Page 74 of Raging Inferno

“Do you want something for the pain? There are ibuprofen tablets in the kit.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll take them if it starts to bother me. Thanks for patching it up.”

“Anytime.”

It took longer to get to the safe house than normal, and he realized Kayne was taking a circuitous route. Every time they gotin the SUV, Kayne and Presley scanned it for tracking devices like the one she’d found on his vehicle. So far, there had been no others.

Dominic checked on the spaghetti sauce simmering in the Crock Pot when they returned home. The meatballs were his specialty. He’d perfected the meal at the fire station and regularly had requests for it. It was a recipe passed down from his Italiannonna. He’d even taught Gia how to make the sauce.

“I’m going to check with the office to see if they’ve been able to track Eddie Smith,” Kayne announced as he retreated down the hall.

Dominic pulled Presley into his trembling arms. “I was so worried about you.”

“Dominic, I’m fine. I was wearing a vest.”

He slid his palms around her face, brushing his thumbs along her smooth cheeks. “Your beautiful head was exposed. If that guy had been a better shot . . .” He shuddered again.

“Ah. The shivering wasn’t about the ugliness of the wound. You were worried about me.”

“Damn straight.”

#

Tamera Watts wanted to cancel her clients for the rest of the week, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Jessie she had to pay the bills. Much to the displeasure of her first husband, Calvin, she’d gotten the historic house in the divorce. He’d wanted to keep it, but the judge had ruled in her favor. At the time, she’d been ecstatic. Later, she wondered if the judge had been punking her. The thing was a freaking money pit.

Her second husband, Peter, had fallen more in love with the home than with her. He’d had big plans to bring it back to its original glory, but he had been all talk and no action. He fancied himself to be an architect, but in reality, he was a tattoo artist,and not a good one at that. The marriage had fizzled long before the first window could be replaced.

The upkeep on a century-old home was never-ending, and she’d hoped number three, Earl, would help her with expenses, but he’d been a deadbeat. He’d slept all day and played drums at night in a crummy Kiss tribute band. As it was, she was barely holding her head above water, trying to keep it up with minimal maintenance. She didn’t want to admit defeat and put the house on the market, but it might come to that at some point in the very near future. Number one, Calvin, would relish in her failure. That had spurred her to keep plugging away.

Her next appointment was with Dwight Grubb. He was a local farmer who’d been pushing to become husband number four despite her sincere disinterest. Bordering on slovenly, his lecherous leers and beady eyes gave her the unmitigated creeps.

The doorbell rang. With a resigned sigh, she stood to open the door. “Mr. Grubb, it’s good to see you.”

“Now, now, Tamera, dear, you know you’re supposed to call me Dwight.”

“Right. Dwight. Come in.”

He wore a pair of gray and brown snake-skin cowboy boots paired with denim overalls and a plaid shirt. A crease in his uncombed sandy hair indicated that he usually sported a cowboy hat. Stick a pole up his ass, and he could scare crows away from a cornfield.

He leaned in for a kiss, but she quickly hurried behind her desk so she didn’t have to touch him. He frowned but took a seat.

“So, Tamera, my sweet, I have two box seats forHamletat the Marshall Performing Arts Center. It’s William Shakespeare’s best play, you know. Won’t you join me? We’ll have a nice dinner, maybe at that new Italian restaurant. After the show,” he wagged his brows, “who knows where the evening will lead.”

“I’m busy.”

Dwight blinked. “I didn’t tell you when it was.”

Tamera waved a hand. “I’m unavailable every night.” She opened the pink lotus dispenser on her desk to display an array of cigarettes, hoping to distract him. “Would you like a smoke?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He fished one out and stuck it in his mouth. “Got a light?”

“Of course.”

She flicked her yellow Bic and reached over to ignite the tip. He took a deep draw and sucked the smoke into his lungs.

“What can I help you with today, Dwight?”

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