Page 36 of Sizzling Desire

Chance taps the report. “And we’ve got a connection. The owner of that house in Jacksonville? I used to work for a real estate developer out of Miami. Guess who owns the Cedar Grove warehouse?”

Hudson leans in, frowning. “Same developer?”

Chance nods.

“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “That’s not random. That’s targeted.”

“Exactly,” Chance agrees. “Which means this guy isn’t just some pyro looking for a thrill. He’s methodical. Deliberate. He’s got a reason to be doing this shit.”

I exhale hard, my mind spinning through the implications. “And he’s getting bolder. Started with a yacht, then an empty house, then a warehouse. Next, it’s going to be something bigger. A bigger target, more people.”

Chance’s expression darkens. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Hudson crosses his arms, nodding toward the file. “What’s our next move?”

I flip through the reports again, my pulse picking up as pieces start clicking into place. “We need to get ahead of him. If we know his pattern, we can predict his next target.”

Chance blows out a breath, shaking his head. “Easier said than done. There’s no obvious connection between the victims besides the developer and I can’t find any reason for the other random fires he’s creating.”

I smirk, tapping my fingers against the table. “Which means we’re missing something. He’s got a reason, which means there’s a thread tying all this shit together—we just have to find it.”

Hudson glances between me and Chance, his gaze steady. “Then let’s find it.”

I nod, my focus shifting from the lingering fire Grace left in my veins to the very real one waiting to burn through this town.

This guy thinks he’s untouchable.

He’s about to learn otherwise.

I step out of Hooplas, the heavy night air sticking to my skin like a warning.

The investigation is eating at me. The arsonist isn’t just setting fires—he’s hunting, and we’re still playing catch-up. But right now? My head isn’t on the case. Not entirely.

No, my head is on her.

On Gracie.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand down my face as I cross the lot toward my truck, but it does nothing to clear her from my mind. She’s everywhere. The way she tilts her chin up when she’s pissed. The way she rolls her eyes, like I’m the biggest pain in her ass. The way she fucking laughs—like she doesn’t want to but can’t help herself.

And the way she looked at me tonight? Yeah, that’s staying with me, too.

Like she didn’t know if she wanted to shove me or kiss me.

Like maybe she feels this thing between us, too.

I yank my truck door open, gripping the frame hard enough to feel it in my bones. I shouldn’t want her this much. Shouldn’t crave the way we fight; the way we push each other to the brink.

But I do.

I’m not just drawn to her. I’m obsessed.

And now I know why.

Because I’m in love with her.

I drop into the driver’s seat, my pulse hammering, my breath coming sharp. It’s not just lust, not just a game I want to win. It’s her. The way she challenges me; the way she sees right through me. The way she makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years.

---