Touched By Fire. Elizabeth Sinclair

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СКАЧАТЬ of diesel fuel and oil, but her well-trained, discerning nose singled out his particular scent and sent a frantic message directly to her nerve endings. Her talent for being able to detect certain accelerants simply by smell had always been a distinct benefit to her as a firefighter and now at FIST, but right now it was a definite drawback.

      Her control over her rebellious senses spun off into the ether like the head of a dandelion in a brisk wind.

      A.J. held out the envelope and glared at her. When he finally spoke, the sharp edges of his tone were tightly controlled and teetering on the fringe of suppressed anger. “Care to explain what this means and why it came to my attention by way of Luke Sutherland?”

      Chapter 2

      Sam stalled for time. She looked past A.J.’s glowering frown to the streak of Florida sunlight bathing the floor in front of the open apparatus bay doors. Though the sun had started its descent, heat waves still rose from the pavement outside, attesting to the temperature having hit the mid-nineties that day. Because the heat still lingered, the early evening activity on the street consisted of just a young boy riding his bicycle, a woman pushing a baby stroller and an older man headed in the direction of the bench situated in the shade of a large oak tree right across the street from the firehouse.

      “Well?” A.J. said, yanking Sam from the distractions. He brandished the envelope. “When did you plan on letting me know that someone tried to burn your house down?”

      She shrugged, now feeling very foolish about bypassing A.J. Was she that apprehensive about being in a room with the man for a few minutes? Did she have that little control over herself? This was getting totally out of hand. She couldn’t arrange her life around A. J. Branson.

      “I figured Luke would tell you.” She ventured an innocent smile, hoping her explanation would be adequate, and that it would cool his anger and clear the tension draining her nerves. But his frown only deepened.

      A.J. stiffened and, rather than abating under her smile, his anger seemed to intensify.

      “I don’t give a flying fig who got the information first. What I care about is what could have happened to you.”

      Sam blinked. Her heart lurched. Had she heard that right? Did A.J. really care about what happened to her? Don’t read anything into that, she told herself. He’d care about anyone. That it was you means nothing special. She opened her mouth to make a retort, but before she could, Chief Joe Santelli joined them.

      “Should I get out the gloves? You two look like you’re ready to go a couple of rounds right here.”

      Damn! She didn’t want her boss to know about this. He’d just make a big deal about nothing. And it was nothing, she told herself for the umpteenth time that day. If she let it become something, then she’d have to admit that she was scared spineless, and she wouldn’t do that. She would not give whomever planted the incendiary device that much power.

      “A.J.’s just blowing this whole thing way out of proportion.” Before A.J. could retort, she picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder and then elbowed her way past the two men. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a hot bubble bath.”

      “Out of proportion?” A.J. roared behind her.

      Sam closed her ears to him and kept moving. As she walked away from them, she pushed the button on her car remote earlier than usual. It would start her car and get the AC busy cooling off the interior so she wouldn’t have to climb into the stifling heat of the closed SUV.

      Instantly, an ear-splitting explosion shook the firehouse.

      The whole scene took on a surreal quality. Firefighters carrying fire extinguishers rushed past her. The old man on the park bench bolted to his feet, his mouth forming an O like those plastic Christmas carolers Sam put on her coffee table every year. Directly in front of her, on the edge of the parking lot, a huge fireball burned, the flames leaping wildly toward the darkening sky. In the center of the fire was her SUV. She watched in stunned silence as the firefighters sprayed it with foam from the extinguishers.

      Then it hit her. When the car exploded, she could have been in it. You should have been in it, an insidious voice whispered.

      She should have died, just like she should have died when she found the incendiary device. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Her stomach heaved, and her knees began to cave.

      Strong arms enveloped her and guided her back into the firehouse to Joe Santelli’s office. When she looked up, she saw A.J.’s concerned face looking down at her.

      

      His legs no more adequate to support him than Sam’s seemed to be, A.J. pulled a chair up and sat facing her, their knees inches apart. “You okay?” His voice shook as badly as his insides. What if Sam had been in her car?

      “I’m…not…sure,” she said, her voice shaky, her face a ghostly white. “It’s not every day…you get to see…your car…blown up, is it?” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth trembled and ruined the effect.

      A.J. took her shaking hand firmly in his. He wanted so much to take her in his arms and make sure she was safe, but in his gut he knew that would be a temporary safety. No one had to tell him that this jerk would try again and again—and wouldn’t stop until he was caught or Sam was dead.

      Just thinking about such a thing made A.J. wince with pain, as if someone had reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. He tightened his grip on her hand until she cried out and pulled it out of his grasp. He looked at her.

      From the return of color to her face and the tight set of her mouth, it seemed that the pain had roused Sam from the shock. The old in-your-face Sam had emerged ready to do battle. She opened her mouth but before she could speak Chief Santelli entered the office shaking his head.

      His pale face and awed expression told A.J. that the violent destruction of Sam’s car had shaken him, too. “They got the fire out. Now, does someone want to help me make some sense of what just happened out there? In short, what the hell’s going on?”

      “Maybe this will help,” A.J. said, and turned out the contents of the brown envelope onto Santelli’s desktop. “Sam found this in her house yesterday morning.” Sam glared at him, but he ignored her.

      A.J. stared down at the items spread out before him: a partially burned, white business envelope; a few small purple crystals of potassium permanganate that hadn’t gotten a chance to dissolve, thanks to Sam’s quick thinking; and a few drops of opaque hand lotion that hadn’t been totally consumed. A mixture that, if left to do its intended job, would have set Sam’s house on fire while she slept. Just the thought made A.J.’s stomach sour.

      Santelli looked at the debris on the desk, swore softly, glanced at the firemen milling around the apparatus bay and then frowned at Sam. “I’ll be right back. We need to talk.” He got up and left the office.

      “Thanks a lot,” Sam snapped. She rose and began pacing the office.

      “Sam, I—”

      “Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand. “I have to think.”

      A.J. concentrated on returning the pieces of the incendiary device to the envelope, but, though he tried his best not to watch, he couldn’t ignore the seductive СКАЧАТЬ