Fired Up Read online

  “Outside,” she ordered. It was the word she always used when she announced that they were going for a walk.

  Hector obeyed. He charged out onto the front step, leash flapping behind him.

  She got Fletcher onto the floor and scrambled to her feet again. Smoke was billowing down the stairs now. She started to cough. This time when she seized Fletcher’s arms and hauled he slid forward a good foot and a half.

  A shriek of rage came from halfway down the staircase.

  “Let him go.” A slender woman dressed in a trendy black hooded track suit appeared at the foot of the stairs. Viewed through the pall of smoke she looked like the ghost of a crazed cheerleader. The glow of firelight from above danced on her blond ponytail and sparked off the gun in her hand. Her face was the only thing about her that was not impossibly cute. Her pretty features were twisted with rage.

  “You can’t have him,” she screamed. “Fletcher is mine. We belong together. Leave him alone.”

  Chloe recognized her immediately from Fletcher’s description. Madeline Gibson. Fresh splashes of wild energy burned on the treads of the staircase behind her. Demented obsession always produced a lot of raw psi.

  “We all have to get out of here,” Chloe shouted, trying to pitch her voice above the shriek of the alarm. She managed to drag Fletcher a little closer to the door. “Don’t worry—you can have him as soon as we’re safe. Believe me, I don’t want him.”

  “I told you to leave him alone.” Madeline aimed the gun at her. “He’s mine.”

  “Come with us, Madeline,” she urged. “You can have Fletcher as soon as we get him outside, I promise.”

  “No, he stays here with me. You can’t have him.” Madeline’s voice rose to a shrill screech. “No one else can have him. I told him that, but he didn’t believe me.”

  Chloe sensed rather than heard the rush of movement behind her. Belatedly she realized that Hector was no longer barking. He slammed through the door, going straight past her. He was moving low and fast, heading straight for Madeline.

  “Hector, no,” Chloe yelled.

  But it was too late. Madeline, probably reacting more on instinct than intent, swung the barrel of the gun toward Hector. There was a deafening explosion when she pulled the trigger. Hector tumbled to the floor.

  Stunned, Chloe looked down at the dog.

  “Hector,” she whispered.

  Madeline switched the barrel of the gun toward Fletcher, her face now terrifyingly calm and composed as she prepared to pull the trigger a second time.

  “Wait,” Chloe said tightly. She dropped Fletcher and went slowly toward Madeline. She was forced to step across Hector’s still form to reach her. “Not yet. Fletcher is unconscious. If you shoot him now he’ll die without ever understanding that he was supposed to be with you. You want him to understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Madeline’s face crumpled with confusion. “He has to understand.”

  Above the noise of the smoke detector Chloe was remotely aware of the sound of a car slamming to a halt in front of the house. She did not take her attention off Madeline Gibson.

  “Right,” she said. “We have to wake him up so that you can explain everything to him. Why is he asleep?”

  “The cookies,” Madeline said. “I ground up the pills and put them into the cookies. Left them on the back doorstep. I signed the note with her name. He should never have eaten them. It was a test, you see.”

  “A test,” Chloe repeated.

  “To see if he understood that she was all wrong for him. If he threw the cookies into the garbage I would know that he realized she was all wrong for him. But the bastard ate the cookies.”

  “Got it.” She was very close to Madeline now, almost within touching distance. “That explains everything.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Madeline said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m just leaving.”

  She touched Madeline’s shoulder. Madeline did not seem to notice.

  Jack loomed in the open doorway. Simultaneously, energy surged through the hall. Chloe sensed that the hot currents of psi were directed at Madeline, but she still had her hand on the young woman’s shoulder when the storm of nightmares struck.

  It was like touching a live electrical wire. The physical contact with Madeline ensured that she took much of the shock, too. Horrors from the primordial darkness buried in the deepest regions of her psyche twisted through her. Phantoms and specters and things that go bump in the night rode the raging waves of energy that cascaded through the small space. Terrifying things flickered at the edge of her vision and slithered at her feet.

  She heard a scream, the high, keening wail of a woman staring into hell. Not her, she thought. Madeline. With a gasp, she jerked her hand away from Madeline’s shoulder, breaking the connection. The nightmares receded immediately. Breathless, heart pounding, she reeled back against the wall.

  Madeline finally stopped screaming. She went rigid, shuddered and collapsed. The gun clattered on the tile floor of the hall.

  Jack Winters was giving orders.

  “Rose, help her with this guy,” he said, moving past Chloe. “I’ll get the woman.”

  Rose grabbed one of Fletcher’s arms. Chloe grabbed the other. Together they hauled him out onto the front step and down onto the lawn. Chloe looked back into the burning house and saw Jack emerge with Madeline slung over one shoulder. Hector’s limp body was tucked under his arm. He paused long enough to kick an object out the door. It landed on the grass near Rose.

  “Oh, shit,” Rose said. “She had a gun?”

  “Don’t touch it,” Chloe said. “It will be covered with her fingerprints. Evidence.”

  She was still shivering in reaction to the icy sea of nightmares that had lapped at her senses for those few seconds. As bad as it was, she knew that she had not gotten the full blast. She could not begin to imagine what the experience had been like for Madeline.

  She watched Jack come toward them, a dark and powerful figure carrying the unconscious woman and Hector from the burning house.

  Avenging angel.

  10

  HE STOOD A LITTLE DISTANCE FROM CHLOE WHILE SHE talked to the police officer. Hector was alive. One of the medics at the scene had taken a look at him and bandaged the wound in the dog’s head and offered the reassuring assessment that Hector would probably live. A kindhearted neighbor had volunteered to take Hector to the nearest emergency veterinary clinic.

  Rose pressed close to Chloe in silent support. Jack realized that he wanted to stand close, too, but that wasn’t his job. He was not part of her inner circle. He was just the client, the client who had burned her badly with a psychic blast of nightmares. It was a wonder she had not collapsed like Madeline. Probably a tribute to her own strong talent.

  Fletcher Monroe and Madeline Gibson had been taken away in ambulances. An officer had accompanied Madeline, who was still unconscious when she was loaded into the vehicle. Monroe had begun to stir when he was secured to the stretcher. Jack had overheard him say something about cookies.

  The firemen had beaten back the worst of the flames, but the house was still smoldering. There was a tangle of hoses on the lawn, a lot of flashing lights from the emergency vehicles and a great deal of water in the street. The neighbors had emerged and now stood around in small groups, watching the action.

  “CSI will test the cookies, but it looks like Gibson was telling you the truth when she said she put some sleeping meds in them,” the officer said to Chloe. He checked his notes. “She waited until midnight and then came back to burn the house down around him.” He looked up. “Think she was intending suicide as well as murdering Monroe?”

  “She wasn’t thinking clearly at all.” Chloe folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts. “But, no, I don’t think she intended to die in the fire. She just wanted to make sure that no other woman would ever get Fletcher, I mean, Mr. Monroe.”

  “You say she’s a student in one of his classes?”


  “She was a student. Last quarter, I think. They dated, but when the quarter ended, so did the relationship. Then she started stalking Mr. Monroe. She got into a pattern of showing up here at midnight and leaving little presents on the front steps.”

  The officer nodded. “Enough to give any man the creeps. Did Monroe get a restraining order?”

  “No. He was hoping to avoid that because of the scandal it would cause at the college. I was supposed to get some incriminating pictures. He intended to use them to confront her. I told him it probably wouldn’t work, but he was convinced he could handle the situation if I got him the photos.”

  “What made him think he could deal with her in a rational way?” the officer asked with a quizzical expression.

  “Mr. Monroe is a psychologist.”

  The officer grimaced. “Got it. Well, thanks very much, Miss Harper. Someone will be in touch about getting a statement. I’ll need your contact information.”

  “I’ve got a card.” Chloe looked down as though she expected to find a card in one of the pockets of her trench coat. A confused expression crossed her face. “My cards are in my satchel. It’s in the trunk of my car.”

  “I’ll get it,” Rose said. “Give me your keys, Chloe.”

  “Keys.” Chloe reached into a pocket, withdrew a key chain and handed it to Rose.

  Rose hurried off toward the small vehicle parked halfway down the street.

  The officer examined Chloe with a thoughtful expression. “I recognize your name, Miss Harper. You consulted on the Anderson Point murders a year ago, didn’t you?”

  Chloe glanced over her shoulder as if checking to see if Rose had found her car.

  “I gave Detective Takahashi some information,” she said quietly. “He was able to use it to identify a suspect.”

  “I know. That one was as cold as it gets. They say Takahashi worked it night and day. Kept the file under his desk, but it stayed cold until he caught a break with the information you gave him. I remember the hostage situation at the end. It was a real squeaker.”

  “Yes.” Chloe’s voice was tight.

  “They sent the crazy bastard to Winter Cove hospital. Luckily for everyone involved he found a way to hang himself. Saved the state a lot of money.”

  Rose returned with a card. “You sure you’re okay, boss?” She examined Chloe from head to foot again. “You didn’t get singed or anything?”

  “I’m fine,” Chloe said. She handed the card to the officer and waited until he had moved off to talk to some people who were getting out of a CSI van. She looked first at Rose and then at Jack. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad to see you both, but what are you two doing here, anyway?”

  “You heard what Mr. Winters told the cop,” Rose said. “He was worried about you being out here alone on a stakeout.”

  “I know what you told the officer, Mr. Winters.” Chloe’s frown darkened. “But how did you find out that I was working tonight?”

  “I called Rose with some questions,” Jack said. “She told me you were out here on your own.”

  “You called my office in the middle of the night?” Disbelief tightened her soot-streaked face. “And the two of you just decided to come racing over here to see if I was okay?”

  “Chloe,” Rose said quietly. “Mr. Winters had a feeling, okay? So did I. How often have you told me to pay attention to intuition?”

  “Sorry.” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “I’m not complaining. I just don’t understand what made you think that something was wrong.”

  “I’ve got a lot invested in you.” Jack took her arm. “You’re starting to shiver.”

  “It’s cold out here.”

  “It’s the adrenaline,” he said. “Makes you jittery. You need to sit down.”

  “Actually, I think I need a drink,” Chloe said.

  “That, too. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’ve got my car,” Chloe said.

  She probably didn’t even want to be in the same car with him now, not after the way he had burned her.

  Rose snorted. “Like you’re in any condition to drive, boss. You’ve had one heck of a close call. Mr. Winters is right. Let him drive you back to the office. I’ll take care of your car.”

  Chloe looked mutinous for a few seconds, but she finally abandoned the battle.

  “Okay,” she said.

  He bundled her into the front seat, then went around to the driver’s side. He peeled off his leather jacket, which now smelled of smoke, and tossed it onto the floor of the backseat. He got in beside her.

  When he closed the door the small space was suddenly infused with a startling sense of intense intimacy. He was very conscious of Chloe sitting so close. She smelled of smoke and woman and the aftereffects of adrenaline. She had been in the red zone, running wide open, when he went through the doorway. He had sensed it immediately. He, too, had been cranked to the max. Now they were both enveloped in the rush of the after-burn. He realized he was fully aroused, every muscle in his body hard and tight.

  He’d heard rumors about the erotic heat that could be generated by two strong talents who were sexually attracted to each other. He’d encountered more than one powerful female talent over the years and felt a certain pleasant stirring of his senses. But he’d never been slammed into overdrive like this. Get a grip, man.

  They sat quietly for a couple of minutes, watching the activity in the front yard of the burning house.

  “You saved my dog,” Chloe said after a while. “And probably Fletcher and me as well. Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  She pushed some hair out of her eyes. “Hector went for Madeline. Trying to protect me. I’ve never seen him do anything like that before. I think that in another life he must have had some guard dog training.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he was just acting on instinct. He’s a tough dog. The medic seemed pretty sure he’ll make it.”

  “Thanks to you. But I need to get him home from the vet as soon as possible.” Anxiety laced her voice. “He’s got abandonment issues. If he wakes up in strange surroundings—”

  “The vet will know how to deal with him.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” She exhaled slowly. “Sorry, I’m a little rattled.”

  “Understandable.”

  She looked around as if seeing the interior of the car for the first time.

  “Nice ride,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “But it’s going to smell like smoke after I get out.” She fumbled with her seat belt. “Probably cost you a fortune to get the interior cleaned.”

  “I can afford it. And you’re not the only one who picked up some smoke and soot tonight.”

  She glanced over her shoulder into the backseat, where he had tossed his jacket. “No, I guess not.”

  He watched her take a couple more stabs at the belt buckle, missing each time. He reached over and buckled it for her. She exhaled, rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. He couldn’t think of anything else to add to that. What did you say to a woman after you had hit her with a wave of nightmares?

  “That is one heck of a talent you’ve got,” she said. Her voice was absolutely neutral. “The second one, I take it? The one you think means you’ve been hit with the Winters Curse?”

  He watched the smoking house. “I’m still learning to control it. For obvious reasons I haven’t been able to run a lot of experiments.”

  “Yeah, I can see the problem there.”

  He had literally terrified her tonight. She’d probably have nightmares about him for weeks. Not the best way to impress a woman on a first date.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. Just a little jittery, that’s all. The adrenaline, like you said.”

  He almost smiled. His very own gutsy, hard-boiled private eye.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Forget it. Under the circumstances, I’m more than
happy to cut you a little slack.”

  He got the car started. “So, do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

  She opened her eyes and looked straight ahead through the windshield. “Almost never. I hate this kind of work; it’s always messy.”

  “Rose said something about Monroe being your sort of ex.”

  “Ex-boyfriend, not ex-husband. We stopped seeing each other several months ago. Last quarter he dated Madeline Gibson. When he tried to end it, she started stalking him. Madeline didn’t understand Fletcher. She didn’t realize that he has a very predictable pattern.”

  “What kind of pattern?”

  “Every quarter he picks out a new female student in one of his classes and fires up a relationship. Said relationship always comes to an end when the quarter is over. For Fletcher, a new quarter always means a new girlfriend. He is the quintessential serial monogamist.”

  “Madeline did not take it well when he explained the rules?”

  “No. She became increasingly intense. She was always there, waiting outside his classroom. She showed up at his gym while he was working out. The little gifts began to appear on his front step. Flowers. Fresh coffee and doughnuts. She always came around after midnight. Fletcher tried to talk to her, but she just laughed and said she was teasing him.”

  “So he contacted you?”

  “We had stopped seeing each other, but we were still friends. He knew what I did for a living, of course. And he was desperate to keep the problem under wraps.”

  “You told the cop that Monroe was worried about the fallout at the college.”

  “Fletcher’s dating pattern has started to cause talk. There have been complaints from other members of the faculty and some nasty gossip. At the college level it’s certainly not unheard of for instructors to date their students. But when it happens over and over again, people do tend to notice. And not everyone approves.”

  “In other words, Monroe was looking at the possibility of losing his job.”

  She turned her head and looked at him. “You appear to have grasped the big picture here, Mr. Winters.”

  “My other talent is for strategy, remember? I get big pictures and bottom lines.”