Burn for You (37 page)

* * *

Never in her life had she felt so desired. The combination of his touch and his words—words she’d never dreamed he’d say—they were a heady aphrodisiac. So intoxicating that she was happy to let this illicit rendezvous in a public bathroom go far beyond the bounds of decency.

She moved against his hand, unable to resist the sight of him loving her in the mirror. And he was loving her. She could see it in their reflection. It was like stepping outside of herself and observing them as an outsider. The perspective showed her things she never would have noticed otherwise.

Whenever they were together, she was always so overwhelmed by the feel of him. His big body, the bunched perfection of his muscles, the hard length of his…hard length. She never took the time to
see
what he was doing to her.

But tonight, in this mirror, she watched his hand move over her, his touch reverent. She observed the loving warmth of his gaze as it roamed hungrily over her. She noticed the way his mouth moved over hers as if he were taking communion from her lips.

He worked her to a fevered pitch, his fingers rolling over the exact spot guaranteed to make her fly apart. And she watched the whole thing. Saw what her face looked like in those moments of ecstasy, and the visual took her to new heights. Entire body shaking, she came against his hand.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear. “Come for me, beautiful.”

She turned her head, needing his kiss to keep her grounded, then turned her body to face his. He lifted her onto the counter, and she braced her weight on her hands, raising her hips so he could make quick work of her jeans and panties.

Not wanting to be the only one completely naked, she reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them while he pulled his shirt over his head. There was no time to get them all the way off with his shoes. She needed him now, so she wrapped her legs around him.

Poised at her entrance, he drew back to look at her. Her breath caught at the fire in his blue gaze. All that heat focused on her made her pulse quicken. She closed the distance between them, kissing him and speaking against his lips, “Please, Jason. Right now.”

He groaned and pushed inside her, then turned them slightly so she could see the side view of their coming together in the mirror. She experienced the out-of-body sensation again, watching him move in and out of her, watching his mouth descend to her breasts where he worshiped them with his lips. His tongue.

This was no quick bathroom fuck. No, this counter was the altar upon which he worshiped her.

She arched under his attentions and cried out when he reached between them to work her over with his fingers. She was helpless against his touch and the erotic visual in the mirror. Unable to breathe, her body tightened around him, the orgasm going on and on, until she finally gave in to the need for oxygen. She sucked in air, trying to recover from being catapulted to another planet, and he held tight and quickened his pace.

He leaned over her, burying his face in her neck, his hot breath whispering against her skin. “Oh, fuck. Oh, Victoria.”

His pace was frantic, as if he was reaching for something that was just outside his grasp. She held him to her and whispered in his ear. “I choose
you
.”

The moment she uttered the words, he slammed into her one last time, a strangled groan escaping as he came inside her.

His body trembled, and it was difficult to tell if it was the aftershocks of his climax or the intensity of his feelings that shook him.

“You okay?” she whispered against his cheek. She tried to back up enough to see his face, but he shook his head, holding her tight and keeping his face buried in her neck. His breathing was ragged and harsh, like a child trying not to sob. The vulnerability of it absolutely wrecked her, and she wrapped her arms around him, murmuring unintelligible endearments in his ear.

Many minutes later, his breathing had evened out, and he backed up to kiss her lips. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, “I hope you never have to wonder again whether or not you’re something to me.” He kissed her again. “Because you’re
everything
to me.”

It was almost as perfect as hearing him say,
I love you
.

Almost.

Chapter 27

Surrounded by vanilla-orange scented sheets and pillows, Jason slowly came to awareness. He reached for Victoria—something he’d easily grown accustomed to doing in the morning—and found nothing but an empty bed. Staying still, he listened for any sign of her. The shower wasn’t running. There were no sounds or smells coming from his kitchen. He rolled over and squinted at the clock.

6:15.

Goddammit. She’d already left for work.

He reached for the note sitting on the nightstand next to his clock and then fumbled with his glasses, putting them on one-handed.

It was a late night. Didn’t want to wake you. Don’t worry about me today. I promise I’ll be safe. Forever yours, Toria

Sighing, he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling.

He was a chicken-shit.

She’d needed to hear something from him last night and he hadn’t had the balls to say it. And why not? He certainly felt it. If he was honest, he’d fallen in love with her long before she’d said the words.

I need to know that I’m something to you…

She was trying to be patient with him, and he loved her all the more for it, but what he should’ve done when she’d said that last night was drop to his knees and tell her he loved her.

Instead, he’d hid behind some bullshit about how words didn’t mean anything, how words could lie.

And that had been a lie.

Because words
did
mean something. It meant something to him every time she said I love you. He craved the sound of those words from her lips. Felt the loss of them when she signed her note
forever yours
. Not
I love you
, but
forever yours
. And yet, he was holding those coveted words back from her.

Why? Why was he doing this?

Because he’d allowed some sick, twisted superstition to rise up and put the squeeze on his words. Some ridiculous notion that if he admitted it, he’d lose her. Just as his foster family had fallen apart within days of saying
I love you
to them.

What he realized today though, waking up to an empty bed, was there was one thing worse than saying I love you and losing Victoria.

And that was not saying it and losing her.

The idea that something could happen to her today and she’d never know how he felt—it burned a hole in his chest.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand but immediately tossed it aside. He wasn’t going to say it over the phone or in a text. It had to be in person.

He sat up and let his legs hang over the bed, taking a second to lower his injured hand and let the blood rush back into it since he’d slept with it over his head. Waiting for the pins and needles sensation to subside, his gaze landed on the periodic table that Victoria had leaned against the wall when she’d put up the butterfly painting.

He could name the elements from rote memory, but he read them anyway. When he got to carbon, he jumped up, picked up the framed poster, and threw it on the bed.

“Son of a bitch.”

As if they were highlighted with neon yellow, four sets of numbers popped out at him.

6 2 4

7 2 5

8 2 6

9 2 7

Picking up his phone, he dialed Preston.

On the second ring, Preston’s voice came on the line. “You’re welcome.”

“Huh?”

“For kicking you out. You went back to her, right? And now you’re calling to say, ‘Thank you, Preston, for helping me see that I was being a total douche.’”

“Yes, all of that. But more importantly I need your research skills.”

“Shit. It’s the twenty-seventh, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I think I’ve got something. Are you near a computer?”

“Yes.”

“Pull up a periodic table.”

There was a pause while Preston put him on speaker and then the sound of typing. “Okay, got it.”

“Now look at the atomic numbers in the upper left-hand corner for carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and fluorine.”

“Six, seven, eight, and nine,” Preston read.

“Exactly. Now look in the upper-right hand corner at the two numbers representing electrons per shell.”

There was a long pause, and then, “Holy shit, Jase. That’s a crazy coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence, Preston. The warehouse fire was started with charcoal.”

“Which is made of carbon.”

“Exactly. Atomic number six. And June, the sixth month. And electrons per shell? Two and four—”

“June twenty-fourth.”

“Yes, they’re all like that. The daycare explosions were from homemade fertilizer bombs.”

“And fertilizer’s rich in nitrogen,” Preston said in awe.

“And the hotel fire—”

“Fueled by oxygen. Holy shit, Jason. So, today it’s going to be the ninth element in the ninth month.”

“Yes, fluorine. And Preston, that shit’s fucking volatile. It can burn through steel.”

“How can I help? What do you need?”

“I need you to research where fluorine can be found in Evanston. I’m thinking municipal water plants, but also, it’s used in plastics. Have we got any plastics manufacturers, that kind of thing? Anything you can find.”

“Got it. I’m on it. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Preston. And thanks for…you know…everything.”

“No thanks needed,” Preston said, his voice lacking its usual sarcastic tone. “You’re my brother.” Less solemnly, he added, “I’ll set you straight anytime.”

After hanging up with Preston, Jason made several more calls while simultaneously trying to dress one-handed. Thank God for speakerphone. He called McCann and they started plans for an evacuation of the water filtration plant. Chief Bines—who evidently was willing to let bygones be bygones after prompting an internal investigation on Jason—volunteered to hold a press conference to instruct anyone who worked with fluorine to evacuate their workplace.

It felt good to have plans in motion. To finally be doing something that could make a difference. He tried calling Victoria, but she didn’t answer. Probably because she’d been called into a briefing by Chief Bines.

He settled for sending a text.

Remind me sometime to tell you the story of how you saved the day by hanging that hideous butterfly painting. Be safe today.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be driving, but he’d already done it and he’d gotten used to reaching over with his left hand to switch gears. He also wasn’t supposed to use the phone while driving, but when Preston called, he put it on speaker.

“I’ve got two more possibilities,” Preston said, skipping the hellos.

“Hit me.”

“We’ve got a plastics manufacturer in town. I can’t tell if they use fluorine, but better safe than sorry. I think you should evacuate PlastiTech on Greenwood.”

“Got it.”

“And this is the one I’m more concerned about. I’ve found several scholarly articles citing research currently being done at Northwestern. On fluorine.”

“Shit. That’s it, Preston. It’s gotta be.”

Jason made a U-turn and headed back toward Northwestern’s campus. Using voice commands, he got Chief Bines on the phone and shared Preston’s research. “We need to evacuate PlastiTech and Northwestern. Include that in your press conference. Make sure if people are currently off campus, they stay off campus.”

“Got it,” Bines said. “Cameras are about to roll. I’ll get my lieutenants started on the evacuations while I make the announcement to the press.”

After speaking with Bines, he filled McCann in.

“Good work, Meadows. We’re going to get our emergency response team out there now. I’ll get Northwestern Police involved. This is going to be a multiagency effort to evacuate.”

Jason hung up and pressed the gas a little harder. Something McCann said was reverberating in his head, making his pulse go into overdrive.
This is going to be a multiagency effort to evacuate
.

A multiagency effort.

If this guy was targeting first responders, he was about to have a whole fucking lot of them in one place.

* * *

An hour later, Jason stood, grinding his teeth, in a parking lot on Sheridan Road, across the street from Northwestern’s Technological Institute.

The building had been evacuated before the fire started, and EFD quickly had the blaze under control—quite an amazing feat considering the element they were up against, but the advance warning had made all the difference.

“Lieutenant, I’m telling you, you need to get these guys to spread out.”

McCann crossed his arms, surveying the parking lot full of police, ambulance and fire. “Relax, Meadows. The fire’s practically out.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. The Tech Building isn’t the target. We are. Every incident starts with a minor event that escalates when rescue arrives. And right now, we’re a multiagency parking lot of sitting ducks.”

“Well, we couldn’t block the roadway. We needed the streets clear to direct traffic out.”

“Yes, and you’ve done that. The place is empty. You need to get every extra squad car out of here. We don’t need them. Tell Skokie to move their fire trucks down the block. Same with Wilmette and Chicago. If there’s another explosion, we’ll need them, but we don’t need them all sitting in the same damn parking lot.”

Squinting against the sun, McCann chewed the inside of his cheek. “You’re right. We’re sitting ducks.”

Jason bit his tongue on a sarcastic
thank you!

McCann grabbed his radio from his police SUV and ordered Wilmette Fire to standby north of campus, Chicago Fire was sent south and Skokie to the west side. Only Evanston’s backup ladder companies and ambulances would remain in the parking lot. Then he ordered the police officers to clear the lot. Police presence would be limited to only the personnel necessary to secure the roadblocks on all four sides of campus.

Watching the suburban ladder companies roll out, he caught sight of Victoria, standing outside her rig with Bob Kearney. She caught his gaze and waved, a smile on her face. She gave him a thumbs up, which either meant
good job
or
see, I’m safe
.