Wildfire Read Online Free PDF Page B

writing ad copy and jingles for a soulless PR
firm.”
    Lynn bit her lower lip. “They might not even print it.”
    “Never know until you try.”
    Jen pointed out Jack’s house as they passed it. The ranch
house stood surrounded by ancient live oaks. The spreading canopy of branches
and leaves hid much of it in cool shadows. Lynn took in glimpses of red brick
and dark wood. The house looked mysterious and aloof.
    A movement among the trees closest to the house made her
draw in a sharp breath. Did somebody step back into the shadows?
    “Something wrong?” Jen asked.
    “I thought I saw somebody.”
    Jen slowed to a stop and they peered at the house. No one.
The leaves shivered from time to time and shadow and sunlight played tag.
    “I don’t see anybody now.”
    “You probably saw a branch move in the wind or something,”
Jen said, driving on.
    “Maybe.” Lynn glanced back. Uneasiness still prickled her
neck. She just couldn’t shake the feeling someone stood in the shadows watching
them.
     
    Fire would avenge.
    The dragon master hoped the discipline and routine of his
daily run would help calm him. If nothing else, he hoped he’d be too tired to
think anymore. He ran through downtown San Angelo, trying to lose the
frustration burning his blood, smoking his thoughts. Too many things had gone
wrong. He’d almost got caught. A breath raced out of him.
    He shook his head. Focus. I am the dragon master. His
gaze flickered over the closed stores and empty streets. Podunk town. Seven
o’clock Wednesday evening and the place stood desolate and bleached by the sun.
Dry heat itched across his bare neck, face, arms. Eighty plus degrees in
October. Only in West Texas. Absofuckinglutely loco .
    Lynn had distracted him. Thrown him off his game. An image
of the shimmering blue-green dragon hanging in the early morning sky like a
fantastic illusion filled his mind. A real live dragon. The same one he’d seen
before.
    She’d distracted him even though he’d been expecting her.
Ever since he’d visited Jen and seen their picture on a side table in the
living room, he’d been thinking and planning. He’d used Jen as bait to draw her
out and she’d come. Satisfaction, warm and sweet, shot through him. He’d stood
hidden among the trees and gaped like an idiot. Until she’d fanned the blaze
away from the target. Then anger had brought him back to his senses, but too
late. The damn fire brigade had arrived by then, with sirens blaring and lights
flashing. Hero-wanna-bes.
    He cut into a service alley behind the library. He knew all
the back ways in the area and this would get him to the river quicker. The
parking lot stood deserted, but further down three scruffy men, scarecrows in
tattered clothes, scavenged through the dumpster. Right in his path. He wanted
to be alone. No small talk, no hassle. He stuffed his hands in his pockets,
ducked his head and picked up speed.
    His thoughts returned to fire. Fire was his thing, his to
control. Yet, he’d messed up. The Jarvis house hadn’t been scheduled until next
week. But after the artist fiasco, he’d lost control. The beast inside had
demanded another fire. He’d rushed the job, only to land himself a second damn
disaster.
    The fire should've devoured the house, ground it into ashes.
Instead, it stood like a charred and smoking rebuke to him. His business
associates would be pissed.
    Damn town. He should have never returned to San Angelo and
Paradise Valley. The whole area gave him the heebie-jeebies for some reason. He
gritted his teeth. Fuck everyone and everything. His roots were here and he
belonged here as much as anyone else. He had every right —and intention— to
stake a claim.
    The wind carried the smell of rotting food and piss. His gut
churned with every breath. He focused on the ground and crunched across the
gravel. No eye contact, no whining for change or cigarettes. The others moved
like shadows in his peripheral vision. Almost past them.
    “You lost or