Fire Angel (5 page)

• • •

Jake McKenzie sat on a stool at the bar, one leg propped up on the bar rail, nursing his scotch, watching Alexis finish her meal. He had thought that he had been primed, but nothing could have prepared him for this. For sixteen years, he had fantasized about seeing her again, and when it happened, he had blown it.

Why didn't I say something?
he mused.

He knew that she hadn't remembered him; she had been polite, but distant. He would have recognized her anywhere. He should have told her who he was, that they would be working together, and now he was not sure how to rectify things.

He could still see the teenage girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart in the striking woman she had become. She had aged much the way he had expected she would, but in some ways she was different from the image he had carried in his mind. When she had entered the office to register, he had been surprised to see that she had grown taller than he would have expected; she had been small and wiry at fourteen, a late bloomer, triggering that white-knight streak of his. As an adult, she was perfectly proportioned with a slender frame that spoke of fitness, not fragility. He suspected, given her career choice, that she had not outgrown her tomboy tendencies.

He was somewhat disappointed to see that her long blond hair, sun-streaked and held in place by a navy bandana, was darker than it had been when she was younger, the way it was in the dreams that occasionally haunted his sleep. Her bronzed skin had a scattering of freckles across a stubby nose and a natural blush that accented her high cheek bones. There was a crescent-shaped scar on her forehead, one she could easily have covered with hair, but she left it visible, a badge of honor. He had known soldiers and police officers who had done the same.

Her generous mouth, with those pouty lips he had longed to kiss, was turned down, attesting to the fact that her conversation with Allan Sinclair had upset her in some way. Her pale sun-bleached eyebrows arched above the eyes that had haunted him for years — those huge cat's eyes had mesmerized him as a boy and were unmistakable. Sometimes blue, sometimes green, or stormy gray when she was angry; no one could ever forget those eyes. Tonight they were blue, the color enhanced by the navy turtleneck sweater she wore over well-worn jeans that hugged her curves. Her feet were stuffed into black leather boots.

After the fire at Duffy's, he had convinced Everett that they needed to get an expert's take on this and had recommended the agency for which she worked. Everett had insisted that it made sense that the profiler should partner with the fire investigator; after all, their responsibilities on the case would overlap.

Jake had been hesitant to take on the role. The leg worked well ninety percent of the time, but it still impeded his movements — he could no longer run the way he had in university; he couldn't jump a fence or over a garbage can in an alley. He had to squat and bend slowly, and climbing a steep flight of stairs was a chore. How could he protect a partner under those circumstances? He had requalified for his gun permit, but would excellent marksmanship be enough if he couldn't keep up physically?

When he had recognized Alexis in the photo, his heart had stopped. He had to be the one to have her back. How could he even consider putting her safety into the hands of another? She had disappeared from his life once; he did not want it to happen again. If there was a chance that they could renew their friendship, then he wanted that chance, and if anything more came of it …

He saw her push away her plate and was reluctant to have her leave the restaurant without setting things straight. Maybe he could offer her dessert; that would give him a chance to speak to her. The sooner he told her the truth, the better. He signaled Cyndi and asked her to bring Alexis a piece of turtle pie, the restaurant's signature dessert.

He waited and watched as Randy, one of the bus boys, approached her with an envelope. From the look on her face, it was not good news.

“I didn't order that, but it looks delicious,” said Alexis distracted by the note in her hand.

“It's on the house,” said Jake approaching the table. “Consider it a welcome home present.”

“Turtle pie is my favorite dessert, but this is a huge piece. Please, won't you join me?” She smiled, but her startled response to his approach had betrayed her anxiety.

Jake nodded and pulled out the chair Allan had occupied earlier. She was visibly upset about something, and he would lay odds that the note was to blame.

“Jake McKenzie at your service,” he said, waiting to see if the name would ring a bell. “Cyndi, bring another fork and a couple of glasses of the same wine Alexis is drinking.”

“How did you know that I had come home?” She forked the rich dessert into her mouth and moaned with pleasure at the richness of the pastry. “Oh, my Lord! This should be illegal.”

He laughed. “I might have heard that before. I'm working with the local police as a criminal profiler. It seems we're going to be partners. I should have told you that when you checked in, but I was distracted.” Distracted hardly covered the way the sight of her had steamrollered him.

“I've seen your bio and credentials; the photo doesn't do you justice.” He grinned.

She nodded, accepting the implied compliment. “It was a bad hair day, what can I say? And of course, you're not allowed to smile for official photographs. You should see my passport picture. The only thing missing are the numbers under my face.”

She had developed a wry sense of humor; he liked that.

“I'll bet mine is worse,” he said leaning towards her assuming an air of confidentiality.

“You're just being kind.” Alexis smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, as she tried to make sense of the new information.

“I know people like to diversify these days, but I sincerely doubt that the police force has taken up hotel management,” she said.

“My brother and I own the place. I do independent profiling; at the moment, the Paradise Police Force is my client. They must have told you that you would be working with a profiler; they called me in on the case after the second fire; now that there has been a third one, we've brought you in as well.”

She ate another mouthful of pie and groaned. “This is unbelievable, thank you.” She allowed her tongue to circle her lips, licking them clean of any smidgen of whipped cream that might have escaped her fork.

Jake stared, mesmerized by the tip of her tongue, and gulped. He wished his could do that job. A shadow of regret briefly crossed his face, and he pulled his eyes away from her delectable mouth.
Down boy!

“Forgive me for prying, but a few moments ago, you looked like you'd just received bad news.” He took a forkful of the dessert that she seemed to have momentarily forgotten.

“Yes, you could say that,” she replied giving nothing away. She took a healthy mouthful of wine.

He put down his fork and looked at her sheepishly. “I have to come clean — the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as they say in court.

“You don't recognize me, Alexis, but I knew you years ago before you ran away. In fact, I'd been working up the courage to ask you out on a date. You were going to turn fifteen the following week, and I wanted to ask you to be my date for the spring dance. You said good-bye on Friday, and never came back. I was sixteen and crushed.”

Alexis paled. “I had my reasons for leaving, good reasons, but I'm sorry if you were hurt.” She tilted her head to study him. “McKenzie? Not J.J.?” When he nodded, she continued.

“You've changed, but if we are going to have confession, I'll own up to the fact that I thought you looked familiar. I guess I could have said something too. Didn't you used to wear pop-bottle-bottom thick glasses?”

He smiled and circled his eyes with his fingers. “How's this?”

She nodded and smiled.

“I still wear glasses, but most of the time, I wear contact lenses. And I go by Jake now. So, is there a Mr. Michaels looking after the kiddies in San Francisco?” he asked as casually as he could.

“No, I've never been married; it doesn't go well with the job.” Her answer was abrupt as if he had struck a nerve, and Jake felt her mentally preparing to get up and leave. He tried not to show how relieved he was and sought another approach.

“It sounds like a lonely existence. So, now that we've established that we're old friends, the bad news, is it personal or related to the case?”

He knew her uncle still lived in the area. Jake forked another mouthful of dessert into his mouth, wondering whether or not she was going to answer him. It would make it hard to work together if she didn't. A certain level of trust was essential between partners.

“Take a look at this.” She handed him the note and took the last mouthful of chocolate comfort.

Jake read the note, frowning as he did. He stood. “Finish up. I'll walk you back to your cabin where we can talk.”

She gulped the last of her wine, stood, and reached for the navy wool jacket on the back of the chair. Jake was startled by the jolt of electricity that coursed through him when Alexis'ss hand brushed against his as he helped her with it. Judging from her reaction, she had felt it too.

Probably static, he thought dismissing it.

Alexis picked up her umbrella and flashlight.

“You don't have to,” she said. “It isn't that far and I do have a light.”

“Don't have to, want to,” he said. “We have to talk about this.” He indicated the note he still held.

“I know that you like to work alone; I did read the bio and the note that your captain sent, but this is a deal-breaker. Like it or not, we're partners. Your safety has been threatened, and as your partner, it's my job to have your back. Besides, it isn't often that I get to walk a pretty girl home. Cut me some slack; after all, I've waited sixteen years to do this.”

• • •

Alexis stood in front of the fireplace in the lounge while he went to get his coat. She stared into the flames. J. J. McKenzie: the only good thing she remembered from her last year in Paradise. She had had such a crush on him, but like the rest of her painful memories, she had locked it away. Now her unruly heart was doing handsprings!

The limp she had noticed earlier was more pronounced. She felt guilty, but not guilty enough to be alone quite yet, and they did need to talk — professionally, of course. The possibility that someone was out there watching her made the small hairs on the back of her neck bristle.

When Jake came back, he was followed by a beautiful sable and white Shetland sheepdog.

“This is Maya,” he said bending down to rub the miniature collie's head. “She's my best girl.”

“She's beautiful,” Alexis sighed. As much as she had always wanted a dog, she adamantly refused to get one. She could give you ten excuses why an animal, like a husband and family, did not fit her lifestyle. Some of the other investigators, those who had given up the single life and stayed closer to home, often used dogs in their work, but since she travelled all over North America, having an animal was impractical.

Jake snapped the leash onto the red leather collar around Maya's neck and escorted Alexis to the door. His coat, a sheepskin-lined leather bomber, and the dog were not the only things he had retrieved. In his right hand, he carried a walnut walking stick. He must have noticed her interest in it because he shrugged.

“The leg works well on paved surfaces, but I need help over uneven ground.” He opened the door. “I may not be able to follow you through too many burned out buildings, but I'll be standing on the sidewalk waiting for you. He won't get past me.” There was a familiar bitterness in his tone that she recognized, the bitterness that came when you felt victimized. She'd felt that way herself far too many times.

The wind had picked up and was stronger now than it had been earlier in the evening. It had blown away the clouds and the fog, leaving behind a sky awash with stars and an almost full moon.

She shivered and wished that she had remembered that hat and gloves. Jake put his arm around her, pulling her close, and tucking her into his left side providing some heat and protection from the wind.

Surprisingly, his action did not set off her usual “hands-off, Buddy” attitude. Somewhat muddled, Alexis relaxed into his heat, amazed to find that, for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

“I guess I didn't need this,” she said holding up the folded umbrella. “But I should have remembered how much colder it is up here.”

She looked up at the sky and smiled. Despite the note and the unwelcomed memories that Allan Sinclair had raised, she felt contented, and put that down to her companion. Some people just made you feel good by being around them, and she knew that Jake was one of those people. She needed more of that in her life.

The boy she remembered had fought for the underdog; more than once, he had stood up to James, her bullying cousin and his band of misfits, saving her from their cruel and humiliating pranks. He had not made friends with her cousin or the others by doing so, but it never seemed to bother him. With his thick glasses and short, dark hair, Jake had reminded her of Clark Kent, Superman's alter ego. Why was it that no one ever recognized the hero behind the flimsy disguise?

She had never understood why James would back down when J.J. told him to, because to her, he had seemed as defenseless as she was. Now she knew that bullies were really cowards and would back down if confronted, but back then, she had thought of him as her only friend, afraid to let herself feel any more than that for him, because in the end, he had not been able to protect her and keep her there. She sighed.
What would my life have been like if my parents had lived? Would we have been more than friends? Would we have gotten married? Had children?