Page 137 of Fire Fight
“I go where Aspen goes,” he growled at his brother.
Lane laughed and shook his head, but didn’t disagree. “Yes, because I knew you’d raise holy hell if I tried to take Aspen along without you.”
We chatted idly the rest of the drive, my attention out the window as we navigated through the neighborhood. It took me a moment, but with a jolt, I suddenly recognized it as the one I’d had my meltdown in the day I got out of the hospital. I didn’t feel anything as we rolled along the streets, no sense of foreboding or those bad “woo-woo” vibes I often got during an investigation. The neighborhood was clean and quiet, a classic residential area.
Was it harboring a dark secret?
I couldn’t say for sure.
Eventually, we pulled up in front of a gorgeous two-story rancher with impeccable landscaping. Set atop a small hill, stone steps were cut into the incline, marking a path up to the front door. The driveway was level with the street but sloped up to the garage, which was attached to the house via a breezeway.
“Damn, this is beautiful,” I mused unhelpfully.
“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Crew said, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Not exactly my idea of a good time either,” Lane agreed. “Goes to show that sometimes you don’t know what people are hiding behind closed doors.”
After another beat in which we all gathered our courage, we got out and made our way up the path. I stuffed my hands in my pockets so the guys wouldn’t see them shaking as Lane approached and knocked on the door.
My entire body stiffened as I braced for the moment it wouldopen, wondering if I was about to come face to face with my attacker. Would I even know if he was it?
Instead of a man, a gorgeous woman with strawberry blonde hair opened the door, her brows drawing together in confusion. Too young to be Mrs. Saunders, so I had to assume this was the daughter. My god, she was tall. Categorically, I was tiny, but this woman made me feel like an ant. At her feet, a gorgeous blue merle Australian Shepherd pranced around and yipped excitedly.
“Lane? Crew?”
“Hey, Wy,” Lane said. “Your dad home?”
Wyatt scanned Lane up and down, no doubt taking in the uniform. “I take it this isn’t a social call?”
“Afraid not.”
Her blue eyes narrowed on me. “And who is this?”
“Aspen,” I supplied, sticking my hand out. “Aspen McKay.”
Wyatt’s own palm flew to her mouth. “You’re the one from the fire.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged. Honestly, what else was I supposed to say to that?
Hey, yeah, that was me. And by the way, we think your dad is the one responsible!
Absolutely fucking not.
“Aspen, this is Wyatt Saunders,” Crew supplied, though I’d already figured that out.
Wyatt didn’t acknowledge him, returning her attention to Lane. “Is this about her?”
A stiff nod was all he gave her. “Can we come in?”
Wyatt appeared as though she wanted to say no but ultimately stepped aside with a sigh and admitted us into the house.
“Who’s at the door, Wy?” a deep voice called from inside.
Wyatt led us into a sunken living room that branched off the entryway. To the right was an open plan kitchen and dining room. A large man with broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper scruff,and wavy hair that was more grey than black sat on a couch in front of the television, watchingJeopardy!. When we entered, he paused it and shifted forward to stand.
Fuck, he was tall too. Nearly as tall as Crew and Lane, which put him a few inches over six feet. And he looked strong enough to have hauled me around like a rag doll.
I’d be damned if I could pin him as the man who attacked me, though.
