Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

“I do. And I remember you worrying my report might throw a snag in you receiving your insurance payout. I bet you have a shitload of insurance on the hardware store. If Rusty hadn’t happened by when he did, and we hadn’t been able to contain the fires in the Dumpsters so quickly, your store wouldn’t be standing right now.”

Buchanan paled, but his jaw jutted forward like an angry bulldog’s. “You think I torched my own barn, and tried to burn down my own store, for the insurance money? Are you insane?”

“Like I said, there are lots of possible scenarios. Maybe bored kids looking for a dangerous thrill, maybe not.” He’d lay money on one particular bored, spoiled kid, but that wager came straight from his gut, with absolutely no hard evidence attached.

The mayor expelled a breath. “Chief, I didn’t burn my property. The insurance on the hardware store is a nice chunk of change, but the store turns a decent profit, so torching it would be shortsighted of me. The tractor—hell, the insurance on that is a lousy few grand.” He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. “That’s barely a dent in my monthly alimony payments. There’s no insurance scam here. There’s no intent to harm people. This is a small group of kids acting out. My advice to you”—he pointed a finger at Josh—“is to take your zeal down a notch. The citizens of Bluelick don’t need an outsider coming in and telling us how to approach minor local incidents, blow them out of proportion, and waste resources. There’s no reason to go CSI on every damn thing. Just put out the fires.”

Rusty stood on the other side of the Dumpsters, grinning into his phone, no doubt relaying to the sheriff every word the mayor said. Fuckers.

He looked up, covered the phone with his hand, and addressed Josh. “Sheriff wants to know if you still want him to send someone.”

Jesus, this town. The whole fucking county. “I’m going to pretend you just told me they have a cruiser on the way.”

Rusty turned away and spoke into the phone.

The mayor stomped back to his car. Josh looked over to where the cluster of citizens had gathered to watch the commotion. Three teenage boys hovering at the edge of the group caught his eye. Justin stood front and center. Smirking.

Chapter Twelve

Christ, what a week. Spending the first few hours of his Friday evening at Rawley’s sounded like an awful way to end it, in Josh’s mind. All he wanted was a certain cool blonde and a marathon of hot, mind-numbing sex. A noisy, crowded bar full of locals didn’t make the list. But Melody had suggested meeting at the bar after work. Since he considered her an integral part of the sex marathon, here he sat.

He glanced around the bar, absently rubbing the knot of tension pounding at the base of his skull. A happy hour crowd packed the place, but he didn’t spot Melody in the press of bodies. He mentally extinguished a flash of disappointment and called himself an idiot. They were keeping things casual, so why in God’s name had his thoughts wandered to her so often this week? Why had he literally forced himself not to call, just to—what the fuck—talk? He was starting to piss himself off.

His phone vibrated. He pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans and read the incoming text. Leaving the office now. See you in 5. He tapped back an OK and claimed an empty spot at the bar, figuring he could have her chardonnay waiting for her when she arrived.

“Buy you a drink, Chief?”

Josh turned to find the source of the offer and came face-to-face with Junior. “I think it’s my round.”

Tyler stepped over. “I’ll get this one. Jeb,” he called to the younger Rawley, who manned their end of the bar while Rawley Senior tended the other end. “Put the chief’s order on my tab.” The bartender nodded and held up a finger in the universal sign for “give me one minute.”

“I’m actually waiting for someone, so—”

“No problem. I’m sure I owe Melody a drink, too.”

The knot of tension tightened. No secrets around here. “All right. Thanks.” He gave his order to Jeb, and then turned his attention back to Tyler and Junior. “Is this a friendly gesture or did you have something on your mind?”

Longfoot propped an elbow on the bar, all relaxed and at home, but Josh noticed he didn’t have a drink. “Heard you stood your ground with Buchanan Monday night, and inspired the sheriff’s department to get off their asses, too. That’s well played in my book.”

“Shit yeah,” Junior added. “Buchanan’s been running interference for his kid too long. Good to see someone refuse to look the other way just because Daddy has some pull in this town.”

“Amen to that,” Jeb said as he delivered Josh’s drink order.

The show of support felt good. Surprisingly good, considering he hadn’t realized he cared what the locals thought. Maybe spending a couple hours at Rawley’s had an upside. Despite his opinion of Buchanan and his personal suspicions about Justin, fairness compelled him to respond, “I’m not aiming to deal a ‘screw you’ to Buchanan or his son. My only goal is to resolve two suspicious blazes. Investigating them is the sheriff’s job. Calling them in was mine.”

“Maybe,” Tyler drawled. “But old Chief Murdock would have put out the fires and gone home to bed, especially if Buchanan suggested that’s what ought to be done. Same with the rest of the guys in the department. I like them. They’re good guys, but each and every one of them would have put out the fires and called it a night, too. Bluelick needs a few officials who ask a fucking question now and again instead of looking the other way”—he broke off when his phone buzzed and glanced down at the screen—“I’m out of here.”

“Lemme guess. You got yourself a doctor’s appointment,” Junior teased.

“More like a private lesson,” Tyler replied cryptically. To Josh, he said, “Thanks, Chief.”

“For what?”

“For not looking the other way.” With that, he headed toward the door.

“I better go, too,” Junior said as they watched Tyler hold the door open for Melody on his way out. She breezed in wearing a smile, a sleeveless blue dress the color of her eyes, and dark blue heels—the kind with holes in the front so a couple of red toenails peeke

d out and thin straps around her ankles. Junior said something, but Josh listened with only half an ear because he was too busy imagining sitting her on the bar, pushing her billowy skirt high on her thighs, and licking his way up and down her legs, starting at one ankle strap and ending at the other.