Hot Pursuit. Lisa Childs

dark eyes widened in surprise. Then he glanced at her tablet. “Were you told that? Is that in the records you have?”

      She shook her head. Nobody had bothered writing it into the report. “I grew up in the middle of a national forest,” she said.

      Her father had raised her and brothers in a US Forest Service cabin. The structure had been small—one bedroom for her dad and a loft in which she and her brothers had all slept on mattresses on the floor. But they had never spent much time inside; their home had been the forest itself. “Mack taught me about burns and breaks before I learned my ABCs.”

      Braden’s mouth curved into a slight grin, drawing her attention and making her wonder what it might be like to kiss his lips. “Mack knows his stuff...”

      And he’d taught his children well—all about the ways of getting burned. Professionally and personally.

      She turned her attention back to the crime scene. Her only interest in Braden Zimmer was getting whatever information he had about the arsonist. Not how he looked in a towel, or how his hair might feel, how his mouth might taste...

      She shook off the fanciful thoughts. Maybe she’d been working too much—trying too hard to prove herself. And for what? Even catching the Brynn County arsonist hadn’t been impressive enough for Mack to mention to his friends. And she doubted her brothers talked about her at all...

      Once she found this arsonist she would reward herself with a mini-vacation. But for now she had a job to do—and a criminal to catch.

      “The arsonist seems to know his stuff, too,” she said. “I don’t think he intended to do the damage he did with the first fire.” That was why he’d started it where one was already intended to happen. But how had he known that?

      Braden snorted. “He nearly killed a bunch of Boy Scouts.” Then he shuddered. “And a few of my guys...”

      “That was just because it was unseasonably dry and the fire took off,” she said. “I don’t think that had been his intention with the first one.”

      “Do you have photos of the others?” he asked as he stepped closer behind her. Since he was so much taller than her, it was easy for him to look over her shoulder.

      She could feel the heat of his body against her back and her butt. She forgot what he’d asked her.

      He didn’t wait for her to remember. He reached over her shoulder and touched the screen of her tablet. His arm brushed against hers, then fleetingly grazed her breast as he scrolled through the photos.

      She held her breath but studied the photos. A cottage, its once-light-teal vertical siding blackened. A couple of photos later, the cottage was nearly gone.

      “The fire wasn’t bad the first time,” Braden said. “So he came back. He nearly killed Avery Kincaid.”

      “He left threatening notes on her doorstep,” Sam said, moving her finger across the screen until a photo of the notes was displayed. Her finger brushed against Braden’s, and she felt that disturbing jolt again.

      He slid his finger across the screen, flipping through more photos. “He’s inconsistent, though. He didn’t leave any notes for Serena,” he said, anger rumbling in his deep voice. “He just torched the house, nearly killing her and her boarders.”

      She glanced up at his face, which was so close to hers. A muscle twitched along Braden’s tightly clenched jaw.

      “Maybe with this first fire he didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Braden said. “But that quickly changed.”

      Sam couldn’t argue that—not when she saw the photos of the houses. There had been even less left of the boardinghouse than the cottage. And Sam had seen photos of Serena Beaumont’s historic home before the fire. It had been a huge, plantation-style estate that had served as a former stagecoach stop.

      “He has done a lot of damage,” Sam agreed.

      “He is targeting people,” Braden said, his voice rough with emotion. “My guys, their girlfriends...” He’d obviously taken it personally even before the arsonist left the threatening note.

      Sam was beginning to wonder just how personal it was. Did the arsonist have a grudge against Braden Zimmer? Was it someone close to him? Someone maybe he trusted too much to suspect?

      “Now he’s targeting you,” she reminded him.

      “Good,” Braden said. “Better me than anyone else.”

      She peered up at his handsome face. His square jaw, already dark with stubble, was rigid with determination. She wondered if he was just displaying macho bravado like her brothers always did. She was just looking at photos; Braden had seen the arsonist’s destruction firsthand. He’d helped fight those fires. How could he not be afraid?

      Sam was afraid for him. She had to catch the arsonist before he struck again.

      * * *

      “WHAT’S HE DOING HERE?” Braden asked as he noted the state police car parked outside as he drove up to the firehouse. For once Stanley had listened. The overhead doors were down, and since Trooper Gingrich sat in his vehicle instead of Braden’s office, the other doors must have been locked as well.

      “I called him,” Sam said from the passenger seat.

      “You already know more than he does about the investigation,” Braden said.

      Trooper Gingrich had been assigned to investigate the fires, but he hadn’t gotten any closer to discovering who was responsible than Braden had. Just how hard had he actually tried, though? They’d argued with each other more than they’d collaborated.

      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