“I did it pro bono.”
Her eyes softened, her lips curved. “So, you do have a heart.”
“No, I don’t. But I have a conscience.”
“When are we flying to Miami?” She sipped her drink.
“Tomorrow.”
Crinkling her nose, she looked around. “Do you smell that?” She took off toward the back of the room. “Something’s burning.”
“Don’t open that door!” he yelled as he bolted after her.
8
Smokin’ Hot
The heat intensified the closer Sin got to the fire door leading to the playrooms. Before Evangeline reached it, he grabbed her and bolted toward the front exit. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”
He pushed on the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. Adrenaline surged through him. He pulled up on the knob and shoved hard. Still, no movement.
Taking Evangeline’s hand, he strode back down the hall and into the lounge. He flung open the black drapes, revealing two front-facing windows.
“Turn around and cover your head.” As soon as she did, he hurled a chair at the window. The glass shattered, the cold air rushing inside the warm space. He grabbed a bar towel, wrapped it around his hand, and punched out the jagged shards. One punctured his skin and blood oozed onto the rag. He clasped Evan’s hand, and directed her to the window. “Watch yourself.”
The smoke had found its way into the lounge and they both started coughing. After she made her way through, he followed.
Once outside, he called for help.
“My nightclub is on fire,” he said to the 9-1-1 operator. After providing the address, he hung up. Only then did he realize that Evangeline was gone. Panicked, he charged around the corner.
She came running down the sidewalk toward him. “The back of the building is engulfed,” she said, hugging herself.
He pulled her into his arms to warm her, but she pulled away and stared into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He bit back the mounting fury. “Are you okay?”
“Just cold. I’ve got a blanket in my car.” She pulled her car keys from her pocket and hurried across the street. When she returned, she cloaked him with the blanket.
“Wait in your car where it’s warm.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Those four little words soothed him more than she could ever know. Removing the blanket, he cocooned her in it.
As sirens wailed in the distance, his phone vibrated and he read the incoming text. “I warned you. Payback time.”
“Arson,” he growled.
She flicked her gaze to him. “How do you know?”
“Just a hunch.”
She eyed his phone. “Show me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t shut me out,” she said, cupping his cheek as the sirens grew louder.
He showed her the text.
A knot formed between her brows. “Who would want to destroy you like this?”
Two fire engines and an ambulance stopped in front of the building. First responders jumped into action. Most got to work fighting the blaze, but one hurried over to them.
“Anyone in the building?”
“Just us,” Sin replied.
“Are you sure?”
“The club was closed for the holiday. I’m the owner, so yes, I’m positive, unless the person who set this blaze is still inside.”
“Let me tell my crew.” The firefighter informed his team, then returned to Sinclair. “How do you know it’s arson?”
Sin showed him the text. The wind shifted and the acrid smoke burned his lungs.
“I’ll get the arson detective down here. In the meantime, get your hand looked at, then move away from the building.”
After clasping Sin’s hand, Evangeline ushered him toward the ambulance, the normally dark street made bright by the flashing lights and emergency vehicles.
“I’m fine,” he argued, but she ignored him.
The EMT cleaned his hand, then wrapped it in gauze. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches.”
The spark of revenge Sin carried around with him burst into flames as high as the ones billowing from his building. When the detective arrived, Sin showed him the text.
“Any thoughts on who might’ve sent that?”
“No,” Sin said, choosing to hold back his initial suspicion that Uncle Charlie could have started the fire.
“We’ll have to bring you both in to take your statements,” said the detective.
“We can do it now,” Sin said. “I can’t stand to watch my club burn.”
“I’ll drive,” Evangeline said.
On the way, Sin called his dad. “Sorry to wake you.”
“What’s wrong?” Warren Hott asked.
“Someone torched my club and we’re on our way to the police station.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Evangeline Worthington. She’s FBI.”
“Text me the station and I’ll get there as soon as I can.” His dad hung up.
Evangeline pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. “You ready?”
The anger that lived inside him morphed into full-blown fury. “That son of a bitch took this to a whole new level when he involved you,” Sin bit out. “He picked the wrong person to fuck with and he’s gonna pay with his life.”
“You’re angry.” She ran a comforting hand down his arm. “You don’t mean that.”
“Like hell I don’t,” he replied.
At twelve thirty in the morning, Evangeline was ushered out of the interrogation room and escorted back to the lobby. Sinclair, and a man she assumed was his dad, were waiting. Both rose to greet her.
After introductions, Warren told her he would represent her if she needed any legal help.
“I’m not a suspect,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“The important thing is that you’re both okay.” Warren regarded his son. “I know you, Sinclair. Let law enforcement do their jobs. Don’t go after this guy.”
“I’m concerned about Evangeline. She’s an innocent bystander in all of this.”
Warren gripped Sin’s shoulder and offered a fatherly smile. “Then focus your energies on keeping you both safe.”
“I’ve got this.”
“And that’s what worries me, son.” He hugged him and smiled warmly at Evangeline. “Good meeting you. Perhaps Sin will bring you by under better circumstances.” And with that, he left.
Sin’s smile was tainted by sadness. “I’m sorry to have put you through this, especially on Christmas.”
She curled her hand around his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where to?” he asked.
“To pick up your bike and then to your office.”
“We’re working?”
“Damn straight. We need to find the person who torched your club.”
“You must be exhausted. Don’t you think you should go home and get some—”
“Absolutely not. Sleep is overrated.”