“He’s right,” Mercy said. “Let’s go, Lincoln.” Mercy looked at Red. “You, too. Lincoln won’t be able to rest unless he knows his mate is next to him.”
“How did you know?” Red hadn’t said anything to anyone. Had Lincoln?
“Duh. Lincoln’s known since you got here.” Mercy looked down at Lincoln and petted his side. “And for the record, shifters love it when their mates call them mate.”
“That might take some getting used to,” Red said.
“Why?” Mercy asked. “If he were human, would you call him your boyfriend? How’s calling him your mate any different?”
Brett joining them saved Red from telling Mercy that he’d never actually had a boyfriend. Red had had sexual partners, but no one had ever stuck around. One or two had even said Red was too damn smart for them, that he’d made them feel dumb. That had never been Red’s intention.
He thought he’d been charming and amiable. Not the case. So Red gave up on finding love and simply settled for bed partners.
“We’ll deal with the fire department,” Brett said. “Adam is already in the pasture with the horses, and Roger is trying to make sure the fire doesn’t spread. We’ve got this covered.”
Brett helped Red to his feet and walked to the house, Lincoln limping beside him. “Is he going to be okay?” Red asked.
“He just needs time to heal.” Mercy opened the door and waited for Red and Lincoln to enter. “By the way, your shirt is inside out and backward.”
Clearly Red didn’t know how to dress in a crisis. He’d just thrown his clothes on and shot out the door. His first thought had been to keep Lincoln safe. His second was getting the horses to safety.
“He was burned on his side.” Mercy examined the tiger. “And one of his paws is an angry red. He’ll have to rest for a few hours to heal.”
“Just like that?” Red’s brows shot up.
“Just like that,” Mercy said. “Nonhumans can heal from virtually anything. The burns won’t even be there when he wakes up. You can stay with him while I help Brett with the firemen. I need to know how badly the stable was damaged.”
Red also wanted to know how the fire started. There wasn’t anything in the building that would cause combustion. Anything like that was kept in a large toolshed that was far enough away from the other buildings.
Unless one of the horses had taken up smoking, Red suspected foul play.
Lincoln sank down on the floor by the couch. Red crawled onto the couch and settled, knowing he wasn’t going to get much sleep, let alone return to the bunkhouse.
He wanted to go outside and help, but Mercy had said to stay by Lincoln’s side. Besides, keeping a low profile meant not interacting with the townsfolk.
Red petted Lincoln’s orange fur, hoping that helped his mate. Wow. That word had just popped into his head, coming naturally.
“Sleep,” Red said. “I’ll be right here guarding you.”
He knew what it was like to be hurt and vulnerable, and Red wasn’t about to let anything happen to Lincoln. Someone had deliberately set that fire. He was sure of it. Could it have been the men who’d tried to kill him several months ago? Had it been Jason looking for revenge?
Red had no answers, but one thing was certain. He was setting up security cameras just in case the culprit struck again.
* * * *
“Gasoline.” Fire Chief Dalton Knowles tapped his nose. “It only takes a little in a building filled with hay.”
Dalton, a huge guy who stood around six feet five inches, had been the fire chief for close to ten years now. Lincoln trusted the guy at his word. That, and the fact he was a bear shifter, which meant he had a heightened sense of smell.
“You got enemies, Lincoln?” Dalton took a seat behind his desk and set the file down. “I highly doubt you store that kind of stuff in that building.”
“Aside from saddle conditioner and DW40, I don’t keep any chemicals in the stables.”
Dalton scratched at his dark beard. “I’ll write up my report and send a copy to the sheriff. Mitch needs to know you’ve got trouble.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
Jason popped into Lincoln’s head. If he’d been pissed enough to attack Red, there was no telling what else he was capable of. “I have my suspicions.”
“Care to share them?”
“Not yet,” Lincoln said. “If it’s not him, I don’t want to tarnish his name and blackball him in this town.”
Jason had handled the rejection all wrong, but Lincoln didn’t want to take away any chance of him making a livelihood. But if he was the one who’d set the fire, Lincoln was gonna kill the bastard. Two of the horses were being boarded on his ranch, and the cost to replace them if they’d died in the fire would have been a hefty price.
The owners wanted Lincoln to work with them, hoping to turn the thoroughbreds into racehorses. Lincoln would’ve had to shell out around fifty thousand. Well, his insurance company would have, but his premiums would’ve gone through the roof after that.
“Jason Peter.” Dalton nodded. “Word around town was that he quit.”
Lincoln forgot that secrets didn’t stay secrets in Fever’s Edge. It was a small town with a lot of residents who not only knew each other but went to the same churches or businesses. Gossipmongers.
“Can you not link his name to this until I’m certain?”
Dalton sat back, making his chair squeak from his weight. Lincoln was a big guy himself but felt dwarfed by Dalton’s presence. “You know I’m a fair and just man. I would never point a finger, not even if I knew for certain Jason had done it. That’s not how I operate.”
Lincoln stood, and so did Dalton. They shook before Lincoln headed toward the door. “Thanks for your help. I suspect I’ll be hearing from Mitch soon.”
Sheriff Mitchell Greeley. He hadn’t been sheriff for long. Mitch had replaced the last sheriff after Barney Powell had up and disappeared. The humans of Fever’s Edge hadn’t a clue what happened to him but the nonhumans did.
He’d been in league with the mayor, who turned out to be a hellhound. Lincoln had never liked Ari Gray, had always steered clear of the guy. And with good reason since he’d found out the mayor had been a hellhound. Most of the nonhuman residents had been fooled, considering Ari had kept away from them, always in his office or at home.
Since Ari’s departure, the town seemed to have come alive, brightened in ways that made Lincoln proud to call Fever’s Edge his home.
He left the fire station and climbed into his pickup. When he got home, he found Red and Mercy in the kitchen.
“Am I done babysitting now?” Mercy arched a brow.
Lincoln was unrepentant about having Red watched. “Until I find who set the fire, my mate isn’t allowed to be alone.”
Red tossed a grape into his mouth. “I’m sitting right here. You can talk to me, or you can keep talking about me. Whatever blows your skirt up.”
Mercy chuckled. “I really do like him. I’m glad we get to keep him.”
“I’m even housebroken,” Red teased. His smile faded when he looked at Lincoln. “What did the fire chief have to say?”