“Tonight, we’re bringing you a very special, exclusive live report from our Channel Five studio.” Tom’s handsome, if bland face filled her screen. His deep green eyes were boiling with intensity. “Rumors have been flying around the city about a so-called Phoenix serial arsonist.”
The news already had the story? What? Had the cops run to the station? Not the firefighters, not her team, they wouldn’t have—
“I’m here with Special Agent Kenton Lake of the FBI. Agent Lake is a member of the elite Serial Services Division, and he’s here to tell us exactly what nightmare our city faces.”
The towel fell to the floor.
The camera panned back, and there he was. Sitting at the news desk with good old Tom. That still-perfect suit hugging his chest. His hair in place. A grim smile curling his lips.
“Agent Lake…” Tom turned to face him, giving his trademark profile shot. Figured. The guy was always flashing his best side. “Tell us, should the city be afraid? Are we in the sights of a calculating killer?”
Christ. Did the guy want to give old women heart attacks? Or just drive his ratings numbers up his own ass?
Kenton’s smile eased away. “Not a calculating killer, Tom. There’s an arsonist in the city, true. But he’s a sick individual, one whose fascination with fire has caused him to lose all touch with reality.”
Uh-oh.
“This man suffers from severe psychological problems. He’s not a criminal mastermind—no genius killer. He’s a guy who needs psychiatric help, and when we catch him—”
Lora’s knees gave way, and her butt hit the couch.
Kenton’s smile flashed again. “We’ll make sure that he’s given the opportunity to get counseling and medication in prison.”
The guy had just waved a red flag right in the bull’s face.
• • •
“Fucking bastard!” He picked up the television and slammed it into the wall. “You are f**king dead!” He’d been so careful with his phone call. Staging the scene so well…
Now this ass**le was in his face. Blasting his lies to the world.
Lake didn’t know what he’d done. That dick thought that he could lie about him? Take the spotlight? Get his face plastered all over the TV while the guy laughed at him?
Lake wouldn’t laugh when the flames came for him.
No, he wouldn’t laugh then.
But he might beg.
And then he’d burn.
Bastard.
“Cut! That’s a wrap, people.”
Kenton yanked the microphone off his lapel.
“Good job, Lake.” Monica emerged from the shadows. She hadn’t come on-camera during the shoot. The woman liked to leave the dirty work to him.
He grunted and pushed out of the chair, glad the camera was off. “Think our boy caught the show?”
“Oh, I’d count on it.”
The holster at Kenton’s side was a light weight against him. One he’d be keeping real close for the next few days. Until he had the pyro locked up. “So I guess I got his attention.”
Her gaze was steady. “You understand that you just made yourself a target?”
“No, I made myself the target. And that was our plan, right?” They stalked away from the set. “We wanted to piss him off, and I’d say we did.”
Monica smoothed back her hair. Not that it needed smoothing. “I’d say you did. You’re the one he saw. The one he’ll come after.”
But that had been their goal. To rile the perp and to throw him off his game. The rage would make him weak. Fury caused killers to get sloppy. “When he comes…” Not if, when. “I’ll be ready.”
“I know you will be.” Monica’s lips tightened at the corners. “Just—watch your back, okay?”
A warning Kenton didn’t need. “Always.”
Monica watched Kenton drive away. He wasn’t heading back to the hotel, and it didn’t take magical profiling skills to figure that one out. She’d seen the way that his eyes kept darting to the female firefighter. The one with blood on her cheek and fury in her eyes.
A whole lot of heat came from that one. Heat that seemed to be drawing Kenton right in.
And she hadn’t missed the red, swollen lips the woman had, either. No way those two had been discussing the case when they ran out of the office at the station.
“What do you want me to do?” The man’s voice came from the shadows. She didn’t jump, didn’t flinch. She’d known he was there.
Not many would have known, but she’d gotten pretty good at spotting Special Agent Jon Ramirez, ex-sniper and all-around spook. The guy could get into and out of almost any place without being seen.
He was also one hell of a tracker.
Monica glanced at her watch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
A gruff laugh. “I like to keep you guessing, Davenport.”
And he did. Of all the agents she worked with, Monica had the least success in figuring out Ramirez. The guy laughed at death, hunted killers with a single-minded fury, and kept his emotions as closed as, well—
As I did.
Until Luke had come along and blown her control.
“Kenton didn’t realize you’d arrived.” He’d been too busy staring into the camera, delivering their message right to the killer.
Come on, let’s play.
She just hoped this game didn’t backfire on them. Monica knew it was dangerous. When you tried to manipulate a killer, the world could explode. Or, in this case, burn around you.
“I think Lake had other things on his mind.”
A killer. A woman. Sex.
Kenton had always been easy for her to read. “Stay on him, okay? I don’t want this going down like the one in Jasper.” She could still see Sam’s pale face.
Samantha Kennedy. She’d been so carefree and happy before. Then a killer touched her. Broke her.
“Not like Jasper,” she said again. “You can tail anyone.” One of his specialties. “Make sure he’s safe.” She’d have to get another agent in for backup. Two sets of eyes on Kenton. And she’d keep working the profile.
Something would give. A mistake would be made and she’d find a link. It was just a matter of time. “Make sure he’s safe,” she said again.
And the sniper smiled. “He won’t even know I’m there.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about. I don’t want our killer to know.” Because if they could lure him out and catch him—