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“Ohmygosh, stop,” Ophelia murmured. “You’ll make me blush.” A brief pause. “I was kidding. Do go on. I am amazing.” She stepped away from Lane and advanced to Beau’s side as she studied Avalon. “So you’re the one.”
Behind her, Lane sighed. “This is going to shift from bad to worse.”
Ophelia’s assessing gaze swept over Avalon, but her response was directed at Lane. “Doesn’t it always? Except in our case, of course. Because once you teamed up with me, love of my life, things in your world went from nightmarish to heavenly.”
Avalon’s temples were throbbing. She let go of her grip on Beau’s shoulder.
She caught the fleeting smile that curved Lane’s lips as he dipped his head toward Ophelia.
“He’s my partner,” Ophelia explained. “In life. In business. In everything. And seeing as how I take it ever-so-personally that someone just tried to burn down my PI office?—”
Beau’s growl cut through her words. “I think the guy was trying to burn down my bar.”
“Yes, but my office is on top of your bar so now I’m extra pissy and thoroughly invested in the case.”
Beau frowned at her. “Like you weren’t invested before?”
“I was. It’s personal now.”
Beau nodded. That muscle flexed again along his killer jaw. “Damn straight, it’s personal. It will be even more personal when I dump the prick’s body in the river.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. She threw a fast glance toward the cops who’d gathered and the firefighters who rushed around the scene. “Seriously! Stop it! We’ve talked about this before.” Her voice had lowered to an angry whisper. “We don’t announce to cops what we will do with the bodies of the bad guys. How many times do I have to go over this with you?”
Avalon rubbed her temple. “This isn’t a joke.” She backed away from them. “His bar could have burned to the ground. A man was killed last night. I was attacked.” Another step back.
Ophelia’s head tilted. Lane closed in and looked extra grim. Beau’s eyes kept glittering.
“I’m shaking apart on the inside and you all—” Avalon darted a glance at each one of them. “You’re being so flippant. Joking about dead bodies. This is real. We have to find the arsonist and stop him before he hurts someone else.”
“My humor isn’t for everyone.” Ophelia’s stare never wavered. “Believe me when I say that I’m on your side. In fact, Beau had us working your case for the last few weeks.”
For the last few weeks.
Her heartbeat pounded faster. “Excuse me?”
“Lane and I have been digging and trying to find patterns. We do believe the original arsonist left Louisiana after the attack on you failed all of those years ago. We’ve discovered more arson-murder crimes that we believe were his work.”
A dull roaring filled Avalon’s ears. “You’re been working my case? For weeks?”
“It’s what Beau hired us to do. Didn’t he tell you?” Ophelia asked. A little furrow appeared between her delicate brows. Her full lips—painted a bold red—pulled down with a hint of dismay.
“I just talked to Beau for the first time in years…yesterday. No, day before yesterday?” She rubbed her temple harder in an effort to dull the throb. Everything had been happening at a fast and terrifying speed. “How could I have known about what he’d done weeks ago?”
Ophelia slanted Beau a glance. “How, indeed.”
Beau looked back at his bar. Automatically, Avalon followed his stare and saw the figure of a firefighter advancing toward them. The firefighter removed his mask and helmet to reveal a sweat-soaked face.
Tan skin. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead. “Scene is currently contained.” His stare swept them. Landed on Beau. “You’re Beau LeBlanc.”
Beau nodded.
“I’m Lieutenant Wesley Vaughn. Been to your place a few times. LeBlanc’s was always a great spot to unwind.” A quick grin came and went on his face. “Very glad to report that the fire seems to be out for now. We had some rekindling when we first arrived on scene, but we took care of it. Additional rekindling—a reflash—is always a risk in a situation like this one, and with all of that liquor in such close proximity, we are gonna want to be extra cautious.” He grimaced. “I’ve told the crew we need to move the liquor to a safe location. No way do I like having all that booze close with the threat of another reflash hanging over our heads.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ophelia waved her hand. “For those of us who are not fire professionals, when you toss out words like rekindling and reflashing—you’re talking about the fire starting again? That happens? It can just flare to life?”
A grim nod. “Heat and embers remain. Fire can easily reignite. We’re often recalled to scenes because we have to fight the same fire again.”
“Great.” Ophelia’s hand dropped back to her side. “Just great.”
