SCORCHED: A Firefighter Stepbrother Romance Thriller (13 page)

I
smiled.
Things could be worse. You got a
lot worse memories to look back on.

That
smile faded as soon as I’d had the thought. Was that what Gunner and I would
be, in the end?
A handful of memories?
One or two
nights of passion, and then back to the real world where people like us weren’t
allowed?

And how
the hell had it come to this, anyway? I’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length.
I’d wanted out of his house. I’d wanted him out of my life. Yet here we were,
closer than ever before.

You sneaky son of a bitch.
How the fuck did you get into my heart?

I shut
off the shower and grabbed one of the super plush towels from the rack, then
another for my hair. Once I’d twisted it up over my scalp, I wiped down the
bathroom mirror. My phone was blinking.

I picked
it up, expecting another message from
Chel
, or maybe
a sexy text from Gunner. He’d made mention of wanting me to ache for him while
he was gone. Wanted me to be a good girl and wait for him to get back before
scratching that itch he’d instilled in me. He was probably busy waxing his
engine or something, but hey, a girl could dream.

Except
what I saw on my screen wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, coming from a
blocked number.

O Rose thou art
sick.

The invisible
worm,

That flies in the
night

In the howling
storm:

Has found out thy
bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark
secret love

Does thy life
destroy.

I held
my breath, as if some part of me knew there was more.

And
there was. Not a moment later, like he knew I was standing there in that
bathroom reading his texts, he sent another.

YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER, TANYA.

Chapter 15

Gunner

I
pressed the new phone into Tanya’s hand, looking her right in the eye.

“No
calls. The only people you’re allowed to call from now on are the police and
me
.”

I’d
gone down to the convenience store on the corner and bought my stepsister one
of those pre-paid burner phones you always heard about in spy movies. It was
nothing glamorous, but I knew no one would be able to trace her number, so long
as she wasn’t stupid.

And she
wasn’t stupid. Which begged the question of why the hell she was acting like
she was.

It
still boggled my mind how that freak could have gotten a hold of her
phone—the phone she’d only just bought, and with
my
credit card, no less—in order to clone it. That was the
going theory, anyway. I’d watched enough TV to know that people only needed
your phone for a second, then
boom
—they
could read every message and hear every phone call. I hated how easy it was for
creeps like this to do what they did.

“But
what if he does it again?” she asked. I could see the worry etched all over her
face as she looked at the block of ancient tech I’d handed her. I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d seen a flip-phone, let along one that big.

“He
won’t be able to do any of that stuff so long as you don’t make any calls to
anyone but the cops or me. Those things can’t be traced.”

“You’re
sure?”

“As
sure as I can be.”

Tanya
nodded, heaving a great, big sigh before she glanced over at her old phone
still lying on the table. I’d told her to turn it off and take the battery out
of it—making it all the harder for anyone to find her.

You can’t run forever.

I could
only hope that it had been a bluff, some big scare tactic to make my sister
panic all the more. But I couldn’t take that chance.

“No
opening the door, either. Not for anyone.”

“Okay,”
she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t know what else I could do
to keep her safe—to keep that monster from doing God knows what to her.

“I’m
going to talk to a friend of mine to see if he can make this investigation go a
little bit faster.”

“A
cop?” she asked. She sounded pretty hopeful.

“No,
not anymore. He’s a PI, but he knows the system and he knows what buttons to
press.”

Tanya’s
worried expression never left her, my assurances having little effect to boost
her confidence. Somehow I had to make her think that everything would be
okay—despite all evidence to the contrary.

“I just
feel like all of this is never going to end—that it’s all my fault. I
feel like I dragged you into something you should never have gotten involved
it. You’re taking all of
my
problems
on your shoulders when I should be the one who takes care of this.”

I shook
my head, resting my hands on both her shoulders.

“None
of this is your fault, Tanya. You shouldn’t have to deal with some freak
pretending that you belong to him—some weirdo in a mask playing like he’s
the Phantom of the Opera. You don’t deserve to be in this mess.”

“But—”

“No.
None of this is your fault, and I don’t even want you thinking that I shouldn’t
be helping you. I love you, Tanya, and I’m going to make sure this asshole gets
locked up for good.”

“Maybe
we should just let the police take care of it—what if he hurts
you
, what will happen then, if you’re
hurt and I’m left all alone. I don’t think I can handle if I lost you, Gunner.
I can’t lose you
and
Mom.”

“I told
you I
won’t
let that happen. I’m going to keep your
safe. I tried to talk to the detectives, but they’re dragging ass on this. No
leads, no suspects. You think I’m just going to let this go?”

Tanya
smiled, blinking at my through the tears as she rested her cheek against one of
my hands. I brushed my thumb over her skin, wiping away the trails of moisture
her sadness had left behind.

“My
hero.”

I tried
to give her an encouraging smile, but all I could manage was a grimace. More
than ever I felt connected to Tanya, almost like our bond had evolved into
something I’d never thought I’d have in my life—love. And I wasn’t about
to let that get taken from me by some mouth-breather.

 
“I should get going. I’m meeting my
friend at a restaurant to talk about what he’s found out so far.”

“Okay,”
Tanya said, wrapping her arms around herself almost like she’d gotten a sudden
chill. Maybe she was feeling the same emptiness that I was feeling. “Just make
sure you call me. I don’t want to find out you got killed or something on the
news.”

“I’ll
be fine,” I said, giving her an optimistic smile before I turned around and
headed out the door.
I only hoped I was right.

My
friend Simon and I had gone to community college together—not the most glamorous
of institutions, but it got me the education I needed to become a firefighter.

Simon,
on the other hand, became a cop—at least, for a few years. After he was
denied his detective’s shield, he decided that he’d fair better in the private
sector. And he was right.

I saw
him the moment I walked through the door—he was the guy in the oversized
goat and fedora. It killed me every time the two of us had lunch together, he
loved all that Dick Tracy shit—and so did his clients. They ate it up and
even recommended all their friends. Cheating husbands, fraud, corporate
espionage—you name it, Simon took care of it.

“Gunner!”
he called, waving me over the second he spotted me. I just shook my head as I
sat down in the booth, watching him take a bite of a BBQ-sauce-covered chicken
wing.

“You
still eat this crap?” I asked, waving down the waitress and ordering myself
something off the appetizer menu. “You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“I could
think of worse ways to go,” Simon said, shrugging as he took a drink of his
beer. As unprofessional as I found Simon, it was almost endearing. “How’s shit
with you? I almost didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

I
snorted. “You slept with my date!”

“She
didn’t have your name on her.”

“Yes,
she did,” I replied, laughing.

“Ok,
fine. She was a little weird. Never tattoo someone’s name on your arm, especially
not after the first date!”

“Do you
have something for me, or not?”

Simon
laughed, wiping his mouth on an already stained napkin, careful that none of it
got on his “priceless” coat.

“I do!
And this is
very
interesting. I mean,
there are people who would pay a fortune for the work that I’ve done here for
you today.”

“I’m
still not paying you, Simon.”

“You
hurt my feelings, Gun! This is a favor between friends! I would never ask for
any kind of compensation—”

“I’m
already picking up the bill, Simon. Out with it!” I said, sighing as my order
of mozzarella stick was set down gently in front of me. I gave the waitress a
smile in thanks before I began to eat.

“You
know what you mentioned before? About how this freak talked about killing his
mother?”

“Yeah,
you found something?” my eyebrows
raised
as I leaned
forward. I hadn’t expected results this fast from Simon.

“Yup.
Unsolved homicide about a year ago—Sandra Williams.
COD was asphyxiation. She had—and I quote—‘her panties forced down
her throat, blocking her airway.’ Sounds a lot like what your sister talked
about. This could be our link, my friend.”

I
frowned. “What’d you find out about her?” I had really hoped that whoever was
after my sister had just been trying to sound tough with the whole “I murdered
my mother” line.

“She
was in her early fifties, and had . . . ” He stopped a
second, flipping through something on his phone. “ . . . two
kids. Husband left when they were younger. She had a son named Connor and a
daughter named Chelsea. She liked her ‘C’ names, apparently. Not to mention the
brother had a few temporary restraining orders filed against him and a sealed
jury record.”

“What
for?” I asked, dreading the answer. I didn’t like the sound of this one bit. It
was one thing if this guy was just a bit off, but from what Simon was
saying,
he was almost a dead match for Tanya’s stalker.

“Your
favorite—arson.”

I
sighed, pressing my head into my hands. This was just perfect. It was like the
pieces of a puzzle all falling into place, all pointing to this guy, Connor.

“Tanya
has a friend named Chelsea. She was talking with her right before she got that
fucking text.”

“You
think she might be involved in all of this?” Simon asked, taking another bite
off of a drumstick.

“She
just might. Or at least, she might know what the fuck is wrong with her
brother. You have an address?”

“I have
one for her, but not for the brother, and once I’m done with my lunch, we
can—”

“Now,
Simon. Not later.”

“How
about letting me get a to-go box then, yikes! Impatient, much?” He picked up
his plate and carried it over to the counter, grumbling all the way. I wanted
to get out of here and get to this girl Chelsea’s house as soon as possible.

I left
a couple of twenties on the table, more than enough to cover Simon’s enormous
plate of wings and the tip while he shoveled every scrap of meat he could into
a box. Something deep down told me that if we waited any longer, something bad
was going to happen.