Page 53 of Burning For You

“Nope.” Just like when he looked around at the neighbors outside, some frightened, chilled, crying, others just watching the show.

But he only saw one person.

“Goddammit,” he muttered and stood up to walk to Skye.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Just exhausted. You should be in bed.” He looked up at the sky. “I don’t even know what time it is.”

She turned her phone around. Three a.m.

“I’ll sleep tomorrow. Once I get this written.”

He snorted. “Skye, no one is going to talk to you tonight. You know that, right?”

“I know. I got some pictures and interviewed the neighbors and who called it in.”

“How do you know who it was?”

“Because I heard people talking, introduced myself and they talked. They said their dog was barking and woke them up. Their bedroom is on the other side of the house, so didn’t notice the flashing from the flames, but came downstairs and noticed it right away, called it in and moved their car out into the road after.”

“That’s stupid of them to get in their car and move it,” he said.

“I’m sure they weren’t thinking that,” she said.

“Come on, guys. Load ‘em up.”

Her hand reached out, landed on his quickly, then dropped away. “Hey, try to get some sleep.”

“That won’t happen until I get in my own bed now.”

He turned and walked away even if every part of him wanted to both lecture her for being there to get a story, and kiss her for being concerned.

“Now that was fun.”

It was worth every hour of circling the streets, hunting for the right place, the right homes without the telltale blink of doorbell cameras, or at least a blind spot big enough to slip through. Houses packed close enough to share heat and maybe share the same fate.

He hadn’t expected it to shoot up like a Roman candle. The rush surprised him. How fast the fire climbed, how hard his pulse kicked in response. He wanted more of that.

He needed it!

And the chaos? The chaos was the best part. Sirens flashing, shouting from the worker bees and scared bystanders, bodies running in every direction, all of them desperate to keep it contained, to make sure everyone got out alive.

He rocked back on his heels, his breath hitching as a laugh slipped free.

“Hehehehe.”

To think, just last week he’d stood watching the truck burn, satisfied with his handiwork and the thought he was throwing them off his tail, until the whispers started.

That someone else started the other fire.

No.

No one was copying him.

They called it an accident. Maybe it was. But he’d seen how close the flames had been to the house, how easily it could have jumped, how quickly everything could have spiraled.

That was what he’d been missing.