Against the Fire (23 page)

“Sure. I know Clay. Nice guy.”

A great guy—except when he’s burning down buildings. “Has he been in tonight?”

“Not yet, but he’ll probably show up. He stops by at least three or four times a week, usually between eight and nine.”

Mattie flicked a glance at the window, wishing she could tell Gabe, but there was no sign of him. He’s a marine, she reminded herself. He won’t be easy to spot.

Mattie sipped her beer, taking her time, occasionally watching the door. People came and went. A rougher crowd began to gather. When a couple of disreputable-looking men began making dirty wisecracks and started in her direction, Tommy raised a sawed-off pool cue and shook his head. The men stopped where they were, turned and went back their seats, grumbling but not really mad. Clearly, Tommy’s customers had a grudging respect for him.

Mattie glanced at the clock and ordered another Lone Star, sipped it even more slowly. When the clock hit nine-thirty, she set the half-finished bottle down and asked for the check.

Tommy brought it over. “I guess your girlfriend isn’t going to show,” he said.

“I guess not.” She paid the bill with cash and left a hefty tip on the bar. She was just sliding off the stool when the front door opened and a man walked in. In jeans and an olive-drab T-shirt, he was as tall as Gabe but with a leaner, more sinewy build. He would have been handsome if it hadn’t been for his slightly crooked nose and uneven eyebrows. Still, he was attractive.

Gabe had shown her a photo of Clay taken ten years ago. But even if she hadn’t seen it, she would have known she had just found Clayton Sanders. There was an air of danger about him. He looked like the kind of man who could burn down a building if he wanted.

Mattie picked up her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder, and started across the wooden floor toward the door. If Gabe was watching, by now he had spotted Clay and called the police. She listened for the sound of sirens, certain she would hear them any minute.

Instead, as she passed Clay’s table, his chair moved backward, grating against the floor as he came to his feet.

“Where you goin’ in such a hurry, sweetheart?” The words came out a little slurred and she realized he had already had plenty to drink.

“Just heading home.” She continued walking but Clay caught her arm and spun her around to face him. His heavy-lidded gaze slid over her, taking in the curly blond hair, short skirt and low-cut top. “I could use a little company. How about I buy you a drink?”

Mattie gently tried to pull free. If he didn’t let go in the next few seconds, she had no doubt Gabe would come crashing through the door.

Instead of releasing her, Clay sat down and tugged her into his lap. “Now, isn’t that better?”

Mattie’s heart was racing. Her eyes shot to the door at the sound of heavy footfalls charging up the wooden stairs. Then Gabe was there, hauling her out of Clay’s lap.

“You don’t want to mess with her,” Gabe warned.

Sanders rose lazily to his feet, not the least bit intimidated by the furious, towering figure leaning over him.

“Well, if it isn’t my old buddy, Gabe.”

Gabe drew Mattie behind him. “What are you doing in Dallas, Clay?”

“Why? Do I need your permission to be here?”

“You do if you’re here burning down my buildings.”

Sanders’s smile turned wolfish. “I heard about that. Nobody deserves it more.”

“That right?” Gabe’s hands fisted. “How about the boy you beat to a pulp to keep him from asking questions?”

Clay shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

Mattie ran to the bar. “Call the police, Tommy.”

“No way. I don’t want any trouble.” But he rounded the bar, holding his cutoff pool cue, heading straight for Clay and Gabe.

“You two want to fight? Take it outside.”

Gabe’s features looked carved in stone. Sanders just smiled. Mattie didn’t see the roundhouse punch he threw until it hit Gabe squarely in the jaw. Mattie shrieked and the fight was on. Chairs scraped as patrons stood up and moved back to give the fighters room, then stood watching with a sort of primal glee.

Mattie’s gaze flew to the door but no help appeared to be coming. Tommy headed back to the bar, resigned to calling the police. Mattie prayed Gabe had already called them.

Her attention returned to the two big men and for an instant she forgot to breathe. One blow followed another. Gabe was powerful and every punch earned a grunt from Clay. But Clay was quick, and though he struck less often, each blow landed with devastating accuracy and solid force. Gabe threw a body blow that had to have cracked a rib. Clay lowered his head and rammed Gabe in the middle, carrying backwards till both of them crashed into the wall.

Blood flew from a shot to Sanders’s nose. Clay split Gabe’s lip and blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

Mattie watched with terrified fascination. She had never seen a real fistfight, certainly not a fight between two powerful men determined to knock each other senseless, or worse. Clay staggered from a heavy blow, then bounced back and got a choke hold around Gabe’s neck. For the first time, Mattie realized Gabe could be in mortal danger.

You know he went Force Recon?

Gabe had said that was like being a Navy SEAL or Green Beret. Mattie wasn’t waiting a moment longer. Her half-empty beer bottle sat on the bar. Racing toward it, she grabbed the bottle by the neck, ran over to the men and slammed the heavy brown glass down hard on Sanders’s head.

The bottle shattered, beer ran down Clay’s forehead and he went down like a sack of cement.

Breathing in deep, unsteady breaths, Gabe straightened, propping his hands on his thighs as he worked to bring himself under control. His gaze shot to Mattie, who still held the broken neck of the beer bottle. Her legs were shaking, her hands trembling. Striding toward her, Gabe gently took the bottle neck from her hand, set it aside and eased her into his arms.

“It’s all right, honey. The cops are on the way. They know Clay’s here. They’ll be more than happy to take him into custody.”

The wail of sirens reached her through the buzzing in her ears. She took a steadying breath, but couldn’t bring her trembling under control.

“You gonna be all right?” Gabe asked.

Mattie nodded. Sanders still lay unconscious. His nose oozed blood all over his faded olive-drab T-shirt as a half dozen blue-uniformed policemen swarmed into the bar.

“You must be Raines,” one of them said.

“I’m Raines. I made the call. He’s all yours.”

The fair-haired cop just nodded.

Gabe blotted his bloody lip with the edge of his hand and graced Mattie with a crooked half smile. “Looks like you were the one who played hero tonight.”

She reached up and touched the purple bruise rising on his cheek. “Are you kidding? You were amazing.” She didn’t normally condone any sort of fighting, but in this case, she was glad Gabe was such a capable man.

“If he hadn’t been drunk, I’d be in a lot worse shape than I am.”

Mattie fought to ignore a chill. “At least the police have him in custody. Your buildings will be safe from now on.”

Gabe just nodded.

They stayed at the bar long enough to give a statement and pay Tommy for the damages the fight had caused.

“Thanks,” the bar owner said, sliding the money into the till and slamming it closed with a ring. “I take it Clay was already in some kind of trouble.”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“Too bad. I liked him.”

“There was a time I did, too,” Gabe said, and she could read the regret in his face.

“He said he didn’t assault Angel,” Mattie reminded him.

“That’s what he said. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

But if he had done it and Clay proved to be the arsonist, she and Gabe would both be able to finally put the matter to rest.

She left the bar with Gabe’s arm around her and they drove back to his condo.

Even battered and bruised, he kept his word about the lovemaking. Mattie told herself it was all right to enjoy the time they had together. Even if she allowed herself to stay through the end of the week, by Monday she would be back in her own apartment.

The thought brought an unexpected stab of regret.

Which meant she was doing exactly the right thing.

Twenty-Two

The sounds of Wednesday morning traffic rose up from the street below his condo the following morning. Gabe watched Mattie wandering around his apartment, picking up an object here and there, unconsciously straightening the newspapers he’d left on the coffee table.

It seemed so natural for her to be there, not like the few other women who had ever spent the night. He was always eager for them to leave.

Dressed in tan slacks and a pink paisley blouse, Mattie planned to stop at the hospital this morning before heading down to her office. He should have been eager for a little time to himself. Instead, he wished she would stay.

Sipping from her mug of coffee, she disappeared into his study, a room he used as his home office. Carrying his own steaming cup, he followed her inside the room, which was furnished with a big oak desk and swivel chair and landscape photos he had taken out at the ranch, framed in oak and hung on the walls.

Mattie ambled over to the drafting table against the wall and picked up the roll of plans that were lying on top. Setting down her cup, she unrolled the plans and began to examine them. She must have sensed his presence for she looked up and saw him watching her.

“You don’t mind, do you? Curiosity is kind of a hazard of the job.”

He just smiled. “Be my guest. Those are the old original plans for the warehouse I’m getting ready to rebuild. I only got hold of them a couple of days before all of this started. I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet.”

Mattie gazed down at the plans, which were tattered, yellowed and greasy. The building was forty years old and needed a complete renovation.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet. I thought maybe shops or galleries on the ground floor, apartments upstairs. At the moment, it’s pretty much an eyesore. The neighbors just want me to get started, no matter what I do.”

Mattie started thumbing through the drawings and Gabe made his way back into the kitchen to refill his cup. His cell phone sat next to the coffeemaker and Gabe reached over and picked it up, intending to call his brother.

The police had phoned earlier. Clay had professed his innocence, then clammed up tight. Since he didn’t have a residence in the area and had been arrested under suspicion of setting three fires that included a possible homicide, he was held without bail.

If Clay was guilty, Gabe had no pity for him.

On the other hand, even after the comments Clay had made in the bar, Gabe had trouble thinking of his one-time friend as an arsonist.

Which was what he told his brother when he punched in Dev’s number to let him know that Sanders had been arrested.

“Clay could have done it,” Dev said. “The man has the talent and with his wife in Dallas, he has the motive.”

“No doubt it could have been him. Clay’s smart and well trained, but…”

“But he’s a marine and once was your friend and you can’t imagine him burning down your buildings to get back at you.”

“That’s about it.”

“Jackson called. He’s worried.”

Gabe chuckled. “Jackson’s been worried about his two little brothers since he was ten years old.”

Dev laughed. “I guess some things don’t change.”

They said their goodbyes and Gabe hung up the phone and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. Mattie wandered out of his study and as she walked past, Gabe leaned down and kissed her.

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Picking up her purse, she slung the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” She wiggled her fingers in farewell as she walked out the door. Gabe grabbed his wallet and keys off the kitchen counter, took a last swig from his mug of now cold coffee and followed her into the hall.

Like Mattie, he had work to do.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at his first stop of the day, the Greenwood Apartments. He had just gotten out of his truck and started toward the rhythmic pounding of hammers when a big white Mercedes S550 rolled up and Carlton Webster climbed out from behind the fancy wood-grain steering wheel.

Tall and silver-haired, at fifty years old Webster was in prime physical condition. He wore two-thousand-dollar suits, was married to a woman twenty years younger and he could afford her.

“Hello, Gabe.”

“Carlton.”

Webster lived in one of the expensive high-rise condos near the Farmer’s Market. He’d been fiercely opposed to Gabe’s notion of rehabbing the then-named Harwood Apartments into affordable housing. Webster adamantly believed they should be converted into expensive condominiums. Webster had even offered to buy Gabe out.

“Haven’t seen you around for a while,” Gabe said. “What can I do for you?”

“I read about your troubles in the newspaper. Two fires in only a few weeks’ time. Must have been quite a setback.”

Three fires, Gabe thought. “It’s cost us a lot of time, that’s for sure.”

“And money, I imagine.”

“Some.”

“You must be a little worried about Greenwood becoming a target.”

“I’ve got security cameras up and guards round the clock.”

“Still…it could happen.”

“I suppose. Why don’t you get to the point, Webster?”

“The point is, I’d like to make you another offer. You’re good at your job. The work your company has done on the building so far is above satisfactory. If you were to sell me the apartments, I could have my people take over from here and make the place into the sort of first-class property that would fit into the neighborhood.”

Gabe hadn’t put Webster on his suspect list. He’d had no reason to believe the man would go as far as arson to get what he wanted—not that he would have to do the job himself. Webster could afford to hire a professional. Gabe hadn’t considered he would. Now he wondered.

“You want this place that badly?”