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With a shaking hand, the man pulled out his wallet. Flipped it open and handed it to Beau. Swearing, Beau finally stepped back and shoved the knife back into his boot.
“OhGodOhGodOhGod.” The dark-haired stranger sucked in a gulp of air. He shoved his shaking hand through his hair.
Beau handed her the ID. A driver’s license was on one side of the wallet and a card identifying the man as arson investigator Colton Ross was on the other.
“Your car wasn’t out front,” Beau snapped.
Colton snatched back the wallet. When he did, Avalon saw the raised scars on the inside of his right hand.
Fire burns. Long healed.
“I pulled up around back because I didn’t want nosey neighbors coming to grill me. This is a closed scene.” Colton’s gaze darted from Beau to Avalon then back to Beau. “You just assaulted me!”
“Uh, correction,” Beau returned without missing a beat. “I just stopped someone I thought was an intruder.”
“I identified myself!”
“Be a little faster next time,” Beau advised.
Colton’s eyes narrowed.
“This is my home,” Avalon interjected because someone needed to calm things way, way down. Fast. “We didn’t realize anyone else was here. I-I came with my boyfriend because I just needed to take a look around.” She eased closer to Beau’s side. “When we heard noise on the second floor, we thought the arsonist had come back. I’m sure you can understand—in light of what happened here—that we were both afraid.”
Colton’s lips tightened. The investigator looked to be in his mid-thirties. Close-cropped, dark hair. Blue eyes. A slightly hawkish nose and a hard jaw. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, ma’am.” The south came and went in his voice.
A flicker of familiarity slid over Avalon.
“But this is a crime scene. You do not have the all clear to be here. I haven’t finished my work.”
“The fire was on the first floor. Why are you up here, in her bedroom?” Beau wanted to know.
Blue eyes blinked.
“Technically,” Beau added as he sized up the other man, “a crime did occur in this room. This is where Slater Wade was lying in wait for Avalon.”
She glanced toward the windows. Her gaze darted around the room. She had a flash of herself fighting the masked attacker. She’d been on the floor. Kicking back at him. Her gaze shifted to the chair near the door. A chair that had fallen to the side. Her taser had been in the purse that she’d put on that chair. Avalon had been so desperate to get the taser. She’d reached it, used it, and Slater had jolted.
Her stare slid over the floor. She could see the fight so clearly in her mind. Every instant felt etched in her memory. More like burned in my head.
“There was no fire up here, though,” Beau continued in a grim tone laced with suspicion. “So what are you looking for in this room?”
Avalon inhaled and pulled in the heavy scent of smoke. The smokey smell was everywhere.
“I believe in being thorough,” Colton responded curtly. “I don’t half-ass any of my jobs. Not the scene here, and not my next target, your bar.”
Target? Her shoulders stiffened.
“I’m very good at my job. But I can’t do it when knives are being shoved at my throat.” Colton straightened to his full height. A height just a little shorter than Beau’s. “You two need to leave, now.”
Getting kicked out of her own house…okay, fine correction—her arson scene of a house—was not the way she’d thought this search would go.
“You lead the way back downstairs,” Beau invited, and she knew he was just as suspicious of the investigator as she was. “And we’ll go.”
Colton groused but turned and began marching out of her bedroom. He didn’t glance back.
She did share a long look with Beau.
“Oh, damn straight, baby,” he breathed as his head dipped toward her and his lips skimmed over her left ear. “We’ll have Lane and Ophelia investigate him the minute we get back to the car.”
