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“What’s the damage, James?” Rafe said.
The fireman looked at Jane. “Did you store a jerry can in your car?”
She shook her head and frowned. “No.”
James sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Then I’m gunna go with arson.”
Anchoring his hands on his hips, Scott hung his head and swore. “Shit.”
“I’ll have to do an official investigation, mind you, to be absolutely certain,” James continued, “But I saw what looks to be the remains of a jerry in the front seat.”
“That’ll be what blew the windscreen out,” Abby said. “When the pressure in the can blew.”
The old fiery grunted. “Whomever it was probably thought the whole car would explode. Thank Christ for the dumb ones. That said, it could have been a lot worse. Well done, you lot, for keeping it under control until we got here. The last thing any of us needs at this time of year is a fire getting away from us.”
“Why would someone do this?”
Small and shaky, Jane’s voice drifted down to him, and Rafe scrambled to his feet and took her in his arms. Holding her tight, he stroked her hair, cooed softly in her ear, “It’ll be all right, baby.”
“No, it won’t,” she said, peering up at him, her voice edging into hysterical. Tears stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes. “Someone obviously wants to hurt me. I just wish I knew why.”
Scott stepped closer, his expression tight. “Let’s talk inside.”
Rafe led Jane, Scott and James into the kitchen where they all sat down.
“I think you should get Jane out of town for a while,” Scott said. “It’s obviously not safe for her here.”
Jane’s mouth twisted in irritation and Rafe knew she’d put up a fight. She wouldn’t be chased from her home. And as much as the Neanderthal inside him wished to toss her over his shoulder and demand she do as she was told, he’d support her decision.
“It won’t be safe for her anywhere until whomever is doing this is caught. Leaving town isn’t going to help.” The twisting of Jane’s lips morphed into an appreciative smile instead.
“Then what do you suggest, Rafe?” the copper threw at him, slamming his hand on the table. “This wacko has escalated from graffiti to arson in a day, and I am no closer to figuring out who the fuck it is, where the fuck they are, or what they hope to achieve beyond scaring the crap out of Jane.” He pushed himself back in his chair. “It’s just me and one constable for the whole bloody town. We’re not equipped for this.”
“Settle down, son,” James interjected, always the voice of reason. “Yelling and screaming won’t help you figure this out any faster.” Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms over his beefy chest and stared at Jane, his gaze shrewd. Rafe wanted to shield her from those perceptive eyes, protect her from all of it, but he didn’t know how. “Sweetheart, think hard,” James said kindly. “Who would want to hurt you?”
Hands clenching into fists, Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t have any enemies at work and as far as I know I don’t have any enemies socially. I try to get along with everyone. In fact I make a point of getting along with everyone because the world is a shitty place and more people should try to get along and of course I have run-ins with people—who doesn’t?—but nothing that warrants this sort of retaliation.
“And the only people I can think of whomighthavewanted to hurt me already did that when they stole all my money and flew off into the sunset together so unless Sleazebag Sam and Fake-Tits McGee are back in town, I honestly don’t have the foggiest fucking clue who’s doing this.”
Resting his hand over her fist, Rafe squeezed gently until she relaxed her fingers and threaded them through his. Then he noted the look of shell-shock on the other men’s faces.
Jane’s verbal vomit bordered on legendary within the community, but not many people had ever experienced it first-hand. What Scott and James had just witnessed was pretty tame, comparatively speaking, but obviously more than they’d bargained for.
You never forget your first time….
“Sorry,” she muttered, looking away as colour bloomed on her cheeks. “I can be overly wordy when I’m stressed. Or excited. Or hungry. Or, you know, awake.”
Hating the embarrassment he saw etched across her face, Rafe hauled Jane into his lap, settled his arms around her waist and nuzzled her cheek.
“You’ve done nothing to be sorry for.”
Jane turned her head to face him and gnawed at her lower lip. Worry bracketed her mouth and unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and Rafe knew she was barely holding it together. He knew because that was exactly how he felt, sitting in his kitchen, frightened for his family.
And there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about it.
After a beat of awkward silence, Scott cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said, then looked at Rafe. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “What about me?”
