He met Maya downtown, outside the judge’s house. He pulled his truck up to the curb and climbed out, pushing the door shut. It wasn’t as if the house was hard to find. It stood in the middle of a well-off neighborhood, surrounded by manicured gardens, tall fences, and red bricks. The fences were gone at the judge’s house. So was the grass. The framework of the house was still there, some bricks still clinging on, some walls missing entirely, and half the roof gone. Despite it being months since the fire, everything still looked vaguely soggy, as if it had been only the night before that their hoses had put out the flames. If Seth closed his eyes, he could still hear the crackle and smell the smoke. It had drifted slowly, like a fog that could take you under; billowing plumes covering the landscape with grains of soot and, sometimes, choking blackness. Sparks had drifted downward, extinguishing themselves as they touched his turnout jacket. Windows had cracked, then burst, and timber ceilings had creaked and groaned, then dropped away as the fire consumed them, spreading and bursting across the roof in bright flashes that could blind you for seconds and take your life if you weren’t damn careful. It was the same story every shift. Somewhere, someone lost their home, their business, maybe their entire world. He doubted that would ever leave him.

He was surprised that the town council hadn’t demanded it be demolished yet. Perhaps the investigation was still open with the Feds? Seth pulled his eyes away from the structure and looked at Maya. The morning was still cool, reddening her cheeks. She looked a little better than she had at dawn, but she was obviously anxious. Her foot was tapping on the ground as she stood on the sidewalk outside what was left of the home, her hands crossed tightly across her chest, hands tucked in. Was she just cold, or was it something else? He was pretty sure from the way she’d looked him over that morning that she wasn’t impressed with her escort. Seth half shrugged. He was it. She’d either have to deal, or . . . 

She lifted one hand, waving it in a small, jaunty wave. “Umm, hi.”

He smiled. “Hi, Maya. You found the place okay?”

She looked back at the house, grimacing. “Kinda hard not to. First person I asked gave me precise directions.”

Seth rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was big news here at the time, I guess.”

She nodded but didn’t reply and spun on her heels, moving quickly toward the house. Damn it. Big news. Her brother died that night. He was going to have to be less of a complete idiot if this was going to work. Seth hurried to grab two neon hard hats out of the bed of the truck and jog after her. He caught up to Maya at the threshold of the house, the front door long gone after being broken through that night—when they still had hope of finding anyone alive. He passed her one. “Here. The place is still standing, but I can’t guarantee something won’t fall or break off in there.” She took it, placing the hat on her head before stepping through the front door. Seth followed. At least she hadn’t made an excuse, or fussed about it ruining her hair, like some girls he knew. This couldn’t be easy for her, but at least she wasn’t putting herself at risk doing it. “Stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.”

Entering the home, he walked her through the front room and hall. “There’s not much to see here,” he said. “It was pretty well all destroyed by the fire and then our attempts to put it out.” She nodded, her eyes wide as she took the room in. Her foot had stopped tapping and her hands hung limply by her sides. He frowned. Maya’s fingers were trembling. Seth looped his arm through hers and guided her back up the hall to the staircase. The sooner they got out of there, the better. He didn’t like seeing her so affected, even if it was unavoidable.

He wondered again why she was doing this to herself. Surely there was someone else who could give her the answers she obviously so desperately needed? A police report, or she could talk to her brother’s fellow agents. Then again, he’d been undercover. Maybe they weren’t talking to anyone outside official channels. Seth had no idea how long, but from what he’d seen on TV, sometimes that stuff could go on for months, maybe even years.

He watched Maya pick her way along the hall. He hadn’t understood it before, how someone could work on the side of the good guys their entire lives, only to turn into what they hunted. But on your own for months, cut off from your family, pretending to be someone else entirely. . . He could understand how shit like that happened. Who knows what the guy had been facing. God, given the right pressure, anyone could become a killer. He knew little about what Maya’s brother had been working on, didn’t even remember meeting the man, but it had been no secret that the judge had a pet project—bringing down the Dixie Mafia. Cute name, but a deadly outfit. Originally from Biloxi, Mississippi, they were less an actual family or organized group as their northern cousins, and more a sort of loose-knit tribe of traveling criminals. Without a chain of command, whoever had enough money and power to wrest control won. They only had one rule—don’t snitch to the cops.

Seth stepped around a piece of charred wood, hiding a shudder. Was that what Maya’s brother had been working on? He could only imagine what might have happened to him if the Dixie Mafia found out he was a federal agent. He took another step forward, tiles and charcoal crunching under his boot, and then he stopped short. Did they know Maya was in town? He looked over. She was a few steps ahead of him, waiting at the foot of the staircase. At least she’d paid attention to not going anywhere in the house without him. “Umm, Maya. How long have you been here in Monroe?”

She turned from peering up the staircase. He could barely see the upstairs landing, what was left of the room casting most of the upstairs in shadows. “I only arrived yesterday, last night. Slept for a bit and then I went straight to the firehouse.”

Seth exhaled forcefully. “Okay. Does anyone else know why you’re here?”

She cocked her head, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Just how many times was he going to put his foot in it in an hour? He took a deep breath. If he was going to piss her off, might as well get it over with. “After you left this morning, I was talking to the fire investigator that handled this case. He knew your brother was FBI, but that was it.”

She turned around, facing him. Her mouth was level, but there was a sadness in her eyes. Shit, he hated being the one to put it there. What was it about this woman that got under his skin? He’d dealt with fire victims before; it was part of the job. This one seemed more intimate, though, more personal. It wasn’t as if he knew her. Maybe the mystery surrounding the whole thing? Hell, maybe the creepiness of the burned-out shell of the house was getting to him.

She spoke softly. “Jesse was a very private person. I think you have to be, if you live that life. He didn’t like to talk about work.” She half smiled, a wistful look on her face. “Probably thought he was protecting his baby sister from the evils of the world. He was nearly ten years older than me, and acted like a third parent half the time when I was growing up. I’m not sure he would have told me much of what he was really up to, even if I’d asked.”

Seth could understand that. He, and every guy at the firehouse, walked into each shift not knowing if it was going to be their last. Hell of a thing some days, especially when he’d started the job, fresh out of college. But he knew that was where he was meant to be. Fighting fires, the days you got to rescue people, saving lives—that was a hell of a rush. It was probably the same for Jesse at the FBI. The ones you don’t save, Seth tried not to think about, but sometimes when it was dark and still in his apartment at night, he’d remember the bad ones. He couldn’t blame Jesse at all for wanting to keep that life from Maya.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Maya stood, one hand on her hip. What had he missed?

“Ahh, what question?”

“Why do you care if anyone else knows I’m here?”

Rip the bandage off. He should just go for it. Instead, he half stuttered, half fell over his words. “Umm, I don’t know anything about what Jesse . . . ahh, well, Liam said . . .” He sighed. “It’s like this, Maya. Judge Turner was federal. He didn’t deal with drunk-and-disorderlies or little old ladies bouncing checks at the grocery store.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And, well, I don’t know what or who your brother was involved with, but clearly it was a right mess.”

“Look, Seth—”

He held his hands up, interrupting. “I’m not making a judgment call either way, Maya.” His eyes softened. “He was your brother, and he’ll always be that. But whatever happened, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you caught up in anything even like the same mess.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“And I’m sure you can. Just, maybe don’t tell too many people you’re poking around the judge’s death.” He looked straight at her. “For me? I’d feel kinda responsible if someone got the wrong idea while you were in town.”

Maya snorted. “And did what, exactly?”

Seth paused. He did sound kind of silly. Yep, it definitely had to be the creepiness of the house. He was letting his imagination run away with him. Maya turned, her hair swinging over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. He just didn’t want anything to happen to her. She didn’t deserve it.

He shook his head. He was overreacting. He’d show her through the house, then escort her back to the motel, maybe ask her out for coffee. Purely to make sure she was okay, of course. It had nothing to do with the view he had of her shapely ass climbing the stairs.

Yeah, he was completely screwed.