“She judges the wicked,” Monica quoted.
Lora rubbed her temple. “You’re telling me this guy is punishing these people? Because they didn’t go to jail, he’s burning them?”
“No.” A quick negative shake of Monica’s head. “Not him. The fire is judging. I think—” She dove into her suitcase, pulling up more papers. “He’s even giving them a chance to survive. He calls the fire department and tells them—you—where to go.” Her words came faster. “If—if the victim is saved…”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” Ramirez pointed out.
“Then the fire lets him rise from the ashes. It’s…” Monica’s lips twisted in a humorless smile, “judgment by fire.”
Kenton nodded, obviously following Monica’s line of thought. “Fucking biblical.”
Lora leapt to her feet. “This isn’t God! This is some nut job out there who is burning people alive! Doesn’t matter who these people are or what they did, he’s still killing them!”
Monica raised a brow. “It matters to him.”
“My people are getting hurt.” Her nails bit into her palms. “Carter never hurt anyone. Never. And Wade—he’s barely more than a kid. These fires aren’t just set to kill the victims, they’re set to trap the rescuers, to trap us.” Last night, he’d come after her directly. She hadn’t hurt anyone. Hadn’t broken any damn laws. She didn’t need to be judged.
Least of all by a psychotic pyro.
“They’re a challenge, don’t you see?” Monica’s eyes locked on her. “He wants to prove the firefighters can’t beat his fire. He’s stronger. Smarter. The flame can’t be stopped, and when fire judges, no matter what, the guilty are punished.”
“This is insane.” Lora shoved away from the table and started pacing—long, fast strides. “If he’s going after folks who’ve broken the law…” The words ripped out. “What have I done?” She swung around to face Sam. “I haven’t killed. I haven’t sold drugs or slapped some poor woman around. I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I think maybe…” Monica’s voice came slower. “You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes.”
“The hell she has.” Kenton’s low snarl of fury.
Monica’s watchful gaze drifted between them. “You’re trying to stop his judgments, Lora.”
His judgments? Screams echoed in her ears.
Her screams.
“Lora…”
She flinched.
Kenton was there, in front of her and staring at her with worried eyes.
She pushed past him, shaking her head. She needed to get out. To breathe. Lora had to get away from those pictures on the table.
Her hand slammed against the door, and she stormed out with her head down, ignoring Kenton’s urgent call.
She wanted this damn nightmare over. Huffing, she pushed past the cops and rushed for the exit.
“Lora, Lora! Stop!”
Right at the glass door, with freedom within sight, she stopped. Her hands pressed against the metal bar, ready to push it open. Go. But she glanced back.
“You can’t go alone.” Kenton’s jaw was clenched. “Come back, get some coffee, just—”
“There’s something I have to do.” Tension knotted her insides. Out. Go. A hard edge sharpened her senses.
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“I need to be alone, okay?” For this, she had to be.
“Lora, he’s watching you.”
Fuck him. Her hands slapped against the metal bar. The door opened, and hot air hit her in the face.
Breathe.
Yeah, she could still breathe, because she was alive. Others weren’t that lucky.
“You don’t have a car.”
The slightly amused voice stopped her at the bottom of the steps. Lora swiped away a stupid tear that had fallen on her cheek.
“If you don’t have a car,” Ramirez’s deep voice floated from behind her, “how are you planning to get out of here?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat but didn’t glance back. “I thought I’d steal a patrol car.”
His laugh came, quick and hard. She did look back then and saw that the darkness in his eyes had lightened a little. “You probably would,” he murmured.
Hot-wiring was a talent that she’d picked up at sixteen, courtesy of Ben. The guy had been car crazy—which was probably why he owned two garages now.
“Or,” Ramirez held up a set of keys, “you could take my car and let me come with you.”
Those keys were tempting. Because when she’d stormed out, she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. Just get away.
“I won’t ask questions. You won’t even know I’m with you.” But he would be with her. A guard.
“Kenton sent you.” Her protective custody.
No answer.
She turned and stared at the street before her, barely seeing the swirl of traffic and all the black-and-white cop cars. Behind her, Ramirez just waited. “If I tell you no, you’re just going to follow me, aren’t you?”
“Since you don’t have a car, that followin’ is gonna be real easy.” Wait—was that a Texas drawl?
Lora sighed. “Fine. Come on, but I’m driving.”
He jumped down the steps and tossed the keys her way.
She snatched them out of the air.
“Fair enough.” Dark eyes studied her. “Where we going?”
Her fingers tightened. “I thought you weren’t asking questions.”
“That was my only one.”
Right.
“I need to see someone.” She’d run because she had to talk to him. Kenton—Kenton was overwhelming her. She couldn’t see past him sometimes. She didn’t know what the future held, and the past was starting to get so blurry.
She pressed the unlock button on the key chain. A black sedan flashed its lights. “Don’t worry, he’s not too far away,” she told him, but the words were such a lie. He’d gotten farther away every day.
Kenton watched them through the glass. Lora and Jon climbed into the car. Lora was driving. Figured. And Jon, well, it was odd, but the guy was almost smiling.
The sedan pulled away from the curb.
“It’s a real bitch when the case gets personal, isn’t it?” Luke Dante murmured.
Kenton ran a hand over his face and turned to study the blond agent. “Yeah, it is.” He tried to push back the fury. “I want him stopped.”