Sweet Burn (8 page)

Sheriff Hernandez handed her over to Ben Cortez, Strong
’
s fire chief, who walked her through the steps the firefighters had taken. While she appreciated his thoroughness (and his restraint in not reducing the bar
’
s floor to kindling to make sure that the fire was entirely out), she could feel herself swaying on her feet, the night catching up with her.

When she looked around, though, Mack was nowhere in sight.

Not that she wanted him here.

Not at all.

***

Mack slammed a hand against the wall. Not too hard, because breaking bones would be stupid but he couldn
’
t believe what had just happened. Someone had firebombed Mimi
’s place
—someone who held a very personal grudge against her. He followed up with a few choice words.

“Mimi okay?” Will Donegan, one of the Big Bear Rogue hotshots who moonlighted during the winter months as a part-time firefighter, stopped carting equipment and gear back out to the truck. Apparently, despite being maybe a hundred yards away, the guys had brought the truck over to Mimi
’
s parking lot. They
’
d also unrolled enough hoses to soak half of Strong. Mack approved of that. Better safe than sorry.

A sentiment that Mimi clearly didn
’
t subscribe to.

“Not for long,” he growled.

Will nodded. He was in full turnout gear but, as Mack watched, he pulled off his coat and slung it over his shoulder. With the fire (such as it was) out inside the bar, it was too hot for Nomex. He rubbed his forehead on his T-shirt while he stared at Mack. “Like that, is it?”

Damned if he didn
’
t glare at the other man. “Like what?”

Will suddenly looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. “You and Mimi. I didn
’
t realize the two of you were seeing each other.”

Yeah. Because they weren
’
t. Mack still intended to change that, but tonight
’
s little fire bomb had put a whole new spin on things.

“We
’
re not,” he said. “Yet.”

Will looked over his shoulder at Mack. “
Good luck.
”

He
’
d need it.

He headed back into the bar, ready to dive in and get some answers. Sheriff Hernandez was clearly on her way out, so he stopped her by shifting left into her path. Since he outweighed her by a good seventy pounds or so, she came to a halt. It was that or body slam him but she was clearly feeling nice tonight.

“
Pushing your luck, Johnson,
” she observed casually.

He didn
’
t care. “What
’
s the plan?”

“Excuse me?”

“For keeping Mimi safe. If someone tossed a Molotov cocktail in here, he could come back. Finish what he started.”

Sheriff Hernandez sighed.
“Acts like this are usually intended to scare rather than kill and the damage to the bar is largely cosmetic.”

The anger he
’
d just choked down rose up again. “Usually doesn
’
t mean always. The district attorney was concerned enough to call her.”

“I
’
ll have a patrol car drive by every hour.”

“Not good enough.” He knew he was being unreasonable, but this was
Mimi
.

Sheriff Hernandez gave him a level look. “The sheriff
’
s office consists of myself and two part-time deputies. We can only be in so many places at once. I appreciate your concern, but I
’
m out of resources.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “I
’
ll do it.
”

Sheriff Hernandez nodded.
“I
’
d heard that.”

He didn
’
t have to ask what she
’
d meant. Or heard. Clearly, Strong
’
s grapevine was working just fine.

Christ. He
’
d known Mimi was nothing but trouble. Now she was
in
trouble and he was her self-appointed protector.

“Twenty steps. I had that mastered by the time I was two.”

“Precocious,” Mack said around a mouthful of nails, more focused on the large sheet of plywood he was holding in place over her window than her. Hah. That would change. “And you
’
re still waiting for me to walk you up.”

Mack was all commands. Reaching over, she plucked a nail out of his mouth. Hammering appeared to be the best way to relieve her frustration, because it was damned certain she
’
d never look at the bar counter the same way again. Her fingers brushed his mouth, though, when she relieved him of several nails and
that
just sent another flush of heat through her body.
Unacceptable
. She did not want this growly, order-giving alpha male.

Much.

She drove the first nail into the plywood with a hard, fierce blow of the hammer. The smell of smoke drifted out of her bar, and she
’
d clearly sustained some damage to the floor, but it could be so much worse. Mack had jumped into action and saved the day. Once again, damn it. She probably owed him now. At the very least, she needed to say
thank you
. Instead, she pounded the second and third nails into place. Mack, not being stupid, moved his fingers clear of her hammering.

Behind them, the parking lot emptied out as Strong
’
s first responders went back to their stations or beds. By morning, the entire town would know what had happened, but for right now she and Mack were alone. She drove the final handful of nails into the board.

“That ought to hold us until morning.” Mack tested the security of the board, but the edges stayed put. Methodically, he tucked the tools back into his toolbox, packing up like this was just another job. Maybe it was for him. Maybe she was the only one wondering when they had become
us
.

It didn
’
t matter. She
’
d figure out this not-quite-a-relationship thing they had going on tomorrow. Or never. The yawn that overtook her was almost titanic in proportions. “
Bedtime for me,
” she decided.

She turned and started trudging up the stairs that led to the apartment over the bar. Ben had okayed her staying there—on a scale of one to ten, her fire had barely scraped a two—and she was ready for plenty of pillow time. If her place smelt like smoke, she didn
’
t care. Mack fell into step behind her, a warm, solid presence tracking her up the stairs. Fortunately, she didn
’
t have to admit it to him, but she did feel better having company.

When she reached the top, she unlocked the door, opened it with a hard bump of her hip because the door always stuck, and flipped on the light. It was time for Mack to go home. She turned to say her goodbyes and kick his ass to the curb, but he was too fast for her. He stuck his booted foot in the door and then followed up with his body.
Checkmate
.

“
Come in,
” she invited sourly.

“Don
’
t mind if I do,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice.

She hadn
’
t made any changes to Auntie Belle
’
s place. She liked the reminders of the old woman she
’
d barely known, and she hadn
’
t planned on staying in Strong all that long anyhow. The small living room was crammed full of Bali-esque rattan and teak furniture, colorful throw pillows, vases and statues and a million knickknacks Mimi had decided on day one that she had absolutely no intention of dusting. A small stone Buddha watched her impassively, perched next to a grinning Cheshire cat. Auntie Belle had liked anything and everything.

“Nice place.” The way Mack looked around, she didn
’
t know if he was admiring the décor or looking for hidden attackers. He still had her gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans and there was a grim look on his face despite his semi-playful words. It didn
’
t matter. She didn
’
t want his help, even if she needed it. That was undoubtedly yet another stupid decision in an equally impressive (and long) line of bad decision-making on her part, but right now she didn
’
t care.

“I
’
m thrilled. Now go.” She pointed to the door to underscore her point. Her mood ring flashed in the dim light, the stone more black than anything. Perfect.

Of course Mack just gave her a look and stepped past her. Equally clearly, he
’
d decided it fell to him to check out her place for lurking ax murderers or assassins. Or gang members. No. She wasn
’
t thinking about that tonight. She couldn
’
t afford to be weak or scared, not in front of this man. If she let him see just how much the firebomb and the drive-by had shaken her, he
’
d insist on being nice to her.

She couldn
’
t handle that—any more than she could handle letting him into her life any further. Mack needed to go. Now. “Are your ears working?”

“No games,” he warned and headed into her small galley kitchen, before she could sort out what he meant. Did he mean that he wasn
’
t going to play games? Or that she shouldn
’
t? It was still spring and the nights got cool, the temperatures often dropping twenty or thirty degrees from the afternoon highs. That was the only reason she was shivering. She
’
d just been surrounded by heat flames. She couldn
’
t possibly be cold.

The sound of the pantry door opening and shutting drew her back to the present and she bolted after Mack into the kitchen. “What do you think you
’re doing?
”

Angry tears prickled her eyelids. She never cried, but her body ached with weariness. She also smelled like smoke and chemical retardants. Probably like old drinks and stale bar air as well, but she was postponing the date with her shower until tomorrow. She
’
d hold it together for five more minutes, she decided. Then, Mack would go. She
’
d be alone. She could give in to the shakes or cry or do whatever stupid thing her body was demanding.

“Mack?” She was as out of words as she was out of energy. Whatever it was he thought he was doing, he didn
’
t stop. Nope. He stepped into her bedroom, then turned to look at her.

“Someone shot at you yesterday.” A muscle ticked in his jaw and, from the tension there, she
’
d bet he was grinding his jaw. “Tonight, someone firebombed your bar. Right now, I
’
m making sure it
’
s just you and me here, Mimi, because I don
’
t think whoever has it out for you is done.”

Thank God he wasn
’
t being sweet or gentle, because the deluge behind her eyelids was growing and he had to go
now
.

“Get out of my bedroom.” She didn
’
t want him here where she slept. This felt too personal, in a way that sharing a rented hotel room and her body hadn
’
t been. Ignoring her (of
course
), he opened her closet door. His large, tanned hand sorted rapidly through the hangars, making sure no one was concealed in the narrow space. She almost hoped he
’
d find someone, just so he could wrap this shit up.

“I
’
m not done.” He checked behind the curtains, crouched beside the bed and peered underneath. Paused.
Shit
. Right. She had plastic boxes of books stashed under there, an entire stash of cowboy books. Her favorites were the kind with covers that had plenty of yummy bare skin, cowboy hats and rope. Yeah. She had a few fantasies about rope. Just because she wasn
’
t embarrassed by her reading choices didn
’
t, however, mean she wanted those preferences broadcast to the world. Or on display for this man.

“Nice,” he drawled, plucking the topmost book out and eying her Lorelei James like the book was one of those how-to manuals he liked so much.

“Time
’
s up. Get. Out.
” Snatching the book from his hand, she tossed it back into the pile and shoved the box firmly under her bed.

“That
’
s no way to treat a book,” he said mildly.

Right. She didn
’
t care. That wasn
’
t a
book
. It was a fantasy, something she did on her own time and just for her.

“Go,” she repeated and this time, finally, he shoved to his feet. For a moment, he stood over her and the position had possibilities. She had a gorgeous view of the strong column of his thighs and, wow, the way the denim clung should be illegal. She could run her hands up his legs, cup him
there
where she was seeing definite signs of interest. No. She
’
d had her taste, and he
’
d had his. It didn
’
t matter that he wanted her, because they were done. She and Lorelei would
date
later tonight and that would be enough fun for her.

“I can get my hands on some rope.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached down and held out a hand to help her up. Shit. Nice Mack was back. “If you
’
re into that kind of thing.”

Why
was he so nice? She barely knew him, even though he
’
d been spending every Friday night at her bar for the last few months. She didn
’
t do relationships and she never let anyone get close. When she got too lonely, she picked out a guy for a night of casual, fun sex. One night. That was the rule and, with the exception of Rio Donovan, who had been every bit as anti-commitment and pro-fun as she was, she
’
d stuck to that rule since her college days. All 180 of them.

And yet she looked at Mack and she… wondered. He wiggled his fingers, waiting more or less patiently for her to make up her mind, and part of her thought that maybe she
should
consider breaking her rules for him.

No. No way.

Guys were bad news. Her life had been a hands-on demo in failed relationships. Her last pre-Strong boyfriend had cleaned her out, but at least she hadn
’
t tattooed his name on her ass. He
’
d emptied the cash register and the safe at her street shop and then he
’
d cherry-picked her tattooing equipment. She
’
d woken up alone in their bed and found her store just as empty. Receiving the letter saying she
’
d inherited Ma
’
s had been a lifeline. A bar had sounded right up her alley. Okay, it had been the only option she had, other than an eviction notice on her tattoo shop and no money to buy ink. She couldn
’
t draw tattoos on with a ballpoint pen. So she
’
d come here.

She pushed to her feet, ignoring both his hand and the impatient gust of air as he processed her
fuck off
.

“Would it hurt you to accept a little help?” He sounded more curious than angry, but since he
’
d already turned away from her she decided that was a rhetorical question. One she could ignore.

“The door is the other way,” she said. Calling Sheriff Hernandez and demanding an eviction of her own remained a possibility, but that wouldn
’
t get through to Mack. She knew it, deep inside. What she couldn
’
t tell was if she minded—or if she was thrilled. She didn
’
t need him pawing through her panties, looking for miniature assassins or checking out her bathroom. He ignored her, of course, and kept right on doing what he was doing. Her apartment not being all that big, the next stop on his I
’
m-a-big-bad-military-protector agenda was clearly her bathroom.

She ducked in front of him, reaching the doorway in plenty of time to register the amusement on his face. She
’
d never liked being laughed at, so much so that she
’
d sworn she
’
d never let it happen again. Better to disappoint. To anger. Anything but laughter. She suspected Mack wasn
’
t laughing
at
her. No, he was laughing with her, at this ridiculous situation.

“
Boo.
” His rough endearment made her shiver, which was also bad. God, he got to her. Just standing there, waiting for her to acknowledge him, he was in charge. “How do you think you
’
re stopping me?”