Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

him. The evidence is outside this house.”
    Jonas’s cool blue gaze slid over him, but he merely nodded.
    “This man not only loves fire, he needs it,” Lev said, changing the direction of the investigation. “You’re going to find him in a job that allows him to be around fire all the time.”
    Jonas nodded. “I believe you’re right. He’s hiding in plain sight. Now that he’s found her, he isn’t going to rest until he finishes what he started.”
    “He’s hurt,” Lev said quietly. “His face is torn up a bit. Probably bad enough to need stitches. He’ll lay low until he’s healed and can cover the scars.”
    Jonas straightened slowly, his blue eyes going diamond bright. “You tangled with him?”
    Lev shook his head. “No, I was too far away and the fire was between us. He shot at me, but I saw a couple of owls drop down, maybe defending a nest, but they came in hunting and his face was raked. I heard him scream.”
    “So there’s a blood trail.”
    “Yes.” Lev could tell the sheriff was thinking that over, watching him closely now, curiosity open on his face, but he didn’t demand to know why an owl would fly from a tree and attack Rikki’s stalker.
    “Let’s go see,” Jonas pushed himself out of the chair.
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Chapter 18
    JONAS stepped off the porch with casual grace. Lev had seen his kind hundreds of times over his years in the shadows. Jonas Harrington was far more than he let on. He was a big man, but he moved with fluid grace. His knuckles and hands had seen combat. He carried his weapon as though it was part of him. He had a holdout strapped to his calf and a knife in his boot. He didn’t speak as Lev led him away from the house to the blackened circle surrounding the house.
    “He planned it well. He soaked the ground fast, very fast, with an accelerant,” Lev began.
    As he turned, a fist flew at his face. Jonas was fast and it was a surprise attack, but Lev managed to slam a block hard into his forearm, deflecting the blow to step inside and deliver a hard one-two punch to the sheriff’s gut.
    Hitting the man was like hitting an oak tree. He grunted, but didn’t fold, nor did he draw a weapon.
    “I’m going to give you the beating of your life, you son of a bitch.”
    Jonas spat the words at him, a low, controlled, rage smoldering in his tone.
    Lev didn’t reply. He had no idea why the sheriff would want to give him a beating, but as skilled as the man obviously was in hand-to-hand fighting, his training could not compare to Lev’s.
    They circled one another, two grim warriors, eyes cold, faces determined. Jonas exploded into action, driving in with a hard front kick, which Lev deflected, but as Jonas stepped into him, the sheriff threw a hard straight punch that grazed Lev’s jaw as he pulled his head out of the way.
    The blow, despite only being a graze, was hard, the force behind it appalling.
    They moved in and out of each other’s space, trading blows and blocks, as well as the occasional kick. Lev kept it light, uncertain what the beef was.
    He could kill Jonas, fast and efficiently, but he would lose Rikki and his haven.
    As they fought, one thing became very clear to Lev—Jonas Harrington had seen combat, but he was no killer. He could fight, but he didn’t have the kill instinct. There was no doubt in Lev’s mind that he was capable if there 265

    was need, but he didn’t have the lack of emotion needed to be a killer. Jonas Harrington was fighting because in his mind, Levi had done something to deserve a beating. Lev, on the other hand, had slipped back instinctively into his training. He saw a dozen opportunities to kill the sheriff and planned—
    and dismissed—each one in his mind. Coolly. Calmly. Without emotion.
    “You might want to let me know what this is about,” Lev suggested during one of the moments when they’d broken apart.
    Jonas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat out a mouthful of blood. “My sister. Elle Drake, you bastard. You let that son of a bitch rape her.”
    Lev knew the name Drake, but not an Elle Drake. He remembered names and faces. The blow to his head had erased things for a while, but his memories had come back in pieces. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have never met Elle Drake.”
    Jonas had been moving into the attack and that stopped him. He stood, his cool eyes on Lev, while he dragged air into his burning lungs. “You’re a Prakenskii. I’d know those eyes anywhere. You’re Ilya’s