Hot Water (21 page)

Orange flames danced on her kitchen counters. Thick plumes of smoke streamed from the roof. Heat radiated from the house, enveloping him in a new nightmare.

The bastard had torched her house.

Laurie Ann followed his gaze and gasped. She wiggled herself down to the ground, standing on her good foot like a stork.

Wyatt’s fingers cinched around her waist. “Houston, we have a problem.”

Chapter 41

Laurie Ann’s knees trembled. Her belly whirled like a washing machine. She tried to stop shaking but that made her teeth chatter more. It was so hot she could barely think. Her house. Her beautiful house. On fire. She couldn’t believe it.

“Breathe,” Wyatt shouted from light years away.

Darkness enveloped her. Headfirst she plunged into the void. Flailing her arms and legs had no effect. Slit-eyed snakes hissed at her. Gators snapped their crushing jaws. Little pockets of the night glared with tongues of flame. There were no landmarks, nothing to grab, only the night and gravity pulling her ever downward to a distant red dot.

A sharp scent filled her head. She recoiled and shuddered involuntarily. The darkness receded. Cool air brushed her face. Her eyelids weighed a ton. She took a deep breath. The grayness faded.

“You’re back,” Wyatt said.

She blinked against the brightness. Objects came into focus. She was in a vehicle of some sort. Something was strapped on her face. She wiggled her cheek and the plastic apparatus moved. An oxygen mask. She reached up to tug it off.

“Not yet,” he said. “Take a few more breaths of the good stuff before you yell at me.”

“I never yell,” she muttered. His hand tightened on hers as they went over a bump in the road. Straps held her in place on the firm bed. She gazed around the small space and saw Roberta scowling at her. Roberta, the EMT.

“Where am I?” Laurie Ann asked around the mask.

Roberta’s fierce expression softened. She lightly squeezed Laurie Ann’s shoulder. “We’re taking you for an X-ray of that foot.”

She glanced down to see an ice bag taped to her ankle. Her ankle was propped on a pillow on the gurney. She tried wiggling her toes and was rewarded with a sharp stab of pain.

Memories thundered in. Gabby tied up in the woods. The fire. The rush to escape the flames. The second fire. Her twisted ankle.

She pushed the oxygen mask off her face, unhooked the strap holding her flat, and sat up. “It isn’t an emergency. I sprained my ankle. That’s all. Turn this bus around. I want to go home.”

Roberta’s eyes softened. “Can’t do that. Orders from the fire chief, the police chief, and the sheriff. Plus, your man here. If Leighton turns us around, we’ll both be looking for new jobs.”

Her man? She gazed at Wyatt. He looked grim. Scratches covered his face and arms as if he’d been refereeing a cat fight. His clothes looked shredded. What was going on?

She rubbed the side of her face and came away with blood. “I don’t understand.”

“What do you remember?” Wyatt asked.

She gave him the rundown.

“You don’t remember anything past hurting your ankle?” he asked.

“Should I?”

Wyatt and Roberta exchanged glances. “What?” she asked. “What could be worse than your own cousin trying to incinerate you in the woods?”

There were the telling glances again. The hollow space in her gut widened. “What aren’t you telling me? If something else happened, I need to know.”

“Lester Church is a dangerous man,” Wyatt said.

“Did I bump my head?”

“No.”

“Why can’t I remember? What’s going on, Wyatt? What is it you aren’t telling me?”

“You’ve had several shocks tonight,” Wyatt said, putting his arms around her. “I’m making sure you’re safe.”

She tried to push away from him, but his arms didn’t budge.

“I’m stuck,” she said.

“That’s right. You are stuck. Remember that.”

She started shaking again. She shivered.

“Need another blanket,” Wyatt said.

Roberta swaddled them in a cocoon of blankets.

“Why am I so cold?” Laurie Ann asked.

“Shock,” the EMT said. “The effects should wear off soon.”

“Good,” Laurie Ann said, teeth chattering. “I’ve got too much to do to waste time shivering.” She snuggled next to Wyatt for a few miles, enjoying his strength. The warmth, the road jostling, and the comfort she felt relaxed her. She was safe now. She dozed.

And jolted awake at the glaring lights of the Emergency Room. The staff tried to separate her from Wyatt but he was having none of that. He held her hand through every poke and prod. He stood with the technician in the X-ray lab. He never let her out of his sight, even when they cleaned his flesh wounds and changed both of them into clean scrubs.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned about his vigilance. Clearly, the man had control issues.

“I’m all right,” she repeated. “Just a sprain, like I told you.”

“And I’m making sure you stay all right.”

He pushed her wheelchair to the door, the attendant carrying her crutches. A dark SUV awaited in the early hours of dawn. Wyatt loaded her inside. They sped off to the ritziest hotel in a hundred mile radius.

“I can’t afford this on a cop’s salary,” she said, when they were dropped off at The Alcove.

“My treat.” Wyatt installed her in the complimentary wheelchair and accepted the room key from the bellhop. He rolled her to the elevator and they alighted on the top floor.

Two men stood guard outside the door. “We’re staying here tonight. Every cop in a four state region is looking for Lester. He won’t get to you tonight.”

“I have to go home. Gabby needs me. And Pumpkin. I never fed her dinner.”

“One of your guys took them home after the fire. Calucci. He’s got your pets.”

“I thought he was allergic. No, that was Harlow. I get them confused sometimes.”

He turned down the covers and lifted her into the king-sized bed. “Calucci is a good guy. The jury’s still out on Harlow.”

“Harlow’s a jerk,” she admitted with a yawn. The pain medicine had taken the edge off the throbbing in her ankle. “I could sleep until next Tuesday.”

“That was my thought, too.” He curled up beside her and pulled the covers over them. “I’ll race you to see who gets to sleep first.”

She snickered. “Game on.”

But he won. His deep breaths feathered her neck, and sleep eluded her. Instead, her memory block faded, and she remembered each loss, in freeze-frame shots. The flames inside her windows. The smoke pouring from the roof. Her beautiful things, all gone.

Lester had torched her house. He’d tried to kill her and erase her existence from the face of the planet. No wonder Wyatt was acting overprotective.

Her own flesh and blood hated her.

Chapter 42

Laurie Ann awakened to the delicious sensation of her hair being stroked. Like a cat, she arched into the comfort. A soft sound formed in her throat as her scalp tingled with pleasure.

Drowsy but needing to know where she was, she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. A hotel room. An expensive hotel room, from the size of it, the opulent drapes, and the background roar of ocean waves.

That touch.

She’d know it anywhere.

Wyatt.

A smile played across her lips. She thought to roll toward him in the big bed, but her foot twinged with pain.

Memory slammed into her.

The fires. Her ankle. Her home. The hospital. It was too much to take in. Too much to handle when she wanted nothing more than to be with Wyatt.

How much time did she have with him? Once he arrested her cousin, he’d return to Atlanta. She’d get her old life back.

Except for her home.

She didn’t have a home. She’d loved that old place, from the creaks on the steps to the side window that only opened halfway. Gone. Torched, along with all her belongings. That picture of her mom. Gone.

Sorrow mounted as she thought of each loss she’d sustained. She chewed her lip to focus. There was plenty of time to mourn her home. If she only had a day or so left with Wyatt, she should spend it with him, enjoying his company.

She rolled over to find him watching her. “Good morning,” she said, basking in his appreciative gaze, wishing he hadn’t gotten all scratched up in the woods on her account.

The man acted like he was bulletproof. He darned near was. The scratches would heal without scarring, but that near-miss on his arm would leave a small scar to remember her by.

A grin filled his face. “Morning.”

“What day is it?”

“The same day as we got here. Around dinnertime.”

She laughed. “Let me rephrase my greeting. Good evening.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not so much.” She skimmed her fingers down the contour of his stubbled jaw and neck. His breathing thickened as she drew lazy circles on his chest. “But I am hungry.”

He trapped her questing hand in his. “If you’re hungry, this is a bad idea.”

She wiggled her hand free, linking her arms around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss. “I thought I’d start with Wyatt soup, followed by Wyatt salad. Then I’m skipping straight to Wyatt a-la-mode.”

He offered slight resistance. “Your foot?”

“Will be fine.” She touched her lips to his. The tingle was there, just as she’d remembered. The ground-shaking buzz followed. “Um,” she murmured into his mouth. “Delish.”

His arms enfolded her, lifting her and nestling her carefully on top of his lean, muscular length. “You’re in charge of this buffet.”

She nuzzled his neck, feeling the exciting rasp of his beard stubble. What a miracle to find this, to find him. The feel of him, the scent—it swept her away on a tide of desire. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words for years. Do you tell that to all your girls?”

“There haven’t been a lot of girls, and I’ve never said that to anyone else. Only you, Laurie Ann. Only you.”

She gathered those words in like precious nectar and whispered his name. “Wyatt.”

In the muted light, she touched her lips to his and gloried in his taste. His hands caressed her, enticing and promising more. Wonder and joy filled her heart.

She yielded and took from him. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she had to give, and she wanted to give it all to him.

To Wyatt.

Emotion caused her to fumble with their clothing as she removed it, his heavy-lidded eyes offering brazen enticement. She surrendered to him, and he to her. The moment condensed to a point of light and expanded into a vast universe of two.

“I need to see you,” Wyatt murmured. “To see you and nothing else.”

With feline grace, she stretched upright, towering over him. His gleaming hair, those dark eyes, that sensual mouth—she wanted it all. Her breath shuddered and caught in her throat. “Like this?”

“Yes. Perfect. You’re perfect.”

He kneaded her breasts, and her eyes fogged. His exquisite hands unlocked her secrets, each sensation lighting her with fire for him. Skin to skin they moved and glided until the crest rolled through her.

Through them.

She rode the wave of passion, crying out, moving and arching into the blissful beyond.

****

She awakened in his arms, her head resting on his chest. His heart thumped beneath her cheek. It felt as if the rays of dawn were shooting out her fingertips. Amazing. She felt sated and gravity-free and part of something special.

Would that this wonderful feeling could last and last.

But the mere thought of him returning to Atlanta faded her relaxed mood into the mist. Practical thoughts stormed in. Who lived among such luxury? Certainly not her. Was this what Wyatt was accustomed to? Was he rich? Was she mercenary to think that question?

She shifted to study his face. He had a kind face. When he relaxed like this, he looked ten years younger.

Her fingers explored his shoulders and chest. Burn marks marred his smooth skin. He’d earned those helping people, saving lives. Wyatt was a bona fide superhero. She kissed the abrasion on his arm where Lester had grazed him with a bullet a few days ago.

Would Wyatt think of her when he saw this scar in years to come? Would he remember their passion? God, she couldn’t think about him leaving. It hurt too much. She’d rather savor every square inch of him. She pressed her lips to another scar. “Don’t stop,” he rumbled in a low voice.

She craned back to look at his closed eyes. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was until someone started kissing me all over. You’ve awakened the sleeping giant, m’lady. Are you prepared to accept the consequences?”

“You’re a hero,” she said, touching one of his scars. “You’ve helped others with no thought to your safety.”

He stilled her hand and sat up, the sheet pooling at his hips. Angry red scrapes marred his muscular physique. Briars and thorns had torn his flesh when he’d saved her from burning up in the woods. “It’s nothing more than you do every day. You put yourself in harm’s way to serve the public.”

Conscious of her scratched skin and wanting to have this conversation continue, she tucked the sheet under her arms as she sat up. “I don’t run across many people with guns or knives. My incident logs are more along the line of domestic violence, 911 hang ups, cows in the road, and phone harassment. I’ve had more brushes with danger since you hit town than I have in my six years on the force.”

His eyes darkened. “I’m sorry.”

She’d hurt his feelings. That wasn’t her intention. “Don’t be. If I hadn’t met you, my cousin would still be a killer. With me being a cop, he’d have come after me at some point. He would have burned me alive in my home.”

“That wouldn’t have been good.”

“No. I wouldn’t have made it through that thicket without you.”

“We’re a good team.”

She smiled, pleased he’d reached the same conclusion. “That we are, but all good things come to an end. I need to report in to work. I need a shower. And I need food.”

He gave a terse nod. “Work’s covered. Your boss knows you’re with me. He expects you to take a few days off anyway, with the ankle injury and everything.”

“Yeah, everything. I keep forgetting everything in my house is gone. I need clothes. I need to call my insurance agent. I need to call my dad.”