over a landscape that was wild, restless and angry. High, towering hills were slashed through with steep valleys and dark, eerie lochs. As they flew, the weather ranged in untamed moods from soaring discontent to blazing sunshine with no thought of moderation between. Although there was no exchange between them, she knew this was his land and she loved it for that reason.
As wakefulness dragged her from her slumber, she knew she was in a strange place. Even so, she felt a curious sense of comfort, as though she was wrapped in a protective cloak through which no harm could penetrate. As memories of the previous night came flooding back, her feeling of well-being dispersed. By the time she was fully awake, she wondered how she could possibly have felt even a trace of security.
Not only did her intuition tell her she had been the intended victim of a targeted arson attack, she needed to call it in. McLain’s reaction was going to make the flash point of that fire look like a failed firework.
Oh, and I have no belongings. No clothes, no money, nothing...
That wasn’t strictly true, of course. When Hollie called McLain, her boss would be able to get her out of Addison within the hour. She could walk away from this undercover job and be back in her own apartment later that day. It would be the safe, sensible thing to do. With every fiber of her being, she did not want to take the safe, sensible option.
Ever since the Incinerator first came to her attention, Hollie had felt a personal connection to him. She always thought of the arsonist as male, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. Until now, her role had never been hands-on. She was a scientist. Her colleagues called her a geek and she accepted the name with an element of professional pride. It had taken a lot of hard work to reach this level of geekery, one where she was called upon to give talks to experienced fire investigators on the science behind the blazes they studied.
Hollie’s inclusion in the Incinerator task force was an indication of the seriousness with which the FBI took the case. She was one of six senior agents assigned to the investigation into possibly the most prolific and dangerous arsonist the agency had ever come across. Her expertise included fire behavior, analytical chemistry and the use of technology to enhance fire scene investigation. She used those skills to enhance and support the team.
The Incinerator’s legacy was the stuff of nightmares. He was a daring exhibitionist who didn’t care about the loss of life as well as the damage to property. The current death toll was twenty-one, but that didn’t include the information Hollie had gleaned from the other countries. Her colleagues had still been processing the details of the new cases when she left the field office to come to Maine. There had been a sense of urgency about starting the undercover operation because Torque would soon set off on tour.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She scrambled into a sitting position.
“Come in.” Her voice had benefited from the few hours of rest. Although it was still croaky, it sounded almost normal and at least she could speak without coughing. She wished she could blame smoke inhalation for the way her chest constricted and the breath left her lungs in a sudden rush as the door opened. But no. That was the Torque-effect.
He remained close to the door, studying her face. “I want to say you look better, but you’re way too pale.”
“Shock.” Hollie made a movement to brush the hair back from her forehead and was surprised to find her hand shaking. Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry...”
He was at her side in a single movement. Although Hollie’s current role kept her away from the action, her early training had brought her in contact with the survivors of fire. She knew she was suffering the classic aftereffects. The extreme physical impact of the shock was receding, but the emotional trauma still had her in its grip.
For an instant, Torque hesitated as though he had encountered an invisible barrier. His expression was guarded, and even in her distress, Hollie took a moment to wonder what was going through his mind. Then he appeared to shrug aside whatever doubts were assailing him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew her gently into his arms.
As she leaned her cheek against the warm, solid muscle of his chest, Hollie spared a fleeting thought for the rules of undercover work. She guessed this probably broke several of them. Possibly it smashed them all into tiny pieces. As Torque’s arms tightened around her, the trembling that had gripped her began to subside. Rules were fine if things were going according to plan. Any plan of Hollie’s was ash blowing across Pleasant Bay in the early-morning breeze.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head and attempted a smile. The expression in Torque’s eyes was even more disturbing than the aftereffects of the fire. It was probably best to avoid any close contact in the future. Professional distance. That should be the new plan. Reluctantly, she drew away from him. Some new intuition told her he was equally unwilling to let her go.
“It was just...you know...”
“I know.” His lips hardened into a thin line, indicating he was well aware that the fire was no accident. Suggesting that he wasn’t responsible? Don’t make assumptions. “You don’t need to explain. It was a horrible experience, and recovering from it will take time.”
Her brow furrowed, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between them. Torque must know what she wanted to say. He had walked through a blaze as though his flesh was fireproof. More than that. He had somehow used his body to form a protective barrier between Hollie and the flames. She didn’t need her years of study and hard-earned qualifications to tell her he had defied the laws of science. He could pretend it hadn’t happened, make up a story that he had arrived before the blaze took hold. They both knew it wasn’t true.
“You saved my life.” The huskiness in her voice wasn’t entirely due to the smoke damage. “I don’t know how you did it. I know you didn’t get there before the fire took hold—”
“Some things can’t be explained. Your perception and mine are different.” He got to his feet, bringing any further discussion of the subject to an abrupt end. “I need to go out and stock up on some provisions. I’m not used to having a houseguest.” His smile dawned, swift and dazzling. “I’ll get you some clothes, as well, although I don’t claim to be an expert in women’s fashion.”
Hollie laughed. “I’ll be glad of anything I can wear with dignity. Your sweatpants fall down when I walk.”
“There is one important thing we need to talk about.”
“There is?”
“Underwear.” Torque rummaged in the drawer of the bedside locker and produced a piece of paper and a pen.
Hollie placed her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m sharing my bra size with the man I’ve worshiped from afar for most of my adult life.”
Torque’s face changed from laughter to seriousness, his eyes darkening to a slate-gray color.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “Just that expression. Worshiped from afar. It makes me uncomfortable.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he switched the conversation to practicalities. Pointing her in the direction of the kitchen, he explained that there was fresh coffee already made and the toaster could be temperamental.
“I won’t be long.” She sensed he wanted to say more, almost as if something was troubling him. Whatever it was, he shrugged it off and headed toward the door.
