Page 71 of Playing With Fire

Jodi tried to swallow, but her throat felt raw. She glanced at Ricky, whose jaw was clenched.

Silas went on. “They were moved to the county services and settled in Temple Mountain when their father somehow tracked them down in New York, demanding that his sons be returned. The court denied him, but he has not given up.”

Understanding hit Jodi like a bucket of icy water. “So if Joshua and Judah wind up back in the city in the juvenile system, their father...”

Silas nodded. “He’ll find them. Probably make the case that the system has failed.”

“They are underage,” said Ricky, “so their names won’t be disclosed. But I get it, any paperwork has to be watertight.”

Silas nodded. The preacher looked tired, thought Jodi, imagining the broken nights and early starts as well as the busy days.

“One more thing,” said Silas heavily. “Those boys have more than a healthy distrust of authority. One of their foster fathers had the bright idea that all they needed was old-fashioned discipline, so he locked them in their room with barred windows and zilch furniture for hours at a time.”

He leaned forward.

“If you put Joshua and Judah in an enclosed space and threaten that there’s more to come, all hell will break loose.”

***

Jodi and Ricky walked down the front steps of the rectory in silence. It was unexpectedly mild, despite the snow banked up against the house and clinging to the branches of the huge trees.

She lifted her face to feel the soft, fragrant breeze on her cheeks. It was a promise that spring would come again, that the winter months would give way to a flush of green buds and that the frozen earth would be transformed.

Ricky followed her gaze. “I used to miss this in the city. The way you can smell the change in the seasons. My mom’s garden—one day it’s a damp heap of mulch, and the next she’s picking lettuce and tomatoes.”

By unspoken agreement, they kept walking down the street. Jodi felt the numbness in her heart yield just a little.

“Do you miss living in the rectory?” He saw her frown and hastily added, “Although you have a beautiful apartment. It’s about twice the size of my place in Queens.”

Ricky had an apartment in Queens?

Of course he did, she told herself. She’d always known that he was on a short contract with the town council. He’d never actually said that he was going back to New York when it finished. But then, he hadn’t needed to.

Jodi forced her mind back to the present. She knew his question was about more than where she lived.

“I haven’t lived in the rectory for a long time. I’d gone before Jaylee came back home with Isaac. Gramps and I got on fine, but...well...when the job came up at The Monitor, I found my own place.” She paused, reliving the quiet satisfaction that she still felt every time she opened her front door. “And I love it.”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “And then the Beechams arrived last year, and everything changed anyway.”

Her eyes slid sideways. She tried to ignore a frisson of pure longing at the sight of his lean, compact figure tramping through the sodden leaves. At his strong, stern profile, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. Even now, when Jodi had humiliated him in front of his boss and had essentially thrown the twins straight into Leroy Browning’s firing line with The Monitor story.

She’d noticed, of course she had. Because Jodi was the same. That rush of warmth, the deep glow of desire, all for a man who seemed to be slipping ever further from her grasp.

Foolishness. Sheer foolishness.

She jammed her gloved hands into her pockets. Her mind obligingly wandered into an (admittedly subjective) list of his faults.

Ricky Sharp was stubborn to the point of being pigheaded, and passionate to the point of obsession. Not to forget brave to the point of self-sacrifice, possibly even foolhardiness? Her private research had thrown up a bevy of media reports of commendations for a man who always led his team from the front.

Perfect firefighter material, in fact, because who else runs into the burning building when everyone else is running out?

And Ricky was secretive. Slow to trust. Played his cards close to his chest.

Even with her. Perhaps, especially with her.

A car coasted slowly down the street, the snow tires rumbling on the gritty surface. It was followed by a motorcycle, the driver bundled head to toe in black and the fog-like exhaust hanging briefly in the cold air.

The silence hung between them, bursting with unsaid thoughts and feelings.

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