Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(98)

“What was the cause of that fire?” Monica asked as she reached for the file. Luke was behind her, watching and waiting.

Garrison’s chin notched up. “Accident—it was an accid—”

“You sure?” They were dealing with a serial arsonist. One who loved the fire more than life. Just when had that addiction started?

Garrison’s shoulders hunched. “No… no, he was a kid… he had to bury his parents. He got sent to live with an uncle outside of town… Just a kid.”

But Monica knew some monsters were made as children.

Just a kid. That was an excuse that she’d stopped believing years ago.

“Seth… you really think…” Garrison sagged against the desk. “He can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but a killer?”

“Sometimes, you don’t see the killers,” Luke replied. “Not until it’s too late.”

“He worked by my side, right in the fire with me, for years.” Still disbelieving.

“Until the fire caught him,” Sam murmured. “About two years ago—”

“Carter pulled him out.” Garrison swiped his hand over his forehead. “Bad one, that night. Beam fell from the ceiling, caught his leg, screwed up his knee. Carter had to haul him out…” He blinked. “Carter.” A stark whisper. His eyes lifted slowly, and met Monica’s stare. “You’re telling me… you’re saying Seth killed Carter?”

“Uh, Hyde…” Sam’s hesitant voice stopped Monica from responding. “Where’s Lora?”


“She’s coming.”

Kenton forced his eyes open. He squinted as he tried to see through the darkness and focus on—

Seth MacIntyre smiled down at him.

Kenton lurched forward, only to be jerked back. His arms and legs were tied, shit, bound to the bedposts. Lora’s bedposts.

His gaze flew around the room. Lora’s room. The scent of smoke still drifted in the air.

“Guess you’ve been here before,” Seth murmured.

“Let me the f*ck go!”

Seth’s smile stretched. “I told you that Lora was just using you.” He leaned close. Come on, *, just a bit closer. “She wanted to get her revenge on Carter’s killer—”

“On you!”

He blinked. “Well, yes.” His smile didn’t dim. “She would do anything for her revenge. Well, I guess she did do anything, didn’t she?”

Ah, now he was close enough. Kenton slammed his head into Seth’s. He caught the bastard’s nose and heard the crunch of bone. Blood splattered on him.

“Bastard!” Seth stumbled back as his hands flew to cover his broken nose. “Look what you f*cking did!”

“Newsflash, I’m gonna do a hell of a lot more!” He yanked at the bindings—bedsheets. They’d been cut and tied around him. His head throbbed, the drumming ache making nausea rise in his throat as—

Something wet hit his chest. Wet, and that smell… Christ.

Seth was smiling again. The bastard smiled through the blood that dripped onto his lips. “Figured this would be fitting for you. The bed you f*cked in will be the bed you die in.” He hefted the container he was holding and poured more gasoline onto Kenton’s body and face.

The liquid spilled over Kenton and soaked the sheets beneath him as he struggled. Fear pumped in his blood. So much gasoline.

“She’s coming, you know.” Seth walked around the room, still pouring that gas and slowly making a trail toward the door. “Maybe she’ll save you. Or maybe she’ll just burn with you.” He stilled. “It’s time for that bitch to burn,” Seth whispered.

She’s coming. Kenton’s heart stopped beating. “No, don’t you touch her!”

But Seth just laughed. “I won’t need to.” Gasoline sloshed onto the floor. Lora’s floor. The house she loved. “The fire will do the touching for me.”

“No, no, wait, come back!”

Seth shook his head. “I got to get ready for Lora. She’ll be here soon.” His head cocked. Blood still streamed from his nose but the guy didn’t even seem to be aware of the pain. He walked away and Kenton’s eyes narrowed. Wait, something was different. Kenton couldn’t figure—

The bastard wasn’t limping.

The witnesses had never mentioned a limp, so he hadn’t seriously considered Seth as a suspect. The witnesses had seen him walking—no one had mentioned a limp.

Shit, he hadn’t thought of the guy as the killer, even though the guy had f*cking shown him a trophy wall at his office. All those grisly pictures—staring right back at him.

Fucking trophies. Serials always liked to keep a part of their crimes. Seth had kept all the gory photos and put them right out front for the world to see.

The prick had flaunted it right in their faces.

“Nothing’s wrong with your leg!”

Seth stopped. “Something was wrong.” A shrug lifted his shoulders. “But I got it fixed. About six months ago, I had some surgery and did some rehab for a while.”

And the fires had stopped. While the killer healed, the fires had stopped.

Seth set down the gasoline can and stripped off his shirt. “The limp was fake, but these…” The shirt hit the floor and almost instantly became soaked in the gasoline. “They’re all real.” Long, angry red scars swiped over his arms. “My first.” His fingers traced a lighter line near his left elbow. “But not my last.”