Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

The room was unusually quiet now. Brooke was especially so, mostly because she really felt for Dustin. He’d put himself out there and was now hurting.

She knew the feeling.

“I’m sorry, too,” Dustin said, mouth full of frosting.

Cristina went still. “For?”

“For not having more meaningless sex with you.”

Sam let out a choked laugh and, without taking her eyes off Dustin, Cristina pointed at him.

Sam shut up.

“Does that mean you want to?” Cristina asked Dustin. “Have more meaningless sex?”

“No.”

Cristina looked deeply disappointed, but tried to hide it. “Okay.”

“I’ll have meaningless sex with you,” Eddie said. When Cristina rounded on him, Aidan helpfully stuffed a cupcake into Eddie’s mouth to keep him quiet.

“Or you could try it my way,” Dustin suggested to Cristina.

Cristina turned back to Dustin and blinked.

Dustin didn’t.

Zach sighed, and with some struggle, stood up, gesturing the others to follow him, clearly not wanting to stay and witness the bloodshed.

This time, Cristina pointed at Zach. “Don’t move. Did you put him up to this?”

“Give me some credit,” Dustin answered for him. “I’ve had it bad for you since day one. There’s no way you haven’t noticed.”

“Whoa.” Cristina staggered back a step and collided with a wall. “What? What the hell did you just say?”

“I gave you an offer for sex,” Dustin said calmly. “As I believe you were lamenting about your continued lack of.”

“After that,” she whispered.

“I said give me some credit. Of course Zach didn’t put me up to this.”

“No, after that.” She swallowed hard. “What the hell did you say after that?”

“The part where I said I’ve wanted you since day one?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” And she sat, right there on the floor. “That.”

With a sigh, Dustin got up and crouched in front of her. “It’s not a death sentence, Cristina.”

“Ohmigod.”

He sighed again. “I was hoping for a more articulate response than that.”

“Articulate?” She looked bowled over, but he just waited, and she swallowed hard. “Okay, articulate. How about…” She shook her head as if at a loss. “Thank you?”

He arched a brow. “Thank you?”

“Look, I’m trying to be polite here, but I really need to throw up. Are you crazy? You’ve got a thing for me? You don’t even know all my faults.”

“I think I know a lot of them,” he said dryly.

“Ohmigod.” “You’re starting to repeat yourself. Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk.”

“Yes. On the beach.”

“Are you trying to romance me?”

“Uh-huh. Is it working?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. No more talk about…wanting me. Promise?”

“Take my hand, Cristina.”

She stared at his proffered hand, and then took it. “You should know I’m not putting out on the first date.”

“Maybe on our second, then.”

That shook a laugh out of her and, shocking Brooke and probably everyone else, Cristina allowed Dustin to pull her out the door.

Brooke watched them go, something deep inside her aching. Then she realized Zach was looking right at her. What she’d give to know that he was aching, too, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

A little while later, Zach managed to escape to the kitchen, where he leaned on the sink and stared out the window. He could still hear his friends talking and laughing in the other room. He was grateful for them, but he wished they’d all go away and leave him alone with Brooke.

The door opened and he turned hopefully, but it was Tommy.

“How are you feeling?” the inspector asked.

“I’d be better if you’d convince the chief to let me go back to work.”

“No can do.”

“Tommy-”

He held up a hand. “I agree with you about those fires,” he said quietly. “Okay? You’re right. They’re arson, all of them. I’ve always believed you.” He let that sink in. “But believing you wasn’t the problem. My investigation was-is-undercover.”

Zach stared at him. “Because…you suspected me.”

Tommy’s expression was apologetic but firm. “Past tense.”

Zach let out a breath. “Jesus, Tommy.”

“I know you want to come back to work, but I’m advising you to wait.”

“You don’t think-”

“What I think is that you’re in danger.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ve been a damn thorn for me, Zach, and we’re on the same side. Imagine how the bad guy feels about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re getting close. Close enough for the arsonist to try to hurt you. He burned Phyllis’s house because you care about her. Then at the warehouse fire, you were hit.”

“By a burning piece of ceiling.”

“By a chunk of debris, yes, but I’ve been at the site. I think it was thrown at you.”

Zach staggered to a chair and sat.

“I’ve combed every inch of that site,” Tommy said. “You went back in where you weren’t supposed to, and I believe you almost caught the arsonist red-handed.”

“But the only people inside at that point, besides the victims, were firefighters.”

Tommy just looked at him, and that’s when he finally got it. They weren’t looking for some nameless criminal.

It was someone they all knew.

After everyone had gone, Brooke grabbed a trash bag and started to clean up.

“Leave it,” Zach told her, weary to the bone. “I can do it.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you’ve barely moved all night?”

He lifted a shoulder, which pulled at his burns and had pain shooting through him. He didn’t make a sound, he very carefully didn’t make a sound, but she was at his side in a heartbeat.

“Damn stubborn man,” she murmured, helping him up.

Suddenly, all he could think about was how her hands felt on him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting you to bed.”

Just the words had his body leaping to attention. Even in pain and pissed off at the world, he could still get it up for her. “Sorry, but I’m bound to disappoint you tonight.”

“Shut up, Zach.”

Upstairs in his room, she got him onto the bed. He looked up into her face. Her beautiful face. She was worried sick, and, he realized with some shame, that he was not the only one hurting. “I talked to Tommy tonight. He said he believed me.”

“What?” Brooke went still. “Oh, Zach,” she breathed. “I’m so glad! Does he know who the arsonist is?”

This was the hard part. “He suspects an inside job.”

“Inside…” Her mind worked fast, and she gasped. “No.”

“The warehouse fire wasn’t an accident.” He went to reach for her and gritted his teeth at the pain.

“I’m going to get your meds and water. Don’t move.”

When she was gone, he tried to pull off his shoes, but the cast on his arm felt heavy. Plus, moving hurt. Not feeling up to taking off his own damn shirt, much less his pants, he lay back on the bed, out of breath and frustrated.

“Why don’t you get undressed?” she asked, coming back into the room with a glass of water and a pill.

He closed his eyes. “Yeah. Good idea.”

“Need help?”

“No. I can do this. Seriously.”

“Seriously? Get real, Zach.” He felt her hands pulling off his shoes, heard them hit the floor one at a time. “Because, seriously? You are full of shit.” Carefully, with a surprisingly gentle touch considering the sarcasm in her voice, she helped him out of his shirt. “So what else did Tommy say?”