committed suicide, and tonight your house was set on fire."
"And when they ask who's behind it all?"
"I'd be honest. I'd say you don't know, because you don't. It could be anyone, Maya."
"What about Julia's last words? Will we be in trouble for not telling them before?"
"You probably don't need to get into that tonight. Right now, we need them to concentrate on collecting evidence for what happened here."
She nodded, her expression incredibly stressed, but there was also a fiery light coming into her eyes. "They better catch the person who burned this down. Did you know it was her house? Natasha's?"
"No, I didn't."
"It was the first place she rented on her own. After she married my grandfather, he bought it for her, because he knew she loved it so much. They rented it out during their marriage, but after she left my grandfather, she lived here for a year. Then she moved into a big mansion somewhere, and my grandfather rented it out again. One family lived here for years. They moved out several months ago, and that's when he rented it to me. Now it's gone. Another link to Natasha has been destroyed." She paused. "I wonder if the killer knew that she had once lived here. Maybe that's why they were convinced the journals were hidden here."
"Possibly."
They got to their feet as the police officers came over to speak to them. Maya took the lead, and he let her, impressed with how quickly she managed to pull herself together. After going through the incidents of the last few days, ending with tonight's arson attack on her house and her life, the patrol officers told her that they'd contact the police detective who was investigating Julia's death, and he'd be in touch with more questions since the cases were more than likely tied together.
By the time they had finished their conversation, most of the fire was out, but there were still small hot spots being tackled by the firefighters. The neighbors had returned to their homes and the ambulance had gone back to the firehouse. Since Maya's car had been damaged from the fire, he urged her into his vehicle and then drove her to his apartment in Santa Monica.
He was never supposed to connect his undercover life with his real life, but she'd refused to go to her parents' or her sister's house. Nor did she want to involve any of her friends into the danger she was enveloped in, and he couldn't think of anywhere else to take her that would be safe. But as he drove into his garage, he realized he was going to have to explain why his townhouse by the beach looked more expensive than something a bartender and out-of-work actor could afford. It was possible, however, that Maya wouldn't notice. She was lost in her thoughts, and she hadn't said a word since they'd gotten in the car. That was starting to worry him.
As he turned off the engine, he said, "Are you okay? Are you sure this is where you want to be? If you're having second thoughts—"
"I'm not. I don't know where else I would go." She frowned. "Although, I'm probably putting you in danger again."
"I'm not worried about that."
"You should be."
"Let's go inside and get you something to drink."
"Don't offer me tea again," she warned.
"I've got a full bar." He'd actually updated his bar while practicing for his cover, so he could get her anything she wanted.
They got out of the car, and she followed him through the garage door that led into the kitchen. The two-bedroom, two-bath townhouse had only been built a year ago, so everything was new and clean. He headed into the living room where the wet bar was located. Maya followed, her gaze becoming sharper as she took in her surroundings.
"This is…nice," she said.
"You sound surprised."
"I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a luxury townhouse."
"It's not mine. The owner is the aunt of one of my friends. She was supposed to move in but had a family emergency and needed to rent this out for a year. Luckily, I was in the right place at the right time. She gave me a great deal for a year. After that, I'll be back to apartments that are not this nice."
"Well, you can enjoy it now. Is this your furniture?"
"Nope. She rented it to me furnished." He'd actually bought the place furnished, so that wasn't a lie. "What can I get you to