Cain Whitfield wasn’t the sort of man who put much stock in premonitions or sixth sense. But the moment he’d first spotted the shy brunette through the window of the Prickly Pear Motel, he’d known trouble had arrived in Caldera.

His gaze had snagged on her ill-fitting clothing and her wildly curling hair. Not unusual, his noticing a stranger arriving in his little town. But the minute his dick twitched, he should have heeded the warning.

Yeah, he sure could pick ’em. Just like his ex, only Susan hadn’t burned down a cabin. She’d left his place cleaner than she’d managed to keep it the entire six months they’d been together. Hell, the woman hadn’t even left him a can of beans in the pantry when she’d walked out on their marriage. On a Monday. After he’d left for work. Via a note taped to the kitchen counter because she couldn’t put that into a U-Haul trailer.

Staring at the fire that lit the Texas night sky, he shook his head. The strobing lights of police and fire vehicles were no competition for the furious blaze. No simple kitchen fire or leaf pile run amok. It was going to be a long night.

The minute he’d gotten a call to come to a house fire out on Old Amity Road, he’d suspected the owner of the cabin, Mutt Owens, the father of his fellow deputy, Tank Owens, had finally committed arson, because the old ramshackle cabin hadn’t had a tenant in a couple of years.

That suspicion had been quickly squashed when he’d spied that same pretty brunette who had pricked his attention two nights earlier standing apart from the men surrounding the fire truck.

He spotted the sheriff, Josh Penske, also standing beside the fire crew, not that the firefighters could do much more than wet the grass surrounding the building. This far out of town they didn’t have a hydrant to hook up to. The water they carried on the pumper truck ensured the blaze didn’t set fire to the tall buffalo grass surrounding the clearing, and they were busy unrolling more hoses.

As he stood, more vehicles arrived—volunteer firefighters, among them Jeremiah McCord whose ranch butted up against this property. Jeremiah would be the first to arrive—he’d nearly lost his shirt the last time a fire swept across his ranch. The rancher gave Cain a nod then hurried to join the mostly volunteer crew beside the truck.

Chief Blake Thacker roamed around the cabin, carrying a portable water bladder used for prescribed burns and pointing his hose toward the ground to extinguish embers wherever they flew. His expression was drawn and harsh.

No one was paying much attention to the slender figure leaning against an older model Ford Taurus with Illinois plates, her shoulders hunched and her face mostly obscured by the fall of thick dark hair.

The first time he’d seen her, he’d known something was off. She’d been standing in front of the counter, filling out forms at the motel’s registration desk in clothes that didn’t fit well—too slouchy and mud-colored, when her pale skin and dark hair cried out for vibrant colors. That the clothing wasn’t hers was apparent. Her furtive glance out the window at his squad car had further piqued his interest. This time, not due to any attraction he’d initially felt, but because she’d looked scared.

But just as he’d decided to park next to the office and introduce himself to the newcomer in town, he’d gotten a call about a domestic disturbance, and after circling the parking lot, he’d left.

Until tonight, he hadn’t thought about her again.

What she was doing here was a mystery. But he knew she was somehow involved in this fire. And as he raised his nose to the air, he began adding up the charges—too pretty, too quiet, and by the way her gaze kept sweeping the clearing, still scared. And was that gas he smelled? Did they have another firebug in their midst?

Jeremiah McCord had gone and married their last arsonist. Something that still had most of the townsfolk shaking their heads. But maybe Jeremiah figured it was safer having Carly close to keep her out of trouble.

Cain blew out a breath and moved toward the group. The brunette was the sheriff’s problem now. He headed toward him.

As he approached, Josh tilted his head toward the cabin. “Went up too quick to be any accident. And the chief’s already confirmed use of an accelerant.” He pointed toward the porch, which was fully engulfed in flames. “Started there. Don’t think the woman set it. I found her crawling out of a window in the back. Nearly came out of her skin when I shouted.”

They both turned their gazes to the brunette who quickly averted hers.

“Something’s off about her,” Cain said, wondering if the sheriff had learned something. Not that anything but his professional curiosity was aroused. He cleared his throat.

Josh’s gaze didn’t stray from the woman who stood with her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped over her chest. “I’m gonna stay here. The chief wants volunteers to spread out and walk the area into the woods with rakes and water pumps to make sure this thing doesn’t get any bigger than it is.”

He stiffened. Cain didn’t like where this discussion was leading.

“I’ll need you to take her back to the station to get her statement and see what she knows. Be sure to run the plates on that car—”

Cain cussed silently but didn’t bother arguing. “And I’ll see if she has any outstanding warrants…”

Josh gave him a quick grin and clapped his shoulder. “Figured you’d be the last man to be tempted by a pretty face.”

Cain narrowed his gaze, but otherwise didn’t rise to the jibe. A town like Caldera had no secrets, at least none that stayed buried long. His next door neighbor had made sure all his buddies at the diner knew exactly what had transpired when Susan left, down to the make and model of the pickup truck that pulled away with all his furniture and appliances, even his own clothing. Cain guessed it had made for a rip-roaring story since the smiles and pats of commiseration hadn’t stopped.

Yeah, he’d be the last man to let down his guard with a pretty brunette. But man, he did have a type. The woman who refused to meet his stare was everything he liked in one curvy little package—including that lost, lonely look. Shit.

He hitched up his belt, drew a deep breath, and headed toward her, noting the frantic way her gaze hit everything around him before, at last, widening and rising to meet his. She wore the same baggy, oversized blouse and slacks she had when she’d stood inside the motel office—an outfit his grandma might have worn. And she was barefoot. For some reason, that last fact made his stomach ache.

Damn, this close she had the face of an angel—if angels had dark, doe-like eyes, skin the color of fresh cream, and lips as plump and dark as ripe cherries. Firelight lent an illusion of intimacy…

Shit.

He reached for the brim of his hat and tipped it. “Ma’am.”

Her gaze went to the badge pinned to the pocket of his denim shirt. “Deputy.”

“I need you to accompany me to the station so I can take your statement.”

Her eyebrows drew closer. “We can’t do it here?”

“No, ma’am. That wouldn’t follow protocol.”

“And you always follow the rules?”

Her question came quick and with a touch of vinegar, which still didn’t lesson the sweetness of her honeyed voice. He liked a bit of tart with his sweet. Dammit. “Rules keep us all safe, ma’am.” He tilted his chin toward his squad car. “You can ride with me.”

She straightened. “I can drive myself.”

“Someone will bring your car along later,” he said, crossing his arms.

Her gaze whipped between the house and the car. “My things.”

What things? He glanced into the back, but it was empty. He raised an eyebrow.

The breath she blew out billowed her cheeks. “My purse is in the cabin.”

“Then it’s lost.”

“They didn’t even try to put out the fire.”

He glanced around the clearing. “You see a hydrant? A pond? They only carry about two thousand gallons of water. Not enough to put out that blaze. All they can do is let it burn and use their water to make sure they keep the grass around it from going up. Sorry about your things.”

Tears began to fill her eyes.

He mentally cussed himself for upsetting her, but there wasn’t a thing he could do. He waved a hand toward his car.

She stiffened her back, shoved her hands deep into her pants pockets and swept past him, walking swiftly toward his vehicle despite the fact she was walking over small stones.

Another twinge tightened his chest this time. Maybe his guard was up for all the wrong reasons. She might just be down on her luck. And now, she didn’t even have a pair of shoes.

She walked to the back passenger door of his car.

“You can ride up front,” he said, before he could stop himself.

Her head swung his way, and her gaze narrowed. “You breaking protocol now?”

“Should I consider you a suspect?”

She swallowed and shook her head.

“Then get up front.”

Maybe he’d spoken a little too harshly, and maybe his expression was tightening into a grim mask, but inside a minute she’d managed to get under his skin. Already, he was making excuses, painting scenarios where she was an innocent and needed his help, rather than being like the angel-faced vixen his ex-wife had turned out to be.

As he opened his door, preparing to climb inside, he caught the sheriff’s stare. Humor crimped his lips into a tight smile. Josh knew damn well how the mystery woman affected him.

Time to end the mystery. Once he was seated, he gave her a pointed stare. “Seatbelt?”

“Yes, of course.” She fumbled with the seatbelt, but with her left hand, held the lap band above her lap as she secured it.

The yard surrounding the cabin was now a parking lot filled with vehicles. Once he’d found a path through, he turned onto the main road and pointed his vehicle toward town. “What’s your name?”

“Carina.”

“Just Carina?” he asked, working to keep his tone polite when what he wanted was to shoot his questions like bullets.

“Carina Black.”

She said it a little too quickly, but he let it slide. “So, you rented from Mutt Owens?”

“From Bryan Owens, yes.”

Mutt must have been taken with the girl to have given her his birth name. “For how long?”

The light from his dash was bright enough he saw her head jerk his way. “Does that matter?”

“Don’t know.” He flashed her a quick, too polite smile. “Should it?”

“O-of course not. A week.”

“I’m surprised he was willing to rent it for so short a time. He’s been looking for a tenant for a long time.”

“He seemed happy enough to rent for one week.”

Mutt happy? Which meant she must have paid him enough to make him happy. “Tell me about the fire.”

She rubbed her hands together, and then placed them between her thighs. “I can’t tell you much. I woke up with smoke filling the bedroom in the back. I crawled to the door, keeping under the smoke and closed it, and then looked for something I could use to wrap around my arm.” She gave a small nervous laugh. “I had to break the window to climb out. I found a towel to do it, then laid a pillow over the window frame before I crawled out.”

Smart. And level-headed. “No cuts? Or scratches?”

“None.”

“You didn’t hear anything before you smelled smoke?”

“No. Sorry. I’m not much help, am I?”

He shot her a glance, noted the mutinous thin line of her mouth, then returned his gaze to the road in front of them. “You were lucky. Looks like someone set that fire,” he said it slowly and watched her from the corner of his eye.

Her chest rose and fell more rapidly. “Lucky. That’s me,” she whispered.

“What are you doing in Caldera? You have family here?”

“No. Just passing through.”

People didn’t just pass through Caldera. The town wasn’t on any major thoroughfare. “And you decided to rent a cabin for a week?”

She shrugged. “Thought I might explore the canyon. Saw the signs from the highway.”

The stranger didn’t look like a hiker. Or a camper. Didn’t seem the type to climb the hoodoos in the park. “You’ll need gear.”

“Thought I might buy some in town.”

An answer for everything. His bullshit meter was wagging toward the redline. But he didn’t push back. Now wasn’t the time. Once he had her in the interrogation room under a hot lamp, he’d be able to take better measure, press her for the truth of why she was in Caldera.

Bright lights reflected on his rearview mirror, and he reached over to flip the mirror downward. Beside him, Carina Black, if that was even her name, turned to glance over her shoulder. But it wasn’t a casual glance.

Her head stayed turned, and her eyes narrowed. “They’re coming up fast.”

“Maybe they don’t know they’re tailing a cop,” he said under his breath as he noticed the speed at which the vehicle approached.

“And maybe they do.”

She said it quietly, but with enough gravity he stiffened in his seat. “There something I should know?”

“Not now. But you better step on it.”

He didn’t wait to ask her why. Someone had already set fire to her cabin. Maybe the same someone behind them who had her so concerned. He pushed on the gas and shot forward, keeping one eye on the road ahead and the other on the bright lights behind him. They still had several miles to travel before reaching town. And no houses next to the road. Large uninhabited stretches of flat land lay on both sides of the road. He pushed the pedal to the floor and cussed again.

She drew a ragged breath. “He’s not giving up.”

“Who, dammit?” he asked, not looking sideways now because he needed all his attention on the road and his driving.

“Joey Guiducci.”

“A friend of yours?” he gritted out as his hands tightened on the wheel. At this speed, if a deer loped across the road, they’d all be toast.

“Not a friend. I used to date him.”

“This how he usually says hi, Carina?”

“It’s how he pays back those who cross him.”

“You do that? You cross this guy?”

Giving a dismissive wave, she faced forward. “I left him. That’s enough.”

Despite the fact they appeared to be in imminent danger, he couldn’t avoid the irony of the situation. “Anyone tell you that you have shit taste in men?”

“My mother,” she muttered. “Should have listened.”

The car behind them drew closer, and then darted into the left lane. The sound of a powerful engine, something expensive and Daytona-worthy, rumbled loudly. “Should we be worried he wants to do more than drag race, sweetheart?”

“Deputy, I’m so sorry.” Her voice trembled, and then she reached out to brace her hands against the dash and the door beside her. “He wants me dead.”