Hot Pursuit. Lisa Childs

his phone from his pocket, his wedding ring glinted in the light dangling over their table. She doubted he would have assigned that song as his wife’s ringtone. But then she didn’t know much about marriage beyond what a few married friends had told her. She certainly hadn’t grown up with an example of it since she couldn’t even remember her mom.

      Gingrich didn’t accept the call immediately—just stared down at his phone, his face flushing red again. “I need to take this.”

      “Go ahead,” she said, curious about who’d put that look on his face—a mixture of shame and excitement.

      “I—I won’t be able to hear in here,” he said. “So I’m going to take it outside. I may have to leave.”

      “I asked you here to discuss protection duty for Superintendent Zimmer,” she reminded him.

      “And I told you he’s not the one who needs protecting.” There was something in his voice—something almost threatening—that had Sam’s patience close to snapping.

      She picked up her ice pack and held it in a tight fist—more tempted to throw it at him than use it. “You’re not in charge of this investigation, Trooper Gingrich,” she informed him. “I am.”

      His face flushed an even deeper red. “But Braden doesn’t want my protection any more than I want to protect him.” He glanced at the table of Hotshots, then at the closed door. “He doesn’t seem to understand you’re in charge, either.”

      Though Braden had claimed he wasn’t a chauvinist, she wondered if that was the case.

      “I need to leave,” Gingrich said as he stood. His phone began to ring again, and he hurried toward that door.

      “Dick,” she muttered after him.

      A deep chuckle followed her remark. But she wasn’t sure which of the Hotshots who suddenly surrounded her table was behind it.

      “You’re obviously as good a judge of character as your dad,” a blond-haired firefighter remarked as he extended his hand to her. “I’m Cody Mallehan.”

      She shook his hand—firmly—like her father had taught her when she was just a little girl. Unfortunately she’d never gotten much bigger. She hadn’t been able to excel at the things her brothers had. So she had to excel at what she could—catching arsonists.

      “Mack’s mentioned you,” she said. “He’s not too happy you didn’t join him at Northern Cascades.”

      “That’s cool of him, but I’m happy here,” Cody said. “My team is my family.” He introduced the other men. Wyatt Andrews and Dawson Hess. Trent Miles.

      She recognized all the names. She had the roster of the entire team.

      “Owen James and Ethan Sommerly left a little while ago. Owen had an EMT call and Ethan can only handle being social for so long,” Cody remarked. “Otherwise, you could have met them, too.”

      “I do need to meet the entire team at some point,” Sam said. Because, like Gingrich, she suspected one of them could be the arsonist. She’d already started investigating them. Owen James carried physical scars from war. Did he have psychological ones that could cause him to start fires?

      And Sommerly was notoriously antisocial. Enough to want to hurt people?

      “You’ll meet everyone tomorrow,” Superintendent Andrews said, “at the team meeting Braden has called.”

      He hadn’t mentioned the meeting to her. He certainly hadn’t invited her. But she didn’t betray her surprise—just nodded in agreement.

      “I hope you didn’t believe any of that nonsense Gingrich spewed about Braden,” Cody said as he settled onto the chair across from her.

      “He’s just jealous,” Wyatt added as he turned a chair around and straddled it. “Goes back to high school and all the girls chasing after Braden instead of him.”

      “Braden needs some women chasing after him now,” Cody remarked.

      Sam’s pulse quickened as she remembered how he’d looked in just that towel with water droplets trailing over his impressive chest and abs. She couldn’t believe he didn’t have women chasing after him now. If not for the investigation, she might be tempted to be one of those women.

      Cody continued, “After what his ex-wife did to him...”

      It would be her business only if it had something to do with the investigation. But then it was hard to know the arsonist’s motive unless she learned everything about his latest target: Braden. So Sam asked, “What was that?”

      “Cheated on him, then invited him to her wedding to the other guy,” Wyatt replied. “Braden did have a couple women after him a few months ago. They mistook him for a stripper and nearly ripped off his clothes.”

      Sam could hardly blame them. He looked better without clothes. Not that he hadn’t looked damn good in the Hotshots’ casual uniform of black T-shirt and khaki cargo pants. Their official uniform while firefighting was all yellow—shirt, pants, coat and hat—so they were easier to see through the smoke and flames.

      “Now the arsonist is after him,” Dawson said, “and that’s not good...”

      “No,” Sam agreed. “Especially when he refuses police protection.”

      Wyatt snorted. “You can’t call Marty police protection. He’s an idiot, just like you said. How the hell can he blame Braden for starting the fires?”

      “Every time one of them has started we’ve been with him,” Cody said.

      Sam looked at the men gathered in a circle around her table and asked, “All of you?”

      “The three of us who are based out of Northern Lakes during the off-season.” Cody gestured at himself and the two assistant superintendents. “We were definitely together when that first fire started and the last one, too.”

      “So the four of you were together?” she asked. One person might lie for another, might even be working with another—although that was rare for arsonists unless they were hired to start fires for insurance claims. But four?

      Cody groaned. “You let Gingrich get to you.”

      She shook her head. She’d had her suspicions before she’d even talked to the state trooper. And while the four of them could alibi one another, that left sixteen other Hotshot suspects. “You’re very protective of your boss,” she remarked, “yet you all just let him walk out of here alone.” She included herself in that accusation. Her heart shifted again, contracting with a spasm of fear. Was he all right?

      “He gave us direct orders not to follow him,” Wyatt said.

      “And, what? You’ve never disobeyed one of his direct orders before?” she asked. She’d read the report on the first fire. She knew Wyatt Andrews had refused Braden’s command to return to base. He’d refused to leave the fire until he’d located the missing campers. Her gaze swung toward Dawson Hess and Cody Mallehan. Against Braden’s orders, they had returned to the fire to help Wyatt.

      “You’re definitely Mack’s daughter,” Cody remarked.

      She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a compliment?” She wasn’t certain. Mack wasn’t always the easiest person—especially with her.

      He grinned. “Definitely a compliment.”

      “Careful,” Wyatt warned him. “You’re nearly engaged. You can’t be complimenting other women anymore.”

      “I just meant she knows her stuff,” Cody said. Then he turned back toward her. “You’re thorough.”

      “That’s how I close cases,” she said. “I know how to do my job.” Had they come over here to question her abilities? She was used to being underestimated—especially by alpha males like them. But she suspected they had another