Cain's Law (Cowboys on the Edge Book 3) (9 page)
And the more he thought about where the fire was, the surer he was that Joey was funneling them toward the garage. Everything he’d needed to start the fire was right there: a can of gas, wood shavings on the floor. But Joey chose the back of the house. Unfortunately, the back door was out, likely engulfed in flames. The front? If Joey was near the garage door, he’d have a clear view of the front door, too. At the foot of the stairs, he pulled Carina close. “I need you to be brave,” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, her hair rubbing his cheek.
“When we get to the mudroom, I need you to drop into the crawlspace under the house.”
She jerked a little away. “You’re not coming with me?”
“I have to finish this, babe. I need you safe.”
Her grip on his jeans tightened. “And me crawling under a burning house is safe?”
“You don’t have to go far. Once you’re under, move to the front side of the house and feel the bricks with your hands. There’s an access door. Push it out, keep close to the wall, and then run for the woods. Get somewhere safe and sit.”
“No, you come with me.”
Cain cupped her chin, lifting her face. He kissed her hard. “Let me do my job, Carina.”
She wanted to argue with him, he knew, because she drew another deep breath, but he pressed a finger over her mouth. “Do as I say. If I’m worried about you, I could get us both killed.”
He didn’t give her time to think up another argument. He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as he darted into the kitchen. He crouched below each window and made sure Carina did the same. Inside the mudroom, he scooted aside the plywood, and then handed her down into the space.
As she squatted, her gaze clung to his face. “It’s pitch black.”
He gripped her shoulders and faced her toward the front of the house. “This direction. Now, go.”
Once he saw her drop to her knees, he covered the hole and breathed. He centered himself, calming his heart, focusing on his surroundings. He stepped into the garage.
Carina crawled forward,
stilling an immediate shriek when her face was covered with something light and sticky—a cobweb.
Mother fucker. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She kept the litany of curses going through her mind. She didn’t dare whisper them, or they’d escalate to screams. Joey was out there. Cain was walking into a goddamn trap. Cain could die and it would be all her damn fault.
She should have listened to her mother. Should have sent Joey packing the first time he’d shown up in his expensive leather jacket and sleek boots. Should have spit in his eye when he’d given her a ring. She’d thought he would ask her to marry him, but he’d only wanted it on her hand to brand her when she was with his friends.
Her knee landed on a hard stone and she gasped, rearing upward. Her head struck a beam. Tears filled her eyes, but she couldn’t wipe them away because she knew her hands were dirty and would leave muddy streaks. A gleam of light pierced the darkness. She turned to glance to her right. The floor above her was glowing. And the sound that had been a distant crackle was now a roar as the fire consumed the wood. She had to get out. Now.
Again, she moved forward. Her hand struck brick, and she moved left, smoothing her palms over the rough surface to find the door he’d mentioned. Nothing. She moved to the right, toward the fire, her heart pounding faster and faster. At last, she felt the edge of a board and ran her fingers along the outline. A frame. She pushed at the center board and the door popped outward, landing with a soft thud on the grass outside.
But she held back, afraid to exit. Joey could be out there, waiting. She wasn’t sure what scared her more: her ex, or the fire roaring above her body.
In the distance, she heard a pop-pop, like firecrackers going off. Her heart stilled. Gunshots! She heard two more and jerked with each sound. Then silence. She held her breath, afraid to move. Another pop. This one louder, sounding closer—then footsteps rustling in the grass next to the house. Holding her breath, she eased beside the access door, hiding in the shadows, praying…
“Baby, you in there? Carina!”
At Cain’s shout, she sobbed and lurched toward the opening. Hands grasped her under the arms and pulled her the rest of the way through, and then she was lying across his lap as he rocked her against his chest. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe, baby. Shhhh.”
Carina clutched his arm and snuggled closer, wishing she could crawl right inside him. His strong arms surrounded her, squeezing the breath out of her. In the distance, she heard sirens.
“We have to move away from the house.”
He was right, heat seared the skin of her back. He struggled with her weight, but got to his knees, then rose, carrying her in his arms toward the street and the squad car with its open door.
A figure sat against the front wheel. Cain’s friend, Tank Owens.
He rubbed his head. Blood poured from a cut on his forehead.
Cain set her on her feet. “You okay?”
She pulled at the hem of her tee. Tank was eyelevel with her ass. “I’m fine. He looks worse,” she said, aiming her chin at Tank’s injury.
“Damn, I’m fucking useless,” Tank said. “Bastard got the drop on me. Was going to take a walk around the yard, and I got popped. Never saw it coming.”
“That’s what he used.” Cain kicked a two-by-four lying on the ground.
Carina tugged on his arm. “I heard shots.”
Cain stiffened. “He opened fire the minute I stepped into the garage. All I could do was dive for the floor. When I came back up, I just made out his shadow.” He swallowed and looked away.
She turned to stare at the house. His pretty Victorian would be a charred mess come sunrise. “He still in there?” she asked, keeping her tone even.
He gave a sharp nod.
“Good.” Tension drained, and she swayed.
Cain glanced downward. “Damn, Tank, pop the trunk. I need a blanket.”
“Don’t on my account,” his friend said, giving her a little waggle of his eyebrows.
His wince was very satisfying. Another thought occurred. “My money!”
Cain’s lips twisted then flattened into a straight line. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s gone.”
She thought about it for a moment. Then she shrugged. “It was bad luck, anyway.”
He placed the blanket around her shoulders, catching the ends near her chin and tugging her forward. “Told you before. You don’t need it. I’ll take care of you.”
Carina tilted her head to the side. “Think your girlfriend, the mayor, can find me something else to wear?”
Cain laughed and hugged her against him.
Trucks and squad cars began arriving, barreling down the drive. And although there was a distant hydrant, the house was too engulfed. Water from the hoses hissed as it hit the flames.
The sheriff strode toward Cain, his glance landing on her wrapped in a blanket and Cain’s arms. “This thing finished?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded, and then reached into his pocket. “You can take my truck. Keys to my house are on the ring, too. Worry about where you’re going to sleep tomorrow.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“No, thank you,” the sheriff said. “Those extra patrols were eating up my budget.” He laughed and turned away, making a beeline to the fire chief standing next to the pumper truck.
Carina leaned against her man’s broad chest. She wondered if maybe there’d been a moment. A choice he’d had to make about whether Joey was worth arresting. If he’d been quick to pull the trigger, she didn’t want him harboring any guilt. “Thank you, Cain,” she said softly.
Cain turned her and bent his head, touching their foreheads together. “You know, you’re free now, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to be.”
She laid her palm against his cheek. “If it’s okay with you, then I’d like to stay.”
His eyes reflecting the fiery blaze, he kissed her hard.
“Uh, buddy. That blanket’s slipping.”
She and Cain didn’t bother aiming frowns at Tank. They leaned together, arms wrapped tightly around each other’s bodies, and laughed.
*
Cain gave a
chirp of his siren as he pulled into the drive. He cut the engine before glancing upward at the tin roof topping a pretty white limestone house. The front door opened and Carina walked outside, her arms going wide as she stood on the front porch. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, as he stepped out of his patrol car.
He narrowed his gaze at the latest listing. Three bedrooms. Two full baths. Vaulted ceiling in the main room, newly renovated kitchen. On paper, this one held promise. The last house they’d seen was an old ranch house, two story with clapboard siding and a front porch that leaned. “Looks sound,” he said.
“Plenty of nice improvements, too,” she said. “An updated kitchen. Even has a pretty island with a second stovetop. Great for entertaining.”
Cain grunted. Then he turned and gave her second look, taking in her entire length. He drew a long, unsteady breath.
Carina fluttered her mascara’d eyelashes. “I went shopping,” she said, then blew him a kiss from her rose-colored lips.
The woman was going to kill him stone-cold dead. Her hair was perfectly straight, so glossy dark some strands looked blue. She wore a gauzy top in deep sunset colors over skinny jeans and a brand new pair of cowboy boots. She was a vision. The prettiest thing he’d ever seen—on-screen or in real life. “Baby, you are so beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Glad you like, but what about the house?”
He drew a deep breath. This was the house she deserved. “You want to show it to me?”
He followed her throughout the rooms, letting her go on and on about its many attributes. When she’d finished, she closed the door and turned the key. Cain waited, wondering what was going on, because she took an extra moment before facing him. When she did, she placed her hands on her hips and got that stubborn look on her face. The one that told him she was prepared to argue.
Her gaze narrowed. “The house is perfect.”
Cain kept his smile hidden. “That it is. We can walk in and not have to do a thing.” He gave her a steady look while he studied her expression.
Her eyebrows drew together. “It’s too perfect.”
“Is it?” He smiled, hoping against hope about what she’d say next.
“Yeah. We’ll both be bored to death.”
“Will we?”
“The place has no personality, and no—”
“Butter cream?”
She blinked, and then a smile curved her perfectly painted mouth. “No butter cream,” she repeated, nodding. “You’ll probably call me all kinds of crazy—”
“Never!” He had to bite back a laugh.
“But I like that dump we saw yesterday. The one with the leaning porch.”
Her shoulders were raised and her face scrunched like she expected him to laugh at her.
“Thank God,” he blurted.
“Really?”
“Hell, yeah. I just didn’t want you worried we’d be taking on a money pit with no end.”
“I liked working on the old house. I liked painting.” She rested a hand on his forearm. “And I want to learn to do things, Cain.”
He let out a whoop and picked her up, twirling her around and around while she laughed.
When he put her down, she swayed. “Maybe we’re both crazy. But I know I’m crazy in love with you, Cain Whitfield.”
Cain held still and let her words sink in, enjoying the burn that filled his chest. “I think that house would be the perfect place for a man and his wife to set down roots and raise a family.”
Her eyes shot wide. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Since I plan on making babies with you, the marrying comes first.”
“That the protocol?” She tilted her head to one side.
“It’s the law.”
She walked her fingers up the buttons of his shirt and gave him another flirty look from her deep brown eyes. “Cain’s law?”
He flashed her a smile. “Damn straight, woman.” He hugged her against his side and pulled her down the pathway toward the driveway. “Better call the agent.”
She laughed. “No need. I already told her we’d be making an offer on the other house.”
He chuckled. “Think you know me that well?”
Carina wrinkled her nose. “Baby, I know you like leaving your mark.”
He patted her ass. “Mmm-hmm. That I do…”
Delilah Devlin is a
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