Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Avalon climbed out of the car. Royal waited a few feet away, and he glanced at her. Mirrored sunglasses hid his stare, but his lips had curled into a mocking smile. “Have fun?” he asked.
“Fuck off,” she replied sweetly.
He laughed. “No wonder he’s so obsessed with you.”
“Royal.” A definite snap filled Beau’s voice as he followed her out. “Do not poke the bear right the hell now.”
Royal shrugged. “I was?—”
A ringing cut through his words.
A ringing that came from Beau’s phone. She looked back to see him pull it from his pocket, frown at the screen, then immediately shove the phone to his ear. “Look, Lane,” Beau fired off, “not a good time. I’ll call you right back.”
“The new BFF,” Royal explained.
She hadn’t asked. But Royal’s words had pulled her attention back to him.
“Don’t worry. No one comes before you,” Royal assured her with a faint smile still lingering on his lips. “But you should know the man has a serious tendency to pick up dangerous strays. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?” Beau blasted. “Fucking hell. Yes, yes, I am on my way. Dammit, he got away?” Rage now. Dark and seething.
Royal lost his smile. Even as his smile vanished, she was whirling to look back at Beau once more.
Beau’s face had twisted into lines of absolute fury. Dangerous. Deadly. “Yes, the bar is damn important. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Then, growling, “Thank you. But don’t you dare get your ass burned for that place. Ophelia would murder me if you did.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. Locked his stare on Avalon, then ordered, “In the hotel, now.” He waved toward one of the doormen. “Dominic, escort her up.”
Wait, he knew the doorman by name? Apparently so, because the dark-haired guy instantly bounded forward with an “Absolutely, Mr. LeBlanc,” response on his lips.
“Royal, we need to get to my bar, ASAP.” Beau spun back for the limo.
She grabbed his arm. “What is happening? Who got away?”
“The SOB who just torched my bar.”
Her heart seemed to drop straight to the pit of her stomach. “What?”
“Dominic, get her up to the room!”
Dominic crept closer. “If you’ll just come with me, ma’am.”
“Dominic, please go back to your post. I appreciate the offer, but I am not going anywhere with you.” A crisp response from her. Then she lunged past Beau and jumped into the limo. “Royal, could you please haul ass? We need to get to Beau’s bar. Now.”
She saw Royal rush to the front of the limo.
Beau didn’t get inside. He did lean low over the open door and glare at her. “Sweetheart, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Going with you?” That should be obvious. “We literally just shook on our deal like five minutes ago.” Why did this need an explanation? Fear and adrenaline pumped through her. “We both know this isn’t random. My house was set on fire last night. Now your bar? Come on.” She leaned forward and snagged his wrist. “We are wasting time. The arsonist is getting away!”
Beau finally jumped into the limo. He yanked the door shut behind him. “The bastard already got away. Lane chose to save my bar and the sonofabitch fled.” Fury vibrated in every word. Such raw rage. “We will find him.”
She caught his hand. Curled her fingers around his fist. “Yes, we will.”
The limo pulled to a stop. Beau was out of the door before Avalon believed that Royal had even fully braked the vehicle, and she was right on his tail. She hopped out and saw the fire truck with its lights blazing. Firefighters were already inside LeBlanc’s. The scent of smoke hung heavily in the air.
“Can’t go inside!” A bark from one of the firefighters as he hurried past. He was in full gear, decked from head to toe, and his mask bounced over his head as he rushed toward the entrance of the bar.
“I can go any damn place I want,” Beau snapped back.
Uh…
A man stalked toward them. Tall. Dark hair. Soot covered his white dress shirt and khaki dress pants. As she stared at him, recognition flooded through her. “OhmyGod.”
“Hardly.” A mocking response from a nearby Royal. “More like the devil. But you do you, sunshine.” He saluted her. “I’m going to search the periphery.” Then he vanished.
But the devil closed in. The devil, otherwise known as… “Lane Lawson,” Avalon said.
He’d stopped right next to Beau. Actually, he’d stopped right in front of Beau. The better to block Beau’s path and stop him from running into the bar. Yet at her words, Lane’s head turned toward her. His head inclined. “Avalon Trahan.”
She blinked. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with you for weeks.”
“And I’ve been denying that interview. Will continue to do so, by the way.”
Lane Lawson.
The man had been a suspected serial killer. One of the best profilers in the business had gotten Lane locked away—only later, that same profiler had worked to prove Lane’s innocence. And when Lane’s sister had been threatened, Lane had broken out of jail to help her.
Eventually, Lane had been cleared of all charges. The real killer had been identified. And Lane had become a celebrity in true crime circles.
And he was standing in front of Beau. Covered in ash.
This was Beau’s new BFF? The one Royal had mentioned when he was warning her about Beau’s tendency to pick up dangerous strays?
Lane’s gaze had returned to Beau. Grimly, he said, “The prick was right behind your bar counter. He disabled your main alarm, but I guess he didn’t know about the secondary system you had in place. I was upstairs in the PI office,” Lane added. “I got the alert on my phone and rushed down as fast as I could.”
“I got the alert, too,” Beau muttered. “But I was…distracted and didn’t realize it at the time.”
She’d been the distraction. Good thing she wasn’t the blushing type.
“I entered your place,” Lane told Beau. “He was pouring your freaking twenty-five-hundred-dollar whiskey on the counter.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“You know how I love that shit.”
Beau nodded grimly. “Me, too.”
“The prick had on a mask. Black gloves. When he saw me, he dropped the bottle and lit up the bar.” At his sides, Lane’s hands fisted and released. Fisted and released. “The fire separated us. He ducked back through the service door, and I could have either rushed out and chased after him, or…dammit, man, I know how much the place means to you. Another few minutes, and with all that alcohol, LeBlanc’s would have been gone.”
Beau grabbed his arms. “You don’t take risks like this. Next time, let it burn.”
A shake of Lane’s head. “No.”
“Yes!” A yell that came from behind Avalon. She spun around and saw a gorgeous woman with black hair glaring daggers at both Lane and Beau as she jogged toward them.
Beau let go of Lane. The woman closed in. She marched right up to Lane. Elbowed Beau out of her way. “You put out this fire? You did this?”
Lane shrugged.
“With all the alcohol in that joint, you saw the fire raging and you stopped to—what? Grab a fire extinguisher? To save the day?” Her voice rose more with each word.
“Pretty much, yeah.” His hands fisted. Released.
The woman threw herself against Lane. Held him tightly. His arms immediately flew up to curl around her. “You don’t ever take a risk like that again,” she ordered. “Didn’t you hear what Beau said? Seriously, try taking advice from him. Don’t do it. Not ever again.” A tremor shook her body. “You think a man is taking care of a little paperwork. You stop to pick him up some lunch because you’re amazing like that. Then you get to the parking lot and see a giant fire truck and hear that he put out the fire.” She tilted back her head and glared up at Lane. “I hate heroes. They suck ass.”
Lane’s lips twitched. “You love me, so you can’t hate all heroes.”
She hugged him tighter. “I swear, I thought I was getting the bad guy. You misled me.”
“Your office is upstairs, baby,” he murmured. “No way was I letting it burn.”
“Our office.” Her quick correction. “And someone had better start giving me answers. Now.” Another squeeze against Lane, then she let him go. Well, she technically grabbed his right arm, locked it around her shoulders, and then threaded her fingers with his as she cuddled close to his side and faced off against Beau and Avalon. Her eyes swept first to Beau—he was glaring at the bar—then to Avalon. Recognition filled her furious stare a moment before she nodded. “You.” Directed at Avalon. “Start talking. I like full sentences and lots of description.”
“I…” Where was she supposed to begin?
Police sirens shrieked.
Avalon jumped. “Beau saved my life when I was a teen?—”
“Not ancient history,” the woman cut in crisply. “We all know that part. Why is Beau’s bar smoking now?”
They all knew about her past? Avalon filed away that important detail. She parted her lips to respond?—
“Because some soon-to-be-dead dick set her home on fire last night.” Beau’s gaze was still on the door of his bar. “And I think he’s trying to send me a message. Stay away or your world will burn.” His gaze whipped to the dark-haired woman. “I don’t take well to threats.”
“No.” The woman’s hair slid over her shoulder. “You’re cool like that.”
“My world will not burn.” He stalked to Avalon. His eyes glittered as he glared down at her. “Nothing is going to scare me off. I can’t be threatened.”
But she was scared as she stared up at him. Her hand rose and curled around his right shoulder. “I don’t want you hurt.” He’d already been hurt enough, for her.
“Fuck pain. It’s just part of life.”
The woman cleared her throat. “It can also be part of death so…yeah. Let’s not fuck it. Let’s avoid it at all costs.”
A muscle flexed along Beau’s jaw. “That’s Ophelia,” he told Avalon. “She’s the best PI you will ever meet.”
“Ohmygosh, stop,” Ophelia murmured. “You’ll make me blush.” A brief pause. “I was kidding. Do go on. I am amazing.” She stepped away from Lane and advanced to Beau’s side as she studied Avalon. “So you’re the one.”
Behind her, Lane sighed. “This is going to shift from bad to worse.”
Ophelia’s assessing gaze swept over Avalon, but her response was directed at Lane. “Doesn’t it always? Except in our case, of course. Because once you teamed up with me, love of my life, things in your world went from nightmarish to heavenly.”
Avalon’s temples were throbbing. She let go of her grip on Beau’s shoulder.
She caught the fleeting smile that curved Lane’s lips as he dipped his head toward Ophelia.
“He’s my partner,” Ophelia explained. “In life. In business. In everything. And seeing as how I take it ever-so-personally that someone just tried to burn down my PI office?—”
Beau’s growl cut through her words. “I think the guy was trying to burn down my bar.”
“Yes, but my office is on top of your bar so now I’m extra pissy and thoroughly invested in the case.”
Beau frowned at her. “Like you weren’t invested before?”
“I was. It’s personal now.”
Beau nodded. That muscle flexed again along his killer jaw. “Damn straight, it’s personal. It will be even more personal when I dump the prick’s body in the river.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. She threw a fast glance toward the cops who’d gathered and the firefighters who rushed around the scene. “Seriously! Stop it! We’ve talked about this before.” Her voice had lowered to an angry whisper. “We don’t announce to cops what we will do with the bodies of the bad guys. How many times do I have to go over this with you?”
Avalon rubbed her temple. “This isn’t a joke.” She backed away from them. “His bar could have burned to the ground. A man was killed last night. I was attacked.” Another step back.
Ophelia’s head tilted. Lane closed in and looked extra grim. Beau’s eyes kept glittering.
“I’m shaking apart on the inside and you all—” Avalon darted a glance at each one of them. “You’re being so flippant. Joking about dead bodies. This is real. We have to find the arsonist and stop him before he hurts someone else.”
“My humor isn’t for everyone.” Ophelia’s stare never wavered. “Believe me when I say that I’m on your side. In fact, Beau had us working your case for the last few weeks.”
For the last few weeks.
Her heartbeat pounded faster. “Excuse me?”
“Lane and I have been digging and trying to find patterns. We do believe the original arsonist left Louisiana after the attack on you failed all of those years ago. We’ve discovered more arson-murder crimes that we believe were his work.”
A dull roaring filled Avalon’s ears. “You’re been working my case? For weeks?”
“It’s what Beau hired us to do. Didn’t he tell you?” Ophelia asked. A little furrow appeared between her delicate brows. Her full lips—painted a bold red—pulled down with a hint of dismay.
“I just talked to Beau for the first time in years…yesterday. No, day before yesterday?” She rubbed her temple harder in an effort to dull the throb. Everything had been happening at a fast and terrifying speed. “How could I have known about what he’d done weeks ago?”
Ophelia slanted Beau a glance. “How, indeed.”
Beau looked back at his bar. Automatically, Avalon followed his stare and saw the figure of a firefighter advancing toward them. The firefighter removed his mask and helmet to reveal a sweat-soaked face.
Tan skin. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead. “Scene is currently contained.” His stare swept them. Landed on Beau. “You’re Beau LeBlanc.”
Beau nodded.
“I’m Lieutenant Wesley Vaughn. Been to your place a few times. LeBlanc’s was always a great spot to unwind.” A quick grin came and went on his face. “Very glad to report that the fire seems to be out for now. We had some rekindling when we first arrived on scene, but we took care of it. Additional rekindling—a reflash—is always a risk in a situation like this one, and with all of that liquor in such close proximity, we are gonna want to be extra cautious.” He grimaced. “I’ve told the crew we need to move the liquor to a safe location. No way do I like having all that booze close with the threat of another reflash hanging over our heads.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ophelia waved her hand. “For those of us who are not fire professionals, when you toss out words like rekindling and reflashing—you’re talking about the fire starting again? That happens? It can just flare to life?”
A grim nod. “Heat and embers remain. Fire can easily reignite. We’re often recalled to scenes because we have to fight the same fire again.”
“Great.” Ophelia’s hand dropped back to her side. “Just great.”
“It’s not great, ma’am,” he responded, voice very serious and his expression earnest. “It’s actually a very dangerous situation. Both for me and my fellow firefighters and for any civilians who might be close by.” A low whistle escaped him. “When you have a fire in a bar like this—a place with so much accelerant just waiting to burn—you have yourself one extremely volatile situation.”
None of what he was saying reassured Avalon in any way.
“When can I go inside?” Beau asked.
“No time soon, I’m afraid. It’s going to be an arson scene. An investigator will need to come out and the cops…” He motioned toward them by lifting the helmet he still clutched in their direction. “They’re gonna have plenty of questions. You’ll have water and smoke damage in the interior. I’ll warn you now—your place will be closed for a while.”
“I’ll reopen.” Absolute certainty from Beau.
“Figured as much. I’ll look forward to it happening.” Wesley’s attention shifted to Lane. “What you did was brave. But it was also dangerous. With that much alcohol and the fire raging…” His voice trailed off. “I don’t like digging bodies out of the ashes. Or what’s left of bodies. Next time, just get out and call for help once you’re clear. Buildings can be replaced, but people can’t.” Someone called his name, and he turned away.
But even as he turned away, the cops began to close in. Not just uniforms, either. Avalon recognized two familiar faces. Detectives Lynn Baker and Campbell Cunningham had arrived on the scene. Their eyes were already on Beau.
“Those two have the look of hunters closing in on prey,” Ophelia muttered. “Someone want to clue them in to the fact that Beau is the victim here? And by someone—I mean I’m volunteering.”
“It’s okay,” Beau told her quietly. “I can handle them.”
And the detectives were right there, so the handling had to begin immediately.