RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (31 page)

That
smile faded as soon as I’d had the thought. Was that what Gunner and I would
be, in the end? A handful of memories? One or two nights of passion, and then
back to the real world where people like us weren’t allowed?

And
how the hell had it come to this, anyway? I’d wanted to keep him at arm’s
length. I’d wanted out of his house. I’d wanted him out of my life. Yet here we
were, closer than ever before.

You
sneaky son of a bitch. How
the fuck did you get into my heart?

I
shut off the shower and grabbed one of the super plush towels from the rack,
then another for my hair. Once I’d twisted it up over my scalp, I wiped down
the bathroom mirror. My phone was blinking.

I
picked it up, expecting another message from
Chel
, or
maybe a sexy text from Gunner. He’d made mention of wanting me to ache for him
while he was gone. Wanted me to be a good girl and wait for him to get back
before scratching that itch he’d instilled in me. He was probably busy waxing
his engine or something, but hey, a girl could dream.

Except
what I saw on my screen wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, coming from a
blocked number.

O
Rose thou art sick.

The
invisible worm,

That
flies in the night

In
the howling storm:

Has
found out thy bed

Of
crimson joy:

And
his dark secret love

Does
thy life destroy.

I
held my breath, as if some part of me knew there was more.

And
there was. Not a moment later, like he knew I was standing there in that
bathroom reading his texts, he sent another.

YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER,
TANYA.

Chapter 15

Gunner

I
pressed the new phone into Tanya’s hand, looking her right in the eye.

“No
calls. The only people you’re allowed to call from now on are the police and
me.”

I’d
gone down to the convenience store on the corner and bought my stepsister one
of those pre-paid burner phones you always heard about in spy movies. It was
nothing glamorous, but I knew no one would be able to trace her number, so long
as she wasn’t stupid.

And
she wasn’t stupid. Which begged the question of why the hell she was acting
like she was.

It
still boggled my mind how that freak could have gotten a hold of her phone—the
phone she’d only just bought, and with
my
credit card, no less—in order to clone it. That was the going theory, anyway.
I’d watched enough TV to know that people only needed your phone for a second,
then
boom
—they could read every
message and hear every phone call. I hated how easy it was for creeps like this
to do what they did.

“But
what if he does it again?” she asked. I could see the worry etched all over her
face as she looked at the block of ancient tech I’d handed her. I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d seen a flip-phone, let along one that big.

“He
won’t be able to do any of that stuff so long as you don’t make any calls to
anyone but the cops or me. Those things can’t be traced.”

“You’re
sure?”

“As
sure as I can be.”

Tanya
nodded, heaving a great, big sigh before she glanced over at her old phone
still lying on the table. I’d told her to turn it off and take the battery out
of it—making it all the harder for anyone to find her.

You can’t run forever.

I
could only hope that it had been a bluff, some big scare tactic to make my
sister panic all the more. But I couldn’t take that chance.

“No
opening the door, either. Not for anyone.”

“Okay,”
she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t know what else I could do
to keep her safe—to keep that monster from doing God knows what to her.

“I’m
going to talk to a friend of mine to see if he can make this investigation go a
little bit faster.”

“A
cop?” she asked. She sounded pretty hopeful.

“No,
not anymore. He’s a PI, but he knows the system and he knows what buttons to
press.”

Tanya’s
worried expression never left her, my assurances having little effect to boost
her confidence. Somehow I had to make her think that everything would be
okay—despite all evidence to the contrary.

“I
just feel like all of this is never going to end—that it’s all my fault. I feel
like I dragged you into something you should never have gotten involved it.
You’re taking all of
my
problems on
your shoulders when I should be the one who takes care of this.”

I
shook my head, resting my hands on both her shoulders.

“None
of this is your fault, Tanya. You shouldn’t have to deal with some freak
pretending that you belong to him—some weirdo in a mask playing like he’s the
Phantom of the Opera. You don’t deserve to be in this mess.”

“But—”

“No.
None of this is your fault, and I don’t even want you thinking that I shouldn’t
be helping you. I love you, Tanya, and I’m going to make sure this asshole gets
locked up for good.”

“Maybe
we should just let the police take care of it—what if he hurts
you
, what will happen then, if you’re
hurt and I’m left all alone. I don’t think I can handle if I lost you, Gunner.
I can’t lose you
and
Mom.”

“I
told you I won’t let that happen. I’m going to keep your safe. I tried to talk
to the detectives, but they’re dragging ass on this. No leads, no suspects. You
think I’m just going to let this go?”

Tanya
smiled, blinking at
my
through the tears as she rested
her cheek against one of my hands. I brushed my thumb over her skin, wiping
away the trails of moisture her sadness had left behind.

“My
hero.”

I
tried to give her an encouraging smile, but all I could manage was a grimace.
More than ever I felt connected to Tanya, almost like our bond had evolved into
something I’d never thought I’d have in my life—love. And I wasn’t about to let
that get taken from me by some mouth-breather.

 
“I should get going. I’m meeting my
friend at a restaurant to talk about what he’s found out so far.”

“Okay,”
Tanya said, wrapping her arms around herself almost like she’d gotten a sudden
chill. Maybe she was feeling the same emptiness that I was feeling. “Just make
sure you call me. I don’t want to find out you got killed or something on the
news.”

“I’ll
be fine,” I said, giving her an optimistic smile before I turned around and
headed out the door. I only hoped I was right.

My
friend Simon and I had gone to community college together—not the most glamorous
of institutions, but it got me the education I needed to become a firefighter.

Simon,
on the other hand, became a cop—at least, for a few years. After he was denied
his detective’s shield, he decided that he’d fair better in the private sector.
And he was right.

I
saw him the moment I walked through the door—he was the guy in the oversized
goat and fedora. It killed me every time the two of us had lunch together, he
loved all that Dick Tracy shit—and so did his clients. They ate it up and even
recommended all their friends. Cheating husbands, fraud, corporate espionage—you
name it, Simon took care of it.

“Gunner!”
he called, waving me over the second he spotted me. I just shook my head as I
sat down in the booth, watching him take a bite of a BBQ-sauce-covered chicken
wing.

“You
still eat this crap?” I asked, waving down the waitress and ordering myself
something off the appetizer menu. “You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“I
could think of worse ways to go,” Simon said, shrugging as he took a drink of
his beer. As unprofessional as I found Simon, it was almost endearing. “How’s
shit with you? I almost didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

I
snorted. “You slept with my date!”

“She
didn’t have your name on her.”

“Yes,
she did,” I replied, laughing.

“Ok,
fine. She was a little weird. Never tattoo someone’s name on your arm, especially
not after the first date!”

“Do
you have something for me, or not?”

Simon
laughed, wiping his mouth on an already stained napkin, careful that none of it
got on his “priceless” coat.

“I
do! And this is
very
interesting. I
mean, there are people who would pay a fortune for the work that I’ve done here
for you today.”

“I’m
still not paying you, Simon.”

“You
hurt my feelings, Gun! This is a favor between friends! I would never ask for
any kind of compensation—”

“I’m
already picking up the bill, Simon. Out with it!” I said, sighing as my order
of mozzarella stick was set down gently in front of me. I gave the waitress a
smile in thanks before I began to eat.

“You
know what you mentioned before? About how this freak talked about killing his
mother?”

“Yeah,
you found something?” my eyebrows raised as I leaned forward. I hadn’t expected
results this fast from Simon.

“Yup.
Unsolved homicide about a year ago—Sandra Williams. COD was asphyxiation. She
had—and I quote
—‘
her panties forced down her throat,
blocking her airway.’ Sounds a lot like what your sister talked about. This
could be our link, my friend.”

I
frowned. “What’d you find out about her?” I had really hoped that whoever was
after my sister had just been trying to sound tough with the whole “I murdered
my mother” line.

“She
was in her early fifties, and
had_.
_._._” He stopped a
second, flipping through something on his phone. “_._._._two kids. Husband left
when they were younger. She had a son named Connor and a daughter named
Chelsea. She liked her ‘C’ names, apparently. Not to mention the brother had a
few temporary restraining orders filed against him and a sealed jury record.”

“What
for?” I asked, dreading the answer. I didn’t like the sound of this one bit. It
was one thing if this guy was just a bit off, but from what Simon was saying,
he was almost a dead match for Tanya’s stalker.

“Your
favorite—arson.”

I
sighed, pressing my head into my hands. This was just perfect. It was like the
pieces of a puzzle all falling into place, all pointing to this guy, Connor.

“Tanya
has a friend named Chelsea. She was talking with her right before she got that
fucking text.”

“You
think she might be involved in all of this?” Simon asked, taking another bite
off of a drumstick.

“She
just might. Or at least, she might know what the fuck is wrong with her
brother. You have an address?”

“I
have one for her, but not for the brother, and once I’m done with my lunch, we
can—”

“Now,
Simon. Not later.”

“How
about letting me get a to-go box then, yikes! Impatient, much?” He picked up
his plate and carried it over to the counter, grumbling all the way. I wanted
to get out of here and get to this girl Chelsea’s house as soon as possible.

I
left a couple of twenties on the table, more than enough to cover Simon’s
enormous plate of wings and the tip while he shoveled every scrap of meat he
could into a box. Something deep down told me that if we waited any longer,
something bad was going to happen.

---THE FLAME---

Firemen
in this town stood out like sore thumbs.

It
wasn’t the uniform or the gear. It wasn’t the crappy cars they drove. It was in
everything they did. Everything they were. The way they walked and talked; the
ubiquity of their swagger. It was all over them like a putrid stench. They
lived and breathed
firefighter.

And
here came one now, sauntering through the hotel doors fresh from handing the
valet his keys, the ones that went to a Volvo straight out of the nineties.
Dark hair, medium build. An older man, one of the rough sorts.

He
was sinew and muscle. That was fine by me. Agility beat raw power every time.
As long as you didn’t get hit, at least.

The
hard part was ending up in the same elevator with him and not making it look
intentional. Firefighters weren’t cops. They didn’t have the nose for the job.
But they weren’t too far removed, either. Fruit from the same rotten tree. I
couldn’t let him get suspicious. I couldn’t allow him to even get a whiff of
what I had planned. I had to be something other—other than a criminal, other
than an arsonist. Other than myself.

Deception.
Lies. I knew all about those. So did William Blake. So did my mother.

How
could she have deceived me so completely? How could she have pretended to be
dead, only to rise again in the body of that stripper—that
whore?

My
hands were shaking as I slipped into the elevator just ahead of the fireman. It
was the only elevator currently on that floor, and I sure as shit knew he
wasn’t about to take the stairs all the way up to that whore’s room. I played
it cool as the doors began to close, idly tapping a few buttons on my cell
phone.

“Wait!”
the fireman cried. “Wait! Hold the doors!”

I
looked up, wide-eyed, and hit the button. The doors stopped closing and bounced
back open, and the firefighter stopped running and sighed.

“Jeez.
Thanks, kid.”

“Welcome,”
I told him as he entered the car with me.

I
hit the button for Tanya’s floor. I’d enquired at the front desk about their
honeymoon suites, so I knew where it was. Maybe I didn’t have the exact room
number, but I didn’t need it. Not with the fireman here.

The
bitch’s stepbrother was one of them. No doubt he’d sent this man to guard her.
It was a stupid move with someone like me watching. Then again, everyone I knew
had always underestimated me.

“Where
to?” I asked casually.

The
fireman glanced at the buttons. Furtively, I eyed him. The clothes wouldn’t be
a perfect fit, but they’d do.

“You
got it,” he said after a moment. He let out a little laugh. “Some coincidence,
huh?”

I
didn’t tell him there was no such thing—that everything, absolutely
everything
, happened for a reason.
Death, life, rebirth: it was all controlled by fate. Destiny. For some men,
that meant a long life with plenty of money and love and women. For the rest of
us, it meant getting justice whenever we could.

Fate
played dirty, but I was used to its tricks. I knew how to game the system. And
by sending this firefighter to me in my hour of need, fate had sacrificed one
of its precious pawns.

I
smiled at him, all teeth. “Some coincidence,” I agreed.