Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #1)(11)
Author: Bella Andre

She pulled a file out of her briefcase. Quickly flip-ping through the pages, she handed him a single piece of paper.

His days of flipping off authority and getting away with it had come and gone a long time ago, so he took the page and read it. It didn’t take long to scan the words that were as good as a death sentence: Should he disregard suspension orders to stay off the mountain, he would be banned from working with the Forest Service in any capacity, even in a city office, forever—signed his buddy Superintendent McCurdy, Tahoe Basin Forest Service.

He was about to crumple up the paper and toss it into a wastebasket in the corner when he realized why Maya’s name seemed so familiar. Not because she’d introduced herself to him in the bar before wrapping her legs around his waist, but because she’d coauthored the FBI report on firefighter arsonists.

His crew had played darts with it until the pages shredded.

“It’s not just me, is it? You’ve got something against firefighters, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an excellent writer,” he said, waiting for realization to dawn.

Her lips curved up, but she wasn’t smiling. He was surprised he didn’t see frost forming on the surface of her skin.

“I take it you’re referring to the FBI report I contributed to.”

“Hell, sweetheart”—she flinched at the endearment— “take credit where credit is due. You penned that little beauty, start to finish. Tell me, apart from one afternoon in a bar, what did a firefighter ever do to hurt you?”

Her mouth tightened and went flat. “My father was a firefighter. So was my—”

She cut herself off sharply and he noted her strange behavior. What wasn’t she telling him?

“I have boundless respect for firefighters,” she finally said.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

She narrowed her eyes, anger beginning to melt away her icy core. “I grew up surrounded by firefighters. They were some of the best men I’ve ever known. How dare you accuse me of being out to get them?”

Her words rang with sincerity, but he wasn’t in any mood to back down. Not since she’d come between him and a wildfire, with reams of bureaucratic bullshit.

“Then why the hell did you write that report?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never come across a firefighter who liked to play with fire, Mr. Cain. Anyone who’s worked in the Fire Service knows someone who had a problem with getting excited about fire for all the wrong reasons.”

He immediately thought of Joseph and his chest grew tight. What the hell was he going to do if Joseph really was guilty?

Logan wasn’t familiar with the bitter taste of fear and sure as hell didn’t like swallowing it down. One thing was for sure: If Ms. Hotshot Investigator was going to keep pushing him, he hoped she was prepared for him to push back.

“Tell me something, did an investigator ever accuse your father of arson?”

Pain registered in her eyes, on the small lines around her mouth, and he knew he’d hit below the belt, but he was fighting for his life, for his fellow hotshots, for Joseph.

He’d do whatever it took to keep them all safe.

“No.” She swallowed hard. “Never. My father was a hero.”

“My point exactly,” he said, invading her personal space one more time. He got close enough to see that her olive-tinged skin was still flawless and that her cheekbones were more pronounced than he’d remembered.

Something tugged at him, a remembered sense that she hadn’t been all there six months ago, but then again, he hadn’t exactly been studying her from a distance. He’d been rubbing his lips against hers while grabbing her ass with both hands.

“Hotshots don’t light fires that kill their own men. Call McCurdy and tell him to pull my suspension.”

“If you want a prayer of clearing your name, Mr. Cain, I suggest you stop issuing ridiculous orders and cooperate with my investigation.”

Even though he was close enough now to lick her, her voice remained steady, irritatingly calm given all he’d just thrown at her. A part of him couldn’t help but admire a woman this strong, even though she had his balls in a vice grip. She hadn’t even tried to move away from him. In his experience, it was a rare woman who didn’t run from confrontation.

“You and I both know there’s nothing to investigate,” he said again. She was one tough cookie, but he was a dog with a bone, one he wasn’t going to relinquish anytime soon. “You saw what happened to Connor. I need to get back to the fire to make sure the rest of my men make it out in one piece.”

Her mouth tightened as she grabbed her briefcase off the table. “Again, I am very sorry about the accident today. But this suspension stands. And I encourage you to abide by Superintendent McCurdy’s instructions.”

Fifteen years of fighting fire had taught him to refigure his plan of attack whenever flames shifted directions. It was time to do that very thing with Maya.

“Your boss know about us yet?”

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing to know.”

“You sure about that?” Playing off his hunch that she hadn’t forgotten the way she’d responded to his mouth on her br**sts, his fingers in her panties, he said, “That day in the bar, I never got a chance to tell you how pretty you were.”

She held her briefcase in front of her body like a shield. “I’m not interested in talking about that day. Our previous encounter has nothing to do with this situation. Nothing at all.”

He allowed his gaze to roam her body in a leisurely fashion. “The way you reached across the bar and grabbed me was something straight out of every guy’s fantasies. Especially when the girl looks like you. When she’s that responsive.”

“Mr. Cain,” she said, her tone brittle and, finally, angry, “I am long past the point of humoring you. I will contact you again for a personal interview. Until then I advise you to stay away from the fire and not bother my boss. He’ll know what you’re trying to do.” She widened her stance. “I can guarantee he won’t kick me off this case. Something that happened six months ago isn’t going to alter my methodology or my assessment of the crime.”

A knock sounded and Gary’s voice penetrated the thick fire-resistant metal door. “Logan, we’ve got more trouble on the mountain.”

After ten years together on the fire line, Gary knew Logan’s earlier trip to the emergency room didn’t mean jack and that as long as Logan could walk and use his hands, nothing would keep him away from a fire.

Nothing except a fire investigator handing him his temporary walking papers, courtesy of numero uno at the Forest Service.