Authors: Wendy Stone
"Mac! God dammit, I swear you haven't got one brain cell in that rock on your shoulders. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He moved forward swiftly, quickly checking the other rooms. “Empty,” he said when he came back out, watching as she cradled her laptop in her arm while trying to use a fire extinguisher with the other. “Give me that."
She gave up the extinguisher, her eyes almost wild as she went to the counter and gingerly set her overheated laptop down on it. Saying a small prayer, she popped it open, hitting the on button with a sense of dread.
"Does it still work?” Hawk asked, laying one last fine layer of white foam over the mess in the middle of the floor.
The laptop gave a small bleep, its screen flickering and then lighting. She gave a small sigh when her desktop opened up, the picture of her family staring back at her from her wallpaper. “Yes,” she said, running her hands caressingly over the keys. “I knew you wouldn't give up the goat."
"'Give up the goat'?” Hawk asked, coming back over and setting the fire extinguisher on the counter. “What the hell does that mean?"
"It means it's still working, no thanks to you,” she muttered under her breath.
"What did you say?” Hawk turned to face her.
"Nothing,” she said quickly, closing the laptop and sliding it back further on the counter. Without another word, she started toward the other rooms of her apartment, determined to see what else was ruined. Hurrying into her bedroom, she stared in horror at the photo album that was strewn over the top of her mattress, her sheets and comforter thrown on the floor and stomped on.
But it was the album that started tears streaming down her face. Pictures were torn out, thrown around the room, ripped and ruined, pages torn from the album. She reached down and let her thumb rest on a picture of her dad, his eyes alight. The picture had been ripped in half, the other half was gone. It had been of her mother on her parent's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, staring up at her father, love shining from her eyes.
"Are you okay?” Hawk asked, his eyes shadowed as he watched her.
"Fine,” she snapped, wiping her eyes and moving away from him. “I'm just wonderful, considering that ninety-five percent of everything I owned is ripped up, burned up or stolen."
"Mac,” Hawk began, only to find himself talking to empty air as Kenzie left the room to go into the bathroom. He heaved a sigh and started after her.
"Mac, I called in a patrol to take a report. You're insured, aren't you?"
She let out an almost soundless snort. “Yeah, for all the good it will do. Money can't buy back the things that really mean something to me.” She turned, straightening her shoulders and wiped her eyes once more. She had to get him out of here. If he stayed, she'd break down, she could feel the sobs wanting to come, the urge to rest her head on his strong shoulder and cry almost irresistible. “You don't need to wait with me."
"What?” he asked. “I don't mind, Mac,” he said gently.
"But I do,” she snapped. “I'll be fine, go ahead and go."
"Macke..."
"Please, Hawk,” she said quickly, more sharply than she'd intended. “Just go."
Her eyes were turned away from him, staring down into the sink in her bathroom. Her knuckles were white from hanging on to the counter so she didn't reach for him. She wanted to scream at the pain that was battering her insides, the feeling of almost rape at having someone come into her home and paw through her possessions, ripping the most important things out of her life.
She heard him sigh, felt his hand brush against her back, his fingers rubbing a curly lock of her dark hair before he turned. “I'll go,” he said quietly. “But I'll be back later."
"Suit yourself,” she said, her voice sounding dead.
She heard his footsteps in the living room and then the door close behind him. The sound of that door closing almost sent her to her knees. She longed to go and run after him, to tell him that she did want him to stay, that she was sorry. Instead, she forced her hand to the faucet of the bathroom sink and slowly ran the cold water, lifting her cupped hands and splashing water in her face.
She was composed when the police arrived, able to sit down and let them know what she'd noticed was missing. She signed her complaint and then left a crime scene crew dusting for fingerprints in her apartment while she went to work.
Gideon slammed into his apartment, staring around it with unseeing eyes. “God dammit!” he growled, running one strong hand through his too long hair. “You really fucked that one up, Hawkins.” He stomped over to his sofa, dropping into the well worn leather, only to lean forward and cradle his head in his hands. “I shouldn't have left her."
He stared around his apartment, his eyes resting upon their plates from the night before. A sharp pang echoed around his heart. “Damn,” he growled, getting up to pace.
After two circuits through his apartment, he was more frustrated than ever. “Oh, to hell with it. She'll probably throw something at me, but at least I'll know she's safe.” He grabbed his keys from where he'd tossed them on the coffee table and headed out his door.
Kenzie stepped out of the cab still blocks from her goal. Traffic was so backed up Main Street looked like a giant parking lot. She could still see the flames leaping high in the air from the fire, black oily smoke pouring into the bright blue sky of early morning. “Damn,” she breathed, her mind already working on the story she would write.
She jogged down the sidewalk, wishing she had other shoes or other clothes to change into. Even with the heavy smell of gas and smoke, she could still smell Hawk on these clothes. “You're going to forget him,” she panted. “The story is what's important."
But a little voice inside, the one that she'd always called her instinct, told her that she was trying to fool herself.
A police barricade came into view, cops standing out in the street, directing traffic around the burning Exxon station. Two more stood behind the barricade, looking fierce and un-bribable. “Damn,” she whispered. Instead of stopping, she turned right onto a side street. Slowing to a fast walk, she slid the strap of her purse over her head to let it rest against her hip.
At the next alley, she slipped inside, cutting through until she came upon the next street. A single police officer stood guard there. He was young, probably just out of the academy and just what she was looking for. Unbuttoning another button on her shirt, she made her way toward him.
"Hi,” she said, offering her best smile. “So what's going on?” Her eyes roamed over him, taking in the short cropped hair under the flat brimmed uniform hat, the crooked nose that spoke of a break somewhere in his past, and the eyes that were sort of a mud brown, set behind wire rimmed glasses. He wasn't ugly per say but he wasn't Hawk. She quickly squashed that thought, focusing on what he was saying.
"Gas station went up in flames,” the cop said, smiling back. His eyes roamed over her, admiring her curves even in the wrinkled clothing she'd worn the night before, lingering on her exposed cleavage.
"Oh, wow. Did anyone get hurt?” She slid her hand into her purse, turning on her recorder and making sure that the small microphone embedded in the strap was pointed toward him.
"No, the guy on duty saw it coming and got out just in time.” He came over and leaned against the barricade. “He's a lucky kid, that first explosion would have ripped him apart."
Kenzie forced a credible shiver of horror. “Wow, so what started it?"
"I can't tell you, ma'am..."
"It's Candy,” Kenzie interrupted.
"Huh?"
"My name, it's Candy. You know, sugary sweet?” She giggled, watching as the young cop fell for her ploy, hook, line and sinker. “But I don't give you cavities."
"Nice name,” he said, scooting even closer. “It fits you."
She thought she would gag. “Thank you.” Reaching up, she wound a strand of silky black hair around her fingers, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. His eyes dropped to the opening of her shirt, watching as her breasts jiggled with her movements. “I wonder if it's the same arsonist who's been doing all those apartment buildings?"
"That's what my boss said,” the cop said, than his eyes flashed to her face. “Shit, I wasn't supposed to say anything."
"Oh, who would I tell,” Kenzie giggled again. “I thought he only liked apartment buildings. Why would he blow up a gas station? She leaned towards him a bit, letting her hand rest upon the barricade, just inches from the front of his uniform pants. Licking her lips, she stared up at him from under the thick brush of her lashes.
"Well,” the cop began, leaning closer himself. “My boss said that he thinks someone pissed him off. This fire was sloppy, like a spur of the moment thing. He even left a witness."
"You have a witness?” Mackenzie said, straightening in her excitement. “Who?"
"Uh...shit Candy, I could get in all kinds of trouble for telling you."
"Oh, please?” she wheedled, clasping her hands together in front of her which pushed her breasts together. “I won't tell anyone. Please?"
"No, I could get fired, or worse.” He moved slightly away from her and the barricade, though his eyes stayed on her breasts.
"Oh,” she pouted, her lower lip sticking out, pink and moist. “Can't you give me a hint? I'd really like to know?"
A sly smile crossed the officer's face and he moved closer to her again. “How about I give you a hint and you give me your phone number?"
"How about you give me a hint for every number I give you of my phone number, uh...Chris,” she said, running her finger across the name badge on his chest.
"Okay, but zip codes don't count.” He smiled, thinking he was one up on her.
Kenzie tapped her lips with her finger, tipping her head to the side as she contemplated. “Okay, but then I get to ask a question for every number I give you."
He seemed to think about it for a second, than he nodded his head, tipping his uniform hat back with one finger. “Just don't get me in trouble with my boss,” he said, winking at her conspiratorially.
She was almost rubbing her hands in glee. If Colombo here knew anything, she'd get it out of him in no time flat. “Your witness, he saw the arsonist?"
"Yeah,” Chris answered, shrugging his shoulders. “They put him in with a sketch artist trying to draw up a composite. Now, gimme a number."
"Three,” Kenzie said easily enough. “What makes them think that this fire was set by the same guy?"
"They found some evidence on scene. I don't know what though because the powers that be weren't talking. Number?"
With a smile, she chewed on her finger, drawing his eyes to her mouth to keep him off balance. “Nine,” she giggled, lifting her chin and letting her finger trail down her neck.
"What time did the fire start?"
"A little before five a.m. is when the first call came in. the station was fully engulfed by the time the first truck pulled up.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, giving her a crooked grin that showed off a dimple in his right cheek. “Number?"
"Greedy aren't you?” she teased, letting her fingers walk up his tie. “Two.” She straightened the knot on his tie, only then realizing that it was a clip-on. How she managed not to roll her eyes, she didn't know. “Um...” she hesitated, but only for a moment. “Have they found any more clues as to the arsonist's identity?"
"A girl was assaulted a couple streets over. They think the arsonist might be the perpetrator."
"Why do they think that?” she asked quickly.
"Oh no, that's another question. I get a number first.” He shook his finger teasingly at her.
"Fine baby. Two. Now, answer the question."
"Both witnesses described the same car. And no, before you even ask, I'm not telling you about the car. Now, gimme another number."
"Aww, Chris, you're no fun,” she kidded him. “One. Who's the witness from the station?"
"I didn't catch his name, but he's the kid that was running the station. He's a college kid."
"Five,” she said without him having to ask. Then she whirled on her heel. She knew he wouldn't give her the name of the other witness, the one who'd been assaulted. But she had ways to find out. Starting out at almost a trot, she just waved back at him when he yelled.
"Hey! That was only number six! Candy!"
Hawk was cursing himself as being all kinds of a fool as he made his way up the stairs to Mac's apartment. She didn't want him there, she didn't want him in her life. He shouldn't be doing this at all. But sitting in his apartment, thoughts of her, how she'd felt, the way she smelled, the feel of her skin under his hands, all seemed to mock him. He'd had to come.
She'd been such a wonder in bed, matching him kiss for kiss, caress for caress. She'd driven him higher, faster than he'd ever gone before. It wasn't just the sex. She was funny and sweet, sexy and driven, a maniac when it came to doing the right thing and the necessary thing.
He closed his eyes, her face coming to swim in the darkness behind his lashes. Beautiful amber eyes stared up at him, twinkling with humor, heated with desire. Full pouting lips begged for his kisses, for the taste of his skin, softly caressing him until he couldn't take it anymore. “Stubborn minx,” he breathed, opening his eyes and following the hallway to her door. He knocked on it before he could chicken out.
He could hear voices on the other side of the door and then it was opened, leaving Hawk staring down into a man's chest. “Uh, I'm looking for Mackenzie Hunter."
"She said something about a story and work, Detective."
"Fuck,” Hawk breathed. She was going after the story on the arsonist. He turned away from the door and took off at a run down the hallway.
Police tape waved in the wind like yellow flags around the parking lot where the girl had been assaulted. Crime scene techs searched the area for any and all signs of clues, even microscopic, that might connect this assault to the fires, and then maybe from there to a single individual. A group of bystanders looked on as the sun began to move across the sky. It was there that Kenzie made her way first.