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I’ve already changed back into my pajamas I took off when King woke me up a few hours ago. And I don’t care if the sun is going to rise in an hour. I pulled the blackout curtains shut in preparation for my plan to sleep through most of the day.
Leaving the side lamp on for King, I pull back the covers and climb into bed.
My body is aching in all the right ways, and I settle onto the mattress with thoughts of my husband floating through my mind.
CHAPTER78
King
Even in the dark,I can see that smoke is still rising from the roof of the small building.
With a sigh, I slow to a stop and park along the curb at the end of the block. It’s not like I thought our guy was lying, but part of me was hoping that maybe it was just a little fire. Some outlet catching.
A pair of firetrucks are still parked outside the building, along with other emergency vehicles, but all the lights are off, and the fire is out, so clearly the main event is over.
I take the time to finally button up my shirt as I exit my Suburban and do a quick glance at my hands for blood.
Pony’s pants kept the initial blood spray pretty under wraps, and I don’t see anything on me, so I’m calling it good.
I head toward two firefighters who are leaning against the back of one of the trucks chatting.
The taller one spots me first, and he stands up straight. “You can’t go in there.”
I glance at the brick building covered in char marks, with all the windows broken out, and an interior that’s unrecognizable from a few days ago, and lift a brow. “No, shit.” I don’t stop until I’m right in front of them, then I hold out my hand. “King Vass.”
I don’t often name drop, but most people in this city have at least heard of me, and it opens mouths.
“Oh, hey.” They both shake my hand. “Did you own the place?”
I debate saying yes, just to speed it along, but it’d be a stupid lie to get caught up in.
“No,” I slide my hands into my pockets, staying casual. “But my wife just had an art show here and she’s friends with the owners. Told me to come make sure everything is okay. You know how wives are.”
When Guy Two rolls his eyes, followed by a derogatory muttering ofwomen, I have to remind myself that it won’t be worth it to punch a firefighter in the face.
“Mine’s the same way,” Guy One says with a nod. “But there was no one here, so no one got hurt. And, as far as we can tell, the place was empty. No signs of art, or whatever, in the place. Which is good for the insurance companies.”
I grunt, “That’s good. Any clue how it started?”
“Arson.” Guy Two rocks back on his heels.
“You can tell already?”
“Yeah. Whoever did it, didn’t try to make it look like anything other than arson.” When I lift my brows, he continues. “Best we can tell so far, the guy, or whoever, poured gasoline around the exterior of the building, flooded the floor inside with it, and even splashed it around the doorways. Then,” he points to the building adjacent to the gallery, “he pours a line of gasoline all the way to the far side over there. Presumably that’s where he was when he lit the trail. Probably trying to protect himself behind the other building in case the ignition blew something up. But everything was electric in the place, no natural gas appliances or anything like that. So it would’ve been intense, and hot, but noexplosions.”
Something…
Something he’s saying…
I take a step back.
“Yo, you alright?”
I nod, even as I take another step away. “Yeah. Thanks for the info.”
Gasoline around the doorway.
Why is that fucking familiar?