Читать книгу Touched By Fire - Elizabeth Sinclair - Страница 8

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 sway of her hips as she walked. His traitorous mind flew to imagining her in a dress, black and slinky. One cut down to the equator in the front and backless. One that would expose her tanned skin to his view. One that would sway against her long legs and mold to her hips and thighs. One that—

“Ellis?”

A.J. started. Blinking, he looked up to find Santelli had come back.

“Park it.” He pointed to the chair beside A.J. Sam resumed her seat wordlessly.

Santelli leaned back in the squeaky desk chair. “Okay, Sam, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

Sam briefly recounted the events of the previous morning, leading up to and ending with her finding the incendiary device. As she spoke, A.J. quietly fumed at the idea of someone invading Sam’s house and endangering her life. But he managed to hold his tongue.

When she’d finished, Santelli leaned his forearms on his desk. “Any idea who would do any of this?”

Sam shook her head. “None. I’ve racked my brain, and I can’t come up with anyone except maybe an irate property owner who got miffed because I proved his fire was intentionally set. But even then, I don’t recall any of them being especially ticked off at me for ruining their claim.” She took a deep breath and waited while Santelli digested all she’d said.

A.J. studied the relatively new chief of Engine Company 108. Joe Santelli, a middle-aged man who had risen quickly through the ranks and been promoted to chief of the company a few months previous, had a reputation as a no-nonsense type of guy. A.J. suppressed a smile. Knowing that Sam was as headstrong as they came, he could imagine how this cramped her gung-ho style, not to mention made Santelli’s life…interesting, to say the least.

It was common knowledge that Santelli had an almost obsessive need to keep his firefighters safe. A.J. was more than certain that Santelli would take radical steps to see to Sam’s safety. He was equally as sure that Sam would rebel against anything that kept her from doing her job, despite the risk.

“I don’t like this, Ellis,” Santelli finally said, then turned to A.J. “You’re going to check the envelope for prints, right?”

A.J. nodded.

“The police are checking over the car for anything they can find, which probably won’t be much. Since your car was toward the back of the lot, it’s pretty safe to say that no one saw the bomb being installed.” Santelli sighed heavily, then turned back to Sam. “Until we get some results from the crime lab, Ellis, I’m taking you off the truck and putting you on the duty desk.”

A.J. cringed and glanced at Sam for her reaction.

Sam’s entire body went into resistance mode. “What?” She shot out of the chair, her voice raised and demanding. Santelli threw her a quelling look, and she slumped back in her seat and adopted a more respectful, but no less urgent, tone. “Why?”

“Any whack-job who had enough guts to shove this thing in your mail slot with the intent of burning you up—and then blow up your car in the fire department parking lot—is not going to like it that his schemes failed,” Santelli explained patiently.

“But—”

“Santelli’s right, Sam. This jerk is going to keep trying,” A.J. offered.

Sam sent him a scathing glare as if to say Santelli didn’t need any help from him, the chief was wrecking her life quite well on his own. A.J., on the other hand, was using his own unique wrecking ball, and it had nothing to do with envelopes and fire—at least not the kind of fire set with matches.

“Do you think I don’t know that he’ll try again?” she snapped. “Taking me off the truck isn’t going to change that. Besides, if I’m on the truck, I’d have all the guys around for protection.”

“And you really believe that will stop this nutcase?” Santelli countered, his expression telling them he didn’t believe it, and he doubted that Sam really did, either.

Sam seemed to wilt like a flower lacking water. Though relieved that she’d be removed from danger, A.J. felt for her. Any fool could see that firefighting was her life. To take that from her was like depriving her of air.

“Okay, I’ll concede that he may try again, but I still don’t see why you have to take me off the truck.” Sam’s deflated voice tore at A.J.’s heart.

Despite his agreement with Santelli’s decision and how much it eased his own anxiety, A.J. knew these were going to be the longest few days of Sam’s life. He made a mental note to hurry things up in the lab as much as he could to get Sam back on her beloved fire truck.

“Aside from the fact that you’ll be a sitting duck riding on top of that truck and exposed to any nut job at the fire scenes,” Santelli went on, “fires are dangerous enough. I need my attention on all my firefighters, not on who’s trying to do one of them in. And they need their attention on the fire, not on playing bodyguard for you. I want you here, where I can be sure of what’s going on.” When she opened her mouth to resume her protest, he raised a hand. “End of discussion, Ellis.”

Saying nothing, Sam glared at the chief, revolt written all over her features.

Santelli remained silent for a moment, then smiled. “There is another way, Ellis.”

She brightened. “What?”

“I can suspend you from duty and send you home until the police solve this.”

“But that could take—”

“Months,” A.J. interjected. When he saw her expression crumple, he tried to soften the blow. “Of course, you never know. It could be solved as soon as the fingerprints come back. I’ll make sure they get top priority, Sam.” Seeing the defeated sag of her shoulders, A.J. felt Sam had suffered enough trauma for one day. He stood. “If you’re through, Santelli, I’ll take Sam home.”

“Yes, I’m through.”

Sam stood and fixed A.J. with cold blue eyes. “No thanks. You’ve already done quite enough. I’ll get one of the guys to drive me.”

“I said I’ll take you home,” A.J. said, his tone brooking no argument. If he had his way, he’d never let her out of his sight, but he knew she’d never agree to that in a million years. “Until this is solved, I don’t want you going anywhere alone, and I want you to lock your doors when you’re at home.”

She glared at A.J., then Santelli. The chief gave a nod of agreement. “Fine. I’ll wait in the dining room.” Then she stalked out.

A.J. walked to the door. Through the window he watched Sam storm across the apparatus bay toward the stairs that lead to the upper floor, where the dining room and kitchen were located, hating himself for his part in this. Dust motes danced in the long fingers of afternoon sunlight that fell on Sam’s retreating figure. Odd how, even from this distance, the highlights that flickered in her black hair like tiny blue flames had the power to send waves of heat over his entire body.

As he watched her, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, then turned away quickly.

A.J.’s heart thundered in his chest. Even mad as hell, Sam could stir his blood like no other woman ever had.

He gave a snort of impatience with himself, then moved away from the window. He had to get a handle on this. The last thing he needed in his life was a woman, any woman, but especially not Samantha Ellis. Sam was the kind of woman who would settle down and make a home—a nester. She was exactly the type he seemed destined to get mixed up with, screw up their lives and his, then run from. Sam didn’t deserve that.

What he needed to concentrate on was saving her life, not ruining it by hauling her into bed.

“She’s going to give some poor, unsuspecting guy a run for his money.”

At the sound of Santelli’s voice, A.J. did a quick take of the fire chief’s face. Santelli was also watching Sam move across the bay to the stairs. Was he interested in Sam? An electric charge of jealousy shot through him.

Santelli read his look, then smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested. I make it a policy not to get involved with women in my command. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to throw it all away on a surge of testosterone.” He leaned his forearms on the desk and stared at A.J. for a long moment before speaking again. “I know you haven’t asked for this, but my advice is to steer a wide path around Sam. She’s made it abundantly clear that a relationship with anyone is something she doesn’t want any part of.”

At first he thought the chief was teasing him, but Santelli looked as serious as a heart attack.

Had he been that transparent? A.J. avoided Santelli’s gaze by reading the duty schedule posted on a corkboard beside the door. Unconsciously, he searched for Sam’s name. When he found it, he read her schedule for the coming month. Then he felt Santelli’s gaze still on him, and he quickly turned away.

He sat in the chair across from the chief, then laughed. The brittle sound made his next words ring hollow. “Don’t worry, Joe. A relationship with Sam is the furthest thing from my mind. My only interest is to find out what’s going on—and who’s trying to kill her.”

The next morning, unwilling to call A.J. as he’d instructed her to, Sam rented a car and drove herself to work. She had just settled at the hated desk in the corner of the apparatus bay when the phone rang. “Engine company one-oh-eight,” she recited by rote with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which on her personal can’t-wait-to-do-it scale rated somewhere around minus one hundred.

“Sam?” Rachel Sutherland’s concerned voice came over the wire. “A.J. and Luke told me what happened yesterday. Are you okay? Luke says Santelli put you on the duty desk.”

Rachel’s concern didn’t surprise Sam, but it certainly raised her hackles at being reminded of her punishment, as if she needed reminding.

“I’m fine.” With any luck that would be the end of this part of this conversation.

She’d suffered enough embarrassment over this. The guys hadn’t stopped teasing her since the news got out. One of them even brought in a pillow for her to sit on.

More than a bit embarrassed at her situation, since her assignment would normally have been meted out to someone who had committed a serious infraction, Sam was miffed that A.J. had seen fit to spread the news of her embarrassment far and wide. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Rachel would be one more person to point out to her that her life was in danger—a reminder she could do without and if she heard it one more time would send her running screaming from the room.

She knew that this was not a punishment, and that the chief and A.J. were only thinking of her safety. She should be thankful for that. But if it wasn’t happening to her, it would be much easier. She could accept the logic of their actions. Still, being taken off active duty smarted and that A.J. had been instrumental in it really hurt. Then again, he had no idea how much firefighting meant to her.

Nor did he know how terrified she really was, and she would make sure he never found out. The very last thing she needed was A.J. hovering over her, protecting her, overseeing her every move. And he would. She knew that as surely as she knew her name.

“Are you sure?” Rachel said, cutting into her thoughts.

Good grief, had she said any of that out loud? “Sure about what?” With her mind centered on her troubles, Sam had lost the entire thread of her conversation with Rachel.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rachel’s voice had grown more tense.

Relieved that she hadn’t voiced her thoughts, Sam rested her forehead in her hand. “Absolutely. I’m fine.” Period.

Silence fell between them.

“So is that the only reason you called?” Sam asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

“No, but I promised Luke I wouldn’t bring it up unless you’re sure you’re okay.”

A sigh of impatience issued from her. “I’ve been through worse and lived to tell the tale, Rachel.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There had been only two other times in her life that Sam had felt this helpless, this defeated: when she was ten years old and her father had walked out of her life, and when she was nineteen and had to stand by and watch while her drunken mother was incinerated in a motel fire. Both times, she’d wondered if she would live through it. She had, but deep down, she still bore the scars. On top of that was her sister Karen’s belief that Sam had stolen her childhood. Karen had cut off all communication with her, and she hadn’t seen or talked to her only relative in too many years.

But she didn’t want to think about any of that now. She had enough on her mind.

“Now that we’ve established that I’m not an emotional pile of mush, what was it you promised Luke you wouldn’t bring up to me?” She tried to lace her voice with humor.

Rachel hesitated for a few seconds. “Well, okay, if you’re sure. Actually, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. The first is do you have a date for the children’s burn unit charity ball next Saturday?”

Lately, with everything that had been going on, Sam hadn’t given much thought to the ball. She wanted to go, but the only person she would want to go with was also the one person she was trying her best to avoid. Maybe she should just go alone. After all, nowadays that would hardly be looked down on. She laughed to herself. Like A.J. or Santelli would let that happen. If she wanted to go at all—and she did—then she’d find a date so she wouldn’t have to listen to them.

“No, not yet, but I’m working on it,” she finally told her friend, hoping it would put an end to the subject.

“Well, you better get a move on. It’s coming up fast.” Rachel paused. “Word is that a certain chief of detectives isn’t spoken for yet.” Before Sam could say anything, Rachel blurted, “FIST has a job. The man who owns the building that houses the Main Street bookstore that burned last week contacted me. They want us to investigate the fire for arson.”

Sam came alert. She swung her swivel chair so her back was facing the main part of the bay. Suddenly, the depression she’d been carrying around since yesterday lifted. She was going to be unchained from the duty desk, and Santelli or A.J. could do nothing to prevent it. Yes!

Ever since the fire commissioners had sanctioned the Fire Investigation Special Team as an official branch of the department and she and Rachel had set up an office to do private investigations, it had been understood that their work took precedence and relieved Sam of her duties in the firehouse. The distraction of a job for FIST was just what the doctor ordered to lift her out of the doldrums. She loved doing the investigations with Rachel and had even given thought to leaving the fire company and working full-time for FIST.

“I thought the OGPD decided it wasn’t arson.” Sam held her breath waiting for Rachel’s answer. If this was not arson, her butt would be planted in this desk chair for days to come.

“They did, but the owners think Bayside Insurance is—” Rachel’s explanation was cut off by baby Jay crying in the background. “Maggie, please give Jay his pacifier for Mommy.” The crying stopped. “Thanks, sweetie. Sorry about that, Sam. As I was saying, the owners think Bayside is trying to find a loophole to get out of paying a claim. The owner is willing to pay us to prove it’s not arson.”

An unsettling thought occurred to Sam. “Is FIST working this alone or are the police still involved?”

“We’ll be doing it alone.” A long, pregnant pause followed. “A.J. will be going with you, Sam. After what happened yesterday, it’s the only way he and Luke would agree to letting you handle it.”

Her stomach clenched. Even her best friend was supervising her life. Though she loved Rachel for it, she couldn’t help resenting one more restriction being placed on her. She sighed.

If she were totally honest with herself, it wasn’t the restrictions on her movements that bothered her. She understood the need for them and was even grateful. What set her nerves on edge was whom she’d be forced to be with. Would she ever get past this unreasonable attraction to A.J. if he popped up in her life every five minutes?

Maybe Rachel would go with her, or even Luke. Anyone but A.J. “Rach—”

The loud cry of a baby erupted once more. “Gotta run. Jay needs feeding. Just go over to the store with A.J. and nose around. I’ll get the insurance company’s report to him, and he’ll get the building owner’s permission tomorrow morning so you can get on the premises by afternoon. I’ll meet with you here at our house tomorrow night to go over what you find. Seven okay?”

“Uh, yes, I guess so. But, Rach—”

“Good. See you then.” The phone went dead.

Slowly, Sam swung her chair around and hung up the receiver. The good news was that thanks to the fire commissioners and a possible torch who had something against books, she’d be off the desk. The bad news was she’d be spending more time with the one man she didn’t seem able to get out of her life or her head.

But what about her heart?