Wildfire (6 page)

“She was out jogging and found herself surrounded by a pack
of cougars.”

Lynn squinted at him. “There are cougars out here? They move
in packs?”

His tongue seemed to have a life of its own around her.
“This
is
the Wild West you know,” he said. “Yup. This is cougar country
darlin’.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, I was out on my usual morning ride on my horse,
Sundance,” he said, “when I heard an awful yowling. Cougars make this unearthly
noise that makes your blood run cold.”

Glancing at her, he noticed Lynn’s eyes had widened with
interest and her lips parted, revealing a flash of teeth. Sexy. Encouraged,
Jack continued. “So I started shooting in the air and spurred Sundance. That
helped scatter the cats a bit. Anyways, I just scooped Jen up, pulled her
across the saddle, and got the hell out of there.”

Oh well, he was already so deep in bullshit he might as well
go for a swan dive. “Then came the Indians.”

“Indians?”

“Sorry, Native Americans,” he amended. “Swinging tomahawks
and letting out war whoops.”

“Just the kind to make your blood curdle, right?”

That made him smile. He caught her pointed stare from under
arched eyebrows. Her lips twitched and laughter danced in her eyes. Jack gave
Lynn his best shit-eating grin. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.”

She cracked up laughing.

Jack sucked in a breath as the sound filled the cab. A warm,
heady feeling rushed to his heart. Lynn’s arms hung loose by her side, her head
fell back, as laughter shook her, transformed her from attractive to
heart-stopping. And he’d done it. He’d made her laugh and come alive.

“Good story,” she said when she’d stopped chortling.

Jack nodded his thanks and gave her the true version of
meeting Jen. By the time he finished, they’d arrived at Herb’s Parts House, the
John Deere dealership. He parked the pickup and opened his door. “I’ll leave
the air on for you.”

“No, no, I’m coming along,” she said. “I’ve never been
inside a parts house before.”

They walked in on the proprietor —she assumed Herb— visiting
with some of the older farmers and ranchers in the area. Lynn inhaled the smell
of sawdust and machine oil and turned toward the excited voices.

“So, this city slicker from San Antone stopped by and made
me an offer for my land,” said one of the grizzly old men.

The others nodded.

“I says to him thanks but no thanks. You won’t believe what
the young whippersnapper did then.”

“What did he do?” Herb asked from behind the counter.

“Why he looks me in the eye and says ‘you’ll regret this
someday, Mr. Tavistock’.”

“An’ what did you do?” another man asked.

“Why I pulled out my shotgun and said ‘if you don’t get off
my property, you’ll be having regrets a whole lot sooner, son’.”

A round of guffaws filled the room. Then Herb and the others
noticed them and fell silent. Oooh boy. Jen had said people here tended to be
suspicious of strangers…except none of them were looking at her. All the cold
stares aimed for Jack.

His spine rigid, Jack stepped up to the counter. “Howdy
y’all.”

“What can I help you with, Mr. Callaghan?” Polite laced with
definite chill. Herb stood with his beefy arms folded above his beer belly.
What
was going on here?

As he entered into a discussion about plates, augers and
nuts, Lynn browsed in the aisles looking at the 5-gallon oil cans, chainsaws
and other equipment on the shelves. She kept her ears tuned. Herb promised to
call around
for the stripper parts, but
expected it to take a couple of days. The old men whispered and she managed to
catch only a few words. Callaghan. Trouble. Fires.

A tingle spread through Lynn. The dragon odor in the truck
had been heady, but then she’d been smelling them everywhere in Paradise
Valley. Here it was sharp and strong. Either her imagination had run amuck or
there was something wrong with her nose. She tucked hair behind her ear and
cocked her head toward the conversation. Stilled.

“Thanks. I’ll be expecting your call.” Jack’s strangled
voice intruded. She turned in time to catch him tipping his hat to the men
standing around. Some nodded back grim-faced. Others simply looked through him.

Lynn almost trotted to keep up with Jack’s long strides out
of the store. Once they walked out into the sunlight, he slowed. A sigh escaped
from him.

“Sounds like a stripper really is a machine. A troublesome
one at that.”

“You got that right.” He grinned at her. “Come on, let’s get
that tire fixed.”

They headed to an air pump located by the shop area. A
comfortable silence settled between them while Jack worked on the tire. Lynn
squatted next to him and watched.

“So, how’d you get that black eye?”

The air hose slipped out of his fingers. He grabbed it
before it clattered to the ground. “Those Indians and strippers ganged up on
me.”

Did the man never answer straight?

Chapter 5

Sitting tall and straight on the pale Arabian, in her straw
cowgirl hat, a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, against the backdrop of a
lurid sunset, Kate Harrington portrayed the perfect picture of old money in the
West.

The dragon master watched the ghost white gelding shift and
snort among the weed-choked headstones and broken angels of the cemetery. She
leaned forward, pressed her body close to the animal, and whispered. One hand
caressed its neck. The horse settled. In one graceful move, she extended a
long, lean leg out and over, and swung herself to the ground.

He stepped out from behind the cluster of live oaks.

Kate’s storm-blue eyes widened, then narrowed. Her face
showed no other emotion.

“Wouldn’t it have been more practical to drive?”

She looped the reins loosely around a branch. “Wouldn’t it
have been more practical to be an accountant than an arsonist?”

He smiled. “Touché.”

“And wouldn’t it have been more practical to meet in a
restaurant than a forgotten cemetery?”

No. Too many damn eyes and ears. “You wanted a meeting, you
got one. What’s the emergency?”

Her lips pressed into a prissy line. She took her own sweet
time sashaying forward, stopped a foot away from him. “Your stupidity.”

The chaos of birds calling out to each other as they raced
to their nests, settled into the trees for the night echoed in the air. He
focused on the raucous calls and released a deep breath.

“Excuse me?”

“The first fire was a flop, and the Jarvis fire wasn’t
supposed to happen yet.”

“What’s it to you? The Jarvis house was damaged enough for
your purposes.” The dragon master flexed his fingers, wanting to wrap them
around her slim, white throat. “Just do your part and sweet talk them into
selling the damn property.”

“Don’t worry about my part.” She huffed out a breath and
folded her arms. “Do you seriously think people won’t wonder about two fires so
close together?”

“You’re not my boss. I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“I didn’t choose to work with you either.”

“Give them back the money and get out of the deal.”

Her gaze flickered away as she paled. Adrenaline pumped
through his veins.

“You’ve spent it, haven’t you?” He pushed closer into her
space and ran a finger down the side of her face. Smelled her gardenia scent
laced with sweaty fear. “You’re up to your neck in this shit, aren’t you?”

She jerked back. “You’re not my boss and I don’t owe you any
explanation.”

The dragon master smirked. “Yeah, but I’m the guy they’ll
sic on you if you don’t deliver.”

She shivered in the cool evening breeze.

He circled her. “I’m going to enjoy working with you.”

“Just don’t get in my way or get the cops too interested.”
She pushed past him and strode to the horse at a fast clip. She presented a
ram-rod straight back to him. Was she brave or stupid? Probably both. Bitch.

He watched her gallop away. And smiled.

Chapter 6

“Ah, the woman still lives,” Jen looked up with a grin as
she chopped the cilantro for the
pico de gallo
.

“And she’s starving.” Lynn watched her mix the tomatoes,
onions, jalapeno, and then the cilantro.

“It’s almost 8:30 at night, did you get the story written
and sent?” She handed the
pico
to Lynn, then poured two glasses of water
and placed them on the kitchen table, along with a plate of cheese quesadillas.

“Almost written.” Lynn dropped into the nearest chair and
took a bite of the warm, spicy quesadilla and savored the ooey-gooey cheese and
charred chicken. “Mmm, I’ve missed your cooking.”

“Just my cooking, huh?” Jen quirked a pierced eyebrow at
her.

Lynn licked her lips and tore a paper towel off the roll on
the table. “What else is there to miss?” She cut a glance at her friend. “Mizz
Loca Latina.”

Jen snorted. “You’re one to talk, wasabi shrimp.”

Lynn choked on a laugh and had to wipe at her eyes. Oh how
she missed this easy banter. She’d gone too long without talking to Jen.

“God, we were so immature.” Lynn took another bite of
quesadilla.

“No, we knew how to be crazy and have fun.”

“Speaking of crazy…” Lynn told Jen about arming herself with
the wine bottle.

“I’m glad you didn’t waste that wine on him.” Jen giggled.
“All this is funnier because Jack is really a great guy. Speaking of wine, want
some?”

Maybe a couple of glasses would help her unwind and forget
the strange flutter that started beneath her breast bone and dove deep between
her legs at the mention of Jack. “Great idea. I’ll take a glass or two or
more.”

Jen arched an eyebrow. “And then you’ll hit the floor.”

The phone interrupted with loud rings. As Jen rushed to
answer, Lynn searched for the bottle opener. She found it in the third drawer
and turned waving it around in triumph. She stopped cold at Jen’s pursed lips
and monosyllabic answers.

Lynn mouthed “Who is it?” She pointed at the phone for
emphasis.

“Please hold,” Jen stabbed a button. Then holding the phone
in one hand, she glared. “Rob, your very unhappy ex-fiancé.”

“Oh, shit.” Lynn dropped into a chair at the kitchen table.
Tossing the opener next to the wine she grabbed the phone.

“What’s going on?” Jen asked.

“Let me deal with him first.” She sighed and hit the hold
button. “I told you not to contact me. How did you get this number?”

“Your mother.”

Aaagggh. Her mother really needed to stop interfering in her
life.

“Lynn what the hell is going on? Why’d you disappear without
a word?”

“I left a note.”

“Oh yes, the note. Do you seriously think that cryptic
message was adequate?”

Lynn held the phone away from her ear and waited until his
voice died down.

“Yes. It had all the relevant details— the wedding is off
and we no longer have a relationship.”

Jen’s eyes widened as she whispered, “You left a note?”

Lynn turned her back to her friend. “That’s the bottom line
right there.”

“I think I deserve an explanation.”

What you deserve is a kick in the balls
. Lynn closed
her eyes. She wanted to throw Cyn in his face, but then he’d ask how she knew.
Next, he’d ask about the fire. She swallowed.

“Lynn, I invested time and money in this relationship. Not
to mention emotions.”

“Oh, please, go cry a river on our friendly neighborhood
wedding planning slut.” The last bit ended in a growl.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I know about you and Cyn.” The words leapt out of
her.

Silence on his end. “How?”

“That’s not important.”

“Wait, were you at my place the night of the fire? Did you
have something to do with that?”

Keep breathing. She’d gone to Rob’s house that night
intending to reveal her biggest secret. Her dragon had definitely come out,
just not according to plan. “Oh, I know about the fire too,” Lynn said. “As for
the cause, what did the fire department say?”

“Spontaneous combustion.”

Thank you, guardian angel
. “Well, there you have it.
Goodbye.”

“Wait babe, she came onto me.”

“And you couldn’t say no because...”

“We can’t cancel the wedding.” A string of muttered oaths
followed. “I haven’t told Mother or anyone else in the family.”

“What? I broke up with you four months ago!”

“I know,” he said. “I thought you’d have calmed down by
now.”

Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten. “I’m
calm and I’m still not marrying you.”

“Come on, Lynn! How will I ever live this down?”

“I don’t care. I can’t marry you because you obviously don’t
love me.”

“I do love you.” His voice dropped to a throaty, sexy
whisper reminding her of too many shared intimate moments.

Hot tears pushed at the edges of her eyes.

“I-I got scared and I made a mistake.” He paused. “Please
baby, let me make it up to you.”

“I’m sorry Rob, this isn’t something you can kiss and make
better.” Lynn cut the phone off and shoved it back into its charger.

“OK, chica, spill the beans.”

Lynn groaned and turned. “I think I need wine and something
unhealthy for that.”

Jen’s dark eyes focused on her. Without a word, she turned
and dove under her kitchen sink. She pulled out a package of Extra-HOT Cheetos
and put them on the table, uncorked the wine and filled the two glasses.
“Emergency supplies are here. Now, talk.”

Lynn talked and sipped. The entire story —about how she’d
caught Rob and their wedding planner boinking, turned dragon and then fried
Cyndi’s Miata— spilled out.

Jen listened, tight-lipped and nodding. At the end, she
cleared her throat. “I always thought your relationship happened a bit too
fast.
You should have broiled Cyn’s bare
ass!”

Sighing, Lynn took a large gulp of wine and stared at the
purpling sky. Flame orange clouds streaked the darkness, just like the dragon
that churned inside her. “No, I should have just walked away. Instead I lost
control. Just like I did with Dave.”

Jen set down her glass, walked around the kitchen table and
pulled her into a hug. “Sweetie, they both deserved it. Especially Dave. He
tried to rape me!” She shuddered. “I’m damn glad you were there.”

“Me too.” Lynn pushed her face into her friend’s shoulder, breathing
in her warm, calming scent. Jen had found out about her dragon that night. “But
there were two of us, we could have handled him without me turning into… into
that beast.”

“You were scared.” Jen patted her back. “Damn, I was so
scared that I froze. Your turning dragon pushed me to act.”

An image of Jen swinging the shovel flashed through Lynn’s
mind, followed by Dave dropping like the sack of shit he’d been. A small giggle
escaped her. “And when you act, boy do you act.”

Jen gently pushed Lynn away and looked into her eyes. “Yes,
we all do what we need to do.”

Lynn fought back tears. “There’s more.” She closed her eyes
and talked fast. “After the Rob and Cyn thing, after losing control, I had
another breakdown.”

“Oh, that explains the MIA for the last few months.” Jen’s
head drooped. “I’d already moved. I wasn’t there for you.”

Lynn grimaced. “You can’t always be taking care of me.
Anyway, Doctor Mom came to the rescue again, even though I never told her the
whole story.”

“I think the dragon side of your mom came out when your
grandmother died,” Jen said. “She hardly let anyone near you.” She cleared her
throat. “She didn’t even want to let me see you before I moved from Houston.”

“Yeah, she got a bit overprotective.” Lynn gnawed on her lip
for a moment. “After
Obaa-chan
died, I had on and off visits from
members of the North American Dragon Council.”

“Dragon Council?”

“It’s an oversight body, the members quietly keep track of
dragon births, deaths and everything in between.”

“They sound like Big Brother.”

Lynn managed a half-hearted smile, one she didn’t really
feel inside. “They questioned me over and over about her death.”

“What was there to question?”

Her gaze flickered away to a painted butterfly caught in a
carefree dance. “I told them that someone else was there, that she was killed.
Murdered.” A sob tore from her throat. “But they didn’t believe me.”

Jen pulled her into a hug again and held on.

Lynn skipped over the period when they thought she’d killed
Obaa-chan
.
Those memories —the accusing words and looks— still gave her nightmares, bled
her dry. Her mind had crumbled under the pressure like a weak wall. Stop. Don’t
go there. She shied away as if from an attacking knife. “In the end, they
decided she’d set herself on fire. Old dragons tired of life sometimes resort
to self-combustion.” A shivering breath escaped her. “And that I was a
grief-stricken mess.”

“What do you believe?”

“I don’t know. With my dragon powers wacked out and me
losing control…I’m scared.” She grasped Jen’s hand. “I’m scared that I’m going
to lose to the dragon and turn rogue.”

She let go of Jen and stared into her empty wine glass. “I’m
scared that I will never have what Brenda Jarvis has— a family. If I can’t
control the dragon, people are not going to be safe around me.” She blew an
unruly curl out of her face. “Not that I really need a family to further
complicate my life.”

Jen slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I want you to get
this clear. You’re my best friend; you’re very important to me and you deserve
every kind of happiness. I’m going to be right next to you as we get through
this.”

Lynn nodded. “I know. I just wish I knew how.”

Jen bit her lip. “Well,
Obaa-chan
always said,” she
began.

“A calm mind can conquer anything,” both of them ended
together.

Jen smiled. “Maybe, she did know what she was talking about.
Meditating and focusing on the good of the dragons might be the answer. Like
people, dragons can be good and bad. You have a choice.”

Lynn nodded and snatched a couple of Cheetos. “That’s what I
hope. I figure if I can do something about the fire-starter here that should
bring me some good karma and balance the scales.”

“Did you sense anything at the fire?”

“Not enough.” Lynn licked her fingers clean of the neon
orange powder. “I could sense a dragon, but nothing useful as to who it might
be.” Of course, her libido had recognized the dragon as male, but Jen didn’t
need to know that. She’d never hear the end of it.

The phone rang again. Startled, Lynn stared at it. Another
ring shattered the silence. “Must be Rob ready for round two.”

She pushed the talk button and returned the phone to her
ear. “Hello?”

Rough breathing echoed down the line.

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Hello?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” The gravelly whisper
scraped her nerves raw.

“What?”

“I dream of dragons.”

A cold click ended the call. Lynn listened to the droning
dial tone for a long moment, then jabbed *69.

The mechanical voice announced the last call came from an
unlisted number.

Sheriff Dan Roberts shut the arson file and kneaded his
forehead. The words had started dancing together and clues didn’t lead anywhere
straight. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 11:45 p.m. With a sigh, he
pushed out of his chair and grabbed his car keys from the hook near the door.

As he stepped out of his office, he looked around and nodded
at Jenkins. As an ex-military guy, the deputy did intimidation well. All he had
to do was stand around, freeze his face and flex his muscles. “Let’s go.”

Jenkin’s dropped his cards and unfolded to his six-foot two-inch
height. He lumbered to the door and held it open. Another benefit of the
military, the fellow didn’t ask too many questions.

“We are going to the Chadbourne Street bridge downtown,
contact me only if it’s something you guys can’t handle.” He nodded to the
remaining deputies.

One of the older guys snorted. “Going fishing at this time
of night?”

“Yeah, fishing for information.”

He swung through the outside door and jogged down the stairs
to his personal vehicle. An unmarked Ford Taurus. He didn’t want to announce
his arrival and spook his prey. He clicked the car open and both men climbed
in.

“I’m just looking to talk to the guys that camp down there,
shouldn’t be any trouble.” He started the car and drove out into the street.

“So you’re playing good cop to my bad cop?”

Roberts grinned. Jenkins was alright. “Yeah. You just stand
around and scare the crap out of them, and I’ll be Mr. Friendly.”

He tapped the steering wheel. “But be prepared for anything.
We might stumble across the arsonist. I don’t expect to, but we might.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They drove past hulking, ornate churches lit up by spotlights.
Stone angels and crosses stood silent and glowing like eerie sentinels on
either side of the street.

“The old Sheriff, my dad, used to say it’s best to catch people
by surprise.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Half a block from the bridge, he killed the lights.
Moonlight illuminated the empty street. Decent folk were all tucked up in bed,
unaware of all the life going on without them. Being Sheriff didn’t afford him that
luxury. He parked the car at the closed shop nearest to the beginning of the
bridge. 11:55 p.m.

He twisted the key out and both men slid out of the car. The
doors shut behind them with soft clicks. They fast-walked to the railing. Despite
the full moon, darkness shadowed the steps. Roberts clung to the wall as he
eased his way down. The smell of smoke wafted in the air, reminding him of
long-ago camping trips.