Chapter 8
Marco
This diner smells like burnt coffee.
I’m halfway through my eggs when Theo walks in looking like he hasn’t slept. Cole’s already here, hunched over black coffee in the corner booth like he’s trying to disappear into it. The three of us in the same place before seven a.m. is rare enough that Linda, the waitress, raises her eyebrows.
“Somebody die?” she asks, pouring Theo coffee without being asked.
“Just hungry.” Theo drops into the booth beside me, stealing a piece of my bacon. “Morning, guys.”
Cole grunts. I don’t bother responding because Theo knows better than to expect conversation before I’ve finished eating.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Comfortable silence. The kind that comes from knowing someone since you were kids and understanding that sometimes words are unnecessary.
Theo breaks it first. He always does.
“So, the café investigation. Any leads?”
I finish chewing before answering. “Working theory is insurance fraud. Westlake Properties owns the building. The same company owns three other structures that burned in the past eighteen months.”
“That’s not a coincidence.” Cole’s voice is rough. Hasn’t been sleeping well either, from the look of him.
“No. It’s not.” I take another bite of eggs. “Meeting with the state fire marshal’s office this morning. Phoebe has already pulled the case files.”
“How’s Rachel doing?” Theo asks it casually, but there’s something under the question. Something careful.
Cole’s jaw tightens. Just slightly. Just enough that I notice.
Interesting.
“She’s fine,” Cole says. “Stressed about the job situation. But fine.”
“Jake said she’s been applying everywhere.” Theo’s still using that casual tone that’s not quite casual enough. “Hard to find work in this town if you’re not connected.”
“She’ll figure it out. She’s smart.” Cole stares into his coffee, as if it holds answers. “Resilient.”
The way he says resilient makes me look at him more closely. There’s something in his expression. Something I recognize because I’ve seen it before.
The last time we shared a woman, Cole got that same look. Like he was trying to convince himself he didn’t care more than he should.
I glance at Theo. He’s watching Cole, too, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes before he looks away.
Oh.
This is going to be a problem.
Not my problem, technically. I made my position clear three years ago after we ended things with Samantha. No more shared arrangements. Too complicated. Too messy when feelings get involved.
But watching these two idiots try not to look like they’re both thinking about Jake’s sister makes me wonder if some lessons only stick until the right woman shows up.
“You both need to be careful,” I say quietly.
They both look at me. Theo confused. Cole guarded.
“Careful about what?” Theo asks.
“Whatever you’re doing. Or thinking about doing.” I drain my coffee. “Jake’s my friend, too. And Rachel’s been through enough without you two making it worse.”
“I’m not—” Theo starts.
“We’re not—” Cole says at the same time.
They stop. Look at each other. And I know I’m right.
“Christ.” I signal Linda for more coffee. “At least try to be subtle about it.”
“There’s nothing to be subtle about,” Cole says, but his voice carries an edge that suggests otherwise.
Theo looks guilty, which is as good as a confession coming from him.
My phone buzzes. Phoebe’s name lights up the screen with a text: State marshal’s office moved up the meeting. Need you here in 30.
“I have to go.” I stand, dropping cash on the table. “Try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“We’re always stupid,” Theo says with that grin that makes him look younger than thirty-one. “It’s part of our charm.”
“Your charm is debatable.” I grab my jacket. “Cole’s is nonexistent.”
Cole flips me off without looking up from his coffee and I head towards the door with one final glance at them.
They’re talking. Close. Serious. The kind of conversation that means they’re either planning something or confessing something.
Either way, this is going to end badly.
I’ve seen this pattern before. The three of us and one woman. It worked for a while with Samantha because none of us caught feelings. It was physical. Simple. Clean.
But the way Cole’s been moving since that fire, the way he carried Rachel out of that building like she was made of something precious—that’s not simple. That’s not clean.
And Theo? Theo has never met an emotion he didn’t immediately feel at maximum volume.
Rachel Morgan doesn’t stand a chance.
Neither do they.
Phoebe’s waiting outside the state building with two cups of coffee and her tablet already open.
“You’re late,” she says, handing me the cup.
“Traffic.”
“There’s no traffic in Millbrook Falls. You’re late because you stopped to eat breakfast with your friends instead of meeting me like we planned.”
She’s not wrong, but I don’t admit it. “What did the marshal send over?”
“Three additional fires. All Westlake Properties. All within the past two years.” She swipes through photos on her tablet. “Each one was ruled accidental or inconclusive. But the patterns are identical.”
I study the photos. Same burn signatures. Same point of origin. Same accelerant residue in the preliminary reports.
“Someone’s covering their tracks well.”
“Too well.” Phoebe zooms in on one image. “But they’re getting sloppy. The café fire was rushed. Rachel Morgan interrupted them.”
“She didn’t see anyone.”
“No. But her presence changed the timeline. They had to set it and run instead of making sure it looked accidental.” She looks up at me. “That makes her a witness. Even if she doesn’t know what she witnessed.”
“Or a target,” I say quietly.
Phoebe’s expression shifts. “You think they’ll come after her?”
“I think if she can place someone at that café before the fire, she’s a liability.” I take the tablet from her and scroll through the case files. “We need to find the connection. Who benefits from these fires? Who’s collecting insurance?”
“Already on it. The meeting is in five minutes. The marshal wants to coordinate a joint investigation.”
The meeting takes two hours. By the end, we have authorization to pull financial records for Westlake Properties and their insurance broker. We have a task force. We have a timeline.
What we don’t have is a suspect.
“This could take months,” Phoebe says as we’re walking back to the cars.
“Or days. Depends on what the financials show.” I unlock my truck. “I’m heading back to Millbrook Falls. You good to handle the paperwork here?”
“I’m always good at handling the paperwork.” She grins. “That’s why you keep me around.”
“I keep you around because you’re the only person who tolerates my personality.”
“That too.”
The drive back to Millbrook Falls takes forty minutes, which gives me enough time to think through the case and realize that if Rachel’s a witness—even unknowingly—she needs protection.
Which means I need to talk to Jake. And probably Cole and Theo.
Which means this is going to get complicated in ways I specifically wanted to avoid.
I’m pulling into town when I see her.
Rachel’s crossing the parking lot behind the grocery store, arms full of bags, not paying attention to anything except her phone. She steps off the curb without looking.
The sedan comes out of nowhere. Too fast for a parking lot. Too fast for her to hear it in time.
I don’t think. Just react.
I slam my truck into park, and I’m out the door, moving before my brain catches up to my body. Three steps and I’ve got her arm, yanking her back onto the sidewalk just as the sedan screams past where she was standing.
The bags go flying. Apples roll across the pavement. Rachel stumbles into me, breath coming in sharp gasps.
“What the hell were you thinking. You could’ve been killed.”
She’s shaking. Staring at the street where the car disappeared around the corner. “I didn’t—I didn’t see it.”
“Clearly.” I release her arm, bending down to gather the scattered groceries. “Pay attention to your surroundings. This isn’t the city where drivers might stop.”
“I was paying attention.” But her voice wavers. “I looked. There wasn’t anyone coming.”
“There was a car coming. A fast one.” I shove apples back into a bag with more force than necessary. “You’re lucky I was here.”
“Lucky.” She says it like the word tastes bitter. “Yeah. Super lucky.”
I look up at her then. Really look. Her face is pale except for two spots of color high on her cheeks. Her hands are trembling as she takes the bags from me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and it comes out gentler than I planned.
“I’m fine.” But she’s not fine. She’s rattled. Scared. Trying to hide it behind anger. “Thanks for the rescue. Add it to the list, I guess.”
“What list?”
“The list of times firefighters have saved me from my own stupidity.” She adjusts her grip on the bags. “I’m starting to think I’m cursed.”
“You’re not cursed. You’re distracted.” I cross my arms. “What were you looking at on your phone?”
“Nothing important.”
“Important enough that you almost died for it.”
Her jaw tightens. “I was reading a text from Derek. My ex. He’s threatening to sue for custody of Tommy again.”
That stops me. “On what grounds?”
“Because I’m unemployed and apparently a magnet for disaster.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “He’s got screenshots of the viral videos. Photos of me at multiple fires. His lawyer’s building a case that I’m unstable.”
“That’s garbage.”
“That’s what I said.” She shifts the grocery bags again. “But it doesn’t matter what I say. It matters what a judge thinks. And right now, I look exactly like I shouldn’t have custody of a five-year-old.”
“The fires aren’t your fault,” I say. “They’re connected. Insurance fraud. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“The café fire. It wasn’t random. Someone’s burning Westlake Properties buildings for the insurance money.” I watch her process this. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not cursed. You’re just unlucky.”
“That’s not much better.”
“It’s different. Unlucky can be fixed. Cursed suggests some cosmic force hates you.” I pick up the last apple and hand it to her. “And for the record, your ex is an idiot. No judge is going to take Tommy away because you happened to be near some fires.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you’re a good mother. I know you left a bad situation to protect your son. I know you’re working your ass off to rebuild.” I meet her eyes. “That’s what matters. Not some viral videos.”
She hesitates before speaking. “Thank you. For pulling me back. For saying that.”
“Don’t thank me. Just pay attention next time.” I head back to my truck. “And Rachel? If Derek escalates, let us know. We’ve got your back.”
“Us?”
“Jake. Cole. Theo. Me.” I pull open the truck door. “You’re not alone in this.”
I don’t wait for her response before I climb into the truck and pull out of the parking lot, watching her in the rearview mirror as she stands there with her grocery bags and her shocked expression.
Cole and Theo are making this complicated. I can see it happening in real time.
But I meant what I said. She’s not alone. Even if that means I’m getting pulled into something I swore I’d avoid.