Page 192 of The Reluctant Hero

“Is that a fire?” I point and glance at Jake.

He leans over me, and the driver rolls down his window. The acrid stench of a bonfire fills the car quickly.

“Oh shit,” the guy inches up until we can see the street clearly. That warning inside gets heavy enough that I grit my teeth.

There’s a house at the end of the cul-de-sac with flames flickering in every window. The fire has already consumed the shades covering them, revealing the utter destruction of the furniture inside.

Jake’s breath on my cheek pulls my attention back to him. He’s scowling at the sight as if his night just got ruined.

“There’s no helping that,” he sighs like he’s trying to let it go. “I’m calling the fire department now.”

A thump of doom hits me.

“Drive,” I demand with a snarl.

“I’m on parole and want nothing to do with this,” the driver lays on the gas, and the house disappears from view in a blur. The doom feeling stays behind with the fire. I don’t know what was left over waiting for me or why the thought of the fire department made me freak out, but I’m not questioning it.

Jake is explaining that we’re eyewitnesses to the driver’s innocence and for him to slow to the speed limit while my brain clicks over.

I have three guesses about whose house that was. I didn’t get a chance to look at street numbers, but I have a feeling I already know.

Someone set fire to Jakolski’s place. Possibly with him in it. My gloved hands twist over the baton in frustration. If they got to him, then Blake is awake and running his mouth. I need to check in with Shade again. He said South set up a camera in his room once he was out of surgery. Why didn’t he call me?

“Take us home,” Jake says calmly, and his arm wraps around my shoulder to pull me close. He’s watching me with furrowed brows, but I’m not paying attention, my eyes trained out the windshield but unseeing.

Someone is tying up loose ends. I’ll probably get served widow paperwork in the mail instead of a divorce decree. That leads the cops right to me. He had to have named me in the assault. That’s why the fire department was a no-go for me. Maybe they were already there and allowing the house to burn. I didn’t see anyone on their porches gawking.

We’re back at Gabriel’s ridiculous mansion before I can blink. The driver practically kicks us out and demands that we forget all about him before he squeals away from us. Every light is on, and the gates are wide open.

“I guess we’re in trouble,” I mutter blankly, my brain a million miles away.

“Inside, my imp,” Jake hurries me along the drive. It takes a while to get to the house, which gives me ample time to think. Jake is watching news reports on his phone. No one knows anything yet. Firefighters have arrived on the scene and are trying to keep the blaze away from the neighboring houses. The reporter says they suspect gasoline as an accelerant.

When we make it through the doors an enraged Mikael greets us. Before he has a chance to utter a word, Jake starts making demands.

“You have the lists of names? We need them.”

He pulls my hand and practically drags me to a sitting room where everyone else is. Mikael follows us with a heavy tread, demanding explanations. Ace is red-faced with rage as we come in.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re doin’?” He barks out as he paces. His fists are clenched tight enough they’re pale. This reaction is familiar. “You’re supposed to be stayin’put,damn it!”

“Karter Jakolski was next. Who else did you plan on?” Jake asks, snatching up a stack of stapled pages from Cade.

“What the hell?” Cade snaps and tries to get them back.

Jake brings the pages to me. It’s a copy of my list of fraud victims. I flip through to get to the last few pages. I rip away the victims and toss those pages aside to focus on the fifteen names left. Jakowlski is on top. The next name down is Fullerton.

“Check Fullerton,” I tell him flatly, elbowing Jake away from me.

He makes a sound I assume is acceptance and pulls his phone up to start looking. I start memorizing.

Hughes, Farmer, Simmons, Owen, Crawford, Woodward, Riley, Flores, Lawrence, Miles, Tran, Cooper, Campbell, Wong, Robertson.

I repeat it to myself until I can close my eyes and feel confident that I don’t need the page anymore.

“What’s going on?” Mikael asks from beside the couch Cade is sitting on.

“We were going to visit Mr. Jakolski this evening. Sadly, someone set fire to his home before we got there,” Jake tells him in a pleasant voice.

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