The liquid spilled over Kenton and soaked the sheets beneath him as he struggled. Fear pumped in his blood. So much gasoline.

“She’s coming, you know.” Seth walked around the room, still pouring that gas and slowly making a trail toward the door. “Maybe she’ll save you. Or maybe she’ll just burn with you.” He stilled. “It’s time for that bitch to burn,” Seth whispered.

She’s coming. Kenton’s heart stopped beating. “No, don’t you touch her!”

But Seth just laughed. “I won’t need to.” Gasoline sloshed onto the floor. Lora’s floor. The house she loved. “The fire will do the touching for me.”

“No, no, wait, come back!”

Seth shook his head. “I got to get ready for Lora. She’ll be here soon.” His head cocked. Blood still streamed from his nose but the guy didn’t even seem to be aware of the pain. He walked away and Kenton’s eyes narrowed. Wait, something was different. Kenton couldn’t figure—

The bastard wasn’t limping.

The witnesses had never mentioned a limp, so he hadn’t seriously considered Seth as a suspect. The witnesses had seen him walking—no one had mentioned a limp.

Shit, he hadn’t thought of the guy as the killer, even though the guy had f**king shown him a trophy wall at his office. All those grisly pictures—staring right back at him.

Fucking trophies. Serials always liked to keep a part of their crimes. Seth had kept all the gory photos and put them right out front for the world to see.

The prick had flaunted it right in their faces.

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“Nothing’s wrong with your leg!”

Seth stopped. “Something was wrong.” A shrug lifted his shoulders. “But I got it fixed. About six months ago, I had some surgery and did some rehab for a while.”

And the fires had stopped. While the killer healed, the fires had stopped.

Seth set down the gasoline can and stripped off his shirt. “The limp was fake, but these…” The shirt hit the floor and almost instantly became soaked in the gasoline. “They’re all real.” Long, angry red scars swiped over his arms. “My first.” His fingers traced a lighter line near his left elbow. “But not my last.”

Sick freak. “Lora’s going to bring the cops. She’ll bring my agents! You’re screwed, man, screwed—”

Laughter. Seth picked up the gas can. “No, she won’t bring anyone. I really do know her pretty well. She won’t risk your life.”

“You don’t know a thing about her!”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “I know what her face looks like when she breaks. What she looks like when her world burns and she screams and she begs her lover to live.” He used the back of his right hand to swipe the blood from his mouth. “I saw it, saw her, and it was so damn beautiful.” He turned away and murmured, “Maybe I’ll see all that again.”

“No, come back!” Kenton wrenched his arms, nearly breaking his wrists as he struggled. “Come back!” Because he knew what that bastard was doing.

Setting a trap for Lora.

And using him for the bait.

“Lora wasn’t talking to her brother.” Peter slammed the phone back down on his desk, and Monica turned to face him. “Ryan hasn’t heard from her. Now he’s scared and mad as hell and wants answers.”

Why would Lora lie? Monica knew the answer—to protect Kenton.

“She’s got three brothers,” Garrison said, “Maybe one of—”

“Ben and Jake were there.” Peter gave a negative shake of his head. “None of them called her.”

“She lied,” Hyde fired, gritting his back teeth. “Dammit, she had him on the phone.”

“No.” Garrison was adamant. “If Kenton had called—”

“Not Kenton.” Monica spoke quietly, as her gaze rose to meet Luke’s. She saw the understanding in his gaze. “Phoenix.”

“She would have said something.” Sam’s eyes were huge behind her glasses. Her trembling hands sent paper flying across the desk. “She—Lora would have told one of us. If the guy has Kenton—”

“If the guy has Kenton, that’s exactly why she didn’t say a word.” Luke’s watchful gaze shifted to Sam. Monica knew he saw the same thing that she did on Sam’s face—too much fear. She wasn’t ready to be back in the field.

Garrison’s bushy brows rose up as his fist slammed onto the desk. “If Lora’s gone, she’s trying to save him!”

“Yes,” Monica said, because that was the only explanation that made sense.

“No victims have survived so far.” Hyde’s voice flowed flatly.

Sam flinched.

Kenton. A good man. A good agent. He’d always had her back, and she trusted him completely.

Hyde turned to Garrison. “You almost lost two men at the Randall house.”

“Because he sets the fires to trap ’em! Phoenix is—”

“Seth MacIntyre,” Hyde snapped. “No more fancy names. We’re not dealing with a myth. We’re dealing with a man. A f**ked-up, fire-hungry freak who has my agent.”

Garrison’s shoulders fell. “And my firefighter.”

Lora would be walking into a trap and she knew it.

“Lawrence!” Hyde snapped. “Get your men out there! Start canvassing the streets! She’s probably on foot. She’s—”

“In my truck,” Garrison said, voice subdued, and Monica’s gaze flew back to him. Garrison swallowed. “When we came in, she—she had the keys.”

Finally, a break. Monica’s heart slammed into her chest as she called out the order, “Let’s get an APB out on that truck—make, model, tag!”

As they scrambled, Hyde watched them with his hands tight at his sides and said, “And get us hooked up immediately with 911. If a fire call comes in…” His eyes met Monica’s.

When, not if. They both understood, even if the others didn’t.

Hyde cleared his throat. “When that call comes in, we’re going to be ready.”

Hold on, Kenton.

CHAPTER Twenty

Lora slammed the car door behind her and stared up at her house. Still blocked off by yellow police tape, the sides of the once-white house were charred black. Birds chirped from the trees, and heat rose from the sidewalk in waves. The broken windows in the front of the house had been boarded up. Her brothers must have put up the boards, but those damn boards blocked her from seeing what—who—was inside.




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