Flashback (14 page)

A
IDAN LAY ON HIS BACK
, a hot, naked, still quivering Kenzie in his arms, and let her words soak in.

She'd missed him.
“Kenz?”

“Mmm.” Her face was pressed against his throat, her mouth sending shivers of delight down his spine even now, when his bones had turned into overcooked noodles and he couldn't have moved to save his life.

Well, except a certain part of his anatomy, which appeared to have segregated from his brain. That part moved. That part wanted round two.

And possibly round three, please.

Kenzie lifted her head and looked at him, all sleepy-eyed and still glowing. Waiting for him to speak.

He found himself cupping her face, and bringing it in for a kiss that lingered.

And deepened.

“I missed you, too,” he whispered against her lips.

She pulled back and closed her eyes.

Staring down at her, he let out a breath. Okay. So she hadn't meant it. It'd just been the heat of the moment talking. He supposed he could understand that. Had to understand that. After all, the moment had gotten pretty damn heated. “It's all right.” God, listen to him lie. “I get it.”

Across the room sat his laptop, with answers. Or so he hoped. “We'd better get up.” He was relieved to note that his voice seemed to sound normal, that he was still breathing and that the heart she'd just stabbed was apparently still in working order.

Even if it was bleeding all over the place. Internal carnage…

But he had no one to blame but himself for opening it up to her in the first place. She'd warned him, hadn't she? She'd warned him and he'd been cocky enough not to believe it possible.

“Aidan?”

He managed to look at her.

“I
did
miss you. I missed this. But…”

“But life intrudes. I get that, too.”

She looked into his eyes, sighed, then slipped from the bed. Gloriously naked, she walked to his computer. Lit only by the glow of the screen, she afforded him a particularly fine view. “Huh,” she said, and bent over a little so that her fingers could move over the keyboard.

She was absolutely clueless about the picture she made in green glowing profile, with her hair wild around her head, a whisker burn from his face across a breast and her ribs, and her very sweet ass looking good enough to bite.

“That's odd,” she muttered, her fingers moving faster, the furrow between her eyebrows deepening as she frowned.

He opened his mouth to ask what was odd, but she bent a little farther and he couldn't gather enough working brain cells to do anything but stare. Her spine was narrow and pretty, and his gaze followed it down past the indention of her waist and the gentle flare of her hips to one of his favorite parts of a woman's anatomy. Her legs were spread slightly, her thighs taut, allowing him a peek of the treasure between—

“Aidan?”

At the tone, he managed to squelch the lust.
Barely.
Rising, he walked up behind her. Also naked. Curling his body around hers from behind, a good amount of that lust came barreling back, hitting him like a freight train. He couldn't help it. His chest was against her back, her world-class ass pressed into his crotch. His hands went to her hips, one slipping around to her ribs, his fingers just brushing the underside of her breast. Pressing his lips to the side of her neck, he let his hand skim up, gliding over her nipple, which hardened gratifyingly in his fingers.

Oh, yeah.

His other hand slid to her belly and began a southward descent—

“Look.” Catching his hand, she pointed to an opened Excel worksheet. She had brought up an interesting list. “My mysterious caller said to look at the demos,” she told him. “I didn't know what he meant, but all the burned buildings have been razed to the ground. I saw the photos in Zach's file—not all of those buildings were severely damaged.”

With great difficulty, he frowned at the computer and not at her nude body, his hands still full with warm, sweet, sexy-as-hell woman. “It's true,” he said. “But the properties were demolished anyway. Except for the last two.”

“On whose orders?”

“The records have been sealed.”

“Why?”

“That's the question. Zach tried to get the answer to that and it cost him.”

Forcing his concentration from her body, he took in the worksheet in front of him. “Pretty impressive information here.” Blake had been busy.

So had he been keeping track of his own handiwork, along with what happened to each property after the fires?

“Who has the power to order a demolition of a burned property?” Kenzie asked him.

“The owner, anyone acting on the behalf of an owner or the fire department, if the property is deemed unstable or unsafe for any reason.”

She pulled free and went for her clothes, which were strewn across the room. He watched with great regret as she found the pieces one by one and covered up that gorgeous bod.

With a sigh, he reached for his jeans and slid them on. Back to the grown-up world apparently…“How is it you've never looked through Blake's files before?”

“I never thought to. We regularly sent each other files, just in case. It was our backup system.”

“What did you send him?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Rough drafts of stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“I've been writing. Scripts.” Another lift of her shoulder. “For the day I finally ate too many donuts and didn't get asked to audition anymore.”

“I bet you're a great writer.”

“Really?”

He thought about how deeply she felt things, how good she was with words, and nodded.

Looking touched, she smiled. “Thanks.”

“How long ago did he send you this file?”

“He sent me a backup file every week. We were supposed to keep only the latest version for each other, but I was always too lazy to go back and delete the week before, so I should have them all—” She stared at him for a beat before whipping back to the computer. Her fingers raced over the keys as he bent his head close to hers, looking at what she brought up.

An entire list of arson-related backup files from Blake, starting shortly after the first suspicious fires, until the day before he died.

“So,” she said slowly. “Either he was a damned stupid felon, or he was investigating the arsons himself.”

Her tone made it clear which she believed.

“Or,” he said softly, knowing she was going to hate him. “He's keeping track of the arsons for a partner.”

She looked at him again, her eyes cooling to, oh, about thirty-five degrees below zero.

“Open the first file.”

Without a word, she clicked on it. It was a Word document, a diary of notes with a running commentary. The first read:

Kenzie read the entry out loud, twice, then scrolled down to the next entry, several weeks later.

Kenzie whipped her gaze to Aidan. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Sounds like a threat,” he said grimly.

“Blood is thicker than water,” she repeated. “Who is he talking about? We have no family. At least no family who cares about us, anyway.”

He hated the look on her face, the faraway, distant, self-protective look she got whenever she had to talk about her past. There was no doubt, she and Blake had had it rough growing up, being shuffled from one foster home to another. The saving grace was that they'd been kept together. It was what had made their bond so strong—they'd been all each other had had. “Is there possibly a blood relative somewhere?”

“A few, scattered here and there across the country. A great-aunt in Florida, an uncle in Chicago, a cousin in Dallas…” She crossed her arms, closing him out mentally and physically. “Just no one who wanted us.”

Gently he turned her to face him. “Could he be talking about you, then?”

“Definitely not. We were in touch all during that time, but we never had a conversation about any of this.”

Aidan went back to reading the entries, one of which mentioned employee hours. Copies of the schedules were attached. So was Blake keeping track of
his
alibi, or someone's whereabouts?

Blake had somehow gotten Tommy's first official reports on the arsons as well. Aidan and Kenzie discovered that he hadn't been on duty at any of the suspicious fires, a fact that Tommy had apparently considered evidence since it left Blake without an alibi for when the fires had been lit. Aidan scrolled down the list.

“Whoa, stop.” Kenzie pointed to the second fire. “There. That one can't be right. He had an alibi for that one, he was with me. He'd come to Los Angeles that week. I remember because he was my date for the Emmys. He flew home immediately after, catching a red-eye because he said he had to be back at work for an early shift.”

“Okay.” Aidan pulled up the employee schedule for that day. “But he's not listed as on duty.”

Kenzie stared at the screen, shaking her head. “He wouldn't have lied to me.”

She said this with utter sincerity, and Aidan was inclined to absolutely believe because
she
believed. But if Blake
hadn't
lied to Kenzie, then there was only one other explanation.

“The schedule got changed?” she asked.

“It could have happened. Someone traded. Or—”

“Or something physically changed the schedule after the fact,” she said flatly. “And Blake isn't here to defend himself.”

“No, but we are.” He was looking at the screen, until he realized that she wasn't. She was staring at him. “What?”

Her eyes were shimmering brilliantly with anger and something else, a deep, gut-wrenching emotion. “I didn't think it was possible.” Her voice sounded thick. “I didn't want it to be possible. Oh, God.” She covered her face. “This is so stupid.”

“What?” He looked at the screen again, trying to figure out what she was talking about.
“What's stupid?”

“That I could like you more than last time.”

The words reached him as little had in all these years. “Kenz.” Melting, he pulled down her hands. “I—”

She put a finger in his face. “Don't get excited. I don't want to feel this way, and I'm telling you right now I
am
going to fight feeling this way.”

His heart was squeezed tighter than a bow. “We were just kids, Kenz.”

“And now we're not. It doesn't change anything except we're older, and
actually,
it's going to hurt more.” Jaw tight, she shook her head again and looked at the screen. “This first. Blake first. He's far more important than rehashing old emotions that I don't really want to have.” She worked the keyboard. “There. He's not on the schedule there, either, but he called me from the station. I know because it was my birthday, see? And he called me at 6:00 a.m. to catch me before work, but I didn't have an early morning shoot that day, and I was irritated that he woke me up. I'd been up late the night before celebrating.”

“With Chad?”

She swiveled her eyes in his direction. “Actually, Teddy. Teddy White.”

“Wasn't he on
People's
Most Beautiful list?”

“How do you know that?”

He knew it only because someone had stolen the porn out of the station bathroom, and Cristina had left her
People
magazine in there in its place, and—And Christ. He was crazy. “Never mind.”

“It was just a one-night thing.”

Oh, great.
Even better. Now he could picture them having one-night sex, and—

“He's a friend.”

A friend, as in someone who'd pulled her out of a fire? Someone who'd bail her out of jail?

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I realize the word
friend
is a loose term, especially in Hollywood. Not like here.”

“Do you miss it? Hollywood?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it and sighed. “I almost said yes, out of habit. The job is fun and the pay is amazing, but…” She lifted a shoulder. “It's empty. And I didn't really get that until I was here, either.”