A wide smile gleamed in the dark. It had been the perfect little fire, timed just right. When she'd read the note it had been so satisfying to see fear on her face.

She was going to get what was coming to her soon.

Very soon.

But not too soon, not before a couple more fires were lit, not before she had to really work for it.

It was going to be so much fun to watch her go around and around in circles. And all the while, the arsonist would be right there under her nose.

Today had been a very good day.

Tomorrow would be even better.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHAT THE hell is going on here, Logan?”

Logan knew there was no point in holding back with Patrick. No matter what he did or didn't say to his friend, news of his suspension was going to travel fast. Their community of firefighters was small and tight. No one probed where they weren't welcome, but it was impossible to keep public information a secret.

“McCurdy put me on suspension. This afternoon. He thinks I lit the Desolation fire.”

“Jesus,” Patrick said on a heavy exhale, looking as perplexed as Logan had ever seen him. “How are any of us supposed to do this job if we're going to be under suspicion all the time? What's next, no BBQs in our backyards because we'll get arrested for risky behavior?”

Logan appreciated his buddy's support. Even if it didn't mean a damn thing in the grand scheme of things. But he needed to find out everything he could about this motel fire. Someone was after Maya. And he needed to find out who. And why.

Clearly, nothing had changed in the six months since he'd seen her, because he still wasn't smart enough to walk away from danger. Especially not if it meant she was a wide-open target.

“Anything else I should know about this fire?”

Patrick shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't tell you. After all, you are an arson suspect.”

Logan didn't move a muscle, not until he was sure whether his buddy was playing with him.

Patrick punched him in the shoulder. “Just kidding. Sorry, I shouldn't be f**king with you. I don't care what those Forest Service ass**les come up with, we all know you're not the one they're looking for.”

Logan forced a grin. It was one thing to have a bunch of suits come after him. But once other firefighters started doubting, his career was over. The threat of arson would follow him out of the state, across the country. Not just Lake Tahoe.

“Glad to know you've got my back.”

Patrick looked down at his notebook. “Thus far all we've got is a firebox and a disturbing letter. I'll give you a call if we turn up any fingerprints.”

But Logan wasn't done asking questions. “Tell me about Maya's brother.”

“I only met him a couple of times. He signed on last year, before I took over, but word is he was a young, energetic guy with a great future ahead of him.”

No wonder she'd bristled when he'd accused her of not respecting firefighters. Not only had her father been a hotshot, but her brother had lost his life on the job. He vaguely remembered meeting Tony Jackson one night at a bar, but last summer had been nonstop, and there were a handful of rookies he hadn't really gotten to hang with until the winter truly kicked in, in late December, and he had some downtime. Tony had already been dead by then.

“What happened?”

Patrick shook his head. “Routine apartment fire. Some kids lighting up, probably fell asleep and dropped a lit reefer onto old carpet. Tony was on the top floor making sure they'd gotten everyone out, when the beam holding up the roof collapsed.”

Logan remembered hearing about an apartment building that had burned to the foundation in mid-November. Just days before Maya had walked into his friend's bar. Their short conversation came back to him. She'd told him she was in Tahoe to clear out her brother's apartment and that he was already gone. Logan had assumed a job change was the reason her brother had left town, maybe even jail, but not death.

No wonder she'd cried her eyes out in his arms.

“They couldn't get him out, could they?”

“No. He burned with the building.”

She hadn't even been able to get one last look at her her brother, to make the choice between caskets and an open- or closed-viewing vigil. She probably couldn't stand to look at a potential arsonist without wanting to plunge a knife into the guy's chest. His chest.

“Honestly”—Patrick rubbed one hand against his chin—“I don't know if she should be out investigating fires. Not until she gets over what happened to her brother. If she can.”

Logan found himself wondering the same thing. But something told him he and Maya weren't that different. And if he was standing in her shoes, he'd be doing the same damn thing.

“She's doing what she's got to do,” he said in reply. “You or I wouldn't walk away from our jobs after losing a brother. Neither will she.”

Patrick grunted his agreement and Logan thanked him for the information, then grabbed a flashlight off a nearby truck, not bothering to turn it on as he headed off to locate Maya. Anger had fueled him from the moment she'd uttered the word “suspension” until they'd heard about the motel fire on his radio. But now that she'd been the target of an arsonist—and especially given what had happened to her brother—he couldn't sustain his rage.

Not even in the face of a brutal suspension.

He found her sitting in the sand, facing the lake. She looked small and forlorn, her arms wrapped around her legs.

Instinctively, he wanted to take her in his arms. She had to be frightened. Anyone would be after reading that note. But he knew she would never accept comfort from him, not when they were still standing on opposite sides of the fire.

Somehow, he had to get them on the same side.

He clicked the flashlight on and waved it over her head in warning. She jumped up and spun around, sand flying out from beneath her feet.

Her hand flew over her chest and he instantly regretted startling her. Especially on the heels of her motel room being firebombed by someone who was into leaving threatening notes.

“Leave me alone, Mr. Cain.”

“I'm sorry about your brother.”

Surprise moved across her face, but she quickly shut it down.

“You always feel sorry for your investigator?” she said, twisting his earlier words around. “Interesting strategy.”