Линси Сэндс - Meant to Be Immortal [calibre]

“But you just said you moved here to be closer to your family,” she pointed out a bit irritably.

“Yes. I moved to Canada to be closer to my family. But my father lives in Toronto and my sister lives in Port Henry so I wanted someplace that would make visiting either of them easier. Sandford seemed a nice little town and is about halfway between the two,” he pointed out.

CJ was writing down the info when he added, “My sister is Katricia Argeneau Brunswick. She’s a police officer in Port Henry. Her husband, Teddy, is the chief of police there.”

Her handwriting slowed at this news, but she finished it, and then peered up at the man speculatively. He wasn’t from the town, had only been here a little more than twenty-four hours, and someone had set his house on fire . . . with him in it, which was usually an attempt to kill the individual inside. But as he’d said, he hadn’t lived here long enough to make enemies in Sandford.

“Any enemies back in New York?” she asked abruptly, considering the possibility that the trouble had followed him.

“No-ooo.”

CJ’s eyebrows rose at his response. Initially, the answer had come out quickly as if he didn’t have to think about it, but then had drawn on and ended on an uncertain “o” sound as if something had occurred to him.

“You don’t sound too sure,” she pointed out.

“Well, I cannot think of anyone I have pissed off lately, but someone did set my house on fire . . . with me in it, which suggests I must have someone who wants me dead,” he reasoned, his mouth twisting wryly as he spoke. Glancing from her to the burned-out shell of a building, he continued, “I suppose that means they might try again when they find out the fire did not succeed in killing me.” Turning back to her, he added, “I guess that means you shall have to take me to a safe house and guard my body until this whole thing is resolved.”

CJ blinked once and then again at his words. Guard his body? That was pretty much all that her mind had registered, or at least all that it was focusing on. Guarding his body. It wasn’t really a crazy suggestion if someone had tried to kill him. Hell, come to that, whoever set the fire could be around here somewhere and already know he wasn’t dead, she realized. Arsonists did tend to like to watch their handiwork, she recalled, and turned to Simpson to say, “Take pictures of the area in all directions. The road, the field, the yard, and everyone in it. And try to get pictures of the license plates on the vehicles in the driveway as well.”

Pleasantly surprised when the man didn’t argue or ask questions, but immediately pulled out his phone to start taking photos, she glanced around briefly in search of anyone who stood out, or didn’t seem to belong there. But while her eyes were searching the surrounding area, CJ’s brain seemed stuck on Mac’s comment about guarding his body. He was right, of course, someone was going to have to stick close to this man day and night, watching over him while he slept, showered, and shaved. Much as she disliked admitting it, under normal circumstances, she might not have minded such a chore herself. It wouldn’t have been a hardship. At least not on the eyes. The flashing lights of the fire truck were strobing over him occasionally, giving her a better look at the man. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was a beefcake. His hair and clothes were still a little damp from his time in the tub, and his cotton T-shirt was clinging to his chest, emphasizing his muscular physique, while the pajama bottoms were clinging to other more interesting bits with enough intimacy that it wasn’t hard to tell that his chest wasn’t the only thing that was big on the man. Of course, that could just be a trick of the flickering shadows being cast by the lights on the ambulance and fire trucks. It didn’t really matter, though; these weren’t normal circumstances, because her life wasn’t normal and hadn’t been for three and a half years.

Besides, none of this was her problem, she acknowledged. In fact, her assistance here was no longer needed. She’d helped with what she’d agreed to and could leave.

“I’m heading out,” she announced, loud enough for Simpson to hear, and then told Mac, “Stay close to Officer Simpson. He’ll keep you safe.”

“You’re leaving?” Mac asked with a combination of dismay and a tone that was almost accusing.

He made it sound like she was abandoning him, CJ thought, but merely nodded, and said, “Simpson is in charge here. He’ll drive you back to the station where I’m sure Captain Dupree will arrange some protection for you, Mr. Argeneau.”

“I want you.”

Two

I want you. The words echoed in CJ’s head, sounding really suggestive to her. It also sent a strange shiver through her body that she had absolutely no desire to analyze. She had no interest in men, and the chaos and mess having relationships with them caused. CJ had learned her lesson well during her marriage. Men were bad news. Really bad news. She’d learned that lesson so well she’d resigned herself to living her life alone. Not a big deal. Get a dog for companionship, and buy a vibrator to deal with sexual tension, and you were pretty much covered if you knew how to change tires and fix leaky taps yourself. Fortunately, CJ knew how to do both.

“He’s right. We should keep him close for his own protection,” Simpson said suddenly, and CJ turned to him with surprise. The man hadn’t said a word while she’d asked questions, and now decided to join the conversation? Apparently, he was finished taking the photos she’d requested. Although he couldn’t have got each of the license plates on the vehicles in the driveway, but probably planned to get that on his way out, CJ decided. But she merely smiled grimly at his comment as she closed his notepad and slid it back into his front chest pocket along with his pen. Patting the outside of the pocket then, she said easily, “Yes, you should. You’d better take him back to the station and see what Dupree wants to do about that, then.”

CJ had already started to turn away when Simpson said, “I don’t have a vehicle.”

Pausing, abruptly, she swung back around. “What?”

“I was riding with Jefferson,” Simpson explained, his face still oddly devoid of expression. “He left me and the evidence-gathering kit here, but took the patrol car to go on another call. I was hoping to catch a ride back to the station with you.”

Which meant letting Mac Argeneau into her car too, CJ thought, and found herself really reluctant to agree to that. She had no idea why. It was just a car. She’d ridden in lots of cars with lots of victims over the years. Although usually it was criminals she’d ridden with, and they had been handcuffed and behind the steel mesh cage or bulletproof glass that was installed between the front and back seats of police cars. She didn’t have either in her own car, because she wasn’t meant to be transporting criminals . . . or victims. But she couldn’t see a way to get out of it, so muttered, “Let’s go, then,” and realizing how ungracious that sounded, she added, “I’m ready to call it a night and go back to the bed-and-breakfast where I’m staying. I’ll take you two to the police station first.”

CJ didn’t look around to be sure Simpson and Mac were following her as she headed for her car. She just hurried down the driveway, eager to get out of there. It wasn’t until she’d reached her vehicle and peered back that she saw she was alone.

Huffing out an exasperated breath, CJ propped her hands on her hips and scanned the distance. The fire was out, but even without it adding to the illumination, the scene was somewhat lit by the headlights of the many vehicles scattered around the property. While a long line of pickups bordered the driveway, there were also several on the front yard itself, along with the two fire trucks and the ambulance. There were still dark spots, and strange shadows here and there, but she had no problem making out the group of emergency workers still moving around. Or standing around, really, she thought, noting that the only ones actually moving now were two men working the hose to continue wetting down the interior and exterior of the house.