. He died right in front of her.”