Page 81 of Billionaire Protector

For the next half an hour, they searched, connected via cell phones, yet they found no leads and no trace of the culprit. They canvased the entire fair, and sent the security team to do the same, but the masked man had vanished. He had probablyhidden behind some bushes and removed the outfit, which would’ve made him impossible to identify. No doubt he was long gone.

When Cole reunited with Sarah, she was pink with exertion and anger. “Do you think–”

“Yes,” he said tersely. He didn’t need to hear the question to confirm what they both suspected. “That’s Harmony Creek’s hometown arsonist, and, no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Sarah’s expression tightened. “Someone is actually trying to frame me. Was he planning to torch the trees and hope authorities would follow the trail of ashes to me?”

It definitely appeared that way. There was no misinterpreting the man attempting to light the branches. Now more than ever, he was convinced his instincts had been correct. Someone was trying to incriminate Sarah.

It made what he had to do all the more difficult.

He started casually, “Although to be honest, I didn’t really get a good look at the guy. I’m not sure he was doing anything.”

Sarah gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. You just spent the last half an hour chasing him.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to take any chances. Now that I think about it, it seems a little far-fetched that the arsonist followed you here. Maybe the guy was a freelance flame thrower.”

“Freelance flame throwing?” Sarah gritted her teeth. “That isn’t a thing. People are freelance writers or photographers, not flame throwers.”

He plucked a leaf from his costume. “You never know. I’m really not familiar with the career path.”

“Career path?” Flames blazed in her eyes. “What about freelance arson? Ever consider that?”

His response: another shrug. He didn’t need to prove he didn’t believe her, just not that he did. It would be important ifthe arsonist succeeded in framing her. “There’s nothing we can do now. The culprit – if there was one – is gone. We should enjoy the last few hours of the fair.”

“You want to stay?” Sarah’s tone was incredulous. “After this?”

He kept his own voice casual. “Why not? They spent a lot of money to bring us here. We should take advantage of it.” True, and yet not the only reason he wanted to stay. He needed to protect her, to keep her safe.

Simply to be with her.

Sarah looked ready to argue further but surprised him by sighing instead. “I suppose there will be more talk if we leave. Since he didn’t manage to light anything on fire or reveal himself, there wouldn’t be anything to put in a police report.”

“Exactly. And you never know,” Cole said seriously. “You might actually have fun.”

A half smile tilted her lips. “Let’s not get ridiculous.”

He took her hand as the good humor between them returned. But as they walked through the fairy tale world, danger brewed anew. If the arsonist followed them here, he was growing braver, brasher and more dangerous. Who knew when one of the fires would take a tragic turn?

Or who it would burn.

Several truths were obvious:

1. The arsonist had followed her to the fair.

2. He was definitely framing her. For whatever reason, he wanted her to go down for the fires. He may have already made a believer in Cole.

3. Cole was still the most attractive man who ever tried to arrest her.

Somehow the growing peril didn’t stop her from enjoying their time together. She laughed heartedly at his jokes, smiledas he recounted stories from their childhood and didn’t protest when he scooted a little too close during the cello concert.

Okay, fine,shescooted too close.

She just couldn’t help it. The fair had a magical effect on the usually stalwart man, tuning him relaxed, considerate and charming. They chatted about anything and everything, and not once did he try to arrest her. Oh, he was still powerful and commanding, stepping between her and an over-eager male who’d had one too many tankards when she could’ve defended herself, but even that didn’t bother her. She’d never admit it, but it was nice to have support.

And when he’d reached out and taken her hand (at least three hundred and fifty-two times) she let him.

Soon it was time for the feast, an extravagant dinner held in a lavish banquet hall. They waited in line behind the other guests, but when they reached the entrance, the usher didn’t gesture them through as he had the rest of the guests. Instead, he pointed to a door to the side. “Right this way.”

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