The alarm on my phone went off as the firemen rolled up their hoses. Half past six in the morning, and instead of making myself a coffee and staggering to the shower to jack off over Rania, I was stroking her hair as the crew chief told her and Shannon there was nothing left of their flat. Neither of them even had a pair of shoes, for fuck's sake. At least the other occupants of the building had fared better. Their homes only suffered smoke damage.

A reporter snapped another photo, and I wanted to tear his bloody camera out of his hands and choke him to death with the strap. Damn ghouls. Even in the early hours on Christmas Day, I'd still spotted half a dozen of them. One even asked Rania for an interview, but thankfully Chris Turner wasn't around when I shoved the asshole back against his car.

A policewoman climbed into the ambulance and crouched in front of the girls. At least Aisling had fallen asleep in Shannon's arms, too young to understand everything that had happened tonight.

The WPC's radio crackled, and she silenced it as Rania looked up with glazed eyes.

"Have you got somewhere to stay tonight, love?" The woman glanced out at the sky. "Well, this morning."

"I don't—"

"She's staying with me. All three of them are staying with me."

I'd called RJ a couple of hours ago, and he was on his way back from his family's country pad in rural Somerset. He'd actually sounded relieved to have an excuse to leave.

And Rania didn't say anything, just stared back down at her lap. She was in shock. I tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her hair.

"It'll be okay," I whispered. "I'll take care of you. All of you."

Even the bloody cat. Somebody had put it in a kitty carrier, and it hissed and spat every time anyone got within six feet. And it was definitely in my bad books, seeing as it had nearly caused Rania to die. I gave it a dirty look as I left Rania with Shannon and went to find a cop who looked as if they knew what they were doing.

Nobody I recognised was there, but I spotted an inspector talking to a handful of the public at the edge of the cordon.

"Got a few minutes to spare?"

He looked at his watch, out of habit most likely, since he didn't have anyplace else to be.

"Sure."

"Any clue who did this?"

"We'll need to wait for the results of the fire brigade's investigation to prove it was arson."

"Don't bullshit me—I used to be a cop. My...my girlfriend saw petrol coming under the door. Smelled it too."

"Used to be a cop?"

"I'm a private investigator now. Will Lawson."

I held out a hand, and when the inspector didn't crush it or look disgusted, I figured he wasn't buddies with Chris Turner and I'd finally stopped being the subject of idle gossip at the station.

"Interesting," the inspector said. "Any disgruntled clients?"

"One or two. But so far, they've mostly tended to slate me on social media. Cheating spouses, mainly."

"Anything recent?"

"Not for a few months."

"What are you working on at the moment?"

"The murder at Daylesford Hall. Helene Weston."

"Ah, I heard about that one. Any suspects?"

"I've got one lead. How about you?"

"Can't discuss an ongoing investigation. Who's your suspect?"

"Sorry, can't discuss that right now."

I parroted the inspector, which probably didn't endear me, but at seven a.m., I was sick of red tape. I also didn't want to give Aiden's name up, because if the police solved the case before I did, I wouldn't get my closing bonus.

Could Aiden have been involved with the fire? He'd disappeared before his name came up in the investigation, but if he'd been feeling the heat, would he really have hung around to incinerate Rania's flat rather than heading for the nearest non-extradition country? Perhaps Helene could give some insights into his character, but we couldn't talk to her for at least two days, and that was if Rania felt well enough to go back to work.

"You're not giving us much to go on," the inspector said.

"Sorry," I muttered.

His tone softened. "I understand how difficult this must be. Have you been with your girl for long?"

"No." Was I truly with her now?

"Did anyone know you'd be at the flat tonight?"

"I didn't know myself until this evening. I mean, I've eaten dinner there a few times, but I've never stayed that late."

"Could anybody have followed you there?"

"I didn't notice anyone behind us."

"Us?"

"I picked Rania up from work, then drove her home. She's the cleaner at Daylesford Hall."

In all honesty? I'd let my guard down. Normally, I checked for tails, but lately, I'd been so bloody entranced with Rania that a troupe of monkeys could have followed my car on a carnival float and I probably wouldn't have noticed.

The inspector gave a knowing smile. "Mixing business with pleasure, eh?"

My jaw cracked as I clenched my teeth together. "It happens. I don't follow the same rules as you."

The asshole's gaze lingered on Rania, squashed up beside Shannon. "Can't say I blame you."

Now, I itched to smack that smile off his face. Yeah, I'd gone fucking caveman, okay? My girl almost died tonight. I deserved some damn leeway.

"She's not just a fling."

The cop took a long breath, and I wasn't sure he believed me or not. Neither did I care. My personal life was my own business. He needed to do his damn job and find the sick freak who'd tried to kill four people and a fucking cat last night.

Perhaps it was my black expression, but it seemed he got the message. He took out a notepad and tapped his pen on a blank page.

"So, how about the two women? My sergeant says neither of them have spoken much."

"They're in shock."

"We'll need to interview them both as soon as possible." He sucked his teeth. "Could be a bit awkward over Christmas. We're short-handed as it is. Cutbacks."

"I've only met Shannon a handful of times, but she doesn't seem like the kind of girl to have enemies. Apart from... Yeah, Rania mentioned Shannon had problems with her ex. Some rich asshole."

"Do you have a name?"

"No, but I can get you one tomorrow."

"Any arguments with neighbours? Problems at work?" The inspector grimaced. "Apart from the obvious, I mean."

"Neither of them have mentioned trouble with the neighbours. And work? Shannon does the morning shift in a bread factory, but that's all I know. Rania isn't sociable. She goes to Daylesford Hall, does her job, then goes home again. She's only been in this country for four years, and she doesn't seem to have connected with anyone apart from Shannon."

"And now you."

"And now me."

"Is she a refugee?"

"Does that matter?"

"It might." He paused, chewing the corner of his lip as if he was struggling with a decision. "Look, this doesn't go any further, okay?"

"I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"There've been a number of arson attacks in the area over the past few months. Six in total. We can't be sure of the motive, and we've been keeping this part out of the papers because racial tensions are high enough, but your Rania is the third refugee targeted."

"Who were the other victims?"

"A bunch of suspected prostitutes and a pimp. The pimp was from Eastern Europe, but he was here legally."

"Was?"

"None of the others made it out alive."

"Same MO? Petrol under the door?"

"In the second incident, petrol was poured through the letter box. The first was fireworks, and the others were all Molotov cocktails through the windows. I'm not saying they're definitely connected, but..."

"They could be."

The roar of RJ's Porsche engine made everyone turn their heads, and he looked kind of sheepish as he climbed out. Sheepish and knackered. He hadn't shaved either. I gave him a wave, and he lifted a hand.

"Friend of yours?" the inspector asked.

"Housemate."

"You'll be taking the girls home with you?"

"Yeah. We should probably get going." I patted my pockets—pointless because I already knew my wallet had been incinerated in the flat along with my jacket. At least I'd kept hold of my phone and car keys. "I'll give you my number. Can you keep me updated?"

"I will, and I know how tempting it'll be for you to get involved in this one, but try to let us do our jobs, will you?"

"As long as you find whoever did this."

"We won't let it rest."

"Just get them off the streets. Quickly."

***

The police let RJ through the cordon to help with the girls, and it was a testament to Shannon's mental state that she didn't give him any of the evil glares he claimed he'd been on the receiving end of the other night. Instead, she clutched Aisling against her chest while RJ held the blanket around her shoulders and steered her towards the Porsche. Someone had found her a pair of wellies, bright yellow ones, and they looked far too cheerful against the sombre blacks and greys of the most miserable Christmas Day I'd ever seen. And if you'd met my relatives, you'd understand how significant that statement was.

Rania hadn't been so lucky with footwear, so I picked her up bridal style, her sock-clad feet dangling over my arm.

"Time to go, beautiful."

Nothing.

I shoved the cat carrier into the back of my car, then loaded Rania into the passenger seat, clipping her seat belt on while RJ did the same with Shannon. I wasn't sure anyone had ever ridden in the Porsche's tiny back seat before, seeing as it wasn't designed for people with legs, but it fitted Aisling perfectly.

"See you at home?" I said.

"Yeah. I owe you one."

He'd driven all the way from Somerset in the middle of the night, and he owed me the favour?

"How so?"

"Aunt Millicent knitted everyone Christmas jumpers, and she was insisting we wear them to dinner."

"Doesn't she do that every year?"

"Her eyesight's going, and she messed up the pattern on mine. I got Santa with a massive fucking erection."

The first laugh I'd had all day, but I covered my mouth so I didn't look like an insensitive prick.

"Hey, dealing with Shannon tomorrow'll seem like a party in comparison."

RJ's eyes flicked towards the car, and his half-smile seemed genuine. Which worried me.

"Looking forward to it."

***

Rania didn't say a word the whole way home, and I didn't know what to say that wouldn't make things worse, so I stayed quiet and held her hand in my lap instead. RJ made it back before us—no surprises there because even making allowances for having Aisling in the car, he still had a heavy right foot—and he'd already parked in front of the garage door by the time we arrived. I pulled in beside him and turned the engine off.

"Wait there. I'll carry you inside," I told Rania.

"I can walk."

Words. At last. "I know you can, Nia, but you're not going to."

She didn't argue or even take her seat belt off, just waited for me to come around and pick her up. Once inside, I kicked the door closed and carried her straight upstairs to my bedroom. We'd sort out sleeping arrangements properly later, but for now, she was going in my bed.

I buried my nose in her hair as I tucked her under the duvet, and my stomach clenched at the smell of smoke.

Shit.

That had been a damn close call, and if I'd lost her...

I pulled the curtains closed then pressed a kiss to her cheek before I could dwell on it. She was here, I was here, and we were all alive. Stuff could be replaced. The only things that mattered, breathed.

Including that fucking cat.

I went to fetch him before he clawed his way out of the carrier. I'd seen what he did to Rania's hands in the flat, and even though the paramedics bandaged them up, I still felt sick thinking of the damage.

"Come on, you asshole," I muttered, hauling the cage out of the car and slamming the door.

What was I supposed to do with him? Leaving him in the tiny box would be cruel, but the house wasn't set up for cats. Didn't they need a litter box or something? After a moment of deliberation, I grabbed a pile of newspaper, spread it out on the floor in the games room, and let him out.

"If you shit on the snooker table, I'm kicking you off the balcony," I told him.

He just stared and hissed some more before slinking off behind RJ's games console.

The man himself was standing in the hallway when I closed the door behind me.

"Rania settled?" he asked.

"Yeah. Think so. Shannon?"

"In my bed with Aisling." He nodded at the duvet and pillow he was holding. "I'll take the sofa tonight. You?"

I hadn't really thought it through. "I'll sleep on the floor in my room."

"That's gonna get old, fast."

"They don't have anywhere else to go."

"I know." He sighed. "I didn't say they couldn't stay. We'll just have to come up with a longer-term solution because my back won't take it otherwise."

"Getting old, mate?"

"Just used to my creature comforts."

So was I. And when I crept into my room, I looked at the floor, then looked at the bed. Rania had either fallen asleep or passed out from exhaustion, her dark hair spread out over my pillow.

I knew how she felt.

And rather than finding a spare blanket and bedding down on the floor, I couldn't resist slipping under the duvet beside her, fully clothed, just so I could stay close.

This woman would be the death of me.

If somebody else didn't get there first.