Cuff Master (33 page)

“Yes we will, partner.”

Ethan ran upstairs, took his gun out of the special safe,
strapped it into place and grabbed Morgan’s coat, returning to the kitchen to
get his and Morgan’s cellphones.

Sam was already outside. “My car, partner,” she declared,
jingling her key ring.

Ethan was fine with that. “I’ll get in the back with
Morgan.”

Sam had parallel parked the police-issued unmarked cruiser
on the street. Morgan was all buckled in. She’d stowed her coffee in a cup
holder. Her silence made Ethan angrier.

She was hurting and withdrawn. He put on his seatbelt,
wishing he could do something to change the course of events that changed the
open, loving expression she’d had early that morning.

“Honey, don’t be mad at me,” he urged softly.

“I’m not mad at you, Ethan. This isn’t your fault.”

“Then why do I feel that way? You won’t look at me. You
barely let me touch you.”

Morgan finally looked at him. “I’m ashamed,” she admitted,
tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

Ethan’s partner was in the driver’s seat and they were on
their way. He ignored everything but Morgan. Cupping her cheek to wipe away her
tears, he leaned in very close.

“Why should you be ashamed?”

“Because…because I wasn’t there when Grandma needed me.”

“Honey, she can’t be hurt.” Morgan’s face froze, revealing
that Ethan had said the wrong thing. He hadn’t meant to. Now what was he to do?

“You think because she’s a ghost that she can’t feel pain or
be afraid? Enchanted Treasures was her home. I assure you, she is hurting from
the loss. And if there’s a chance Remy’s an arsonist, I’ve failed to realize
what kind of man he is and let it happen.”

Ethan wrapped her up as close to him as the seatbelt
allowed. “We don’t know it was Remy.”

“Aren’t you thinking it anyway?”

“I admit I’m worried. Call him now, Morgan. There’s a whole
lot of shit coming down the pike regarding Jenna Bailey’s case. I’m going to do
a background search this afternoon to see if Remy could have had any connection
with the Bailey family.”

Morgan sat up a little. Ethan handed over her cellphone. She
punched in a few numbers, letting it ring. “Don’t forget he was supposed to be
going to Nevada with Eve.”

Eve Stratham, Bartholomew Stratham’s heiress. Ethan didn’t
know Eve well at all. He’d only met her because she’d been invited to Cassie
and Phalen’s wedding at the last minute. She had been reserved, possibly
because New England gossip painted her as the spoiled daughter of a
billionaire.

After a few minutes and a couple of redials, Morgan tossed
her phone in frustration. “I can’t get ahold of either Remy or Eve. It could be
that their phones are in an area that doesn’t have cellphone service.”

“What kind of town doesn’t have cell towers?”

“One that thrives on secrecy,” Morgan answered.

“Keep trying to call. Eventually they’ll get to a hotel or
motel with service.”

“Let’s hope so. I don’t want to be wrong about Remy. If he’s
somehow involved in this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Ethan put his arm around her. Morgan let him, but the
seatbelt kept her rigid and he couldn’t jeopardize her safety by unbuckling it.

Grateful that Sam was driving and she’d turned up the volume
on the police radio, giving their location to the operator since they were
technically on the clock, Ethan placed a kiss on Morgan’s temple and nuzzled
gently.

Fortunately, Morgan let him stay close. She was still tense.
He didn’t blame her. He was feeling guilty himself. Taran had been trying to
call and he’d not known it.

His solace at the moment was the knowledge that Taran hadn’t
called while Ethan had Morgan tied up in the dungeon. He didn’t want her to
equate their first night in there with negativity or tragedy.

Maybe if he’d not fallen asleep, he’d have known something
was wrong. For the first time, he wished he had Morgan’s psychic abilities,
even though he knew that right now she doubted hers.

He didn’t want her to doubt anything, not him, her gift or
her connection to her grandmother. He hoped to God that Remy wasn’t responsible
for hurting Morgan. One thing he’d do when he got the chance was run a
background check on Remy and see if there was a history of setting fires.

Ethan would find out the truth and soon. He had to. Morgan
could be in danger. He also felt certain that the recent fires were connected
to the Jenna Bailey case.

If there was a chance that someone other than Terrence Mills
set the fire at the warehouse, Ethan and Samantha had to figure out who it was
before someone else got hurt.

And pray that whatever they found or learned didn’t overturn
Mills’ conviction.

Morgan thought her throat had turned into concrete. It was
so sore and raw from crying. She’d tried to fortify herself with coffee, except
any time she’d attempted to sip from her cup, the scent made her a little queasy.

The only thing that kept her grounded at the moment was
Ethan. Mad as she was, she knew in her heart that he wasn’t responsible for the
fire or for the fact that Remy had become a person of interest in the incident
that happened to her at the castle.

Samantha navigated Boston traffic with ease, getting them to
the highway that led to Salem. Twenty minutes later they were taking the exit
into town. A few tricky turns later, they reached the narrow drive leading to
the quartet of businesses on the same square shared by Enchanted Treasures.

The acrid smell of smoke permeated everything. The black,
charred remains of what had been an historical landmark still smoldered. Two
big fire trucks and police cars were parked on the lot, preventing curious
bystanders from getting too close.

Samantha flashed her badge at an officer standing in the way
of her cruiser. He stepped aside and waved her on.

Staff from Cassie’s diner were milling about. Firefighters
were busy spraying water from hoses at anything that might spark back to life.
Even though the morning sky promised rain, they weren’t taking any chances.

Morgan didn’t blame them. They couldn’t risk having stray
embers cross the parking lot and endanger Book Haven Diner, Ink Master’s tattoo
shop or the gym.

Through a blur of tears she saw the devastation that
remained of her business, but she couldn’t move. She was aware Ethan had
unbuckled their seatbelts. Saw that Samantha had climbed out and heard Taran
Maddox speaking loudly.

She still couldn’t move. The pain of realizing her
livelihood and Grandma Everhart’s home was gone tore her heart in two.

“Morgan, when you’re ready, we’ll go talk to the
firefighters,” Ethan said gently, his arm coming around her shoulders.

Sadly, she was as aware of him as she always was, but his
touch felt stiff and angry. She didn’t think he was mad at her. He was as upset
about the fire as she was. Yet the stiffness somehow made her feel guiltier.

How could she not have known? Had she been so absorbed in
sex with Ethan that Grandma couldn’t reach her? Her abilities had been strong
while she’d been celibate. What if she had to give up sex to regain them?

“Morgan?” Ethan said, softer this time.

“I heard you,” she answered. “I’m not ready. Dammit, if this
is because of us, because of the lifestyle we’re engaging in, Grandma has the
right to be angry.”

“Don’t say that. The fire was not our fault. It’s not your
fault.”

“Maybe we should go back to being celibate for a while. At
least when I’m not having sex with you, I can stay in touch with my gifts. I
can’t lose them, Ethan.” Even as she heard herself speak, Morgan saw how her
words hurt him, but she couldn’t withdraw them.

Ethan wrapped his arms around her tighter. “You haven’t lost
your gifts, Morgan Maddox!”

“You forget that I’m not a Maddox. I’m an Everhart.”

“You’re damn well going to be a Maddox. Don’t turn your pain
into resentment for what we have together. There’s no shame in our love or sex.
Maybe Grandma Everhart didn’t contact you last night because she knew you were
safe with me.”

“Right now, all I feel is shame. A little over an hour ago,
my only concern was my next orgasm. And here my life lies in ruins, my friends’
businesses could have burned down. I missed the signs. I should have seen it
coming to prevent it.”

“What do you want me to do, Morgan? How can I make it
better?” Ethan wouldn’t let her scramble out of his arms.

As nice as it felt to be held, she felt cornered, afraid and
angry at the unfairness of it all. What she needed was air.

“Time away,” she answered.

“Time away from what?”

“You and me. Tonight I’m going home to my apartment, alone.”

“Like hell you are,” Ethan exclaimed, letting her go.

“Watch me, Ethan. You can’t tie me up and make me sleep with
you.”

“Last night proved that I can,” he stated harshly. “If you
want to sleep in your apartment, fine, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Fuck off,” she cursed, suddenly needing to breathe without
him so close. “You come near my apartment, I’ll bolt every door and have you
arrested for trespassing. At the very least give me one night to figure out
what the hell I want or if I really do want you at all.”

Morgan escaped the confines of the car, regretting her rash
words the minute she slammed the car door. The air reeked of smoke. A thin
layer of black soot covered everything. It was fortunate no other businesses
had been set on fire.

Heartbroken beyond words, she approached what had once been
the front entrance of her business. A fireman in full gear quickly stepped in
front of her.

“I’m sorry, you can’t go near the building,” he warned
gently. “There are still some hot embers.”

“This is…was…my place,” Morgan said.

Ethan strolled up next to her, standing beside her as he’d
always done. Even though she’d literally told him to fuck off, he was there. He
was angry at her, but spoke to the fireman quietly, getting the details of the
fire and why they concluded arson.

She figured Ethan had the right to be mad. When she could
think clearly, she’d apologize. In her heart, she knew it’d been wrong to blame
the fire on their love.

She still didn’t understand why Grandma didn’t come to warn
her. As she speculated, she tried to mentally reach out to her grandmother and
was distracted by the scent of apples.

The scent grew stronger, zeroing in on the smoke and ashes
all over the place and evaporating it. Caught in the moment, Morgan saw herself
reach out.

Ethan caught her hand, causing the fresh orchard scent to
waver. “No, let go,” she murmured to him. “Something’s here, someone is here.
Jenna, I think it’s Jenna.”

“Who is Jenna?” the fireman asked. “There was no one in the
building, ma’am, no lives lost. Unfortunately, there was a vehicle lost to the
fire. No one was in it as far as we could tell.”

“She’s a young friend of ours. We’re relieved no one was
hurt,” Ethan answered, drawing Morgan away.

Only after they were safely away from the smoking rubble did
Ethan let go of her. “Do your thing, honey,” he granted, miraculously seeming
to understand what she needed.

Something was off. As strong as the smell of apples was, it
was different now. She didn’t feel the presence of another soul. What she
needed to do was touch something. She couldn’t because it would burn her.

Oddly, her teary vision cleared. She hadn’t lost her gifts
after all! Along the ground was a path made of apples, fresh autumn-ripe apples
picked from an orchard. Following the red and green path, she walked toward
Cassie’s diner.

She was very aware of the diner, of Phalen’s tattoo shop and
the crowd around her. Ethan stayed close, although he didn’t risk touching her.

Morgan continued, winding her way to a small alley between
hers and Cassie’s place, where they parked their cars in winter months when
plow trucks needed access to the bigger lot.

There she saw the burned skeleton of what had once been a
gorgeous red Corvette, Remy’s car. The one the fireman told them about.

Heat from the fire had melted the tires. A black trail led
right from the car to Morgan’s business. How Cassie’s diner had been spared,
she had no idea.

“Oh hell no,” Ethan exclaimed, rushing toward the car. “Stay
back, Morgan.”

Obeying his authority, Morgan stilled but kept her eyes on
the car. Here the smell of apples increased. The path she’d been following
circled the car. Firefighters and crime scene techs had already discovered the
car, as it was cordoned off by tape.

Aware that Ethan was walking around the Corvette, she
noticed he didn’t touch it. He called out. His voice sounded loud. She barely
heard it.

A parade of footsteps came up to the car. From the sound,
Morgan knew it was firefighters, a host of them. A uniformed officer stepped
forward, the back of his coat indicated that he was the Salem fire inspector.

The man managed to open what was left of the trunk with a
crowbar, looked around and signaled for a crime scene tech to look inside.

Morgan shook her head. It couldn’t be possible. There
couldn’t be evidence in that trunk that led authorities into thinking Remy did
this.

It just couldn’t be right. “No!” she cried out, drawing the
commotion to a halt.

“Morgan, honey, go back to Sam’s car. The crime scene unit needs
to collect some evidence.”

“That’s Remy’s car.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “Can you try calling him again? If he
doesn’t answer, keep trying. Please.”

“He didn’t do this, Ethan. He wouldn’t do this. Why would
anyone set their own car on fire?”

“It could be that someone set him up.”

“Apples, there are apples all over the place, Ethan.”

“There aren’t any apples,” he said, looking around.

“I realize you wouldn’t see them.”