Burned by Her Devotion (Rogue Vows Book 2) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Andrea Raynor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503995512

  Cover design by Eileen Carey

  ALSO BY MELINDA LEIGH

  Scarlet Falls Novels

  Hour of Need

  Minutes to Kill

  Seconds to Live

  She Can Series

  She Can Run

  She Can Tell

  She Can Scream

  She Can Hide

  He Can Fall (A Short Story)

  She Can Kill

  Midnight Novels

  Midnight Exposure

  Midnight Sacrifice

  Midnight Betrayal

  Rogue River Novellas

  Gone to Her Grave

  Walking on Her Grave

  Rogue Winter Novellas

  Tracks of Her Tears

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  For a small, rural town, Solitude had seen more than its share of mayhem and murder.

  Much more.

  Seth rose from the creaky chair and stretched the stiff muscles of his back. He preferred to spend his Saturday nights at home with his family, not guarding a killer.

  The day before, the Solitude chief of police had married his second in command. If the bride hadn’t been Seth’s sister-in-law, he wouldn’t have volunteered to babysit the murderer overnight so the newlyweds could head off on their honeymoon. Seth was a detective in the Major Crimes Unit of the sheriff’s department, and all of Rogue County was within his jurisdiction, including Solitude. The two remaining Solitude officers could deal with the drunk-and-disorderly, loose-cow type of calls typical of a day in the small Oregon town.

  But murder was beyond either officer’s level of experience.

  Seth crossed to the window and gazed out at the trees. Like just about everything else in Solitude, the police station butted up against a patch of woods. The sun might be up, but its rays had yet to pierce the thick summer foliage. Moisture from last night’s rain shower rose through the cool morning air. Fog curled around tree trunks, beckoning like bony fingers.

  There was something about this case that set Seth’s teeth on edge. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something his gut knew but wouldn’t communicate to his brain. With the strange and public nature of the Chase Ryan murder, no one wanted the case to take another bizarre turn. A dead TV star had been unsettling enough for the town.

  An oscillating fan stirred the July heat trapped inside the small building. Seth left the outer office and walked back to the holding cell. His charge snored on the thin cot.

  “Hey, Toby. Wake up.” Seth banged a fist on the barred door, and metal rattled.

  Toby lifted his head, glanced around, and blinked. Confusion morphed to despair as he oriented himself. He threw an arm over his face as if he could hide from what he’d done. As if he was ashamed.

  He should be.

  But Toby Black, confessed murderer, didn’t emit any threatening vibes. Whatever Seth was feeling was coming from another source. Or he was punchy from staying up all night.

  “Do you want some water?” Seth asked.

  Lowering his arm, Toby shook his head and stared up at the ceiling. His face was drawn so tight, Seth doubted his mouth could move enough to allow him to speak.

  But then, killing one of your best friends was bound to leave a permanent mark on your soul.

  Seth checked his watch: 7:50 a.m.

  “Ten minutes,” he said to Toby.

  Seth went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face until his eyes didn’t feel gritty. Once the prisoner was picked up, Seth was going home to Sunday breakfast with his family.

  Last year at this time he and Carly had been separated, and every morning since their reconciliation, Seth woke up profoundly grateful that she was next to him. Tomorrow they’d celebrate their ninth wedding anniversary, a milestone they nearly hadn’t reached. Occasionally the sheer strength of what he felt for her made him plain stupid, but he was working on that.

  His phone vibrated, and Carly’s number appeared on his screen. Right now she’d be wearing her oldest clothes for barn work. Denim cutoffs did amazing things for her long, long legs.

  And he was missing it.

  He answered. “Hey.”

  “Hey back.” Her voice was morning-person cheerful.

  “Is everyone all right?”

  “We’re fine. We miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” Seth said. “Thanks for calling. After everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, I appreciate your checking in, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  He’d spent the last six months wrestling his overprotective inner Neanderthal into submission. Carly’s job as a social worker for Child Protective Services could be dangerous, and he’d flipped out too many times over things she couldn’t control. He knew how important her job was, and he’d learned to respect her drive to protect the kids in her charge. His communication skills hadn’t been the best. Hell, they still weren’t. Seth would rather chase down a fugitive than talk about his emotions, but he was forcing his caveman temperament to evolve.

  The crunch of tires on gravel alerted him to the deputy’s arrival. He returned to the window. A sheriff’s cruiser parked in the tiny lot in front of the Solitude Police Station.

  “The deputy is here,” he said to his wife. “I have to go, but I’ll be home soon.”

  “Good. I love you.”

  “Love you too.” Seth ended the call and opened the door.

  Thanks to the rain during the night, the air was cooler outside than inside. Seth left the door open to the scent of damp pine trees, nature’s air freshener.

  “Hey, Seth.” Deputy Donovan stepped into the small reception area. He was a young, fit father of three and a solid cop. “You look like you’ve been here all night.”

  “I have.”

  “Then let’s get this done so you can get home,” Donovan said. “I still can’t believe Chase Ryan’s personal assistant killed him.”

  Me either.

  Maybe that’s what was bothering Seth. He’d read the file the night before. Chase and his three-man entourage had been on their annual off-the-grid camping trip with Chase’s son. Toby had confessed to killing his celebrity friend and boss. Toby had been recorded in a heated argument with Chase a few hours before his death. Seth had watched the video. If Chase hadn’t been completely intoxicated, Toby wouldn’t have been able to overpower him. Chase had been fit, while Toby’s flab suggested he spent more time lifting a remote control than a barbell.

  “Do you watch the show?” Donovan asked as they walked back to the chief’s office.

&
nbsp; Seth grabbed the file and handed it over. “No.”

  Although last night he’d been so bored he’d watched the final few episodes of Chase’s Detective Alex Gunn show just to stay awake. The cliffhanger season finale had been lame, with the viewer left wondering if Alex Gunn’s partner had been blown up in a giant explosion. Guess they’d never find out now.

  Donovan scanned the paperwork. “Me either. I have enough crime in my life. I don’t need to watch it at night when I get home.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But my wife is a big fan.” Donovan shook his head as if he couldn’t comprehend why.

  “So is my mother-in-law.”

  The show’s writing had little to do with its popularity. Chase Ryan had hordes of rabid fans who had invaded Solitude to mourn the loss of their idol. One fanatical Chase Ryan groupie had hidden in the woods and recorded the damning video.

  The same fangirl had set the grange on fire while Seth’s eight-year-old daughter was inside.

  Brianna is fine.

  He pushed the images from his mind. He couldn’t acknowledge what had happened to Brianna and still be able to do his job this morning.

  Seth led the way to the holding cell. At the sight of them, Toby got up and stuck his hands through the hole in the bars. Donovan snapped a pair of handcuffs onto the prisoner’s wrists.

  “Let’s go.” Donovan escorted Toby outside and deposited him in the backseat of the waiting cruiser.

  Seth almost let them drive off. He wanted to go home. His family was waiting for him. But his damned gut nagged him. He mentally rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He sounded like his mother-in-law with one of her feelings.

  Then again, Patsy’s odd premonitions always come true, don’t they?

  Last December a suspect had been murdered in the custody of Solitude PD. Seth wasn’t taking any chances with this prisoner.

  “I’ll follow you in,” his mouth said without further consultation with his brain.

  Donovan shrugged. “Always appreciate the backup.”

  Most rural cops didn’t have partners. They rode alone, often into dangerous situations. Any day you had someone to watch your back was a good day.

  Seth locked the small police station and slid behind the wheel of his own county-issued vehicle. He followed the deputy over the bridge that marked the boundary of Solitude. Below, the Rogue River tumbled over rocks. Mist hung over the churning, white water, waiting for the day’s heat to burn it away.

  Twenty minutes later they left town and turned onto the two-lane highway that led to Hannon. A black eighteen-wheeler approached in the oncoming lane. Sunlight glinted off the windshield. Squinting, Seth lowered his visor to block the rays.

  Just before the truck passed them, it veered into their lane, clipping the front end of Donovan’s cruiser. The car swerved onto the shoulder, hit a rut, and flipped over. Seth jerked the wheel of his vehicle right, crossing the dirt-and-gravel shoulder of the road and bouncing onto the grass. His tires skidded on mud, sending him sliding sideways toward the forest.

  Trees rushed at his window. He turned into the skid and straightened out his vehicle’s path. Adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream, fine-tuning his reflexes, tunneling his vision to the impending collision.

  Braking, he narrowly avoided a big oak and a small stand of evergreens. His heart slammed into his breastbone as his car lurched to a stop. The engine stalled with a metallic rattle and a thunk. In the silent few seconds that followed, Seth sucked wind as his lungs heaved inside his rib cage. The tree trunk four inches from his door was too thick to put his arms around. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped into his eye.

  Donovan!

  Seth swiveled his head to stare through his passenger-side windows, but foliage blocked his view. A truck engine changed gears with a harsh grind. Was the driver coming back or leaving the scene?

  Shit.

  He used the radio to call in the accident and request an ambulance and more units. The deputy’s car had flipped. He and Toby must be injured. Seth restarted the engine and shifted into reverse, but his tires spun. The car was stuck.

  He leaned across the seat and released the passenger door’s handle, but the door opened only an inch before it smacked into something solid. The rear doors were also both blocked by trees. The spot his car had slid into was only a few inches wider than the cruiser. It was a freaking miracle Seth hadn’t hit a tree.

  Lowering the passenger window, Seth heard the semi’s tires grating on the road. He hoisted his body through the opening and dropped to the ground. Drawing his weapon, he ran out of the woods.

  Just in time to see the eighteen-wheeler drive away.

  Son of a bitch!

  The driver had run.

  Standing in the middle of the road, Seth caught the first half of a California license plate number.

  The deputy’s vehicle was wheels-up on the shoulder, as helpless as a painted turtle on its back. Seth raced over to it. The roof was partially smashed, and all four of the cruiser’s side windows were shattered. He crouched and scanned the inside of the vehicle. The deputy hung from his seat belt, unconscious, his arms dangling over his head. A gash across Donovan’s neck poured blood.

  The backseat was empty. Toby was gone, and dark, wet smears on the vehicle’s interior looked like blood.

  With one hand Seth whipped out his cell phone and updated dispatch. With his other he checked Donovan’s pulse. At the steady beat against his fingertips, Seth caught his breath.

  But the sharp scents of oil, gasoline, and smoke took it away. Gasoline puddled around Seth’s feet. Smoke curled from the engine compartment, and a flame flickered around the crumpled metal.

  Help was fifteen minutes away, Donovan was bleeding like a slaughtered steer, and the car was on fire.

  Seth had to get the deputy out.

  Now.

  He dropped to the ground and flipped onto his back in front of Donovan’s broken window. Whoosh. The fire spread to the dashboard. Heat blasted Seth’s face and pebbles of tempered glass scraped under him as he wriggled into the burning vehicle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Carly cut the twine on a bale of straw, folded her pocketknife, and slipped it back into her jeans. Her mother’s menagerie of rescue animals crunched grain and hay in their freshly cleaned stalls. For as long as she could remember, the Taylor farm had served as an unofficial overflow facility for the animal shelter, a place where neglected and abused creatures could heal. Usually she enjoyed caring for the animals and found their presence soothing.

  But this Sunday morning, Carly could find no peace.

  What kind of monster sets a building on fire with a child inside?

  Since Friday night, she’d been unable to get that question out of her mind. Nor could she erase the gut-ripping memory of learning that the grange had been set on fire while her daughter and mother were inside dropping off some last-minute decorations for her sister’s wedding reception. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived running from the wedding rehearsal toward the burning grange, watching the smoke pour from the roof, knowing that her child was trapped inside and that Carly wasn’t there to save her.

  Heart knocking, she unclenched her fists and inhaled. The scents of livestock and fresh straw brought her back to the present.

  Her coolheaded mom had gotten Brianna out of the grange safely, but the sheer terror of that night had seared itself into Carly’s nervous system.

  A slim shadow fell over the stall, and her eight-year-old daughter bounced in the doorway. Carly’s heart skipped, and she resisted the urge to grab her daughter and squeeze her in a tight embrace. Brianna didn’t need to know how scared Carly had been.

  All because a delusional woman couldn’t deal with the death of her obsession.

  A frenzy of reporters and fans had besieged Solitude after the Chase Ryan murder. Cyndee Sykes, the craziest and most fanatical, had been so enraged that the police chief and his fiancée dared proceed with the
ir wedding plans before Chase’s murder was solved that she’d purposefully set the grange on fire. The next morning another fire had been set in an attempt to kill the three men who’d been closest to Chase. Given her history, it seemed logical to assume that Cyndee was responsible. Then she’d disappeared. When the police searched her ancient Airstream trailer, they’d found not only a disturbing shrine to the dead TV star but a terrified thirteen-year-old, Cyndee’s daughter, Alex.

  Carly had been assigned the child’s case. Alex had been particularly fragile. Typically Carly stressed over placing a child in foster care, but she’d gotten lucky. A spot had opened up with a couple she’d known all her life.

  Carly pushed the frightening memories out of her head. Today was Sunday, a day for being grateful and counting one’s blessings, and except for extenuating circumstances, a day to put work aside.

  “Mama?” Brianna tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, pumpkin.”

  Mud and dust streaked Brianna’s jeans and T-shirt. The child had been awake for only two hours and was filthy from head to toe. Carly smiled. She’d been raised on the farm with her three siblings, and she fully believed that a little dirt was healthy for kids.

  Obviously so did Brianna.

  The child shoved a piece of sweaty blonde hair off her face. “Is this where my new pony is going to live?”

  “It is. Come in and help me spread the straw.” Carly glanced down at her own legs. She shouldn’t toss stones about cleanliness. Barn chores had left their usual mark. But her mom provided free day care all summer, so Carly handled as many farm chores as possible.

  Besides, working with the animals was its own reward. Carly was almost as excited as Brianna about the pony.

  “What time is the pony coming?” Brianna ripped into the bale with enthusiasm, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air.

  “We’ll have to check with Grandma.” Carly coughed and waved the dust away from her face. “I know you’re excited, but remember what Grandma said about him?”