Savage Ice (Ice Breaker Cold Case #10)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The intruder’s eyes doubled in size. Blue eyes that were about to bulge right out of his head. “S-searching?—”

“Searching for what?” Beau scanned the bedroom. “You leave something behind in the house the first time you were here, bastard?”

The tiniest shake of the intruder’s head. If he’d shaken more, the knife would have sliced him.

“Arson…” A gasp.

“Yeah, we fucking know that,” Beau snapped right back.

“In…investigator!”

“Beau.” Avalon touched his shoulder. “Pull back the knife. I think he’s saying that he’s the arson investigator.”

A quick nod. “Yessssss.” A long hiss. Like a balloon deflating.

“Show me the ID,” Beau snapped. But he did pull back the knife.

With a shaking hand, the man pulled out his wallet. Flipped it open and handed it to Beau. Swearing, Beau finally stepped back and shoved the knife back into his boot.

“OhGodOhGodOhGod.” The dark-haired stranger sucked in a gulp of air. He shoved his shaking hand through his hair.

Beau handed her the ID. A driver’s license was on one side of the wallet and a card identifying the man as arson investigator Colton Ross was on the other.

“Your car wasn’t out front,” Beau snapped.

Colton snatched back the wallet. When he did, Avalon saw the raised scars on the inside of his right hand.

Fire burns. Long healed.

“I pulled up around back because I didn’t want nosey neighbors coming to grill me. This is a closed scene.” Colton’s gaze darted from Beau to Avalon then back to Beau. “You just assaulted me!”

“Uh, correction,” Beau returned without missing a beat. “I just stopped someone I thought was an intruder.”

“I identified myself!”

“Be a little faster next time,” Beau advised.

Colton’s eyes narrowed.

“This is my home,” Avalon interjected because someone needed to calm things way, way down. Fast. “We didn’t realize anyone else was here. I-I came with my boyfriend because I just needed to take a look around.” She eased closer to Beau’s side. “When we heard noise on the second floor, we thought the arsonist had come back. I’m sure you can understand—in light of what happened here—that we were both afraid.”

Colton’s lips tightened. The investigator looked to be in his mid-thirties. Close-cropped, dark hair. Blue eyes. A slightly hawkish nose and a hard jaw. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, ma’am.” The south came and went in his voice.

A flicker of familiarity slid over Avalon.

“But this is a crime scene. You do not have the all clear to be here. I haven’t finished my work.”

“The fire was on the first floor. Why are you up here, in her bedroom?” Beau wanted to know.

Blue eyes blinked.

“Technically,” Beau added as he sized up the other man, “a crime did occur in this room. This is where Slater Wade was lying in wait for Avalon.”

She glanced toward the windows. Her gaze darted around the room. She had a flash of herself fighting the masked attacker. She’d been on the floor. Kicking back at him. Her gaze shifted to the chair near the door. A chair that had fallen to the side. Her taser had been in the purse that she’d put on that chair. Avalon had been so desperate to get the taser. She’d reached it, used it, and Slater had jolted.

Her stare slid over the floor. She could see the fight so clearly in her mind. Every instant felt etched in her memory. More like burned in my head.

“There was no fire up here, though,” Beau continued in a grim tone laced with suspicion. “So what are you looking for in this room?”

Avalon inhaled and pulled in the heavy scent of smoke. The smokey smell was everywhere.

“I believe in being thorough,” Colton responded curtly. “I don’t half-ass any of my jobs. Not the scene here, and not my next target, your bar.”

Target? Her shoulders stiffened.

“I’m very good at my job. But I can’t do it when knives are being shoved at my throat.” Colton straightened to his full height. A height just a little shorter than Beau’s. “You two need to leave, now.”

Getting kicked out of her own house…okay, fine correction—her arson scene of a house—was not the way she’d thought this search would go.

“You lead the way back downstairs,” Beau invited, and she knew he was just as suspicious of the investigator as she was. “And we’ll go.”

Colton groused but turned and began marching out of her bedroom. He didn’t glance back.

She did share a long look with Beau.

“Oh, damn straight, baby,” he breathed as his head dipped toward her and his lips skimmed over her left ear. “We’ll have Lane and Ophelia investigate him the minute we get back to the car.”

Clearly, they were on the same page.

Beau put his body between hers and the arson investigator’s as they headed down the stairs. But she craned her head, and she was able to make out the letters on the back of Colton’s coveralls. Fire Inspector.

Once on the ground floor, Colton crossed his arms over his chest and waited. His impatience was clear. His left foot even tapped against the floor. When Avalon climbed off the last step, her gaze darted toward the den, and then back to him. She hated to leave without more answers. “The fire started on the bookcase.”

His nostrils flared. “I’m not supposed to discuss this case with civilians. I’m supposed to write my report, present it, and then?—”

“It’s clear that the fire burned the hottest there. When we were upstairs that night, I remember hearing a really loud whoosh.” No other way to describe it. “The sound scared the hell out of me.” She’d actually already been scared as all hell, but at that distinct sound, terror had crawled through her.

I’d heard that sound before. A very, very long time ago. Because the night of the fire in New Orleans? She’d heard that same, terrible whoosh as fire raced its way through her home.

Sympathy flashed on Colton’s face. Was that a crack in his armor? A chink she could use to her advantage?

Her lips curved down. “This is my second fire. I lost everything in the first one. I’ve tried to learn about fires since then.”

His right hand rose. Straightened his helmet.

“You start by looking for the origin of the fire. That’s step one, isn’t it?” She edged toward the den. “The bookcase looks like the origin. It burned the hardest.”

“Hottest.” He slipped toward the den, too.

“Because an accelerant was used on the bookshelf?”

His gaze was on the bookshelf. A quick nod. Barely perceptible. “Burn pattern starts there.” Once more, his right hand lifted. A flash of the scars on his palm before his fingers curled in—all except for the index finger that pointed toward the shelf. “You can see it span out. Accelerant was thrown at the shelf. Found pieces of a broken bottle. Would have led to the whoosh sound you heard.”

“Like a…Molotov cocktail?” Avalon asked carefully. That was the one used in all the movies.

“Don’t know what kind of accelerant was in the bottle. But I believe he hit twice. One hit there.” A point of his index finger at the bookshelf. “One there.” His finger swung toward the piano. “Very targeted. Honestly, if he’d wanted the place to go up, there were a lot of better ways to do it. All this did was cause localized damage.” His hand dropped to his side. “This info will be in my report.” A sniff. “And I’m not saying more. Not until I turn that file over to the detectives.”

“Which detectives would that be?” Beau asked casually. “So many work at the PD.”

“Cunninghan usually works on arsons with me. Always has ever since he came to town a few years ago. He’ll get the report first.”

“Thanks so much for the information.” Beau inclined his head toward the investigator. “And my apologies for the mishap with the knife.”

“Mishap?” Colton grunted. “That was no mishap. That was assault.”

Beau’s eyes narrowed. “After the attack on Avalon, I’m sure you can understand I don’t take lightly to strange men appearing in her bedroom. I’m afraid I had a bit of a flashback. Instinct took over.”

“Your instinct is to attack?”

“When I think she’s in danger, absolutely.”

Avalon twisted her hands in front of her body. “It was a mistake. My boyfriend is just extremely protective.”

Colton’s stare swept to Avalon. He nodded. “Yeah, all right. I get it.” Colton swiped his hand over his neck. “No harm done.” His shoulders squared. “But you two need to leave, now.”

They’d pushed as much as they could. “Thank you for the help,” Avalon said.

A curt nod.

She and Beau headed for the broken door.

“I-I know it’s hard.”

Colton’s voice stopped her. She looked back.

“Being trapped in the fire. I know how hard it can be.” He’d lifted his hand again. He opened it toward her. “I don’t go in the fires any longer. I lost my best friend in one. Tried to pull him out but…” His hand clenched. “You make it out of a fire once, you consider yourself damn lucky. You make it out of a fire twice, and I’d say you need to go buy yourself a lottery ticket.”

She and Beau had both made it out twice.

“Don’t go for a third time.” Colton’s gaze dipped to Beau. “It won’t be the charm for either of you. It might just be a death sentence.”

Beau shut Avalon’s car door. He walked slowly around the front of the Jag and tossed a wave to the arson investigator who stood on her porch and watched him.

Colton didn’t wave back. Shocking.

Colton did pull out his phone and make a call. Yep, that guy was not going to be forgetting the scene with the knife anytime soon. That “no harm done” bit? Total BS.

Beau opened the driver’s side door, slid inside, and even before he’d pulled his door shut—“So, at the end there, was he threatening us,” Avalon asked as she gave a little wave to the watching investigator, “or trying to offer friendly advice so that we stayed alive?”

The engine growled to life. “Very hard call to make.” But I’d probably go with option one.

“Uh, huh.”

He got them on the road and away from her house.

“You think he’s phoning Cunningham?”

“Oh, I am one hundred percent sure of that.” Now that was hardly a difficult call to determine.

“Did you know that Cunningham worked the majority of arson cases in town?”

“Not until about five minutes ago, no, I didn’t know that very important fact. Makes sense, though, seeing as how he was the detective questioning you the morning after the fire at your house.”

“Cunningham probably knows a lot about fires. How to start them. How to get away with setting them.”

Beau dipped his head forward. “Again, I am now one hundred percent sure of that fact.” He turned to the right and pulled to a stop on a small cul-de-sac. Quickly, he fired off a text to Lane and Ophelia. He definitely wanted to know more about their arson investigator. The arson investigator had set off Beau’s inner alarms for a variety of reasons. No sign of your car. You were digging in the bedroom. You never told me why you were up there. And I swear, I heard the twang of New Orleans in your voice once or twice.

“You did pull a knife on him,” Avalon noted. “Maybe that’s why he wasn’t quite so cooperative at first.”

She’d gotten the guy to open up. By being all casual and non-threatening. Batting those gorgeous eyes of hers. Pulling on his sympathy. If the man had actually been sympathetic. Beau didn’t trust him for a second. At this point, he was sure most of the world was just hiding behind a mask. “Don’t like that he was in your bedroom.”

“Maybe he was being thorough.”

“Yeah, or maybe he was checking to make sure Slater hadn’t left anything behind that could tie back to him. Maybe—” Beau’s phone rang, cutting through his words.

At first, he thought the call might be from Lane or Ophelia. A response to the text he’d just sent. But, no, the pic flashing on the scene was of Kai. What the hell did his bouncer want at this time of the day? Kai worked nights. Normally. When there was, you know, a bar to actually work at.

What is happening now?

His finger swiped over the screen, and he put the phone to his ear. “Kai, you had better not be calling to tell me that something else is burning. Because I am not in the mood to hear that news.”

“Detectives spent the last hour grilling me,” Kai responded flatly. “I came to LeBlanc’s in order to take a look around. Thought I’d make sure we didn’t have anyone trying to break inside and steal anything.”

“Uh, is there anything left to steal?” Doubtful.

“Not much. Sorry, boss. Shit’s gone to hell here.”

Beau grunted. He’d figured that out when he watched the place burn. “No employees were hurt. That’s what matters.” The fire had been during the day, when the bar was usually closed up tight. The arsonist had counted on no one being there.

But you didn’t count on Lane, did you? He was upstairs. He almost caught you. Almost. So the arsonist had fled the scene…

Or had he?

“You always take good care of your staff.” Kai exhaled on a hard breath that carried over the phone. “That’s why I’m here now. You gave me a place when I needed it. I don’t buy any of the bull that Detective Cunningham was spewing. I know you didn’t burn down your own bar just to collect insurance money.”

Beau’s left hand rose to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Tell me that’s not the theory.”

“What’s he saying?” Avalon asked.

Beau lowered the phone and put it on speaker. “Oh, just the usual,” he answered Avalon. “That jackass detective suspects I burned down my bar for insurance money.”

“I told him it was bull, boss.” Anger vibrated in Kai’s voice. “And I don’t think the pretty lady detective with the red hair bought that theory, anyway. It was mostly Cunningham. Heads up, I don’t think he likes you.”

“Shocking,” Beau rasped. Detective Cuntingham hates me? The feeling is mutual.

“He was questioning me hard, but then he got called away. Something about a dead body being found at another fire? I mean, damn, how many fires are we gonna have in this town? When I decided to move here from Hawaii, no one said it was the arson capital of the world.”

Beau looked over at Avalon. “It’s not.” Someone was just very busy and very dangerous.

She nibbled on her lower lip, then asked, “Did you happen to hear where this fire was?”

“Sweetheart,” Beau whispered. “We already know.” They’d passed the scene earlier.

“I just heard the name Slater mentioned,” Kai recalled. “Does that help any?”

“It does.” Confirmation of Beau’s suspicion. Now, next question, who had died in Slater’s house?

“What else can I do?” Kai pushed. “You need extra eyes on your girl? You want me to take a bodyguard shift? I know how protective you get of her, and with these blazes going down, you have to be about to lose your mind.”

Not his mind. His control.

“Name it,” Kai urged. “Tell me what to do and I am on it, boss.”

“I have eyes on her.” Straight on her. “You keep eyes on the bar. And if you see an arson investigator arrive at LeBlanc’s, you let me know, got it? Text or call right away.”

“Done.”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it. And do me one more favor? If you see a fire, run away from it. Not into it.” Beau exhaled as he hung up the phone.

“Who died in the fire at Slater’s?” Avalon’s low question. “And when is this going to stop?”

When we make it stop.

But before he could say another word, Beau heard the shriek of a siren. One that seemed to be coming closer. “Let’s get home.” He needed to think. To plan.

To have her somewhere safe.

He started the car. Got out of the cul-de-sac.

But he kept hearing the shriek of sirens.

And, soon enough, he saw the flash of blue lights in his rearview mirror. Hell. He’d known this might happen. “Avalon…”

She’d already whipped around to stare behind him. “I see them.”

The cops were closing in. There were lots of ways he could play this scene. After all, it wasn’t his first time to be hunted. But it was his first time having her with him during a hunt. “Ophelia is a lawyer.”

“What?” Her head was still turned to gaze behind them. “I thought she was a PI!”

“She’s both. She’s my lawyer. You’ll need to get her to come to the station when they take me.”

“No one is taking you anywhere!”

Oh, but they were. He slowed down because he wasn’t about to get involved in a car chase with Avalon in the passenger seat, even though he knew the Jag could leave the patrol car in the dust. Her safety always had to come first for him.

“I’ll let them take me in. It has to happen.” If he ran, every cop in the area would chase him. And innocent men weren’t supposed to run.

I’ve never been one hundred percent innocent.

“Why would they want to take you in?”

He was sure there would be plenty of reasons. “Trust me, okay? I want you to call Ophelia as soon as they cuff me. And I want you to take my phone—right now—and I want you to send a text to Royal. He’s my first contact in the phone.”

She grabbed for his phone. “What do I tell him?”

“Code Avalon.”

“What?”

“He’ll stay with you until I get free.”

“You don’t know that they are arresting you!” But from the corner of his eye, he saw her fire off the text.

He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road. “I’ve been through this routine a time or twenty, sweetheart. I know how it will go down.” After rolling down the driver’s side window, he put his hands flat on the dash. “Trust me. Trust Ophelia. Lane. Royal. The people I just listed, but no one else, got it?”

“Beau…”

“And remember that I love you.”

Her mouth dropped open. He would have liked to kiss that beautiful mouth, but two uniformed officers were racing toward his car with their guns drawn.

“Beau LeBlanc!” A shout from the closest cop. “Come out with your hands up!”

He sent Avalon a wink of reassurance. “Totally have this under control.”

“You totally do not.” She’d gone pale.

“Stay in the car, sweetheart. Please.” He opened his door. “I really want to call my friend Ophelia,” he announced as he climbed out. “Don’t want to chat without my good buddy. And, by the way, I have a knife strapped to my ankle.”

The cops leapt for him.