Ignite Page 17

  They’d shown their hand. He knew their strengths.

  And their weaknesses.

  He would be victorious, bringing the town to their knees. He would be labeled a hero, a right that had been pushed aside. He’d show them all. Laughing, he hobbled out of his office, heading for the garage. He had at least a few minutes to spare, time to prepare another surprise. This time he’d test and retest before unleashing his masterpiece.

  “Hey, do you want a beer?”

  He stopped short, sucking in his breath as her lilting and hopeful voice floated like an angel’s wings. She would never understand. She would never forgive him. She could never know. “In a minute. I’ll come inside. Okay?”

  “Okay. You spend too much time by yourself. I’m making lunch.”

  “I understand. I’ll be there shortly,” he said, his tone gruff as he clenched both fists. Then again, she might have to be collateral damage if she didn’t stop nagging him. Every day she pushed and pulled, trying to get him to be the man he once was. That was never going to happen. He could never forgive or forget.

  As he continued his path into the garage, stopping once to catch his breath, he placed his hand over his heart.

  God willing, this would be the ultimate demise, the perfect method of eradicating his enemies. He knew in his heart, he was going to enjoy watching them die.

  Chapter 10

  “What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? Aren’t you supposed to be my banking representative, someone who gives a shit?” Jessica hissed, doing her best to keep her cool. Whether or not Maggie’s attorney brother had managed to push the beasts away for two weeks, she was still going to have to deal with the inevitable.

  She’d moved past pissed to murderous fury after being pushed from one to another bank employee. Finally, on her sixth representative, she could tell the squeaky voiced minion was nothing more than an administrative assistant to some bigwig. She bet the asshole was out playing golf, drinking martinis as he pretended to know what he was doing.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dunn but I…”

  “That’s Ms. Dunn as I mentioned three times,” she interrupted. “Let me explain something to you. I am not going to lose what little equity I have in that piece of crap house. Got it? You are going to find the right person to talk to right at this very moment or I’m going to hunt you down like a dog. Got it?” Livid, she didn’t care she was losing her cool.

  Click!

  “Goddamn you!” Clenching her eyes shut, she swung around in a circle, kicking her feet on the wooded floor.

  Clap! Clap! Clap!

  “What the hell?” she hissed as her eyes flew open. Standing in her doorway was a hunk of a man, his legs crossed, his arms folded. Wearing tight blue jeans, cowboy boots and a tee-shirt showing off every carved muscle, she sucked in her breath. “Stoker! I’m just trying to get some business taken care of.” Blushing, she looked away, embarrassed by her childish behavior.

  “I can see that. I hope that poor soul you were berating doesn’t quit because of your nasty mouth.”

  “Very funny. Where were you? I’ve been trying to find you. I didn’t have your number of course, so I even went to Ziggy’s. I had to see you on television to know you were okay. Don’t you think you could have figured out a way to let me know how you were, that you were going to be late. That you were freaking alive!” Huffing, she brushed damp hair out of her face and took several deep breaths.

  “Mighty creative performance,” Stoker said as he grinned. “I think somebody needs a nap.”

  She took two long strides toward him, tension and worry overriding her common sense. “How. Dare. You.” Whoosh!

  Stoker snagged her hand before she managed to slap him. Shaking his head, he issued tsking sounds as his eyes lit up with amusement. “I’ll change that from a nap to a hard spanking.”

  “I don’t need any such thing. Don’t you try anything, buster or I’ll… I’ll…”

  “You’ll what exactly?” He wrapped his hand around her wrist and in two seconds had her on the couch and over his lap.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Exactly what you need to get rid of that bad attitude you have going on.”

  Crack! Pop!

  “Yow! Stop,” she bellowed and threw her hand back to cover her ass.

  Pop! Crack! Whap!

  “Not until you say you’re sorry,” Stoker said as he grabbed her hand, shoving her arm down to the floor. “If you’re not careful, I’ll remove your jeans and panties. Then your bottom is going to be sore for days.”

  “You asshole!” What the hell did he think he was doing? Embarrassed, as well as turned on, she wiggled in his lap as the punishment continued.

  Smack! Crack! Smack!

  “You’re mouthy. Opinionated. A bitch. A hardnose. And one day you’re going to get yourself into real trouble,” he said, his voice commanding.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Whap! Crack!

  “Ouch!” She issued another screech then realized he was right. Yes, she needed a hard spanking. Yes, she needed to be punished. Yes, she wanted a commanding man. What? What?

  Stoker continued without talking for several minutes.

  Jessica stopped struggling and dropped her head, palming the floor, wincing with each strike. When he stopped, she was almost sorry. Almost. She entered a peaceful zone, allowing her worries and fears to slide away. She could breathe easier, her heart racing less. With each slap, she collected herself, calming down to the point she no longer saw red.

  “That, my dear will teach you not to threaten anyone on the phone. As far as your tirade against me,” Stoker started as he lifted her onto her feet, instantly easing her onto the couch. “I appreciate your concern, but I told you the mission might go for hours or days. I had no way of knowing what the team was facing.”

  “You did. You’re right. Still, I had no idea what to think.” She looked away, heat cresting along her jawline.

  “Jessica. I’m sorry. Tell you what. Let’s exchange phone numbers. Will that work?” Cupping her face with both hands, he gently forced her to look at him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You do care. I’m not certain why, but I appreciate your concern more than you know.”

  She sniffed and looked everywhere but at him. When she finally did, she nodded. “Okay fine. I do. You’re a tough one to care about, but I do.” Trembling from his gentle caress, she inhaled, savoring the fresh scent of pine.

  “You’re one formidable woman.” He grinned and leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.

  She eased one hand against his chest, relief flooding through her. He was here. He was safe. While she was no longer certain of her decisions, including what she was doing with Stoker, she realized for the first time in so very long she could almost taste happiness.

  Stoker slid his arm around her waist, easing her against his chest as he kneaded the small of her back.

  The kiss became a passionate roar, an unbridled desire racing through her. His lips were soft, his breath hot and his hold captivating. Mewing, she arched her back and cupped the back of his neck. The touch of him, the taste of him was powerful. A trickle of fear broke the reverence, dragging her back into reality. This couldn’t last. How could two such different people share anything but a few moments together?

  When her body tensed, he broke the kiss, but kept his hand caressing her face. “Beauty.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” His eyes filled with remorse, he sat back away from her and crossed his legs, shutting down the intimacy. “Be honest with me. What is the deal with your house?”

  “Simple. I’m losing it. They are foreclosing quickly, maybe two weeks.” Saying the words filled her with sadness. “Trying to stop the dam from bursting.”

  “That’s not what usually happens.”

  “No, but there’s been talk of condos going up so my guess is they wanted my lan
d. What does it matter? I have nothing and no one to go back to.” Admitting the truth was difficult. She sucked in her breath and pushed away tears of frustration.

  He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. “You can stay here. In Missoula, I mean. Starting over can be amazing.”

  She searched his eyes for more, an admittance of his feelings, but he’d thrust the mask in place, sheltering the man inside. “I can’t stay here. You and I both know I’m not cut out to be a country girl.”

  “Why not? I’m serious. Give me one good reason why?”

  Struggling to find the words, she blurted out the only thing that came to mind. “I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

  Stoker leaned against the couch and smiled. “Yes, that’s an issue.”

  “I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”

  “True. Another situation. After some thinking, I’m not certain I want to see you with a gun in your hands, fearful for the town folk and all, but riding a horse is another story. If you’re game and unafraid.”

  “Afraid of the beautiful horses you have?”

  “Why, I see you were busy while I was gone.”

  Her thoughts drifted to the song. She’d spent the better part of the morning putting words to paper. She merely needed an opportunity to spend time with a guitar, namely Stoker’s guitar. “I made myself at home with MacGyver’s help. I figured I need to do my part taking care of Ralph’s horses so I better get used to them.”

  “Well, well. I’m glad. The horses are part of my heart, just like MacGyver. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.” He gave a faraway look, a brief capture of the haunted soul.

  She squeezed his hand. “You’re not going to lose them. I’d love a ride. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I would.”

  Leaning over, he raised a single eyebrow. “Even with that sore bottom of yours?”

  Blushing, Jessica groaned and yanked her hand away. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “So, you’ve told me. How about this. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”

  “You can cook?”

  “Don’t start or you’re back over my knee,” he chortled. “I can try. That’s all I can say. When you eat alone, frozen dinners are usually the way to go.”

  “Uh. Huh. Yuck. I’ll pick up some things at the grocery store. I’ll cook, you watch. Deal?”

  “Deal. Maybe I can offer some suggestions regarding your house too. I’m pretty good with business.” His grin had returned along with twinkling eyes.

  Jessica had to wonder what he wasn’t damn good at. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. I was an idiot, following my dreams instead of finding financial security. I’m not sure I care any longer.” Where she’d end up didn’t really matter. As long as she found her joy again, she’d survive.

  He rose to his feet. “Darlin’, you have as little faith in anything as I do. Did you ever think that we met for a reason?”

  “And what would that reason be exactly?”

  Using the tip of his index finger, he eased a strand of hair behind her ear then traced a zigzag down her cheek and over to her mouth. Drawing around her lips, he exhaled. “To save our souls.”

  The words caught in his throat as they did in her mind. “You may be right, cowboy.”

  Stoker waited in the police station for almost thirty minutes. He’d talked with Sheriff Brennan James years before and the event hadn’t been one he remembered fondly. Then again, the man had saved his life years before. His thoughts drifted to a damning moment in the river, his first taste at being a hero and almost drowning in the process. The man was formidable in his own right. Elected recently for his third term, people either loved or loathed the man and his particular practice of the law. There was no in between. He was also very good at what he did, keeping peace with a limited staff.

  What information Stoker had to provide was limited, but he refused to sit back, allowing his beloved town to be destroyed. Clenching his fist, he was terrified the situation was going to get worse, threatening more than just livelihood.

  He sat on the edge of the seat, scrolling through his phone. He continued to move back to Jessica’s information, every time smiling when he did.

  The woman was getting under his skin and he had no idea what to do about the situation. Spanking her had set off bells and whistles, driving his libido to the exploding point. He could have fucked her right there, in the middle of her living room. Only his odd sense of duty and timing had prevented them from being naked in a flash. She was also much more fragile than she pretended to be. Kid gloves he had no patience for.

  Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and stared at her number. What if she stayed? Would the decision be the worst thing that ever happened to him? The answer he didn’t want to face, but the realization hung in front of him, settling into his system. She was fire and brimstone, fueling the man inside. Dinner should prove to be interesting.

  “Stoker Hansen? I must say I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Stoker lifted his head. Brennan had aged since the last time they’d spoken. His face was puffed as if spending too many hours with a bottle of tequila. His hair was receding but he still had a boyish grin, even though his eyes were black as coal. “Sheriff James. Been a long time.” He stood and shook the Sheriff’s hand, the action tentative from both men. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “Sure. I understand from your Captain that you have some information for me?” The Sheriff walked them down a hallway and into a small office. He closed the door and took off his hat, tossing the oversized piece onto his desk. “First, I have to tell you that the single reason you’re here is because of my friendship with Captain Phillips. I respect the man and his work ethic. He seems to think you’re a damn good jumper.”

  The old resentment remained, furrowing into Stoker’s gut. They’d never be friends, never share a beer together. However, tolerating was important. “I understand. I do have some information but I also have questions.”

  “About the fires I assume?”

  “Yeah and any evidence you’ve collected.”

  “Why?” The Sheriff’s face held curiosity.

  “I have belief that they were caused by arson.” Stoker kept his voice low.

  The Sheriff sighed. “You and half the town including the Mayor. We are investigating the possibilities, although with limited deputies, the case is slow going. Do you have any evidence?”

  “Nothing concrete yet, but I know how these fires work. I believe the one from last night was caused by a homemade explosive.”

  Sheriff James narrowed his eyes. “Stoker, I realize you’re an experienced fireman and have been in some of the worst conditions imaginable, but you’re no explosions expert, at least from what I remember.”

  “I studied them in the Marines. Our unit was faced with some crude explosives and we were forced to recreate and learn them inside and out.” Stoker searched the Sheriff’s face for any sign of belief. Expressionless, the man looked Stoker up and down before answering.

  “Okay. Then tell me what you think happened. I suppose it can’t hurt.”

  “I believe the arsonist planted several bombs in and around the area most likely hours before the fire. They were timed so that one would go off thirty minutes after the other, thereby creating what we call a firestorm, or mass conflagration of fire. No matter the attempts from both the fire department and the jumpers, there was no way to get ahead of the situation, stop the blaze.”

  “But you did stop the blaze. You were there with the team just last night. Am I correct?”

  Stoker nodded. “Yeah, we did manage to stop the fire from spreading, but I think that was only because the arsonist made a mistake.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  He thought about his words before he spoke, formulating his thoughts as he plodded through. “I think the man knows what he’s doing. I believe he has inside information on how firemen and jumpers put out the fire, what they look for and how fires jum
p from tree to tree.”

  The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. “A little farfetched, but let’s go with it. Are you trying to say that you believe this arsonist is a fireman?”

  “It’s possible.” Stoker thought about what Captain Phillips had said. He loathed the concept one of their own might be the monster. A chill raced down his spine along with too many what if’s.

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “You’ve heard of a fire devil?”

  “Whirlwind of fire, right?”

  “Exactly,” Stoker said. “On every occasion of the fires that have occurred, that’s what the blaze reminded me of. The guy is organized and knows his bombs. He’s just unaccustomed to being on the other side, creating the fires. His mistake wasn’t fueling the fire in the right manner. If he had, we’d still be battling the blaze. If that makes sense.”

  Sheriff James studied Stoker for a full minute before responding. “Surprisingly, the concept makes more sense than anything else I’ve heard and gives me direction of where to begin looking. So far, everyone I’ve talked to didn’t have either the common sense or the intelligence to organize several burns. Any disgruntled firemen in your group?”

  “None that I know of.” He had no one to present on a silver platter as of yet.

  “Well, if you think of anyone, let me know.”

  “What is the evidence pointing toward?” Stoker asked, anticipating the answer.

  Sheriff James shook his head. “You know I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation. I don’t need any half-cocked fire Zulies fighting a war they aren’t equipped to fight. There is too much at stake.”

  The insinuations were crystal clear. “Yeah? Fine.” They’d drawn a line in the sand.

  “Look, I appreciate you coming in. Glad to see you’re doing well.”

  Stoker nodded. The conversation was over. “Thank you, Sheriff. One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s not done yet. He’s in this for the thrill and for fame. I also sense anger, a need for revenge. He might even be in the middle, fighting fires after setting them. He wants to be a hero.” Even saying the words out loud were chilling, but his instinct kicked into overdrive. He knew he was right.