Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (12 page)

Hearing her tell it made Kevin’s actions worse.
Appalling. Jake didn’t know what to say. He slipped an arm around her
shoulders. Felt the shiver of her nerves under his hand but she let him draw
her closer and then leaned into his embrace.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “When you came a
couple days later, you didn’t run from the Phantomette. You stayed. You talked
to me about getting lost on Boston streets, about being back at college. Even
left me a funny get-well card.”

“You faker. I thought you were asleep or so drugged
you didn’t know I was there.”

“After Kevin, I wasn’t taking chances.”

He started to say that Kevin had been young but couldn’t
cut the guy slack on this one. “A lot of people can’t deal with people’s injuries.
Especially people they care about.”

“Like my father.” She pressed fingers to her mouth as
if she hadn’t meant to speak the thought.

His pulse jumped. “You said your parents divorced.
What happened?”

Her shoulders twitched in what she probably intended
as a shrug of nonchalance but beneath his hands felt like anger. “He couldn’t
handle it. All of it. Gail’s death. Seeing her in my face, even with bandages
and scars. My surgeries, the long recovery. My parents fought constantly. He
finally left.”

Jake brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe it wasn’t
you or your recovery. Maybe your parents had their own problems.”

She shook her head with vehemence. “They fought about
Mom having no time for him. She was either at the hospital with me or tending
me at home. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame myself. Dad wimped out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No big deal. I’m over it.” She leaned her head
against him, giving him a solid whiff of her hair, her flowery shampoo.

“Honey, no one gets over parents’ divorce, like I won’t
get over my dad’s death. You get used to it and move ahead one step at a time.”

“How did you get to be so wise? Or is that wiseass?”

“Can’t resist, can you? Neither can I—” He curled a
finger in a strand and tugged so she’d look up. He made sure she was looking at
him. “Lani.”

Another tug on her hair brought her mouth to his. He
settled his lips over hers, testing, until she parted to let him in. She tasted
of blueberries and coffee. Defiance and courage and a burning spirit that
blazed brighter than any fire. She answered his demands with equal hunger,
drinking him in as if parched. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed
against him.

Lifting her onto the counter, he shuddered. She wanted
him as much as he wanted her. He savored the feel, the scent, the taste of her.
His feelings for her went beyond sex. How could he ask her to trust him to keep
her safe? His heart raced and he made himself back off.

“You have your moves, don’t you, Wescott?” Her voice
was husky.

“So do you, Cameron. Objections?”

“I don’t know what you want.
Who
you want.” The
turbulence in her expressive eyes told of her warring emotions, her fears.

“I don’t know why I said Gail’s name, but it’s you I
want.” He couldn’t explain it to himself, so why should she believe him or
trust him? Shit.

She stared at him, as if wanting to believe, wanting
to incinerate her doubts. Then she looped her arms around his neck and tangled
her tongue with his. Wrapped her long, sexy legs around him and ground against
him where he strained against his fly.

When he slid his hand beneath her sweater and trailed
his fingers over the smooth skin of her belly, she shifted to give him better
access.

“So soft,” he growled. “You feel like cream.”

Unsnapping the front closure of her bra, he stroked
the silken curves and budded nipples, moaned into her mouth at the feel of that
exquisite flesh. His body thrummed. A rush swept through his blood, strong and
deep, nothing like the slam-bam hook-ups that were his norm. Physical release but
empty and unsatisfying. Only once had he ever felt like this. With Gail—a
driving need, a burning to possess. In the darkened barn...

But holding Lani obliterated his thoughts. She tangled
his circuits, cracked his shell and made him long for completion. With her.
Blanking out the world, he let the warmth and the feel of her fill his senses.
Reality dissolved into feverish sensations and a rush of furnace heat that left
them both gasping for breath when he finally pulled away.

“I hope you’re not going to say you have to focus.”
She scooted from the counter and twisted around to fix her bra. She pushed a
hand through her hair.

“Not me.” His chest heaved with the effort not to
carry her to the sofa and continue what they’d begun. He could have her naked
in sixty seconds. But with her, he wanted to take things slow. He needed her to
be sure. Of herself. Of him. “Just didn’t want to exceed the speed limit.”

“Cryptic but a lame excuse. I’m used to guys kicking
me to the curb. If you don’t want me, just say so.”

Before she could step away, he swung her around,
clamping her against his arousal. He rotated his pelvis and thrust against her.
“Lani, Lani, Lani, does that feel like I don’t want you?”

She didn’t answer but tightened her mouth.

“I want you so bad I can barely breathe. I’ll be up
front. I can’t offer long term. You should have time to consider if you want me
under that circumstance. Or not.” He kissed her, hard and quick, then rested
his forehead against hers. “Besides, I don’t have any protection.”

She sputtered a laugh and he let her slip free.

Later on the drive to the harbor, what he’d learned
about her tonight wouldn’t leave him alone. So Kevin left. Kevin was a freaking
idiot. He should lose the damn election. And her dad left. He was no longer
Dad
.
She called him her
father
, acknowledging only that he sired her. Remote
and dispassionate words. Dispassionate wasn’t how she felt. About either man.

Their defections were responsible for the thicker
wall. The reason she didn’t trust anyone but herself. So she wouldn’t count on
him either.

He should be glad. Relieved. So why did a little voice
inside him insist he wanted to be worthy of being counted on?

Chapter 12

Lani pretended to admire the Eastward Inn’s glorious
view but her mind kept drifting.

Banishing the fog, the sun had steam-cleaned the
morning. The clear light had lured three local artists to the inn’s lawn where
they were painting the gleaming white lighthouse on its windswept island. She
smiled at the seagulls crowding behind a circling boat for the choicest bits of
stinking old bait the lobsterman tossed out.

For contrast, the dining room boasted cream linen and
burgundy carpets that matched stripes in the wallpaper and the fragrance of
fresh flowers and baking bread. Classy and elegant, like the inn’s prices.

Inviting Gail’s old friends to lunch here better pay
off. Give her some direction. Some of their crowd had been summer residents
like the Camerons. But her thoughts couldn’t stay on these two locals, either.

Jake.

Last night he’d kissed her and caressed her until her
bones heated and melted like wax. Good thing he lifted her to the counter or
there’d have been a Lani-sized puddle on the scuffed old tile. If he hadn’t
kissed her mind blank, she’d have hit him with both barrels about his up-front
offer of sex with no strings and no future.

And her impulsiveness would’ve been a mistake.

She said she was used to guys dumping her. But since
the last sad affair, she hadn’t gone with anyone in two years. Jake would leave
her but at least he didn’t try to bull her or bulldoze her. He was honest about
his intent.

She couldn’t be cool about sex. Never could. When his
work here ended, so would their time together. With Jake, the heartbreak
afterward would be worth it. If she had the nerve. He not only didn’t dislike
her sass, he encouraged her and teased her about it. He made her laugh. He made
her feel beautiful and desirable.

As long as she could banish the niggling doubt it wasn’t
her he kissed and caressed.

She looked up to see the hostess escorting Gail’s
friends to her table.

Heather Nadeau was a small, plump woman with a mass of
blond hair clasped at her nape. Chic in a slim navy sheath, Becca Allen stopped
at a table to speak to a middle-aged couple. She smoothed her glossy dark bob
as she hurried to catch up to Heather.

Lani stood and greeted them. “It’s wonderful to see
you. I’m so glad you could come.”

“Sorry about the detour. The Huppers are clients in my
investment firm.” Becca air-kissed Lani’s cheek. “So nice of you to get me out
of the office.”

“Yes, thanks, Lani.” Looking frazzled, Heather said, “I
appreciate a lunch out that doesn’t involve meals packaged with toys. And I don’t
have to hurry back. Mom has the girls.”

Lani tried not to react from their obvious scrutiny.
They must wonder at the reason for the lunch date, but they were also looking
her over for more signs of burn scars.
Sorry. The one is all you get to see.

She ordered a bottle of sauvignon blanc for the table.
Alcohol might encourage the others to dish on Gail’s secrets. After ordering
their meals—three orders of crab cakes, the inn’s specialty—they sipped and
chatted about Becca’s office mates and her divorce, Heather’s pictures of her
twins, and Lani’s work with handicapped kids.

Halfway through their meals and their second glasses
of wine, Lani began. “You may have heard I’m trying to get the state fire
marshal’s office to re-investigate the fire.”

Heather made clucking noises. “Nothing new has come
up, has it?”

Lani’s stomach clenched but she kept her features
neutral. The local paper had called the attack on her an accident. No point in
telling these women what really happened. “Nothing definite. I invited you here
today because I need to ask you some things about Gail.”

Becca bristled. “What could we possibly tell you that
you don’t already know about your twin sister?”

Lani smiled. “We went to different colleges. I had my
own friends. We were close but didn’t share everything.” Beneath the table, she
popped her knuckles. “For instance, the guy she was cheating on Jake with.”

Heather paled. She and Becca exchanged a glance. They
knew something.

Lani’s pulse leaped like a mackerel at dangled bait.

Heather set down her wineglass and dabbed her lips
with her napkin. “I don’t see how that would help.”

“You never know.” The scenario she’d worked out ought
to prick their consciences. “At the time, the fire investigator concluded the
blaze was an accident—gasoline spilled near the oil lamp. But more and more,
the cause looks like arson. Suppose after Jake left, Gail met this other guy in
the barn. And suppose they had a fight and he hit her and knocked her
unconscious. Then he started the fire to cover his butt. That makes him a
murderer.”

Becca blanched whiter than the tablecloth. She guzzled
half her wine.
“Murderer?”

“When someone dies in an arson fire, the crime is
arson-murder. Don’t you want the authorities to catch your old friend Gail’s
murderer?”

Heather and Becca exchanged a look. Becca nodded
slowly.

“You’d better pour yourself more wine,” Heather said,
her round cheeks pink from the alcohol. Or something else. “You won’t like what
you’re going to hear. I’ll join you.”

Becca held out her glass. “Me too.”

*****

A great black-backed seagull landed on the other end
of Jake’s picnic table. Cocking its head to one side, it lasered one red eye at
his clam basket.

Great black-backs were scarcer than herring gulls.
Looked like the same gull that had stolen his bagel. Nah. Just his imagination.
The overlapping cases making him paranoid.

“What is it with you guys and my food? Shoo.” He
picked up a pebble from the ground and heaved it in the general direction of
the would-be thief.

The gull shook its feathers as if to say, “Can’t you
do better than that?”

A volley of pebbles sent it squawking into the air, a
blur of black and white against the smattering of cotton-balls in the blue. The
fiend landed on the next table, kept its eye on Jake.

On the fresh salt air, aromas of fried seafood drifted
from the restaurants that ringed the landing, including the red wagon where he’d
purchased lunch. Hell of a forest of masts beyond the Bayport public landing.
Dozens more than in tiny Dragon Harbor’s anchorage. Jake polished off the
crispy fries that accompanied the fried clams.

After he’d left Lani last night, he worked on his
laptop doing reports and sending Donovan what he knew on the people from his
and Lani’s lists. Background checks would take time but he’d done his part.

Earlier this morning he found Steve Quimby at ABC
Building Supplies, where his old buddy designed kitchens and baths. Reluctant
at first, Steve finally consented to talk to him but not at work. Here on the
landing during his lunch break.

Hearing stones crunch under heavy shoes, he turned to
see Steve striding from the parking lot toward him. He carried a bag from the
lunch wagon. Tall enough to play center for the Celtics, he towered over Jake’s
six-two. He shook Jake’s hand with a massive paw.

“Thanks for coming, Steve. Good to see you,” Jake
said, gesturing for him to sit.

“Yeah, good to see you too.” A familiar, diffident
grin softened Steve’s face as he folded his long body onto the picnic bench.
Broad-shouldered and powerful-looking, he had the kind of crookedly agreeable
looks women seemed to like. Looks that might’ve attracted Gail.

Jake allowed time for Steve to inhale his two burgers
and for them to get caught up.

“It’s a good job,” Steve said. “Every room’s a puzzle.
I have to take the pieces the owners want and fit them into a workable
arrangement. I bet the ATF solves puzzles too.”

“Definitely, sometimes dangerous ones. I’ve got a
puzzle going now,” Jake said. The analogy made a convenient segue. “You
remember the fire that killed Gail Cameron.”

Steve blinked and then nodded. “A long time ago, man.”

“Twelve years.” He paused for emphasis. “You ever hook
up with Gail?”

His broad forehead creased and he squinted as the sun
came from behind a cloud. “Wasn’t she your girl?”

“Seems she had a few guys on the side. You weren’t one
of them?”

“Me? No way.” Steve huffed a sigh. “Look, she hit on
me a couple times when I danced with her at parties but I didn’t take her up on
it. Why are you asking me?”

“I’d like to eliminate you from my list.”

“Your list? What the hell’s going on?”

Jake worked up a minimal smile. He’d expected this reaction.
“That fire might not have been an accident. Lani Cameron and I want the state
fire marshal to re-open the investigation, prove the cause—accident or arson.
If someone set the fire, we want justice. That’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s a hell of a lot. Arson, you say.
Bad business.”

“So you’ll answer some questions?”

Steve chewed that over with the last of his lunch. “Shoot.”

“I want to get clear where everyone stands. Where
everyone was that night.”

“You know where I was. Playing poker at Todd’s until two,
three in the morning.”

Jake nodded. “True enough. So you do remember that
night.”

“Some. I remember the fire trucks and the sirens
blasting by the end of Ridge Road on their way down the East Road.”

“As I recall, you were late. Got there after me. We played
several hands before you came. Awhile later the trucks blew by. At least the
other guys and I remember it that way.” Keeping his voice even, he smiled to
mitigate the implicit accusation.

“Hey, I had nothing to do with that fire. Why would I?”
Steve crumpled his sandwich wrappings into a tight ball.

“Not saying you did. Investigator never asked you back
then for an alibi because you were at the game. You mind telling me where you
were between seven thirty and ten fifteen?”

“If the guys remember that much, they—and you—ought to
remember I lost big time that night. I was drinking pretty heavy before and
during. I dunno where I was before Todd’s. Too long ago to remember.” He swung
his legs over the picnic bench and rose to his considerable height. “I gotta
get back to work.”

So Jake wouldn’t have to stare straight up into the
sun to face the man, he rose to his feet. He held out a business card. Maybe
the official ATF logo would provide encouragement. “I’d appreciate it if you’d
try to recall. You can reach me on my cell.”

Steve took the card, pocketed it. “No guarantees.”

The black-back landed lightly on the end of the table.

Watching his friend hoof it across the parking lot,
Jake said to the bird, “How much you want to bet Steve won’t make that call? He
remembers all right. Remembers the sirens. Remembers the game. Five to one he
remembers where he was
before
the game.”

The quiet, shy teen Steve had been would’ve fallen for
flirty Gail like a lightning-struck spruce. He seemed easygoing but any man
might snap if pushed hard enough by a gorgeous female. If he had a temper and
Gail dumped him, he could’ve swatted her like a fly without breaking a sweat.
And started the blaze as a cover-up.

Made sense that was the way events went down, whoever
committed that crime.

Steve was a possible. And Kevin. His outbursts on the
baseball diamond when calls went against him were legendary. And Kevin admitted
he’d had a thing for Gail. If only the backgrounders on both these guys would
come through.

Jake reached for the last of his clams to find only
tartar sauce. The last succulent clam was disappearing down the gull’s gullet.

*****

Not just one guy but a stream of them.

Good thing Lani was already seated because her knees
couldn’t hold her. Her head ached, and not from the wine, as she stared at the
four names she’d written. The only ones Becca and Heather were sure of. How
many more? Jake hadn’t explained why Kevin was on his list. That Kevin could’ve
been one didn’t bear considering.

Finally Gail’s moodiness that summer made more sense.
She’d always been fun-loving but that summer she went overboard with the
dancing and flirting and skimpy outfits. Then she’d mope and lie around in her
room for hours. Mom had sighed about her being so temperamental. But more was
going on than anyone in the family suspected.

Jake had commented on the moods, but he didn’t have
any more of a clue than she did that Gail was sleeping around with more than
the one guy. How was Lani going to tell him? The crab cakes she’d eaten
regenerated their claws and raked her stomach.

“Are you all right, Lani?” Heather patted her hand.

“Yeah. I’m trying to wrap my head around this side of
my sister.” She picked up her wine glass and set it down again. Enough alcohol.
She needed a clear head.

“I thought you knew.” Becca pushed the lettuce garnish
around with her fork. “I warned her she was on the edge of a cliff. STDs, AIDS.
A girl has to protect herself. She just shrugged me off. Said I didn’t
understand.”

“Is there more? Do you know
why
she was hitting
on every male in Dragon Harbor?”

Heather leaned forward, elbows on the table, the crème
brulée she’d ordered for dessert forgotten. “What do you know about her illness
that spring?”

*****

After the final blow, Lani didn’t know quite how she
managed the drive home, her mind and heart roiling with Gail’s secrets. Secrets
Gail kept to herself. Secrets that explained her moods. Secrets that drove her
to act out her pain and desolation in self-destructive and manic fury.
Why,
oh why didn’t she confide in me?

Her tires sprayed gravel as she screeched into the
farm driveway. She barely made it out of the car. Overwhelming nausea doubled
her over beside the forsythia, and she lost her lunch.