Shivering, I glance around for a towel. The blowback from the hose got me, and I’m wet and cold as hell.
Avery notices and steps forward, touching my bare chest. Her grimace deepens. “God, your skin is freezing cold, Shane.” Her hands rub my arms, trying to warm me.
The worry she directs my way is sweet, and it hits me in all the ways.
Her hands pause. “Go upstairs and put on dry clothes, okay?”
“Yeah, I need to.” Taking her hand, I guide her toward the stairs with me.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs. “Should we call the police?”
“No, not yet.” Cops snooping around my house is the last thing I want.
In my room, I open a dresser drawer and find a Granthorpe sweatshirt. Putting it on helps. As the adrenaline wears off, my temperature’s dropping. Crossing the room, I look out the window. No movement in the yard. All quiet.
Behind me, Avery’s pacing.
I turn to look at her. “Need something to do, babe?”
“Please.”
“Go downstairs, and put on a pot of coffee. Neither of us is going back to bed anyway.”
“Okay.”
When she doesn’t leave the room, my head cocks.
Her voice is steady, but her brows pinch together with worry. She blows out a long breath. “Sorry. I need a minute. Someoneset the house on fire.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip.
She’s rattled. Anyone would be.
I cross the room instantly and pull her against me in a tight hug. “Hey, everything’s fine. I’ve got you, baby. Promise.”
* * *
AVERY
I am not okay.
Thick storm clouds choke the sky, cloaking the neighborhood in darkness even after dawn. When it starts to rain, Shane scowls and murmurs a curse. Then he grabs his flashlight and heads outside anyway.
There’s a gas can on its side on the lawn near the house. He uses the flashlight to lift it, so he doesn’t smudge any fingerprints that may be on it. After putting it in the garage, he walks around the lawn and looks into the yard behind his.
I trail after him, watching him scan the grass. “What are you looking for?”
“Clues,” he deadpans.
“Seriously though. Did you see him drop something as he ran away?”
“Just the gas can, but you never know.”
Shane hops the fence and walks through his neighbor’s yard all the way to the gate. After what seems like a thorough sweep, he returns.
“I’m going to talk to some of the neighbors. You don’t need to come. Go inside and get warm, Ave.”
“I want to come,” I say, convinced there are things I can learn from watching what he does. “About my getting a gun…”
He scowls at the horizon. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice low and impatient. “Problem number one with your plan is the fact that you don’t know how to use a gun and are therefore more likely to have it taken away from you than to defend yourself successfully. The second problem is that it won’t do you any good to have a gun in your purse if Casanova tries to grab you. When he does it, he doesn’t even leave the girl time to scream, let alone to go digging through her purse.”
