Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(83)

Monica eased back and took a quick breath. “I need to—”

His eyes were so deep. “Let’s wash it away.”

Because he knew her.

He took her hand and led her into the steam-filled bathroom. This was a trick they used after their cases. They tried to wash away the memories of death.

The trick didn’t really work, though. Nothing could wash them away. But she didn’t like touching him when death had been so close to her hands.

Luke twisted the shower knob. When the water poured down, he dropped his towel.

Her fingers lifted and went to work on the buttons of her shirt.

“No, let me…” Gruff voice, gentle hands.

Carefully, so carefully, he stripped off her shirt and tossed it to the floor.


Instinct led Kenton back to Lora’s house. Yellow caution tape sectioned off the property. The sides of her white house were scorched black, and the lower windows had shattered.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see Lora flying from that fire.

And when he opened his eyes, he could see the man edging slowly around the right side of her house.

Fuck.

Kenton took out his weapon and eased under the tape. The old adage was true—some perps just had to return to their crime scenes. Some got off on seeing the pain they’d stirred, while others came back because they were afraid they’d left evidence behind.

He wondered which reason had brought Detective Peter Malone back to the scene.

Watching his step and easing carefully past the broken glass, Kenton crept up on his prey.

Malone was bent low, and his gaze locked on the bottom of the house.

Kenton aimed his gun dead center at the detective’s back. “Put your hands up, Malone. Nice and slow.”

Malone stiffened. “What the—Lake?” He started to turn around.

“Hands up! I’d hate to put a bullet in you because you didn’t listen.” Lie. Right then, putting a bullet into the guy was a big temptation.

Malone’s hands came up. He still faced the house.

“Keep ’em there.” Kenton went in fast and took the guy’s weapon. “Now turn around.”

Malone turned slowly. “What the hell is going on here, Special Agent?”

Kenton stared back at the guy. “You tell me.” He wouldn’t let the fury break through, not yet.

“I’m searching the crime scene! What the hell does it look like I’m—”

“Why haven’t you been answering your cell phone today, Malone?”

He blinked. “I don’t—” He glanced down at his waist and the phone secured to his belt. “The battery must be dead.”

Right. “Must be.”

Malone’s face flushed. “Stop pointing that damn gun at me!”

No. “Your men have been searching for you all morning.”

“For me?” His brows shot up. “Why?”

“Because you’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”

“Bullshit.” Malone dropped his hands.

Kenton shook his head. “You don’t want to do that.”

Those hands flew right back up. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but—”

“Bob Kyle is dead.”

“What?”

“Kyle is dead, and your name has appeared in our investigation as a link between the victims.”

Malone didn’t speak, but his jaw fell a few inches.

“Why are you really here?” Kenton didn’t let his gaze stray to Lora’s house. “Did you come back for a souvenir?” Serials and their souvenirs—they always liked to collect keepsakes.

“Hell, no.” Rage burned in Malone’s words.

But Kenton’s hadn’t expected an instant confession. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.” Actually, he’d need a lot more than that.

“You’re taking me in? You seriously think I’m a suspect here? This is bull—”

“Bullshit. Right. I got it the first time.” Kenton kept his gun up. “But bullshit or not, you’re coming in and you will answer the SSD’s questions.”

A muscle flexed along Malone’s jaw.

“And by the way, is that your truck parked down on the corner?”

Malone gave a grudging nod.

Kenton smiled, and he knew it wasn’t a pretty sight. “Thought so.”


“Yo, guys—I think you’d better come in here!” Max’s voice cut through the rattle of conversation in the conference room.

Lora glanced at Garrison. His bushy brows were pulled low, but he was already shoving back his chair and leading the way out of the room.

Everyone scrambled behind him. They hurried down the hall and crowded into the lounge, settling right in front of the big-screen TV.

Max hit the remote, and the volume screamed out.

“FBI agents are mum, but sources say this man is the latest victim of the arsonist who has made our city his playground.” Elle Shaw’s face filled the screen.

“What the hell?” Garrison demanded.

“Another one?” Lora whispered. “But we—we didn’t get the call.”

“The guy was lit. Not the scene, the guy.” Max shook his head. “We couldn’t have done a damn thing for him.”