A guy she didn’t know sat on a threadbare couch, watching TV. He nodded at her, but didn’t acknowledge her in any other way.

   “Ray, this is my sister, the TV exec. Meagan, this is my roommate, Ray.”

   “Pleasure,” she said, and he just grunted.

   It was a mistake to come today. She didn’t want to talk with Ray around and she sure as hell wasn’t going to sit down on anything.

   “How’s work going?” she asked Jake. Last time she’d talked to him, he was stocking groceries, but granted, that had been over four months ago and he rarely kept a job that long. “Still at the grocer?”

   “Nah,” he said, scratching his chest. “I quit. They wouldn’t work around my schedule.”

   “What schedule?”

   “I told you, I’m writing a book. The muse wouldn’t talk to me with all that structure and shit. I have to be free.”

   Structure and shit? Did he mean life? She shook her head. In the past, she’d given him money, but she’d stopped that years ago. “So where are you working?”

   “I told you, I’m writing.”

   “You found someone to give you an advance?” She thought that very unlikely. For one, his idea was probably something preposterous about aliens battling ape people, and two, he couldn’t write for shit.

   “No, but I will. I just need time to finish.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, do you think you could loan me some money for rent? Ray’s been covering most of the expenses. I want to do my share.”

   “And your share is hitting your sister up for a loan? I have an idea. Why don’t you get a job? Do something meaningful.”

   “I’m writing a book.”

   “For five years.”

   “Art takes time.” He looked at his roommate. “You get that, don’t you, Ray?”

   Ray took a swig of beer and belched. “Your sister’s hot.”

   She wrinkled her nose. “Please.”

   “In fact.” Ray lowered his hand to his crotch and gave himself a slow stroke. “If you’d like to contribute to your brother’s share, I’m sure we could work something out.”

   Yes, she’d miscalculated. The Taskmaster would have been the better option. She leveled Ray with her best Domme glare. “Bring anything of the sort up again in my presence and I’ll tie your balls in a knot around your dick.”

   “Meagan, really?” Jake asked.

   “You’re seriously going to let him talk to me that way?”

   “A lot of girls like him.”

   She stared at him in shock. “You’re an ass.”

   He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

   “Obviously, talking with you is out of the question.” She hugged her purse close to her body and turned. “I’ll show myself out.”

   Before the door closed behind her, she heard Jake tell Ray, “She’s always been an uppity bitch.”

   “You asshole,” she mumbled as she walked toward her car. “I should have let the police have you.”

   On her way back home, she thought back to that summer.

Chapter Seven

   Seventeen years ago

   “There was another fire last night.” Meagan’s father set the newspaper down on the table and took a long sip of coffee. “No one’s been hurt yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Whoever’s doing this is escalating.”

   “You think so?” Meagan asked.

   “He got lucky this time, or rather the homeowners did. An off-duty fireman happened to see the fire and he was able to dispatch a crew. If he hadn’t been there . . .”

   “That’s scary.” Meagan shivered. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

   “It was worse this time. The family was inside. I sure hope we can find out who’s been doing this.”

   “No clues?” Since her dad worked for the fire department, he would know.

   “Not anything I can talk about.”

   “You’ll find out who it is.”

   “Maybe not,” Jake said, strolling into the kitchen, his hair still wet from his shower. “Not if they’re good. Not if they don’t fuck up.”

   Her dad gave Jake a pointed stare. “Watch the language.”

   Jake rolled his eyes. “Whatever. The truth is, I bet you never find him.”

   “Don’t be a dick. Of course they will,” Meagan said.

   “Language,” her father repeated.

   She decided to ignore her dad. “Jake, I’m leaving for school in three minutes. If you don’t want to walk, I suggest you get your ass in the car.”

   Her father sighed. “Meagan.”

   As she walked past the table on the way to the garage, her eyes fell on the discarded newspaper. “Oh my God. I know that house.” She grabbed the paper. “Jake, isn’t that Melissa Coop’s house?”

   Jake took a granola bar from the pantry and squinted at the paper. “Might be.”

   “It is! Oh my God.”

   “Meagan, calm down.” Her father took the newspaper back. “The family was okay. I promise we’ll find out who’s behind this.”

   She was still shaken as she got in the car and drove to school. Jake was unusually quiet, not complaining about her taste in music or the way she drove. He drummed his fingers against the door handle, and then picked something out from his nails.

   “I can’t believe someone set Melissa’s house on fire,” she said when they were halfway to the high school. “I mean, what do you think? Didn’t you ask her out?”