Page 54 of Hot For You

“You’re a special woman, Carilyn.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Just know that I don’t intend to let you go.”

She said nothing as she rested her head against his chest. She didn’t know what today might bring, or each day after that, but for now she would enjoy the moment and her time with Cody.

Chapter 20

Nathan sat at his kitchen table, a pile of spent matchsticks on a stainless steel tray in front of him. He struck another wooden matchstick, and watched it flicker before his eyes. The flame burned bright as it began to creep down the stick, closer and closer to his fingers. Mesmerized by the beauty of it, he could barely breathe.

The match’s flame flickered and he could see the explosion as if he were right there at that very moment. In his mind he could hear the deafening boom followed by the fire’s roar.

The explosion had been spectacular. The way it continued to replay through his mind it was like it had just happened rather than having been almost twenty-four hours ago.

After planting the bomb and the Barbie, he’d watched from the bushes, a good distance away. He’d held his breath as everything went up, the flames reaching high into the night sky like white-hot fingers. It had been a living thing of beauty, of true artistry.

Nathan felt heat and then pain as his fingers burned and he dropped the match to the linoleum floor. He stepped on the flame, putting it out, picked up the remnants of the matchstick, then tossed it onto the pile on the tray.

He lit another match, stared into the flame, and his mind turned back to last night.

When the explosion had illuminated the night, he’d cursed as he’d seen a man running away from the house. Nathan had watched the man drop to the ground and moments later Carilyn jumped out of the truck and ran straight to him. It had to be Cody McBride.

In that moment, Nathan could only hope that whatever McBride had been hit with from the explosion had killed him.

Obviously, McBride had found the device before the bomb had gone off. Nathan cursed again. He wasn’t an experienced bomb-maker, but he’d done a magnificent job on his first one. It would have been perfect if the timer had gone off when McBride had been inside.

His hope that McBride had been killed faded as he had watched the paramedics attend to the bastard. Nathan had ground his teeth as he’d watched.

Again Nathan’s fingers burned and he sucked in his breath as he dropped what was left of the match and stepped on the flame to put it out. He reached down and plucked the stick up from the floor and then tossed it onto the growing pile on the tray.

Fingers red and irritated from being burned, he lit another match and held it up to stare into the flame as he tried to plan his next move.

McBride was weakened now. Nathan had to strike again, and he had to strike quickly and ruthlessly.

The questions were where, when, and how. It needed to be as soon as possible. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should blow up the hotel where McBride and Carilyn were staying. He’d planted a tracking device on the car Carilyn had driven to the ranch, just in case, and now he was glad he had. Early this morning he had tracked them to the hotel they were staying in. He’d retreated to his home base to think…and plan…and think…and plan…

This time Nathan blew out the match before it could burn his sore fingers and he set the stick on top of the pile on the tray. He reached for the matchbox, saw that it was empty, and set it aside.

He reached for a redheaded Barbie sitting on the table to his right. This morning he’d made a run to Phoenix and had gone to three different toy stores to buy redheaded dolls. He hadn’t wanted to buy them all at the same place—that might attract attention. And he definitely wouldn’t buy anything locally or even as close as Flagstaff.

Of course he’d disguised himself so that if anyone looked at security tapes they wouldn’t recognize him. He’d worn a felt hat that he’d pulled low over his eyes, a bushy reddish-brown mustache that matched his beard, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. The last thing he’d ever wear was a tweed suit, so that was exactly what he’d worn to the stores when he’d purchased the dolls. His disguise had been perfect.

Using scissors to cut away the packaging, he took the Barbie out of her box then knocked the garbage aside. The doll was wearing a short green dress dotted with big white polka dots, green plastic heels, and had a small green plastic purse. Her red hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and she wore green plastic sunglasses. And of course the requisite big plastic smile.

After he set the Barbie down on the tabletop, he picked up a small can of lighter fluid, which he poured over the pile of matchsticks on the stainless steel tray. He placed the doll onto the pile of matchsticks and poured lighter fluid on her, too.

Earlier he’d set up the laptop, the camera, and the lights. He moved them into place, putting a spotlight on the Barbie and bringing the camera in tight on the doll and the matchsticks. He glanced at his laptop and saw that everything was almost perfectly set up. A few more adjustments and he was ready.

His heart beat faster and he felt a giddy excitement bubbling up inside of him. He grabbed the matchbox and scowled when he saw that it was empty. He got up and dug in a duffel filled with matchboxes and pulled out a large one.

When he sat, he placed the box of matches in front of him then took out a match. He struck it on the side of the box.

Instantly the flame burst on the end of the matchstick. Manic glee overtook him and he almost forgot to click the key on his laptop that would start the recording. The flame was getting dangerously close to his fingers as he started the camera.

It was the first time he’d tried this and he couldn’t wait to watch.

He glanced at the laptop and saw the red record light was on. With a smile he tossed the match onto the Barbie and pile of matchsticks on the tray.

Fire whooshed up, instantly engulfing the matchsticks and the doll.

He leaned back in the chair and watched as the doll bubbled and burned in the fire. The air was filled with an acrid, bitter odor of burning plastic. He kept the camera going until the fire finally died away.

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