Dangerous Kiss (The Layton Family 1)

“I thought I might find you still here.” Hank’s deep baritone broke the silence.

He walked into the bar and tossed a set of car keys in her general direction. She caught them automatically. There were benefits to growing up with brothers, such as the no-look catch.

“Parked your Jeep in the lot. Sorry we had to keep it last night.”

Hank fixed Jake with a straight stare. The two men sized each other up. If either had a measuring stick, no doubt this was when they would have broken it out. Men.

“Sheriff Layton.” Jake nodded toward the man in uniform.

“Call me Hank.”

The statement was friendly. The tone was not. Hank didn’t offer his hand to Jake in greeting. Either Jake didn’t notice or he didn’t care about the slight because he went on as if nothing awkward had happened.

“OK, Hank. I was just talking to your sister about Kendall’s missing phone. It seems Claire was searching the restaurant for it. Did you ask her to do that?”

“No.” He turned and looked at her. “Claire, why were you looking for a phone? And why did you ask me about whether we found one last night?” His testy tone was as effective as an interrogator shining a light in her face.

Both men stared at her. They had to know she hid something. What was she supposed to say? Maybe she should come clean? But where to start?

She weighed the benefits of telling versus the killer’s threats. Her palms became clammy at the reminder of last night’s terrifying phone call. Once again, fear and panic boiled within her.

No one in the bar moved. Her gaze jumped from one person to another before landing on Jake. His face softened and he gave her an encouraging nod. She had to tell. Too much was at stake to keep it to herself.

Harvest’s assistant manager Jorge Sanchez burst into the room, stopping just inside the doorway. “Claire!”

“Not right now, Jorge.” She steeled herself for whatever the fallout would be for not speaking up about the phone call sooner.

“But, Claire, your Jeep is on fire.”

Chapter Four

Heat slapped Jake across the face. From the doorway, he watched the Jeep burn like a bonfire in the parking lot. Claire gasped, then squeezed around him. They ran out the door, her brothers right behind them, and only made it a few steps before the crackling blaze’s heat forced them to stop.

Orange flames stretched from the Jeep’s now-crispy upholstery toward the sun straight above them. Benzene, smoke and burning vinyl seats poisoned the air around the gathering crowd of busboys, servers and curious customers.

What kind of life was Claire living? Could this be the work of a jealous ex-boyfriend, an angry customer, or had Kendall’s killer picked out another victim?

Jake glanced over. She stood an arm’s reach away, her bottom lip trembling. Then, she clenched her jaw tight. From the looks of her, she was either about to punch someone’s lights out or bawl. The real fire had turned her feisty spark to ash.

The urge to tuck her into his arms and protect her from this latest disaster had him taking a step toward her before he stopped himself. He wouldn’t get emotionally involved in a case, no matter how right it felt. Not a second time.

Shouts of, “Get the fire extinguisher,” tore his attention away from Claire. A fire truck sped into the parking lot, drowning out the crowd’s clamor.

Looked like there were benefits to living in a small town, and response time was one of them.

People moved back toward the bushes, giving the firefighters room. But one guy peeled off from the crowd. He didn’t look forward. Instead, he kept his head down and turned slightly away. About six feet tall, he had shaggy, sandy hair with a skin-and-bones build. The man ignored the commotion as he made his way out of the parking lot.

The hairs on Jake’s neck stood at attention. He didn’t have any proof, but in his gut he knew. He leaned toward Hank.

“Sheriff, see the guy hoofing it out of here? White shirt? That’s gotta be him,” Jake said in a low voice.

In tandem, the two men strolled toward the suspect. Although adrenaline pumped through his veins faster than an avalanche in the Rockies, Jake had to stay slow and in control. A wrong move and he’d tip off the arsonist.

“You asshole! You set my car on fire!”

Claire’s battle cry rose above the sound of the fire, the sirens and the crowd. He groaned as she streaked past him. Looked like she’d picked brawl over bawl.

As she chased after the suspect, the man booked it at a fast clip away from the banshee on his heels. Without hesitation Jake took off after them. He didn’t think first, just followed her lead.