Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Not even close,” Rowe admitted, not even sounding the least bit remorseful. But Noah couldn’t blame him, considering his life and the lives of his friends were on the line. “Whaddaya got?”
“I found a chat room filled with a bunch of anarchists and firebugs. Lot of angry chatter and boasting, but not much matching up to actual events, except for the Warehouse fire and then again with the Lyntons’.”
“Could be just repeating news?” Rowe ventured.
Whatever skittishness Quinn felt upon seeing Noah had been replaced by a new energy. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Nope. This douche nozzle knows details like the cop car explosion. Indian Hill PD never let that info out to the news.”
Noah met Rowe’s gaze. His friend gave just a casual shrug, but it was all an act. There was a light in Rowe’s green eyes, a little tilt to the corner of his mouth that Noah came to associate with trouble, getting the blood rushing south when he really needed to get back in control. Rowe was ready to launch himself off the edge of his desk and out the door. They just needed a where.
“So…the arsonist is bragging online. Can we track him?”
“A little…” Quinn frowned, wrinkling his nose as he seemed to shrink in on himself just a bit under Rowe’s direct gaze. “I tracked the IP address and it looks like he always posts from a terminal at You Are Toast.”
“What the fuck is that? Some vegan hipster bullshit restaurant?” Rowe growled.
Quinn groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, causing Noah to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“No, it’s an Internet café that also has some gaming terminals for groups.”
Rowe’s eyes narrowed and he looked over at Noah for support. “What? Was that even English?”
“Could you sound any older?” Noah teased and Rowe just grinned back at him. Before his friend could add any smartass comments, Noah continued, “Our guy could be hiding out in the area and using the computers to brag about his exploits.”
“Where’s this café?”
“Edge of Covington and Peaselburg.”
“Peaselburg?” Noah repeated.
Rowe shrugged and pushed to his feet. “Lot of Germans in the area. You’ll get used to it.”
Noah tried to ignore the strange flutter in his chest at Rowe’s words. While his friend had certainly acted like he wanted Noah to stick around, it was the first time he’d said anything that made it sound as if he wanted Noah to remain in the city far longer than just a visit. And the truth was, he liked the idea. He liked the thought of living in the same town as Rowe, of being able to meet up and have drinks, watch the game, to know his best friend was just a short distance away at any moment.
“Text me the address,” Rowe continued, pulling Noah from his daydreams of something permanent. “We’ll go check it out. Maybe we can set some eyes on the place.”
“Got it, boss,” Quinn said and was out of Rowe’s office in a shot.
Rowe turned to Noah, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He rocked back on his heels, a sly grin splitting his face. God, the man was fucking sexy.
“You wanna see if we can find some trouble?” Rowe asked, waggling his eyebrows at Noah.
“Like you ever have to look hard for trouble,” Noah muttered, remaining seated.
“I work hard to keep you entertained.”
“Well, then. Let’s not waste your hard work. We should go find a firebug.”
“And squash the fucker…”
Chapter 11
The houses were too close together. That’s all Rowe could think as he drove through Covington, following the directions given by his phone’s GPS app. Most of the buildings were either brick or an old, heavily weathered siding that seemed to be hanging on with hope and rusted nails. Windows were covered with thick curtains, blocking out the outside world, and sagging chain-link fences marked off what little territory each owner could claim as theirs. Sidewalks were cracked and the curbs were lined with late-model cars, making the roads even narrower.
The whole area made Rowe feel claustrophobic. Everything was just too damn close. He’d even felt that when living in Hyde Park with Mel. The house was gorgeous and their quiet street had been filled with equally gorgeous homes and old trees. But the neighbors had been too damn close. He’d tried to tempt Mel into finding a house across the river in Kentucky or farther north where they could buy a full acre of land at least. Enough room to spread out and let the dogs run.
But a move north or south would have added a solid thirty minutes to their daily commute each way, and she’d already hated her commute. So they stayed in Hyde Park. With Mel gone, he’d moved to Kentucky to get away from the memories, but he couldn’t bring himself to buy that plot of land without her. Didn’t matter that the city still closed in on him.