“Larkin?” Lucas’s thick voice held a singsong edge.

Larkin’s eyes remained loosely closed as though she was in a deep, restful slumber. The opposite was true. Being locked in the suffocating confines of his two-seater sports car had her nerves clamoring for freedom. From the moment they’d hit the interstate, she’d feigned sleep to keep from having to deal with his multitude of questions and prodding gaze.

They’d exited the smooth, relative straightness of the highway several minutes ago, but his car continued its aggressive rumble through stop-and-go traffic. She’d deal with Lucas when she had all her strength and wits about her, but right now, even faking sleep was nearly too much for her to handle. Smoke had her throat a raw mess. Death and destruction did the same to her brain. Raw and scrambled.

His big hand rubbed a line up her arm. She jerked as though he’d poked her with the end of a stiletto. Her back twinged, and she cried out. There was no escaping the reaction. She was wide-awake, and he knew it.

“Whoa.” The offending hand smoothed over her shoulder in an irritating rhythm. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Yeah, that was the problem. She needed away from him. She needed away from the prodding doctors. She needed away from inquisitive and bomb detonating detectives.

Larkin dragged a hand over her face. Everything felt swollen and puffy to the touch. Her eyes. Her cheeks. Everything hurt. Even her palms. Red, jagged scrapes crisscrossed the skin. She straightened as much as she could and surveyed the landscape. Relief, the first she’d felt in what seemed like days, tamed her wild edges. They were only two blocks from her Upper East home.

“Larkin?” he asked again.

“Huh?” Larkin grabbed her throat and pretended talking hurt. Well, she didn’t exactly pretend. It hurt, but not so much that she couldn’t do it.

“We need to talk.” He whipped the car into her reserved parking space in front of her home, killed the engine, and turned toward her.

“Can’t.” She squeezed her throat. “Not now.”

“I really—”

“Lar!”

“Oh, my God!”

“Larkin!”

Larkin turned in time to see Libby, Genevieve, and Marlis racing down her stairs. The front door hung wide open behind them. Libby beat the other two by several steps. Practical footwear and on-the-job training helped. She stopped at the passenger door and yanked on the handle. It didn’t give. Lib pounded on the window.

“Christ. Give me a second.” Lucas pressed a button on the control panel between them, unlocking the doors.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Libby yanked the door wide, crouched beside Larkin, and tossed her arms around her.

A hiss seeped between her teeth, but she clamped it back. The comfort overrode the pain.

Gen and Mar added their arms, and they were a tangled knot of emotion on the New York City street. The heap didn’t last long. They had her up and walking toward the house in no time.

“Wait.” Lucas slammed his car door.

Marlis looked back. Lib and Gen continued their gentle carry of her up the steps.

Lucas ran past them and placed himself in the doorway. “You all need to wait. I have to clear the interior.”

Libby snorted.

“We’ve been here for thirty minutes.” Genevieve shooed him out of the way with a well-manicured hand.

“Someone could be lying in wait, and you’d never know.” He held out his hand.

“I’ve been through the house but knock yourself out,” Libby announced.

Lucas nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to go inside.

The girls followed suit.

“What are you doing?” Lucas snapped.

“We’re not waiting.” Libby maneuvered them past him. Gen followed. “Will you get that door? Thanks.”

“Where to?” Marlis asked.

“My bedroom,” Larkin croaked.

“Let me carry her up the stairs.” Lucas’s voice carried from the foyer. The door closed with a thud.

Larkin doubled her grip on Genevieve’s and Libby’s shoulders, conveying her wishes without a word.

“Here.” Libby nodded to Gen, who released her hold.

Panic clawed at Larkin for a split second before Libby scooped an arm under her thighs and hoisted Larkin to her chest.

“I’ve got her.” Libby hustled up the stairs before he could say a word.

“My bad muscles,” Genevieve hooted from behind them.

“I’m sorry.” Larkin had never felt so heavy as she did with her girlfriend hoofing her up the various levels. When Beckett had done it, she’d felt beautiful. Today, she felt like a burden.

“Shut your mouth,” Lib snarled. “I’ve toted men twice your size out of burning buildings.”

“Really?” Man, her friend was a total badass.

“No, but it sounded cool, huh?” Lib winked.

“Yeah.” Larkin nodded and regretted the move.

“The building wasn’t on fire.” Libby moved double time up the last flight and set her on her feet on the landing.

“Here. Let me help.” Marlis took her arm from Libby.

“I’m here.” Genevieve took her other.

Libby huffed a deep breath and stripped the sweatshirt from her muscular curves. “I’m warm now.” She used the fabric to dab at her neck and the valley of her breasts, peeking out from her plunging tank top.

The girls ushered her into the bedroom and headed for her bed, but she redirected them to the bathroom. Libby hung back.

“No,” Larkin corrected. “Everyone in.”

They propped her on the chair at her vanity. She turned to the mirror before thinking and reeled at her reflection. The lines hugging her mouth and separating her brows seemed twice as deep. Dark, baggy circles settled under her lower lashes as though they’d never leave. The whites of her eyes were red with so many squiggly lines they formed a solid unit.

“I look like …” What? A victim? She touched her chin where a small crack split her skin.

“Like you just survived a house fire.” Marlis’s hand settled gently on her head. “Jesus, Larkin, you could have died. You look gorgeous.”

“Can we not talk about death?” Genevieve begged.

“We have to.” Larkin forgot her reflection and turned to face her friends.

“What happened?” Libby sat on the edge of the massive tub.

“Turn that on, please.” Larkin pointed at the waterfall spout. “Might as well turn the plug while you’re at it.”

Libby’s knowing gaze flew to the open door. “Gen, close that, would you?”

The two women completed their tasks while Marlis gave her a “WTF is going on” expression.

The thunder of rolling water filled the space, and all six eyes focused on her. Not one of their mouths moved. A first.

“I’m going to have to say this fast, or I won’t get through it.” If she thought too much, she’d end up a blubbering heap like she’d been when the detective had left her hospital room. Turned out the beeps on her phone conveyed more explosive information than the quiet chirps let on.

“You have this,” Marlis urged.

She started with the easy stuff. The flowers and their cards. The fire that destroyed her house. The detective’s visit. Then it was time. Larkin drew a breath.

“The fire was arson, intentionally set to destroy evidence and kill me.” So not the hard part yet. She hugged her arms to herself.

“Holy shit, Larkin.” Genevieve straightened from her prop on the edge of the counter.

“What?” Mar cried and grabbed her hand.

“That’s not the awful part,” Larkin warned. Tears gathered in the back of her throat. She tried to choke them down, but they refused to budge.

“What evidence?” Libby dropped her elbows to her knees, leaning in for the coup de grâce.

“Reagan’s body was found in the garage.” It was a knife to the heart all over again.

“Reagan, your assistant? Sweet Reagan, who is young and vibrant and has her whole life ahead of her?” Marlis’s hands sliced the air with each descriptor.

Larkin nodded, unable to speak.

“Had her whole life ahead of her. Fuck.” Genevieve slapped the counter. “Just what the fuck?”

“Details,” Libby demanded.

“They don’t have DNA results and haven’t confirmed it.” Larkin rocked slowly back and forth. “I wasn’t supposed to know, but I overhead the detective’s conversation. Her purse and identification were found under that guest room bed. They believe that’s where the first fire originated.” She shuddered in a breath. “The medical examiner said that she’d been dead for some time.”

“So the fire didn’t kill her?” Mar asked.

“No.” It was impossible to think that Reagan would never again pop her head into Larkin’s office and tell her some crazy story about her weekend. It was devastating to think about the young woman’s mother and how much she would miss her child. The tears started again. How was it possible she had any left? “Have any of you heard from Douglas?”

“He gathered us this morning, told us about the fire, and brought us to the house so we’d be here when you arrived,” Libby explained. “I thought he would stay, but he’d gone to talk to some friends.” Her brows hiked. “Now I know he suspected arson. I think he’s mounting a hunting party.”

“Probably.” Larkin felt for the SOB who targeted her.

“Do they have a cause of death?” Libby asked quietly.

Larkin shook her head. The side to side movement increased the pounding behind her eyes.

“I’m spending the night,” Libby announced.

“Me too,” Gen agreed.

“Me too, if I can bring my security detail.” Marlis pointed at the bathroom door. “Lucas is here to protect you. I don’t want us left out in the cold if something happens.”

“Is he?” Libby asked. Marlis looked at Libby as if she had two heads. “She’s not acting like he is here to protect her,” she explained.

“I don’t know.” Larkin pointed at the near overflowing water. She stood and crossed to the inviting tub. “He’s being weird,” she breathed. “He was at the hospital so soon after they pulled me from the fire, and he’s acting possessive and overbearing. It just creeps me out.”

“I’m less worried about him and more worried about your rooftop lover boy.” Libby grabbed both her hands and sat her on the edge of the tub.

“You read people well, but now’s not the time to take chances,” Marlis urged. “Let them figure things out before you see him again, at least.”

“That’s just it.” She shook her head. “I won’t see him again. We left it at fond memories.”

“Because he was going to kill you.” Genevieve’s forceful voice ricocheted off the marble walls.

“No.” Larkin turned toward Gen to find her rock-solid friend leaky eyed and red faced. “Because things were getting too serious.”

“If he had nothing to hide, there’s nothing to worry about in giving me his name,” Libby said.

“Oh,” Larkin said, “I know he has things to hide.”