Hot and Heavy, page 4
Jesus. How could she proclaim her innocence when she was literally holding the evidence?
Then she remembered Dennis’s missing duffel. Maybe he hadn’t been trying to keep her out of it. What if he’d decided to make a preemptive move by calling the cops and pointing the finger at her? It would be just like him to call with an anonymous tip, and when the police showed up, she’d be left holding the bag while he was nowhere near.
She ran down the hallway, her hands trembling violently.
She couldn’t go to jail. She couldn’t.
She fought back the tears. Now wasn’t the time for that. She needed to get out of here, needed to escape.
She grabbed a bag from the top shelf in her closet and hastily threw whatever clothes she could inside, then she walked to her desk—which also served as a makeup table—and swept the top clean, dumping everything on top of her clothing. The last items she added to the bag were Mrs. Maloney’s things. She’d find some way to get her stuff back to her eventually.
Her backpack—with her laptop, planner, and a couple of books—was still packed up from this morning, when she’d driven to Mrs. Maloney’s, blissfully unaware her life was going to take a sharp downhill turn.
Throwing the backpack over her shoulder, the other bag in her hand, she grabbed her phone, keys, and purse, then slid open her bedroom window.
Stepping out onto the fire escape, she tried—and failed—to lower the metal ladder quietly. The thing was rusted as fuck and screeched so loud; she was surprised the neighbors weren’t hanging out their windows to tell her to be quiet. She held her breath for a second, expecting the police to round the corner to find out what was going on.
When no one appeared, she slowly made her way down the ladder, her arms laden with all the bags. Once she hit the ground, she sucked in some much-needed air, her lungs seizing with fear and panic. Pulling her hoodie up to hide her flaming-red hair, she forced herself to walk casually—though quickly—to the parking lot. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by running, but she also wasn’t willing to take her time and stroll.
Unlocking her car, she threw all her shit on the passenger seat, started the engine, and pulled out, driving down the back alley rather than turning onto the road where the police were parked.
Her gaze kept slipping to the rearview mirror, expecting to see the blue lights of the cop car coming up behind her. She was halfway through the city before she started to breathe somewhat easier. Mercifully, she’d filled her car up with gas the day before, so at least she had enough to get…somewhere.
Stopping by the bank, she pulled up to the ATM and cleaned out her bank account. Sadly, she only had a few hundred dollars, which wasn’t going to get her very far.
She’d been able to save up a fair amount of money since the Maloneys had paid her well and she had zero social life, even considering she was basically supporting her mom and uncle. However, that nest egg had been depleted when her mom, while drunk, had assaulted another woman at a bar four months earlier. Hazel had used most of the money to bail Mom out, the rest to pay court fees and the fine, which had put her back at square one in terms of savings.
Once she had the cash in hand, she took the next exit, sliding onto the interstate, heading south, driving through the night.
She blinked wearily, grateful now for her long afternoon nap. It helped her stay awake as she increased the miles between herself and Boston.
Fuck that city. She was never going back. Nothing good had even happened in Boston.
Eventually, dawn turned the sky from coal black to slate gray.
A light on the dashboard captured her attention, and she let the gas tank decide her new home. She’d already refilled the tank once, and while she’d keep driving forever if she could, she didn’t want to deplete her funds on more gas.
The next exit proclaimed she’d made it to Philadelphia.
Philadelphia.
That felt like a big enough place to get lost in.
Turning on her blinker, she left the interstate, grateful when the first thing she saw was the sign for a motel.
Crossings Motel was clearly not a five-star luxury hotel. In fact, it looked sketchy as fuck. Which meant it probably fit her budget just fine.
Pulling in, she grabbed all her bags—because it wasn’t just the motel that looked sketchy but the neighborhood as well—and lumbered into the front office. A surly-looking man emerged from a back room, cigarette between his fingers.
“Well, hello there,” he said in a gravelly voice that proved he smoked as much as Hazel’s mom. She’d put him at a two-pack-a-day guy.
“I was wondering if you had any rooms available,” she said.
“I sure do.”
For the next few minutes, she made small talk with the man, who’d introduced himself as the owner of the motel, Rocco. He was gruff but nice enough. Because she needed to hoard as much cash as possible, she used her “just for emergencies” credit card for the first time ever. He handed her a key, proclaiming he was giving her the best room in the place with a friendly wink.
She smiled tiredly, then trudged up the stairs to the second floor. The motel didn’t have interior halls, all the doors opening outside, overlooking the parking lot.
Hazel unlocked the door, dumped her stuff, quickly made use of the bathroom, then walked to the bed, falling down face-first, something she probably wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t been so tired. God only knew when this bedspread had last been washed.
That thought grossed her out enough that she found the energy to pull down the covers. She did little more than kick off her shoes as she climbed beneath, falling into a restless sleep.
Chapter Four
Aldo was just about the leave for the day when the scanner went off, the dispatcher reporting a fire. Ordinarily, he would have flipped his buddies the peace sign and headed out anyway. After all, his shift was over, and he wouldn’t have even been here today, except he’d been covering for a buddy who needed a few hours off for his daughter’s birthday party. Said buddy had just shown up for the remainder of the evening.
Aldo had big plans for his Sunday night, plans he’d been looking forward to for weeks. His brother, Elio, was playing in Philly tonight, and he’d managed to score awesome seats for Aldo, Kayden, and the rest of their gang. Considering this was going to be Elio’s final season, Aldo suspected this might be the last time he’d ever get to see his brother play in person for the NHL.
After the game, they were all going to Rafe’s restaurant, Divine, for a late-night dinner and drinks.
Aldo had just come off four twenty-four-hour days—not counting these extra six hours—and he was looking forward to some downtime.
Or at least he had been.
Until he heard the dispatcher mention Crossings Motel.
His dad and uncles all participated in the stereotypical old man monthly poker game, complete with bourbon and cigars. One of the regulars in their gang of old cronies was Rocco, who owned and operated Crossings. Aldo had known the guy most of his life.
He turned back, racing to his locker to grab his jacket, boots, and helmet.
Jeff, the guy he’d been covering for, gave him a funny look. “We got this, man. Go and enjoy the game with your family.”
“It’s Crossings Motel,” Aldo said. “I know the guy who owns it.”
Jeff nodded as the two of them ran for the truck. “Gotcha.”
The tanker truck had already left. Jeff climbed behind the wheel of the engine truck, three other fellas grabbing the backseat, while Aldo took the passenger seat, quickly donning his gear and pulling his phone out as they fired up the lights and siren and left the station.
Kayden answered on the second ring. “Hey, man. I’m running a few minutes late. Logging out of my computer and heading home right now.”
Kayden had also worked today. As a cop, his schedule was a bit more nine to five, while Aldo’s job was a rotation deal. Four full days on—when he slept at the station—three off, then three on, and four off, and so on. Kayden swore that routine would drive him insane, but Aldo had been doing it for so many years, it didn’t even faze him.
“Listen—” Aldo started, but Kayden cut him off.
“Is that the siren?”
“Yeah. We just got a call. Crossings Motel. Dispatcher called up three different stations, so it sounds pretty bad.”
“Shit. I’ll meet you there.”
They didn’t even say goodbye, just hung up.
Looked like they were going to be late for the game. Aldo fired off a text to his sister, Liza, to tell their friends not to wait for them. Even if the fire wasn’t too bad, they were going to miss the initial puck drop.
Jeff roared around a corner, and that was when Aldo knew they weren’t going to catch the game at all.
“Fuck,” Jeff murmured. They’d both been professional firefighters for over a decade, so the fact they were slack-jawed proved how bad the fire was.
Aldo’s eyes widened. “Jesus.” Two-thirds of the building was already engulfed in flames, huge plumes of smoke blocking out most of the sky. Several police officers had arrived before them and were setting up a perimeter, keeping onlookers back at a safe distance.
They raced into the parking lot, braking roughly enough that Aldo flew forward in his seat. All of them disembarked and started unrolling the hoses, their fire chief calling out commands, organizing them in teams of three to attack the fire from different locations in front of the motel.
“Is everyone out?” Aldo asked his commander, perfectly aware that if anyone had still been on the second floor, there would be no saving them. The building had gone up in flames like a cardboard box and was already beginning to crash in on itself.
His commander threw his hands up. “We don’t have that information yet. The manager was able to grab a list of guests staying here before leaving the building. We’ve handed it over to the police, who are doing a headcount, over there across the street.”
Aldo sent up a prayer everyone had made it out, then he and Jeff manned the hoses, trying to beat down the flames. The fire had grown too large, sweat running down his back from the unbearable heat. He felt like he’d gotten one hell of a sunburn, his entire face stinging from standing too close to the fire. Two other fire departments showed up, setting up at the side and rear of the building.
After close to two hours, the fire was still burning though under control. Probably because it was running out of things to burn. There wasn’t much of the building left that hadn’t been touched by the fire. At least they’d managed to contain the flames to just the motel. The surrounding businesses would have smoke and heat damage, but they—mercifully—hadn’t caught fire.
For which Aldo was grateful. There’d been more than a few minutes when it had been touch and go, and he’d feared the entire city block would be engulfed.
Kayden approached him. Aldo, his muscles exhausted from wielding the hose, handed it off to another firefighter, stepping back for a moment to catch his breath.
“I hope everyone was out.”
Kayden nodded somberly. “According to Rocco, Sundays are his slowest night, so there weren’t a lot of people in the building when it caught fire. We were able to account for all the guests except for one. A Hazel Walsh.” Kayden glanced at the building. “Her room was on the second floor, very close to where the fire broke out.”
“Shit.” Neither he nor Kayden had to say it, but if Hazel had still been in her room and hadn’t managed to make it out, there was no doubt she hadn’t survived the fire. “Any guess on how it started?” Aldo asked.
“Apparently one of the guests was intoxicated. He passed out with a lit cigarette in his hand. When he came to, most of the room was engulfed in flames, and he says he barely got out of the room alive.”
“The sprinkler system should have kicked in. Should have prevented this from getting so out of hand. I know Rocco. The place might be a dive, but he follows the city ordinances, keeps the place up to code.”
“Yeah. Well, apparently there was a water main break a couple of streets over,” Kayden said. “The city was fixing it all afternoon. They only managed to get the water turned back on a few minutes before you guys arrived.”
“Shit. That was fucking unlucky for Rocco.”
“Dispatch was working to call up tanker trucks in case the hydrants were dry. Mercifully, it didn’t come to that or this could have been a hell of a lot worse.”
“Rocco okay?” Aldo hadn’t seen the old guy yet, but he was worried about him. This motel, while a complete fleabag, had been Rocco’s livelihood for his entire life, the property inherited from his father, who’d owned and operated it before him.
“I think he’s shell-shocked at the moment. It hasn’t sunk in yet.”
Aldo studied the building, the flames dying down. It was a burned-out shell, a total loss. He was sure Rocco had insurance, but even so…this was going to be a big blow to him. He might bitch and complain about the guests or city permits or unreliable employees, but there was no mistaking Rocco’s love for the motel.
“I’m sure it hasn’t. You sticking around?” he asked, aware that, like him, Kayden was technically off duty.
“Yeah. For a little while at least. You want a ride home?”
Aldo nodded. “Yeah. I’ll send my gear back with the guys.”
“Okay. It might not be all that soon. Rocco’s beside himself about the missing woman. I think I’m going to stick around until—”
“Hey, Kayden!”
Aldo and Kayden both turned around as Rocco approached them. He turned and pointed partway down the block. “That’s her,” Rocco said, clearly relieved. “Hazel. The pretty little redhead.”
Aldo spotted the woman at the same time as Kayden. He knew that—because they both sucked in the same deep breath.
The woman’s attention was focused solely on the motel, her mouth open slightly. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a green hoodie, old sneakers on her feet, her hair pinned up in a messy ponytail, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. She had flaming-red hair, the bright, rich color so vivid, Aldo couldn’t stop staring at her.
He watched as she shivered slightly, and it occurred to him that while he was so soaked with sweat someone could wring him out, the evening air was quite chilly.
“I’m going to go talk to her,” Kayden said.
“Give me a second,” Aldo said. “I’ll come with you.”
Kayden gave him a look that was halfway between confused and amused, but he didn’t give him shit, waiting as Aldo walked back to the engine truck, stowing his jacket and hat. He pulled off his boots, grabbing his tennis shoes and slipping them back on. He reached for his winter coat, emblazoned with his fire station’s logo on the breast. Not that anyone would have a doubt what his role here had been. Aldo didn’t need a mirror to know his entire face was black with soot.
The two of them walked across the parking lot, until they stood on the opposite side of the street from Hazel.
Even from a distance, he could see that Hazel Walsh was fucking gorgeous.
As if she sensed their eyes on her, Hazel looked away from the motel and spotted them.
Aldo didn’t know what to make of the brief, initial flash of panic in her eyes. Granted, he was covered with soot, but that was hardly something to fear. Then he realized it wasn’t him she was looking at, but Kayden, who was still in his police uniform.
“Miss,” Kayden called out as he stepped off the curb. Traffic had been diverted away from this street, keeping it clear for emergency vehicles, so they didn’t bother to look both ways.
Hazel glanced around as if she wasn’t sure Kayden was talking to her.
Then, she shocked them both by turning quickly, walking down the block, away from them.
Kayden shot him a “what the fuck” look, then continued toward her, picking up his pace.
“Miss,” he called out again, louder.
Hazel didn’t look back, just kept walking, moving even faster. At this rate, Aldo half expected her to break out in a run, which was weird as shit.
“Hazel,” Kayden said. “Hazel Walsh.”
This time his words permeated, and she stumbled for a moment before stopping. Aldo wasn’t sure if he saw or imagined Hazel’s shoulders slump, but it only lasted a second before she stiffened her spine and twisted around to face them.
Kayden cut the distance between himself and Hazel quickly, clearly worried she was going to take off again. “You’re Hazel Walsh?”
Hazel hesitated, and while she’d turned, she didn’t fully face them, her focus instead on the window of the convenience store they were standing in front of. “Did I do something wrong?”
Why the hell would she think that?
Kayden shook his head. “No. Of course not. I was charged with making certain everyone was out of the motel. You were the last person on my list not accounted for.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly more at ease. She reached up, pulling her hoodie over her head, her hand remaining on the side to hold it up, though Aldo couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like it was windy and she needed to hold the hood to keep it on.
Finally, she turned to face them more fully. “I…I had some errands to run.”
“Guess you weren’t expecting to come back to something like this.” Aldo wondered if it was the fire that had freaked her out.
Hazel’s attention turned to him, and Aldo was taken aback by her bright green eyes. Jesus Christ. Surely she was wearing contacts. No one’s eyes could be that naturally green. She shook her head in response, her hand still lifted, blocking half of her face. “No. I wasn’t.”
“You were staying in the motel, right?” Kayden asked. “The owner, Rocco, gave us your name.”
Hazel turned to take in what was left of Crossings Motel. “I was. I…” She tugged her hoodie farther over her face, and it occurred to Aldo, her initial shock was starting to wear off. “God. All of my things were in there.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Hazel nodded her head just once, an acknowledgement of Kayden’s kind words, but she didn’t look at him.
