Lisa Childs - Hot Pursuit

Braden should have asked the US Forest Service to take over the investigation months ago. Sam was certainly a lot better-looking than the bald-headed trooper who stepped out of his vehicle.

“I called him to protect you,” she said.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” he said, though when he’d thought she was volunteering for the position, he had momentarily been tempted to accept. But risking her life for his was out of the question. If anything happened to her, he was sure Mack would kill him. And even though he’d just met her, Braden would be beside himself with guilt and regret.

“The arsonist proved he doesn’t make idle threats,” Sam said.

Braden was well aware of that. He’d almost lost Dawson Hess and Cody Mallehan when they’d gone into burning houses without wearing protective gear, to rescue the women they loved. Fortunately both Avery and Serena had survived. If anything had happened to them, it would have destroyed two of Braden’s best Hotshots. They loved those women so much. Braden thought he’d loved his ex-wife like that, but now he knew better—after witnessing real love. Ami had hurt his pride more than his heart when she’d left him for another man.

“You need to take his threat seriously,” Sam persisted.

“It’s not him I’m having trouble taking seriously,” he murmured as the trooper approached Braden’s pickup truck.

A breath hissed through Sam’s teeth.

He cursed. Now she’d be thinking again that he was a chauvinist. “I’m not talking about you,” he assured her as he pushed open the driver’s door and stepped out.

“Zimmer,” Trooper Gingrich greeted him coolly. Then he turned his attention to where Sam alighted from the passenger side. He stretched his hand out to her. “Ms. McRooney?”

She nodded and took his hand.

The trooper introduced himself as he held on to her. “I’m glad you gave me a call,” he said. “I would really like to discuss the investigation with you.”

She pulled her hand free of his grasp. “Of course. But first we need to get some more troopers patrolling Northern Lakes.”

Braden couldn’t argue against more patrols—not after receiving that threat. The arsonist was bound to set another fire. And Braden’s instincts—which had never failed him professionally—were warning it would be soon.

“Have you already pinpointed a suspect?” the trooper asked with a glance at Braden, who kept his attention on Sam.

The last rays of the setting sun played across her face, making her skin look even more golden and her blue eyes brighter. She was beautiful—with delicate features. She must have resembled her mother because she looked nothing like her father. No wonder Mack hadn’t mentioned having a daughter; he’d probably been trying to protect her from all the rabble-rousing firefighters he knew.

She shook her head, and that silky blond hair skimmed her jaw. “Not yet,” she conceded. “But earlier he dropped off a threat to the firehouse. And if he’s following the same MO that he did with Avery Kincaid, then he’s going to act again—soon.”

She was right. If the arsonist followed the same pattern he had with Avery, then he wouldn’t wait for Braden to heed his warning. He was going to strike at any moment.

Braden wasn’t afraid, though. He was anxious. He wanted the arsonist to make a move so they’d have an opportunity to catch him in the act.

“Of course he’s going to start another fire,” the trooper agreed. “Zimmer’s team is back in town. There’s a fire every time they’re here.”

Braden flinched. “Not every time,” he called Gingrich out on his exaggeration.

“Maybe I should have said the fires only happen when his team is in town then,” the trooper amended.

Braden heard the insinuation.

Sam must have heard it, too, because her heavily lashed eyes narrowed. “That’s why you need extra troopers in the area,” she said. “Superintendent Zimmer and his team are in danger.”

The trooper shot Braden a resentful glare. He probably hated that Braden had called in the threat to the US Forest Service rather than the state police this time. “Are they in danger?” the trooper asked. “Or are they the danger?”

“What the hell are you implying?” Braden asked. He closed the distance between him and the trooper and stared down into the shorter man’s flushed face.

“I’m not implying anything,” the trooper said. “I’m only saying what everyone else in town has been saying...”

Dread tightened his stomach into knots. “And what’s that?” Braden demanded to know.

“That this town is a hell of a lot safer when you and your team are gone,” Gingrich said.

Since the fires had only happened when the Hotshots were in Northern Lakes, Braden found it hard to argue that point. But he didn’t think that was all Gingrich was saying.

“You called us the danger,” he pointed out. “We’re not the ones setting fires.”

The trooper raised his brow so high it disappeared beneath the brim of his hat, which he wore low, probably so Sam wouldn’t see he’d already lost his hair. And he was only Braden’s age.

In fact, they’d gone to school together. But they’d always been more rivals than friends—competing for the captain position for every team they’d played on together. Marty hadn’t taken it well when he’d lost to Braden—which had happened a lot.

Braden had foolishly thought since they were adults now, they would be able to work together to find the arsonist. He should have known better, known Marty would argue everything.

“Are you accusing me of something?” he asked.

“No accusation,” Marty said. “Just a logical conclusion. If the fires are only set when you and your team are in town, it stands to reason someone on your team is setting the fires.”

It had been a long day—so long Braden’s usually tight control slipped. Anger heated his blood and had it pumping fast and hard in his veins; he could hear the rush inside his head.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned the trooper. “Don’t you damn well dare accuse one of my team members of setting fires—not after all the times they’ve risked their lives putting them out!”

“They’re just like you,” Gingrich said with a derisive snort. “Always playing the hero. Maybe one of them—” he stared hard up at Braden, making it clear which one he thought “—is making sure he has the opportunity to act like a hero.”

A curse slipped through Braden’s lips as his temper snapped entirely. And he reached for the trooper with one hand while he pulled his other one back and fisted it. Before he could take a swing at the guy’s smug face, his elbow struck something else—someone who’d come up behind him.

And he cursed again. Sam pushed herself between him and Gingrich, shoving Braden back. “Calm down,” she yelled. And he noticed the red mark on her cheek.

He’d been worried about the wrong person hurting her. He’d thought the arsonist would, but Braden was the one who’d actually injured her. He reached for her face, but she flinched and stepped back.

What the hell had he done?

4

“YOU NEED TO press charges,” the trooper told Sam.

She hated being told what to do, which was another reason she never got involved with any of the alpha males she encountered in her profession. They were all too damn bossy. And hot-tempered—like Braden Zimmer.

Sure, Gingrich had been goading him. But the trooper wasn’t wrong to question the involvement of one of the Hotshots. She’d noticed, too, that the fires occurred only when they were in Northern Lakes. When they were gone, nothing happened. She doubted that was just a coincidence—but was it because they were behind it? Or because they were being targeted?