Night Fire (Nightriders MC Book 3) Page 6

  “Descriptions?” We couldn’t get that lucky but I crossed mental fingers, just in case.

  “Older pickup, probably a Dodge. Red. Parked about a block away in a mostly dirt and gravel parking lot. He sat there in the truck until the Harley arrived.”

  “The witness is sure it was a Harley?”

  The captain lowered his chin and stared at her. “As the witness said, nothing sounds like a Harley.”

  I thought about Smoke’s Harley. Yeah, even when tuned correctly, there was just something that set a Harley engine apart.

  “Pickup guy was early twenties, with a beard. He wore a black jacket and jeans. Harley guy was older, maybe mid-thirties or forties. He wore a black vest.”

  My chest constricted. “Anything on the jacket or vest?”

  Fielder gave me a sharp look. “No. Plain. Where are you going with that thought?”

  “Evidently nowhere. Anything else?”

  “They talked, a box exchanged hands, the motorcycle left, and pickup guy headed in the direction of the warehouse.”

  “Please tell me the witness got a tag number?”

  “Nope.”

  Dammit. No way we could get that lucky. Still, we had some descriptions. I yawned, not quite hiding it fast enough.

  “Go home, Daniels. Get some sleep.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  Smoke wasn’t around so I kicked off my boots and flopped face down in bed, my need for sleep overriding my need for food. He’d wake me when he got home, we’d eat, and maybe I’d get lucky. I laughed. There was no maybe about it. With Smoke, I always got lucky. I yawned and snuggled into the pillow that carried the scent of leather and cherry pipe tobacco.

  A muffled voice coaxed me awake. I started to smile because it was dark and Smoke was home. Then I caught what he was saying.

  “Sooner or later, boss. Boner is a problem that needs to be fixed.” Smoke didn’t say anything for a minute or so. “Yeah. I have a lead I plan to check out. Someone is fuckin’ with us with these fires and it needs to stop.” More silence as he listened, and then, “I told you I’d checked all the scenes. I’m the best arsonist you have, Russki. That’s why you sent me down here.”

  Listening, I caught a rustling sound, like denim brushing on denim, but I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep, despite my heart wanting to explode from my chest. I had to keep it together, to stay calm even as my brain whirled. I sensed that Smoke was looming over the bed, staring at me. Then his fingertips brushed through my hair and I had to concentrate to keep from reacting.

  What was going on? Who was this boss Smoke was talking to? Then his words sank in. He’d just admitted he was an arsonist and it hit me. Smoke. His road name. Was he my arsonist? I focused on keeping my heart rate and breathing normal. He was too close. Breathe, I reminded my lungs as he moved away.

  “I said I’d take care of it.” He was growling at the caller. “I have Leigh under control. She won’t be a problem.”

  I held my breath, waiting, but he was gone. I was cold inside. Smoke was involved with my cases. Somehow. I was sick to my stomach. What would he do if he discovered I’d overheard him? Because Smoke Jenner was a very, very bad man.

  Straining to hear, I caught the soft snick of the front door. I sprang out of bed and grabbed my boots. Not feeling a bit guilty, I shoved the hurt welling up in my chest away and focused. If Smoke was involved, if he was using me and only pretending to care about me, the sooner I knew about it, the better. I’d deal with the pain and fallout later.

  I took my Highlander. There were thousands of the same model in the metroplex. Smoke would be far less likely to notice my tail than he would if I drove my FD sedan. Besides, my Highlander was in perfect mechanical shape. The last thing I needed was to get stranded on the side of the road. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

  Smoke was in a hurry but he obeyed traffic laws and speed limits. He switched from city streets to I-35E and headed north. Was he leaving town? My heart stuttered and I chastised my idiocy. Smoke was…smoke. Here today, gone tomorrow. I’d known better than to get seriously involved with him. His last words played on a loop in my head. Under control? I’d show him who was under control.

  He exited the interstate and I realized we were headed toward Lewisville Lake. Why would he be coming out here? I had to drop back because traffic turned sporadic. It took me awhile but I finally found his Harley—parked behind an old red pickup. Son of a bitch. I caught movement on a private dock, a faintly Smoke-shaped shadow headed toward a large wooden boathouse.

  I hid my Highlander where it couldn’t be seen from the boathouse and got out. Using the shadows just like Smoke had, I stalked to the structure. I tried to peek in through a dirty window but could see nothing. When I got to the door, it was open. I crouched down and slipped through so I wouldn’t be silhouetted. With my back to the wall, I straightened slowly, my fingers searching for the light switch. When I found it, I flipped it on. A single 40-watt bulb in the center of the place struggled to illuminate the corners. Smoke stood on the other side of the boat slip, a body at his feet.

  Smoke

  “GET OUT.” Fuck. I did not need this. Bad enough my suspect was dead. Other than his truck being at the Dallas clubhouse, I had no way to tie him to Boner. And now Leigh was here. And pissed. How the hell had she found me? I’d left her sleeping, except my wolf had been trying to get my attention. Shit. She wasn’t asleep at all.

  She stared, horrified even as an argument formed on the lips I wanted to kiss. Fisted hands planted on her hips and her chin jutted, she furrowed her brows until a tight vee formed. “No way I’m leaving. What have you done?”

  When I didn’t answer, she marched around the dock and stopped in front of me. I wanted to kiss the crinkled skin just above the bridge of her nose despite the situation. I gestured at what was stacked along the walls. “It’s not safe, babe.”

  She glanced around then, eyes widening as they adjusted to the gloom in the boat house and she recognized the markings on the crates and boxes. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” The place was stacked to the rafters with explosive material, all rigged to blow. My nose had already cataloged the various types.

  “Oh, crap.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Funny.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be. What do we do now?”

  “We don’t do anything. You’re leaving.” I put command in my voice, like she'd pay any attention. Still, worth a shot. She needed to get the hell away from here.

  “Seriously? You really think I’m under your control?”

  Well shit. She definitely hadn’t been asleep.

  “You think you can scare me away so can get rid of the evidence? Not happening. You’re under arrest for murder.”

  “Don’t fucking argue, babe. You need to get out of here.”

  “No. We’ll both get out, then I’ll call the bomb squad, and they will come do their job by dealing with the explosives.”

  I pointed to a digital timer happily counting down. “Too late.”

  Her eyes widened as she studied the device. “You started it. You can just stop it.”

  “Except I didn’t.”

  Something in my expression made her backpedal. She gulped, cleared her throat before asking, “Did I set it off? But how? I didn’t touch anything.”

  “Probably happened when I walked in. Vibrations on the floor started the countdown, or there’s a pressure plate.” I hunkered down next to the device. “If the room starts shaking, you need to run like hell.”

  “If the room shakes, we’re toast.”

  She was right but I wasn’t about to admit defeat. I pulled a multi-tool from a back pocket and set to work.

  “What are you doing?” Leigh didn’t quite screech but the timbre of her voice hurt my ears.

  “My job.”

  “Your job? You’re an arsonist. You burn stuff down.” Was sh
e scoffing? Little did she know. I'd just have to prove it to her.

  “Sometimes. Wasn’t always. I was Marine Force Recon, EOD tech.” As an Explosive Ordinance Disposal tech, I’d disabled or blown up a shit-ton of IEDs in the sandbox. I never figured I’d be sitting in a covered boathouse on Lake Lewisville sweating bullets as I worked to save my ass. And Leigh’s. Especially hers. I had plans for that sweet ass that didn’t include it getting blown to hell and back.

  “Wait. You were a marine?”

  I cut my eyes her direction. She looked stunned. “Yeah. Proud member of Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.”

  “But…” She waved her hands like she couldn’t figure out the next word. One waved at my head, the other at the rest of me. Shrugging, I turned back to the bomb.

  “Walk soft, babe, but go stand by the door.” She hovered for a few moments, peering over my shoulder. I grunted and shifted back on my heels. “Now, Leigh. If we have to evacuate, I want you where I can grab you on the way out. Yeah?”

  “Yeah, no.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned to get a better look.

  “If you’re the Ghost, that’s not your trigger. Can you disarm it? I mean…no pressure or anything.”

  I turned my head and stole a kiss. “Yeah, no pressure.”

  She breathed heavily, air brushing across the side of my neck, then straightened. Finally. She did as I asked, pussy-footing to the door leading to the dock. I studied a tangle of wires and the trigger device. Leigh was right. This wasn’t my design. Dammit. Nothing could be easy and Luck was being a bitch tonight.

  I studied the wiring. “Just want you to know, babe, I didn’t do this. Any of it.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on.”

  “Yeah…no. Can’t do that.”

  “Then you are guilty.” At least she sounded sort of disappointed.

  “Nope. I’m not. Someone is trying to set up my club.” I could give her that much. She’d have to take the rest on faith. My wolf waited for her to decide.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  I paused again but didn’t look at her. “Either you do or you don’t, babe.”

  “Are we going to die?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  I concentrated on the timer and Leigh stayed silent. For about sixty seconds.

  “You’re hot, you know. Like setting me on fire hot.”

  I froze then glanced over my shoulder. I arched my right brow and she waggled hers at me in some sort of flirty semaphore I had no clue how to read. “Not the time, babe.”

  “It is. Just in case. I…wanted you to know. I’ll be your match and you can light my fire.”

  “Uh huh.” I bent back to the job at hand, but she kept talking.

  “I’ll light up your life.”

  I clipped a wire. “That’s a bad love song, ba—”

  The timer went dark as sparks shot out. “Fuck!” I was up and running, barreling into Leigh, through her and the door, turning at the last minute so my back hit the dock railing. I curled around her as the explosives erupted, raining fire and fury on us. We hit the surface of the lake. Went under. Deep.

  When we came up for air, Leigh pushed sopping hair out of her eyes, grinning like some evil jack-o-lantern. “Smoke on the water. Speaking of bad love songs.”

  Chapter 10

  Leigh

  SMOKE SWAM like a stinking fish. I floundered along, wishing I wasn’t wearing my duty boots. After circling me like a shark focused on dinner, he moved in.

  “Lay back and relax, babe.”

  The next thing I knew, he had an arm over my shoulder and across my chest in a classic lifeguard hold and was swimming away from the shattered boathouse. I did as he suggested—relaxed.

  After a minute or so, I jumped right into the conversation I didn’t want to have. “So…who was the dead guy?”

  “No clue.”

  “Was he dead when you found him?”

  “D’uh.”

  “Don’t get snippy.”

  “Don’t interrogate me. You’ve alrady accused me of murder and arson.” He continued to stroke steadily and I realized we were getting further and further away from the scene—and my car!

  “Wait! You’re going the wrong way. We have to go back. I need to report in. I—”

  “No, babe.” His words were quiet but forceful.

  “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean you need to stay out of this. These guys are playing for keeps, babe and they won’t hesitate to take out a civilian.”

  “I’m not a civilian, Smoke.” I put as much emphasis and derision as I could into that word. “I’m an arson investigator. In case you haven’t noticed.”

  That hot fudge laugh of his rolled over me. “I’ve noticed.”

  “This is my job. I need to get back there, talk to the cops and FD so they call the bomb squad. Or the ATF.”

  “You don’t want the feds involved.” His voice was still quiet but that almost sounded like a threat.

  “I want whoever is behind these fires. They have to be stopped before some other innocent person gets hurt.”

  “Trust me, babe. He wasn’t innocent.”

  “I thought you didn’t know who he is.”

  “I don’t know his name. I do know what he is.”

  “Same thing.” I huffed it out, grouchy at his semantics.

  “Nope. Not even close.”

  After that, no matter what I tried, he ignored me. I knew one surefire way to get his attention but he wisely kept that part of his anatomy out reach. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only fifteen minutes, he stopped swimming. Moments later, my feet could reach the lake bottom and then I was glad I was wearing my boots, despite them being full of water.

  We lurched up on the narrow beach and I looked around for human habitation. There was none. To the north—or what I presumed was north, I could still see flames dancing, along with flashing emergency lights, at the marina.

  Smoke found a concrete bench and nudged me down on it. He stripped my Ropers, poured water out then peeled off my socks and twisted them between his hands to wring out more water. He left them to me to pull back on while he dealt with his own boots.

  Ugh. There is nothing slimier—or harder—than pulling on wet socks. I pushed my feet into my boots and stood. At least I didn’t squish when I walked. If we had to hoof it all the way back to the marina, I’d have a bumper crop of blisters.

  I watched him and wondered. Did I believe him? Some instinct I couldn’t name insisted he was telling the truth—that he was innocent. Too bad I had no evidence. I wanted to think the worst of him. He was a freaking outlaw biker. If my suspicions were correct, he was a major arsonist dozens of agencies were still looking for. But he was Smoke. My Smoke. The man who made me omelets—after breaking into my house. The man who covered me with his body when someone shot at us. He was right. The bad guys were playing for keeps. But what color hat did he wear?

  “This way.” Smoke’s quiet command cut into the circular argument clogging up my mind.

  “Where are we going?”

  And…he didn’t say a word—just started walking. We were back to the silent treatment again. I followed him, leaving a trail of water dripping from my coveralls. We walked up on his Harley, parked in the shadows of a nearby building.

  “Get on.”

  “I want my car.”

  “I’ll arrange for it.”

  He pulled a phone out of a compartment on his motorcycle and walked away. I reached into my chest pocket to grab my own phone. Two people could play this game…except my phone was in no condition to make a call. I tried to remember what the Internet said to do with a wet phone. Rice. Yeah, I didn’t think there was enough rice in the world to dry my phone. Still…I’d make Smoke stop on the way home so I could get some.

  Smoke

  I PARKED in back of a convenience store and waited. About ten minutes later, two brothers rode up on one bike. They were Wolves and I trusted the
m, where I didn’t trust many of the others in the local chapter. I handed over a copy of keyless start fob for Leigh’s SUV. She watched the hand-off but had no clue that I’d cloned her fob. No reason to break into the Toyota and hot wire it when I could take care of it the easy—if slightly illegal way. When she got up in the morning, her Highlander would be parked in it’s normal spot.

  “I need rice,” she said as I walked back.

  “For?”

  She held up her cell phone. I managed to keep a straight face when I said, “Not enough rice in China, babe. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “I don’t want a new one,” she gritted out. “This one has all my info.”

  “You have it backed up on your laptop. I’ll buy you a new one, you can download it. Done deal.”

  She snarled at me but her argument was invalid and she knew it.

  “Who were those guys and what did you give them?”

  “Brothers and directions to find your vehicle.” She gave me a squinty-eyed look and I laughed. “Just trust me, babe.”

  And speaking of trust, I backed away and gave her a squinty-eyed look of my own. She knew I was an arsonist. Said as much back there in the boathouse. That wasn’t common knowledge. I’d never been arrested—too good a covering my tracks. She had to be guessing that I was the Ghost but I needed to find out.

  “Why do you think I’m the Ghost?”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times and I got distracted thinking about how good her lips would feel wrapped around my dick.

  “Ummm.” She was stalling. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Lucky guess?”

  “Babe.” Lucky guess my ass.

  She leaned in and looked up at me, batting her eyelashes and puckering her lips.

  “Are you trying to distract me, Leigh?”

  Her hand cupped me as she flashed me a sultry smile. “No.”

  I pulled away from her. “Answer my question.”

  “What’s the point?”

  I glanced down, stared. Seconds later, she slugged me.