Playing with Fire (15 page)

They ran straight down the hallway, out the
nearest exit, and across the parking lot until they stood next to
the largest fire engine. Liberty watched in horror as the amber
poltergeist devoured the structure of her inner sanctum. The one
place she felt peaceful and safe. Her eyes burnt from the thick
smoke and a sense of intense sickness and desolation suffocated
her.

Maddie draped an arm across her shoulder and
steered her away from the chaos. “They’ll call you when you can go
in.”

“Maddie!” Dylan jogged toward them and then
stopped to place a kiss on the top of Maddie’s head. “What are you
doing here?”

“I heard about the fire on the scanner.” She
tossed Liberty a cautious look. “I came with Liberty.”

“Because I’m so conveniently afraid of the
dark,” Liberty mumbled.

Dylan seemed to accept their explanation and
squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry about this, Liberty. Shane’s on
his way.”

She gave a solemn nod while Maddie stood on
her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Dylan’s lips. “Stay safe.”

“Always,” he promised.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Maddie
gave Liberty a wide-eyed look. “Do you think he knows?”

“No.” Liberty kept her pace, eager to be
locked in the safety of her best friend’s car. “We made perfect
sense.” She stopped at the passenger door and glanced at Maddie.
“This time.”

The other woman groaned as they both entered
the car. “I know, Lib. I’ll tell him soon, I promise.”

She relaxed as Maddie started the engine and
the power locks snapped into place. The click of seatbelts echoed
in the darkness. “What exactly do you plan to do if he decides to
come home for a couple hours of wild monkey sex, Mad?”

Her best friend’s jaw dropped. “Liberty
Prescott! I think you’ve spent way too much time playing in the
dark!”

Both women fell into a fit of giggles.

“Besides,” Maddie continued as she drove them
back home. “We usually plan ahead.”

“Like you planned the handcuff
adventure?”

Maddie scowled. “Shane has a big mouth.
However doctor, you provided the equipment.”

Liberty bit her lip. “Truce.”

Maddie pulled into the driveway and unclasped
her seatbelt. “Race you to the front door. Last one in has to pop
the popcorn.”

“We ate popcorn before we left.”

Maddie shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” Liberty unfastened her belt and
climbed out of the car. “Count of three.”

Liberty thanked God for her long legs when
she stood on the doormat a couple seconds before Maddie. Once
inside, she plopped down on the sofa and grinned. “Don’t burn it,
Mad.”

Shane pulled up at the scene as the last
hoses were rolled back on the truck. He crammed on his jacket and
helmet and cursed under his breath as he surveyed the area.
Although fire charred the structure, it remained upright on the
foundation and appeared to be fairly stable.

“Fill me in,” he told Dylan as they met in
front.

“Same m.o. Hot and fast.”

“Any idea what started it?”

“An educated guess,” Dylan mumbled.

They climbed the steps and entered the front
office where ash lay thick over the furniture. Tiny pieces of paper
swirled through the air, floating on the heatwaves before falling
to the floor.

“Damn, it’s still hotter than hell in here,”
Dylan said from behind him. “We can’t stay long.”

Without a word, Shane walked directly to the
back room where Liberty stored acetone. Amazingly, the oak cabinet
appeared intact with the doors still attached. With the force of
his heavy boot against them, the blackened doors flew open. Empty.
He exhaled with relief.

“Find anything?” Dylan asked.

“Not yet.”

He stomped through the rest of the office,
checking every single piece of furniture for signs of ignition.
When he finally walked into Liberty’s office, rage coated his
vision when he saw her psychiatrist’s couch in the corner. Shreds
of fabric clung to the pile of charred wood, flapping in the
residual haze of smoke. Laying next to the wood, a single metal can
sparkled in the denseness.

He nudged it with one boot. Acetone.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Carmichael!”

Dylan appeared in the doorway with an
evidence bag. “Forensics can’t dust for prints until tomorrow.” He
packaged the can then headed back out of the room. “Maybe since we
put it out so fast, they’ll find something.”

Wrinkles of confusion ached Shane’s forehead.
Someone set this fire to get rid of something. Or
someone
.
Quite possibly Liberty. His heart stuttered. Who wanted to hurt
Liberty?

A patient? Maybe she hadn’t been able to help
some lost soul who held a grudge and was hell-bent on revenge.

A lover? His heart jumped this time.
No
. Instinct told him she’s avoided relationships for a long
time now. Besides that, he knew firsthand she hadn’t recently taken
a lover to bed.

He ran a hand down the side of his face and
returned to the waiting room, encouraged that the filing cabinets
were remarkably still standing. He pulled his glove tighter over
his grip and gave one drawer a tug. When it rolled open, he knew
why. Fire resistant. Even though the cabinet could still burn to
the ground under the right temperature and time allowance, he knew
the accelerant hadn’t been poured there. He glanced at the
reception counter where the computer monitor had been shattered.
Someone focused on destruction.
Total
destruction.

“What’s your vibe, Hartwell?”

Shane turned to see Jake in the front
doorway, stretching a pair of gloves over his hands. “Arson.
Started in her office by dousing the couch in acetone. Carmichael
bagged the can.”

A tense silence vibrated the air as he
anticipated Jake’s next question. “Where’s Liberty?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Adrenaline
raced through his veins.

“You know what it means. Does she have an
alibi?”

Despite his anger, he held his tongue. And
his fists. “She didn’t do this, Rawlings.”

He heard Dylan suck in a breath behind
him.

“You were with her?” Jake pressed.

“No.”

Dylan gave them both a solid glare and went
outside.

Jake wouldn’t back down. “You know I have to
investigate.”

Shane sighed in frustration. “Knock yourself
out. We can’t do much more tonight, it’s too damn hot in here. I’ll
drop the can by the lab on the way home.”

Shane stepped back into the calm, summer
night and inhaled the smoky air.

“Someone should check on Liberty,” Dylan
muttered.

“Smooth, Carmichael,” he answered around a
grin. “I’ll call her.”

Dylan glanced at his watch. “Think she’s
still awake?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” She would be after his
call anyway.

“Try my house first.”

“Why?”

His friend released a hard breath. “Maddie
doesn’t realize I know, but Liberty stays at our house when I’m on
duty.”

“Are you sure you want me to call there?”

“On second thought, no.” Dylan shifted
uneasily. “Can you call her cell?”

“I always do.” He gave the other man a
sheepish grin. “You’re such a sap, Carmichael.”

Dylan returned the same grin. “Look who’s
talking.”

After he dropped Dylan off at the fire
department Shane drove home, relieved that Liberty wasn’t alone.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one afraid to admit weakness and if
he couldn’t be there to protect her, at least Maddie was. He
squeezed a Fireball into his mouth and headed into the house.

He pulled off his shirt and draped it over
the nearest chair on the way to the sofa. Once he sat in the middle
of the soft cushions, he stripped down to his boxers and kicked his
boots under the coffee table while he dialed Liberty. Several
seconds later he heard a slight rustle over the line before she
answered.

“Dr. Prescott?”

Her soft voice glided over his sensitive
nerve endings like melted butter. “Hello, Captain Hartwell.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” She gave a sigh. “I’m in bed but just
for looks.”

He smirked at his unbelievable luck. “How are
you?”

“Disappointed, but I’m fine.”

“I wanted to be sure. We won’t know much
until next week or so. Forensics can take some time.”

“I understand. Thanks for checking on
me.”

“You’re welcome.” He shifted to stretch his
legs out in front of him. “So, you’re not sleepy?”

“No, not at all.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A silk, pink nightgown.”

Sweat coated his forehead. His erection
already bulged against his buttons and the thought of that
silk,
pink nightgown
covering her lush breasts and curvy hips caused
him to throb. “Long or short?”

“Short.”

“How many buttons?”

“None.”

He paused. No buttons. The cool silk would
slide off easily.

“What about you?” she asked, interrupting his
lustful thought.

Wench
. “I’m not wearing a pink
nightgown.”

“Shane!”

He laughed. “Boxers.”

“That’s all?”

He slipped his hand inside and rubbed it down
the length of his cock. “Yes.”

“What color?”

“Guess.”

“Black.”

“Very astute, Dr. Prescott.”

“Is your chest bare?”

“Yes.” He heard her quick intake of breath.
“Is yours?”

“No.”

“Take off the gown.” He waited several
seconds. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Are your nipples hard?”

“Are yours?”

“Liberty,” he growled, “answer the
question.”

They were. He’d bet money on it. And if she
happened to have her fingers wrapped around them, he’d be jealous
as hell.

“So hard they hurt,” she groaned.

His dick pulsed in his hand. He gave it
another stroke and wondered how long she’d play his game with
Maddie in the next room. “Are you lying back against the
pillows?”

“Yes.”

“In the dark?”

“No! You know I hate the dark!’

Shane bit back a snicker. Fine with him. He
preferred to see every single inch of her sexy body while he
ravished it. “Okay, sorry. I just got carried away.”

“Are you in bed?”

“No, I’m on the couch.”

“Close the curtains,” she muttered.

He glanced at the window. “They are closed.”
He slid his dick through his fist again. “Touch your nipples,
baby.”

He squeezed his eyes closed to imagine her
fingertips wrapped around the rosy red tips. Pulling the tender
flesh in an effort to ease the ache. “Now feel my tongue suckle
each one.”

A breathy moan crossed the line. “Shane, are
you touching yourself?”

Friction warmed his hand. “Not just touching,
honey.”

“Are you hard?”

“As nails.”

“I want you inside me.”

Ditto. Deep inside
. “Do you have
panties on?”

“No, I’m bare.”

“Move your fingers to your clit.”

“Mmmmm,” she groaned.

“Small circles. Better?”

“A little. I’m so close.”

“Are you wet?”

“Very, very wet.”

“Rub it hard, Liberty.” He increased his
pace. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you stroking your cock?”

“God!” His balls crammed the base of his
dick. Her lips wrapped around that word were almost as stimulating
as the real thing. “Say that again, baby. Tell me what you
want.”

“I want your hard, long cock buried inside
me.” She panted now and his ability to hold off was a true test of
self discipline. “I want you to take me from behind,” she
continued, “so I can feel the whole length while you pound me.”

“Shit, Liberty.” His hand moved so fast he
thought it might cramp. “Let me hear you come.”

“Aaaaah,” she moaned. “Yes ... oh, yes.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Shane stroked and squeezed one
last time. Semen shot from his hot, quivering cock and coated his
stomach. His chest rose and fell in short, labored breaths.

“Can you sleep now?” Although her voice
remained low, the note of complete satisfaction was
unmistakable.

“Yes, Dr. Prescott.” His voice rasped with
his own contentment while he reached for his t-shirt. “You have
definitely cured my insomnia.”

The next morning with Dylan in tow, Shane
entered the front door of the Primrose Police Department,
determined to squeeze Jake for answers about the vandalism to
Liberty’s car. Already anxious to finish the meeting, Shane marched
down the hallway to Jake’s office with long, purposeful
strides.

“Hell, Shane,” Dylan muttered, “We’re not
fighting fire.”

Although he slept last night, Shane missed
Liberty next to him and his body still sought hers. Even after the
incredible satisfaction of coming to the sound of her voice, he
still felt edgy and restless.

“Suck it up, Carmichael,” he tossed over his
shoulder. “I’m in a hurry for information.”

He and Dylan finally parked in two chairs in
front of Jake’s desk.

“What’d you find out?” Shane got right to the
point.

The detective leaned back in his chair.
“Forensics went over the car top to bottom, inside and out. No
prints and no DNA other than Liberty’s.”

“She has an alarm. Why didn’t we hear
it?”

“The wire was severed.”

“A professional?”

“Not necessarily. Thieves these days make an
art of crime.”

“What about damage?” Dylan asked.

“The driver’s door and all four tires, of
course. And the radio was left hanging from the frame.”

Shane frowned. “They didn’t steal it?”

“Wouldn’t do any good. It’s got the theft
protection chip inside,” Jake explained. “Sweet car.”

“I don’t get it, Jake. Someone slashed the
tires, broke in the door, attempted to steal the radio, and ended
up with a scarf, one earring and a credit card. Makes no sense at
all.”