Page 32 of Serial Burn

“True. But not everyone who is sick has a psycho shooter after them. So ... since you said you’d be willing to let your friends help, I think it’s better safe than sorry.”

She opened her mouth as though to object, then snapped her lips shut. “You might have a point,” she finally said. “And I did say that,didn’t I?” He raised a brow and she groaned. “Okay. Fine. I don’t have the strength to argue.”

“I’ll take that as a win.” She glanced up at him through tired, slightly glazed eyes, and he took in her red nose, chapped lips, and wild ponytail. And still found the woman attractive. “Go to bed, Jess, I’ll check on you later.”

She sniffed and nodded but narrowed her eyes. “Find the arsonist. If you don’t, when I wake up, I’ll be joining the hunt.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s the goal.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

She left and he literally had to run his hand over his lips to wipe his smile off. He liked her. Too much to kid himself that he could just be friends with her.

But unfortunately, he couldn’t be anything more. Not if he wanted to keep his pain and his secrets buried. A relationship with someone—arealrelationship—would require him to relive things he’d rather not.

When Kenzie and Cole showed up seconds later, he let them in. Along with Andrew, Tate, and James. “Brought the whole team, I see?”

“A lot of it anyway. Lainie had to go to work,” James said, “and Kristine is in Paris, I think, or they’d be here too. If Jesslyn’s in trouble, we’re here to help.”

“And since this is officially our case,” Andrew said, “we can work it from here. Make sure she’s safe.”

“We’ll do what the team did with me,” Kenzie said.

Cole nodded. “Rally around her and have her back.”

Last year, someone had wanted Kenzie off the SWAT team and had done everything in their power to make that happen—including attempts on her life. The team had “circled the wagons” so to speak, with Kenzie in the middle. And now Jesslyn’s friends were doing the same for her. Because they loved her.

“Y’all are going to make me cry,” she said from the entrance to the hallway, her voice hoarse with emotion—and the illness.

“Never on purpose,” Kenzie said, “but if you need to, it’s okay.”

“No. I refuse. My nose is stuffed up enough, thanks.” She sniffed and the others laughed. “Heard y’all come in and had to say thanks before I crashed.” She waved and disappeared into her bedroom.

“Thanks for calling us,” Cole said to Nathan. “We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Nathan smiled. “I figured that.”

If Jesslyn would let them help protect her, Nathan might be able to sleep at night.

EIGHT

Jesslyn woke Friday morning finally feeling almost normal except for the stupid lingering cough, but she hoped that would fade over the next few days. And prayed the next time a killer came after her, it wasn’t raining or freezing cold.

She shuddered. She definitely did not want a killer to come after her ever again.

But she had a feeling whoever had shot at her in the church parking lot wasn’t gone. He’d be back.

And she was going to have to be ready.

She walked into the kitchen to find Kenzie reading a book and eating a plate of eggs and bacon between page turns. Jesslyn’s stomach rumbled. “Got any extra?”

“Yep. On the stove. Let me fix you a plate.”

Kenzie started to stand and Jesslyn waved a hand. “I’ve got it, thanks.” She fixed a plate, poured coffee, and sat across from Kenzie. “You guys have been great, but you don’t have to do this any longer.”

“You’re tired of me already?”

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