I’m quiet, but it’s a cozy sort of quiet that makes me feel things.
Like I could fit in here.
Like I’m part of this slowly assembling family, too.
Stop reading too much into things, Peace.
They only talk for a little bit longer, then Holt’s out the door.
And Blake immediately goes silent, tense, his expression settling into something grim, his resigned smile fading as he stares through the small window inset in the door, watching as Holt disappears down the driveway in his sleek, snow-dusted black car.
I frown, looking up at him, smoothing a hand over his chest. “Blake? What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m about to send my daughter into a fox’s den,” he mutters. “That’s the only real way to trap him.”
* * *
Even after Blake explains it, I’m not quite sure I follow.
Even if it makes sense.
Holt comes back into town after years away, and the fires start almost immediately.
Holt knows all of them, the Heroes of Heart’s Edge. Their pasts, their hurts, their scars.
He’d have reason to resent them, what with the constant battle scars between brothers left by their mother extending to Blake’s childhood friends.
As a boy, he was in love with Warren’s sister, Jenna, and would blame Warren for not protecting her when an Army drug lord arranged her murder.
He’s got a history of dishonesty, and he’s willing to do anything to one-up Blake.
He tried to sleep with Blake’s wife.
Not only does he have the technical knowledge from his construction work to be able to set fires with complex equipment, but he has the motive, too. As the newest contractor here, he’d be able to pick up work rebuilding everything he burned down, long after damaged buildings from the big museum fire run out.
I sit across from Blake on the couch, my hands clasped in both of his as he looks at me earnestly.
I shake my head. “But…but why? You really think he hates you so much that he’d do all of that?”
“I think it’s more about getting the business,” Blake says, staring through the wall. “It’s just a bonus the bastard gets to use it to stab me.”
“I don’t understand. Then why even consider letting Andrea stay with him?” I frown, squeezing his hands tighter. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No. So far, none of the fires have hurt anybody. They’re too messy, and he left ’em that way intentionally. He wants business and to satisfy his shitty little grudge in the worst way possible, but he ain’t a serial killer, darlin’.”
“But the clinic, Doc and Ember’s place—”
He hangs his head. “That was the worst, coming way too close to hurting them animals. No excuse. Still, it was all small stuff that was simple to douse and easy for folks to get away from. I don’t think he’d hurt an actual person on purpose. Especially not a kid. Even if he deserves a whoppin’ for fucking up The Menagerie and making those poor critters scared.”
He squeezes my hands back, watching me earnestly. “I don’t like it, but I need something, dammit. Some proof. Andrea’s smart. She can be my eyes and ears. Keep him busy so I know where he is at all times, and if a fire pops up while she’s with him…we know for sure it ain’t him. But if it is, then she just might find us the evidence we need.”
“Unless you’ve got another girlfriend,” comes from the kitchen, “that ‘she’ you’re talking about better not be me.”
Uh-oh.
We both look up as Andrea trots through the back door, stomping her feet on the mat and pulling her hoodie back from her wild-colored hair.
Blake and I yank our hands back like an electric shock. She just arches a brow, giving us both a cynical look.
“Really? You two are like third-graders. God, hold hands in front of me, guys. At least you can stop pretending.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, shrugging out of her big military jacket as she meanders into the living room with a dry little smile for me. “Just so you know, you can do way better. Buuut I’m not too mad that you didn’t. Dad needs somebody.”
“Careful.” Blake shoots her a deadly look.
I grin, offering my hand to Blake. “Nice to have your seal of approval.”
She just wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out playfully, while Blake sighs and slips his hand into mine, squeezing it warmly, freely. I flush for the hundredth time at how easily he makes a show of being with me in front of others.
We probably need to have some kind of talk soon.
But maybe not right now.
And Blake seems to agree because he says, “Peace and I haven’t really had a chance to work out what we’re doing yet before we talk to you about it.”
Andrea shrugs, flinging herself down into the easy chair and sprawling out with typical teenage ennui. “Do whatever you want. She’s gonna dump you for being an asshole sooner or later anyway, so no skin off my ass.”