Maya rolled over, punching her pillow. It was lumpy, and with the paper-thin walls letting her know exactly how much her next door neighbor enjoyed late-night infomercials, any rest that night had been fleeting at best. So far, she’d managed to avoid using any over-the-counter sleep aids, but the night had nearly driven her insane. She’d grabbed about five minutes sleep—maybe ten—among the tossing and turning, along with cursing at the FBI, whomever had left that damn note, and even herself. And Jesse. She sat up, pushing the covers aside, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cool floor, but the sensation had little impact. Guilt ran through her, blocking everything else. Her head slumped forward and her hands curled into the sheets, her shoulders shaking with tears unshed. Her chest was tight and her stomach churned, her throat so thick with it that she could choke. Why the hell had it all happened? Why him? Why her? Growing up, she’d hero worshipped her big brother. Nearly ten years older, he’d seemed all grown up even from her earliest memories. By the time she hit five and could remember anything much properly, Jesse was dating and playing junior varsity football. By the time she’d found her place in elementary school, Jesse had moved to the varsity team. A junior in high school, he was one of the popular crowd—good-looking, athletic, and kind. He was talented, but he worked his ass off and never expected anyone else to treat him differently because of it. Her friends had sighed and made starry eyes whenever they’d been over and Jesse had been home. It had made her popular too as she’d grown up, girls wanting to come over to Maya’s house to hang out and maybe catch a glimpse of her hot brother.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair and then pushing up off the bed. At the time, she’d missed him like crazy, but maybe she should be glad that he’d been away at college by the time she became a teenager and discovered a whole new interest in the opposite sex. Maya could only imagine what her high school life would have been like had he still been around, being the younger sister of Jesse Graves. She shuffled across the floor, the carpet threadbare and stained, and wrestled with the broken latch on the kitchenette cabinet. She needed caffeine if she was going to even contemplate being awake, but the coffee pot didn’t want to cooperate. Maybe she’d just take a shower and grab a cup down the road. She walked into the bathroom, wrinkling her nose. The as-yet-unidentified smell in the room was more potent in the bathroom—sort of a dusty mildew mixed with greasy takeout and wet dog. She looked into the shower. It was serviceable, even with the orange rust stain dripping down from the tap. Despite the griminess of the shower, she’d be in and out in five minutes and there would be soap involved to wash away anything too terrible. That had to beat sitting in a musty motel room all day.

The damn note.

Who the hell had left it there? They had to know who she was and what she was doing in town, right? The message scrawled over the thick paper made little sense otherwise. Her chin trembled and she locked her jaw. She was not crying again. The note, coupled with Liam’s warnings the day before, had just about sent her into meltdown, especially after she’d opened her door and found nothing but a dark parking lot, the wind picking up as the sun fell away.

She shivered. The morning’s air was still cool, but it shouldn’t have been cold enough in the room to give her goose bumps along her exposed skin.

She’d listened to Liam, and Seth when he’d joined in, but mostly she’d just made the promise to be careful to keep them happy. Neither of them would have agreed to help her if they’d thought it would be placing her in any real danger, and she needed them. God knows no one else with any official pull was paying her five seconds of attention anymore. But she hadn’t actually thought Liam was being totally serious. She wouldn’t be getting any clandestine visitors in the night leaving vague, threatening warnings. That was just ridiculous. No one outside of B-grade movies ever pulled that kind of stunt. She laughed, a short, sharp retort, clapping her hand over her mouth at the sound. What if they were still out there?

Maya skittered over to the door, pressing her eye against the peephole, sighing loudly at the lack of view. This was stupid. All she could see was a small circle of the world immediately outside her motel room, distorted beyond any usefulness anyway. All the bad guy would have to do is take two steps to the left and she’d never see it coming. She huffed another breath, snorting that time. She was being ridiculous. There were no big bads hulking around outside her motel room, waiting to grab her and snatch her away. She’d thoroughly pissed off several people recently, true, including Jesse’s Assistant Director, but if he wanted to take her out of the game, all he had to do was arrest her. He could flash his badge at the motel clerk—actually, from Maya’s impression of the clerk, even that much probably wouldn’t be necessary—and she’d be stashed at Gitmo by the morning. Or maybe he’d make a deal to ship her off to a CIA black site. Either way, it wouldn’t take much to absolutely screw her over. They didn’t need to lurk outside her room, shoving vaguely worded missives under the door.

But then who did?

She’d only arrived in Monroe two days ago, going straight to the motel at first, too exhausted to do anything else, only to toss and turn that night, too, before arriving before sunup at the firehouse. From there, it had been back to the motel, until she’d spent the last two days with Seth. She thought back. Had someone seen them at the house? Apart from that, she hadn’t done anything that would leak her motives to anyone. The diner, and then a visit and lunch at Promise House. It was all totally innocent. Meg, Liam, and the chief were the only people who knew what she was really doing there, and Maya couldn’t imagine any of them talking about it to others. Not at all. In fact, Liam had expressly advised against it.

But would they talk to other firefighters? There had been others from the firehouse at Meg’s yesterday afternoon. Some had brought their partners too, girlfriends and wives. There had been others, too, people who helped Meg around the house, neighbors, local drop-ins. Already Maya could tell that Meg never turned anyone away. She frowned. It wasn’t impossible that someone had found out what she was doing in town. A small bit of gossip, a quick exchange in the grocery store checkout line, completely innocent—but that’s all it would take.

Maya flopped back on the bed. She trailed her hands over the mess of folders and bits of paper decorating the end of the bed. She hadn’t even bothered to sweep it away before she’d gone to sleep, just stacked it into a haphazard pile and chucked it at the foot of the bed. What was the point? It wasn’t like she needed the room. She wouldn’t be sharing the bed with anyone anytime soon.

Seth. His name whispered itself through her mind, leaving her almost breathless, sated. She tilted her head into the crappy pillow, closing her eyes as she remembered saying goodbye to him the night before. The touch of his hand on hers, the soft brush of his lips across her cheek. Her body heated at the thought as her hand sneaked downward, her fingers brushing over her thin nightshirt in a poor imitation of what Seth’s hands would do if he ever . . . 

Oh, for God’s sake! The man had been handing her leftovers, not wooing her over a candlelight dinner. Maya’s hand dropped away, landing on the mattress with a soft thump. What the hell was she doing? She was attracted to him, that much at least she’d accepted. It was obvious. When he’d stood next to her the day before, somewhere as simple as in Meg’s backyard, it was as if she could feel his presence, softly vibrating under her skin. Even when he’d been out of direct line of sight, she’d never lost track of him. It was as if he was the only one in the yard, his position obvious. And then the touches, small at first; his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to a spot on one of the bench seats set out, his thigh occasionally touching hers when he shifted next to her, their hands brushing when he reached for the same dish, folding back the collar on the jacket he’d lent her when the afternoon had given way to a cooler evening. They’d been leaning up against one of the tables, watching a group of young children tumble around on the grass. Maya had laughed at their enthusiasm, and then grinned at their delight from something so simple as blowing a dandelion and chasing the seeds as they floated across the yard. When had she lost such guileless enchantment with the world? It had felt good, leaning back and watching them at their play, but then a cool breeze had arrived, making her shiver.

Without saying a word, Seth had picked up his jacket from the bench nearby and wrapped it around her shoulders. She’d ducked her head, still smiling, and as she slid her arms into the sleeves, he’d stepped closer. Maya had frozen on the spot, the nearness of his body causing vibrations through hers, and then he’d smiled, reached up and flipped the jacket’s collar over, smoothing it down. His fingers had lingered just a moment longer than necessary, so subtle that she wasn’t sure Seth had meant anything by it. Maya wasn’t even sure she hadn’t imagined the whole interaction. That didn’t stop her skin from tingling for a long time after he’d stepped away. What would his touch feel like without the bulky jacket in the way, skin sliding against skin?

No. She was officially losing it. The last thing she’d come to Monroe for was to start a relationship. Even a one-night stand was a stupid idea, and besides, Seth didn’t seem like the type. He was caring, open, and loyal. If he asked someone out, Maya had a feeling it would be because he wanted more, and not just a quick fuck before going their separate ways. She frowned, her eyebrows pushing together. Then what the hell had his invitation out to breakfast meant? Crap! She’d been lost in her random musings, and forgotten all about it.

Maya jumped back up from the bed, faster than she had the first time that morning, and grabbed her cell, stabbing at the buttons until the screen illuminated and she could read the time. Eight forty. Thank heavens. She had just enough time to run through the shower and throw on some clothes before he got there. She pawed through her suitcase, grabbing the first things her hands touched that didn’t clash too badly and tripped her way to the bathroom, snagging her toiletry bag on the way with her hands already full. She rushed through her shower, closing her eyes to rinse out her hair—and also so she could ignore the lovely rust stain on the porcelain—and then forced her still-damp legs into a pair of jeans. She completed the ensemble with a tank top and patterned loose-fitting sweater and slid her feet into lace-up boots; a much better choice if they were going anywhere related to the fire again today. She was just manhandling her hair into some semblance of a ponytail when a knock sounded at the door. She jogged to the room’s door, sliding past the small table on her way and scooping all her crap into a messenger bag. Her hand automatically recoiled when her fingers brushed against the note, but she picked it up, pinching it between her thumb and finger, and dropped it in the bag. As much as she’d like to ignore it entirely, she should keep it on hand, just in case.

The knock sounded again and Maya took a deep breath. She stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole. This time she could see everything she needed to see; Seth was standing on her doorstep. Damn, how did the man manage to make a flannel button-down over a T-shirt and jeans look so good? She stepped back, sucked in what she hoped was a calming breath, and opened the door.

“Ready for the best breakfast you’ve ever had?” He rocked back on his heels, grinning. “Sausages and hash brown casserole or cheddar cheese grits with bacon, with biscuits so flaky they’ll melt in your mouth. Or, if you prefer, French toast or a cinnamon roll.” He reached over, taking her bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “From the way you practically drooled at the cupcakes yesterday, I’m guessing you have a pretty wicked sweet tooth.” They reached the car and he swung her door open, waiting until Maya had slid inside to pass her bag over and then push the door closed. He jogged around and opened his door, still talking about the wonders of Southern breakfasts. “I’m partial to their waffles Benedict myself.” He patted his flat stomach. “Gotta have enough protein to keep me going.”

Despite the apprehension about the letter still swirling in her mind, Maya grinned at Seth’s comment. The man didn’t have an inch of extra padding on him, despite his seemingly insatiable appetite. But, she supposed, he’d work through a lot of calories in his job, and judging from his physique, he worked out on top of running in and out of burning buildings. She’d noticed a makeshift gym at the firehouse, with a treadmill and free weights. It made sense. The job demanded a high level of physical fitness, and with twenty-four hour shifts, having somewhere you could work out right there in the building would help. An image entered her mind: Seth dripping with sweat, lying on his back and heaving the barbell over his head, his biceps bulging and face tightening as he lifted the heavy weight. Her tongue darted out to lick her lip. Damn, had he turned on the heater? The morning was as chilly as the day before, but sitting in the truck, Maya almost panted.

“So you ready to go?” She jumped at the sound of his voice. Seth was sitting in the driver’s seat, twisting slightly to face her, one large hand resting on the wheel. His fingers gently grasped the leather, caressing it as they wrapped around . . . crap. She really had to stop letting her imagination run away with her where he was concerned.

“Umm, yep. Sure.” Her voice was low and husky, and Maya blushed deeply. His gaze stayed on her, forehead crinkling as he took in her words. She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath, her cheeks still burning. Thank God there was no such thing as mind reading.

“Maya? You okay?”

Then again . . . 

Her eyes flew open and she pushed herself upright, lifting her head off the headrest she’d smacked it into. “Yep! Yes, good, no, I’m fine. Right as rain.”

He held her gaze, that quizzical look still on his face for a few more seconds, and then it broke and he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “So, we can get going? I figured we’d go grab breakfast first and then head to Central Records.”

That fucking note. Her good mood evaporated. Looking up anything official was a little too close for Maya after last night’s scare. “Maybe we could start at the library, see if we can find any newspaper articles first?”

Seth turned back to face forward, shifting the car into gear and spinning the wheel. He drove out of the parking lot, angling the car to the left to avoid a large sedan parked near the entrance. “Who the hell left that there?” he muttered. Maya glanced over. A large black BMW sat at the entrance to the parking lot, angled toward the building and half blocking the exit to the road. Weird. Some people paid absolutely no attention.

Seth swung the car back around and merged onto the highway. She took another deep breath and forced the note to the back of her mind. Through the frustrations of the night before and that morning, she’d figured out one thing. She might be in town to get justice for Jesse, but that didn’t mean she had to forgo anything and everything else until it happened. She’d been completely miserable. Maya has been grieving; she still was, but she wasn’t going to let that—or her quest—take over her entire life any longer. Seth made her smile, and if he wanted to take her out for breakfast, then she was going to go and she was going to enjoy herself. Jesse’s smiling face flooded her mind and Maya smiled back. Hers was a little wobbly, but that was okay, too. She could miss her brother, but she wasn’t going to let it consume her any longer. Jesse wouldn’t have wanted that. She’d do right by him, she’d make sure of it, but until that day came, there was French toast—and Seth’s company—to enjoy.