From across the table, Mom wiggled her nose in a covert sign that she had the card we’d been waiting for.
“Cheater,” Libby gasped, smacking her hands down on the table.
“Libby Walker, do not yell at your mother.” Mom blushed crimson. She was horrible at deception and had about twenty different tells.
“I so totally saw you twitching your nose.” She tapped her fingers against the gameboard. “Diego, they’re cheating. Show me your hand.”
“Now, hold your horses,” I cut in. “You’ve got no proof.” She did. She had us dead to rights.
“You know the rule, bro.” Libby got a real kick out of this. “If you get caught cheating, the opposing team has a free pass. Diego can show his teammate his hand.” She threw her arms up in the air and danced in her seat. “Show me them cards, baby,” she chanted.
Diego, smiling from ear to ear, slid his cards toward Libby. He shrugged toward me. “Rules are rules.”
Libby took a quick gander before slipping them back to Diego. They had a silent conversation, both of them grinning like idiots, no doubt sure of their victory.
“We can still win this,” Mom encouraged, despite their advantage.
I was a new addition to the Friday game night, but from everything I witnessed, the three of them took it very seriously.
How did I not know this was a thing? That was a whole other question, and I wasn’t delving into it.
I would sit here with my people and play some damn cards. Besides, I enjoyed it. After my afternoon session with Vincent, I needed to unwind while my brain kept processing everything we discussed.
At least now, I had a vague idea on how to approach Violet.
She constantly repeated that I needed help. Now I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt: Violet was right.
“Earth to Rowan,” Mom sang. “Your turn.”
I studied the red, white, and blue board, seeking out the most beneficial move. I laid my first card down as a shrill ringing ripped through the air.
Diego’s pager.
I froze. Mom’s and Libby’s eyes jumped from me to Diego and back again.
He grabbed the device from his pocket, only to drop it once he got a look at the screen. He looked up, his gaze burning with fear and anger. He pointed a finger at me. “You need to stay here,” he instructed, using his lieutenant-I’m-not-messing-around tone.
“What is it?” I asked, the bottom dropping from my stomach. I leaped to my feet, ready to go.
“No. I’m not saying a damn thing. Gotta go.” He gripped Libby’s shoulder tight as he walked by, and she gave him a gentle tap. Diego nodded to Mom. “Sorry, Esther. Duty calls.”
“Go, go. Do you what you’ve gotta do. Be safe, kiddo.”
I went after him.
“Sit your ass back down, Rowan Walker,” Libby roared like a tiny kitten playing the lioness.
“Easy,” I shot back. “That was weird. Diego, what’s going on?”
He slid his winter boots on, not bothering to tie the laces. He shook his head. “I failed you once, I won’t do it again. Stay. Here. Libby, tie your brother’s ass to a chair.”
“On it,” my sister yelled back.
Diego rushed toward his vehicle and peeled out of the laneway, speeding despite the accumulated – and still falling – snow.
I failed you once rang through my mind.
“Get back to the kitchen.” Libby tugged my sleeve. “Don’t make Mom worry any more than she has to, please.”
“It’s Violet.” The words left my mouth just as their veracity snapped into my spine, demanding action.
“No,” Libby snapped. “It’s not. He would have told you.”
“Would he?” I ripped my jacket from the closet, grabbing for my keys.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rowan?”
“I’m telling you. It’s Violet. Something’s happened.” I can fucking feel it. “I gotta go.”
Libby planted herself in front of the door, arms crossed like a mini version of Mom. “You protected me all my life. Even when I didn’t want you to. So—”
“If I respond direct, I’ll make it before the crew.”
“Learn your lesson. You’re not a firefighter right now.”
I pulled Libby away from the door and ran down the steps. She shouted at me, but I didn’t hear a word she said.
Violet was in danger. I was sure of it.
It was a five-minute drive from my mother’s house, right on Main Street, to Bullseye.
A flash of doubt hit me. Maybe I should’ve turned my wheels toward the farmhouse.
No.
That made no sense. Vi taught a class on Friday night. She would be at work.
So far, the arsonist had attacked farms and one store. He wouldn’t go for a residence.
With its strange aesthetics, Bullseye looked like a barn and a warehouse merged in a nuclear event. It could possibly be a target.
Maybe a kid was hurt.
Maybe – maybe – maybes rushed through my head.
I pressed my foot down onto the pedal, doing a fair imitation of a race car driver. The roads were slick with the steady snowfall. The back of the truck fishtailed a few times, but I managed to pull it back straight and onto the road.
I broke laws, but finally, Bullseye came into view. I eased off the gas to take the bend at the S-curve. The wheels hit a patch of ice, and the pickup lurched left. It hooked right and skidded in an out-of-control spin.
I braced myself for a hit or crash.
It never came.
The wheels hit the shoulder, slowing me way down. The truck drifted through a snow-covered field while I hammered the brakes. I jerked to a stop and jumped out of the truck, grabbing the keys from the ignition.
Pulling it from the field would only waste precious seconds.
I ran.
Hard.
Fast.
The closer I got to Bullseye, the more relief knocked against my ribs. The building wasn’t on fire. It wasn’t the arsonist.
Violet was most likely fine. She’d chew my ass out for worrying about her. Fuck it. I’d let her. She could rip me a new hole so long as she was safe and sound.
I continued my mad dash. I wouldn’t stop worrying until I confirmed Violet was okay.
My feet hit against the ground with loud, echoing slaps. They only sputtered once — when I spotted it.
The white SUV.
The only other vehicle was Violet’s truck.
My heart clenched, my gut rolled, but my legs had never moved faster.
The car was parked at the farthest corner of the parking lot, well hidden from the building’s wide bay windows.
I ate the distance, tearing through it until I finally reached the door. I pulled the handle, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Off in the distance, the sirens split the evening silence.
Cupping my hands to my eyes against the glass, I tried to peer inside. It was no use. I couldn’t see shit, but I could smell gas. Lots of it.
Fuck.
“Violet!” Her name cleaved its way out of my lungs.
Nothing.
No response.
The sirens got closer by the second, but it wasn’t enough. I needed in.
I grabbed my keychain from my back pocket, fumbling for the right key. A long time ago, when I still helped out at Bullseye, Violet insisted on giving me a spare copy. I never gave it back.
The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open, leaving it open for the crew.
I strained my ears as I moved through the dark. The smell of gas was strong, and there was a line of it running by the windows and reception desk. I followed it like the most fucked-up breadcrumb trail.
It led farther, but the eerie silence gave me no more clues.
It physically hurt me to be so quiet, measuring my every movement. Whoever this guy was, I didn’t know if he was armed and what kind of precarious position Violet would be in.
A quick peek into the axe-throwing lanes revealed nothing.
“You don’t have to do this.” Violet’s voice rang out loud and clear. There wasn’t a trace of fear in her tone.
“Yeah,” a masculine voice answered. “I really do. You brought a whole shitstorm into my life. CAS? Really?”
A sharp smack reverberated, making my teeth knock together.
If that mother fucker laid one hand on her…
There was more grunting, something falling against mats, and a shout.
I moved through the darkness and arrived at the back rings just in time to see Violet Ross, the love of my life, grabbing hold of a man, flipping him over her back, and knocking his sorry ass to the floor.
She wasn’t done.
With her foot firmly planted on the guy’s sternum, she ripped off her tee and spun it a few times until it was one long length of material. Any sudden movements on my part would startle her. She would lose the upper hand over her opponent.
As much as it pained me, I didn’t move.
I watched Violet compete in fights. I saw her kick ass in roller derby.
Now, she was taking down an attacker.
She had this.
The man pinned to the floor choked and sputtered, but Violet didn’t relent. With her tee-turned-makeshift-shackles, she bound the man’s hands together.
He flailed his legs, trying to kick her. She was faster. Vi moved out of the way with seconds to spare. In a smooth — and frighteningly effortless motion – she grabbed the man’s arms and pulled them over his head and pinned them underfoot.
“Now, will you calm down a second?”
The intruder squirmed and spewed nasty words, but she didn’t need to hear any of it.
“Violet,” I said, interrupting the intruder’s – the arsonist’s – diatribe.
Her foot didn’t move from the captured culprit, but her hands went into a defensive pose, ready for a fight.
This woman. Fuck, but I love her.
I wanted to laugh or maybe cry. I definitely wanted to hold her.
She blinked at me in confusion. “Rowan? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was coming to save you, but seems like you’ve got it under control.”
“I mean,” she sighed. “Think you can run to the front desk and turn the lights on?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to argue with her. I should be the one who stood guard over… “Is that Samuel Park?”
“Yup. Lights, Rowan. Cops, too.”
“Already on their way,” I assured her. I ran to the reception desk and hit the lights.
Three firetrucks, one ambulance, and two cop cars pulled up moments later.
Diego was the first one out of the rescue pump, tearing toward me like a man on a mission. “Mother fucker. I told you to stay home.”
“Violet’s fine. Everything is good. Pretty sure she got the arsonist.”
“What?” he snapped, but his eyes popped wide.
“I’ll explain later. She’s alone in there.”
Not that she needs any help.
This had to be — hands down — the longest night of my life.
The police questioned Violet at Bullseye’s front desk. She sat there for two hours, rehashing the same thing over and over again. They weren’t likely to clear the scene, but it sure looked like Violet Ross had singlehandedly caught the Caribou River Arsonist.
A teenager.
Samuel Park was eighteen years old and responsible for millions of dollars’ worth of property damage and one death. That wasn’t proved yet, but it would be. The white SUV was a treasure trove of evidence.
Four huge red jerry cans. A black backpack full of matches and all kinds of fire-setting paraphernalia. A blow torch and its thick metal canister.
Explosive, too. The scary homemade kind. The apple didn’t fall far from the science teacher tree.
The journal was the real kicker.
The kid recorded all of his fire-obsessed thoughts in his diary. It was bagged, tagged, and would no doubt make for very compelling evidence in his trial.
I watched all of this unfold from Nelson’s squad car. I hadn’t spoken to — or held — Violet since coming upon her saving herself.
I wasn’t going anywhere until I checked on her.
Needing to feel somewhat useful, I made a few calls to a cleaning crew who dealt with serious messes. Getting all that gasoline out of Bullseye’s floors was going to take a minute and a healthy chunk of change. I also managed to get my truck out of the field and parked it right beside Vi’s pickup.
I also drove Nelson half-mad with my constant interjections, but the captain didn’t gripe. He kept me company while I waited for Violet.
An hour and a half later, the cops released Violet. They let her grab her gym bag from the reception desk but wouldn’t allow her back into her place of business for a little while.
She beelined it for her truck.
I thanked Nelson and hopped out of the squad car, jogging across the parking lot. Hearing my footfall, Violet looked up. The second she spotted me, she froze.
“You’re still here.”
I shrugged, stuffing my hands into my pockets against the cold. Really, it was to keep from reaching out to her. “This is where I needed to be.”
Violet nodded, averting her gaze.
“Vi—”
“Ro—”
We spoke at the same time. It was shockingly familiar.
“Are you okay?” I stepped closer to her, mere inches separating us.
“I mean.” The words rushed out of her.
I don’t know who reached for who first, but it didn’t matter.
One second, we stood apart; the next, Violet was in my arms. I held on tight, closing my eyes to let her presence sink deep into my soul. Violet’s fingers dug into my back as she gripped me hard. Her body shook, breaking my heart.
“You’re good, baby. You’ll be fine.” I whispered all kinds of things to her. “You’re safe.”
I’m here. I won’t let you go, Vivi.
“Rowan, do you think you could drive me to the house?”
Not Daphne’s. The house. Our house.
“Of course. Anything you need.”
I helped her into my truck, blasted the heat on her, and drove us home.