Diana (18 page)

"What are you up to?” The tone of his voice told her she was in trouble. Now she had to lie to Luke, even though she knew in her heart he was innocent. The homicide detective inside her needed tangible proof.

She attempted to walk toward the kitchen, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"What's your problem?"

"Where have you been? I tried calling you multiple times and kept getting your voice mail. You're up to something, Pellino, and I want to know what."

He pulled her into an embrace, encasing her body into the blanket of his arms.

She laid her head against his chest, loving the feel of flesh wrapped over steel. It wasn't until this moment that she truly felt safe enough to admit her feelings. The overwhelming sense of anxiety, fear, frustration, and focus she felt today weighed its toll on her. Her body went limp in his arms. He held her firmly, sensing her fatigue, then supported her weight.

"What a day, huh?” His voice deep, raspy, and exhausted, penetrated to her heart.

"It could have been worse,” she whispered.

"How so?"

"You could be behind bars right now.” She exhaled against his chest. Luke pulled back a little, cupping her chin into his hand.

"You nearly put me there with your line of questioning. You're a hell of an interrogator, Detective Pellino."

Diana couldn't smile. She didn't find the humor in it at all.

As if sensing it, Luke gently squeezed her chin. “I'm sorry, bad joke.” He leaned in closer, softly kissing her lips. She closed her eyes, embracing the delicate touch.

"Before I take you to bed and make wild, passionate love to you, tell me why you're wearing all black. And, please tell me I'm not making love to a felon."

She took a deep breath and intently held his gaze. “It's on a need to know basis, Fontella."

"And I don't need to know?"

He scooped her up, gave her a stern look as if saying, ‘The conversation isn't over yet,’ then carried her off to her bedroom.

The lamps were off. Only the moonlight from the night sky illuminated her bedroom.

Slowly, Luke placed her feet down on the carpeting. He held her face in his hands, and his forearms rested on her shoulders as he kissed her long and deep.

Diana drank in every ounce of him, caressing her hands across his arms and shoulders. Time stood still, and peacefulness embraced them as they absorbed the intensity of their connection.

Leisurely, like some ancient mystical ritual, they moved in slow motion, removing their clothing, kissing, caressing, loving one another in between each move. No words were spoken, no directions given, no set agenda to follow, they became one in soul, in spirit, by the command of true love.

He lifted her up into his arms, embracing her body, surrounding it with his strength. His muscles tightened as he held her against him and gently lay her down on the bed.

They kissed, eyes closed, flesh pressed against flesh as the desire to physically be one increased.

He shifted his hips. She welcomed him. Their gazes locked as their bodies united. Inch by inch, slowly, infinitely connected.

"I love you,” he whispered.

The room swayed, the honesty flowed freely around them. Together, they were safe.

"I love you, too.” She closed her eyes, drifting off into another realm.

He stared at the building. It appeared he faced a dilemma, a conflict of interest. Of all the men she could've fallen for, why the fire marshal?

He rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the clock. He couldn't deny it any longer, Fontella wasn't coming out.

He didn't want to hurt her. She was innocent in a sense, but he'd come so far, had risked so much to fulfill this desire to kill. The power and strength it gave him, he could never achieve in anything else in his life. Not the job, not the family, not his comrades or friends.

Looking back at why he started everything that made him deaf to his conscience, made him disobey one of God's important commandments, he just couldn't remember.

It was as if his heart, his soul, had become numb. There was no penetrating through it, no solid proof it was there, or that it served a purpose beyond organ function, anatomy, and breath.

He stared at the numerous windows in the apartment building. The first image that came to his head was fire. The blanket of red, orange, and black flames encompassed the entire structure from the bottom all the way up to the roof.

The thought and image brought a grin to his face, and an enormous feeling of satisfaction, hope, enthusiasm at what the future held for him. Along with the feelings came the realization of what he'd become, what the so-called professionals would call it.

"Pyromania."

He let the word flow slowly off his tongue and penetrate the air around him.

Any dictionary would give the definition as ‘A compulsion to start destructive fires.’ That was the idea, the purpose behind his actions.

He could feel a force within him willing him, leading him, pushing him to destroy, by the use of fire. A weapon sought out by many.

He thought about Diana again, a denomination he didn't anticipate in his calculations. She shouldn't have made it this far. She should've been taken off the case.

The anger grew inside his belly. Then came the intense hatred. If she had to be a casualty, so be it. It was her fault for getting involved so deeply, and for choosing Luke Fontella.

Luke was everything he hated. He was the perfect pawn. Everyone would think Luke Fontella lost his mind. Luke's obsession with the serial arsonist, Stewart Howard, made him create another serial arsonist. When, in fact, the serial arsonist was Luke himself. Luke had suffered so much when he lost his buddies in that fire. Those tapes were priceless, and they were practically dropped into his hands.

Fontella screwed himself big time with his allegations that a firefighter could be the suspect in the two arson fires.

He smirked, just thinking about how his plan was coming together. The next step was choosing a location for another fire. The final bit of evidence that would prove Fontella was the serial arsonist. In his last hours, no longer able to deal with the reality of what he'd done, Luke would take his life.

He laughed. He had every detail planned. Of course, he wished it had lasted longer. He was willing to accept fate played a hand in both the allotted time and the series of events that followed. All he could do was wait. Just wait until the next time around. Another year, another serial arsonist.

Smiling, he took one last look at the building before heading home.

Diana awoke in the middle of the night. Luke held her close. His breath warmed the back of her neck and hair. She sighed, absorbing the feeling of being content, knowing he was right there next to her, safe, and out of harm's way.

She couldn't understand why she had such an overwhelming feeling of concern for Luke. He made it perfectly clear he could handle this situation, that the authorities would not find him guilty, or find any evidence proving it. However, her gut told her he was in danger.

If she told him so, he would overreact, push her away, tell her to do her job, worry about herself and not him. She couldn't do that. She would give her life for this man, without giving it a second thought.

Her heart felt the realization of her thoughts, and she sensed the tightness, the connection, and the deep love she had for Luke. Diana slowly turned on her side to face him.

His hands fell right back into place across her hipbone and backside. She smiled at the sensation and the weight of his arms.

He'd laugh at her if she spoke the words aloud and told him that she would protect him.

Protect him? A man at least twice her size, triple the strength, quadruple the experience and knowledge with eighteen years in FDNY. Never mind the eight years between their ages, the intimate experiences he'd surely had compared to her lack of intimate experiences. She felt jealous, protective, foolish.

She trailed a finger up the defined bicep to his shoulder. Then she caressed his face and wondered a thousand things all at once. In no particular order, just questions, curiosities. She found herself wanting to know everything about him.

She couldn't help but wonder why he didn't get along with his dad. It was obvious, over the past few days, and through the events that arose, that his father cared deeply for him. Paul Fontella showed great concern last night, and especially during the interrogation.

Once again, Diana felt the guilty sensation hit her hard. She did what Luke asked, and she knew he wouldn't expect anything less than her best.

She watched his lips change position.

He grinned, opening one eye. “Are you staring at me?"

"Maybe."

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Not really. I was just thinking about you, about your life."

"And?"

She looked down at his neck. She leaned forward and kissed his chin.

"Diana, talk to me. What's on your mind?” Luke leaned up on his elbow for support.

"Why don't you get along with your dad?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"You're bringing up my dad after what we just shared?” he teased. Or, at least, she hoped that's what his tone implied.

"Luke, your dad showed so much concern for you in the past few days. I just don't understand why you two hate each other so much."

He pulled her closer to him. He gently touched her cheek, placing a wild strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"Not every family loves one another and gets along like yours does."

"I know that. I was just wondering what went on between you two to get you both to react negatively toward one another. At the party, your father seemed happy that you were there, and then you acted out."

He let go of her and squinted.

"I didn't act out. I wasn't the one with his hands all over a woman young enough to be his daughter."

She released a frustrated sigh. “His hands were not all over me."

"Because I interrupted him. Believe me, my father has a way with women."

"You know, forget I asked. I don't need to know my commander's personal affairs. I just want you to know that your father cares about what happens to you. Whether you want to see that or not, he does care."

"He cares about himself."

She remained silent. Obviously, there was some bad blood between Luke and his dad, despite how concerned the commander acted back at the precinct. The fact Luke still thought his father had a thing for her bothered Diana. Why did he keep pushing the issue?

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read 5:30 a.m.

Annoyed, she sat up on the edge of the bed, her back to him. “For the record, I'm not, nor have I ever been, interested in your father.” She began to get up when Luke's hand grabbed her wrist. He pulled her back down, then covered her body with his own.

Diana stared into his eyes. His hands held her face, as his elbows rested on either side of her shoulders. He was quiet, as if contemplating the right words to say.

"I hate it when you get mad at me. I don't know for the life of me why. I just know I hate it."

Luke caressed her lips with his thumb, still holding her face within his hands.

"My dad pulled some shit when I was young, just a kid. Things that I just can't forget. He showed his disappointment when I became a firefighter and didn't follow his career in law enforcement. I admit, at first, I took the exam to piss him off. I went to the academy and everything changed for me. I realized that being a firefighter was everything I ever wanted in life.

"My dad was never there for me. My aunt took his place. That caused some resentment from me toward her and the rest of the family. That day at the party, when you were there, it was the first time in many years that I'd attended a family event. Then I see my dad caressing your arm, standing so close to you, and I flipped out. I remembered the things he did when I was younger that angered me.

"I was jealous. I was nervous about being there and seeing everyone, and I used the situation to run. I'm sorry for causing all the gossip and shit at work. I didn't mean for any of that to happen."

"Luke, you keep bringing it up. You keep making comments insinuating that your dad and I were involved when we never were. I don't like it, and I won't stand for it any longer."

"You're right and I'm sorry. I was jealous. I wanted you since the moment we first met."

"At my parents’ house? In the hallway upstairs? You hardly even spoke to me."

"You didn't give me a chance with your Bronx attitude. There was no way you were going to let me get my hands on the ‘Pellino family heirloom.'

Diana smirked. “Damn straight. There's no way I would take the chance of being the one even in the vicinity when that damn punch bowl breaks."

"I walked out of the bathroom and nearly lost my breath at the sight of you. You were stretched out into the closet. Your long tanned legs, the curves of your body, man, I thought I was going to pass out. It was as if my prayers were answered when you lost your footing and I got to touch you."

She laughed. “I could've taken you with me, what with all the weight and tight space in the hallway."

"You and that damn bowl. I couldn't understand why you just didn't let it go."

"But you didn't try to speak with me again."

"You were a bit intimidating."

"What?"

"I heard the interrogation your father put you through. You were great. It must be hereditary."

"You heard that?"

"I had a good position near the porch screen. I made sure I disappeared before you turned my way."

"Why?"

"You were filled with an attitude upstairs in that hallway. I figured if you saw me eavesdropping, you'd have my hide like that poor assailant you captured solo."

Diana thought about Jerry. She didn't like that she had to investigate her own partner, but she needed to eliminate the suspects.

Luke caressed her chin. “What is it, doll?"

She knew she shouldn't say anything to him. She needed to stay impartial or at least appear as if she were. “Nothing."