The truth was there. She'd find it one way or another, and she'd do it without hurting anyone.
Logan pulled the door shut behind them and as she quickly moved away from his heat, she noticed that his truck was completely blocking hers on the narrow dirt driveway. Her hands fisted at her sides. Slowly uncurling her fingers one by one, she turned.
“Please move your truck.”
He swung her briefcase from the tip of one finger. “You're probably going to want this too, aren't you?”
She held out one hand, making sure it didn't shake from frustration. “Yes, thank you.”
He gave it to her, then strolled over to her car. “City vehicles always come with low-grade tires, don't they?”
She followed his gaze. Crap. Her front right tire was flat.
“Dry pine needles. They're hell on rubber.”
His words were light, conversational. And yet, she bristled at the victory she sensed behind them. Not to mention the fact that standing in the middle of a forest with her lead suspect and a brand-new flat tire was pretty damn suspicious. But the last thing she was going to do was let him think she was scared. Especially since she didn't think he'd do anything to harm her while Joseph was just a wall away.
“I've got a spare,” she said as she clicked open the trunk with her remote.
He was mistaken if he thought she was a girly girl who couldn't take care of herself. Her father had made sure she knew how to change a tire—and shoot a gun.
Logan crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world like he was trying not to laugh. “Good luck getting out of this driveway with a spare. One time my buddy tried it when we were kids and we had to call a fire truck to pull him out of a mud hole. Car was stolen too, so he spent the night in jail.” He headed over to his truck. “How about I give you lift? Take you wherever you need to go.”
Maya couldn't believe her bad luck. Was it really coming down to this? Was she going to have to accept a ride from her primary arson suspect? She should head back inside Joseph's cabin and call AAA to come fix her flat. But that would take time. Time she didn't have anymore. Not now that the fire was out of control and had already taken down a hotshot. And if this wildfire followed typical arson patterns, there'd be new fires. Soon.
The longer it took her to nail the arsonist, the more lives and homes and land would be threatened by the wildfire. Plus, there was always Logan's lingering threat to call her boss. The story would be better coming from her mouth first, give her a chance to put a more innocent spin on things.
“Fine,” she finally said, slamming the trunk shut and grabbing the rest of her investigative tools out of the backseat. “You can drop me at my motel.”
She remembered seeing a rental car agency next door to the motel, which meant she'd be out on the road and back in business immediately.
She stepped up into his passenger seat. The interior smelled like leather and fresh dirt and pine needles. And Logan. He slid in behind the wheel and her senses were overwhelmed with his smoky scent, his nearness, the way his thigh muscles pressed against the denim fabric of his jeans, the dark hair across his wrist.
She forcefully pushed aside her arousal. God, it shouldn't be so hard to remain impartial around her suspect. He started the engine and as they moved through the trees she slowly recovered her equilibrium. Instead of fighting her reaction to him, she needed to save her energy and simply accept—and ignore—the attraction so that she could get back to business. In fact, the next ten minutes of captivity in his truck were the perfect chance for another Q&A session.
“Joseph mentioned you had some problems as a teenager, that your mother asked him to take you in.”
She waited for Logan to react in some way, but all he did was drive. Fine, he wanted to play hardball, she'd play hardball.
“You were obviously a problem child. What kind of problems did you have?”
“You really think I'm going to tell you?”
He took his eyes off the road for a split second and she could have sworn he was laughing at her.
“No, not really. But it doesn't matter. I'll go back to Joseph's cabin first thing tomorrow morning. I'll ask him then.” Logan wasn't making it easy for her. She was happy to make it just as hard for him. “Watching his health fail must be difficult for you.”
But even as she said the words, she felt herself soften. She knew how it felt to lose someone.
Logan's face shuttered closed. “You always feel this sorry for your suspects? Interesting strategy.”
She clamped her lips together. Fine. She got it. He didn't want to talk about whatever Joseph was dealing with. And he was right. They weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances. Still, from everything she'd read in Logan's file and her brief meeting with Joseph, she could see that Joseph was far more than a mentor. He was a father.
A sharp pain dug in beneath her breastbone: Logan's love for Joseph was one more potential mark against him. Had watching Joseph slip away day by day sent Logan over the edge? Had it sent him back into old patterns that had long been buried by Joseph's love? Was Logan Cain a playboy with a penchant for arson?
Or was he a true hero who'd gotten caught up in an arsonist's trap as the perfect foil?
She looked at his profile, his strong nose and chin, his full, masculine lips. Was she having a hard time imagining him committing arson because he really was a good man? Or was it simply that she'd tasted the heat of his kisses?
Logan slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a deer running across their path. “I'm sorry,” he said, surprising her with his apology. “I shouldn't have said that. All I'm asking is that you leave Joseph out of this.”
Conflicting emotions tore through her. Logan had shown her kindness in her darkest hour six months ago, but all she could give him in return was a bullet list of reasons why he was guilty of arson. She knew why he was pleading her to stop questioning Joseph, but it would be unprofessional and unethical for her to ignore an important source.
“I'm afraid I can't do that.”
“You can if I give you what you're looking for.”
Heat bloomed beneath Maya's skin. They were just words, not an invitation. She steadied her breathing before she replied.
“It depends on what you give me.”
“Underage drinking.”