The Fireman's Son. Tara Taylor Quinn

that I have to be really good and not make her late on work days, that we can’t mess up at all, because bosses fire people and then we’d have to move because there aren’t any other EMT jobs here except yours.”

      Reese was still recovering from the sentence, nowhere near finding a response to it, when the boy said, “And because you’re the fire chief. Mom always says if I’m ever in trouble to go straight to the principal. Or to Lila. You know, the boss. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers or trust people we don’t know, even if they’re adults.”

      Because his father could send someone for him?

      Faye had said they weren’t in danger. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have residual trust issues stemming from what she’d been through.

      What she’d been through...

      He pushed the thought away.

      “I wanted you to know it’s not her fault,” the boy finished. “Can we go now?”

      Reese leaned forward, elbows on his knees, saw his hands shaking and clasped them together. He and Faye used to sit in front of each other, face-to-face, that way, clasping hands when they were talking about serious things.

      The memory flashed by out of nowhere.

      He sat back.

      “You aren’t going to jail, Elliott,” he said. “You’re going to stay right here. Your punishment is up to Lila and Sara. And your mom.” Then he stood. “But if I ever hear of you so much as having matches again, we’ll have to rediscuss this.”

      The boy was in danger. Thinking he could get away with playing with matches was not cool.

      Elliott’s blue eyes were wide now as he nodded. “So I’m not going to be in trouble with you?”

      “Not this time.”

      “And my mom? Is she in trouble?”

      “Not at all. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

      He nodded, his lips puckering in a new way now. A little-boy way.

      Like he might be about to cry.

      Reese yanked open the door, relieved to see both Sara and Lila on the other side. With a nod to both of them, he strode out.

      Lila could call him to find out what he knew. When she was ready.

      In the meantime, he was ready for a tall one.

       CHAPTER SIX

      I CAN’T BELIEVE Elliott set a fire. I can’t believe it. I cannot believe he did that...

      Faye paced by the side door on Reese’s house, back and forth, back and forth. Waiting for him to get home. If he was even coming home.

      She worried about a lot of things where Elliott was concerned—the fact that he harbored such resentment against her sometimes. The possibility that he’d learned to disrespect her from Frank’s example.

      The chance that he could have some genetic predisposition to anger, as Frank had. The need to know if that was possible.

      Where was Reese? He’d left the station. She’d called to find out.

      She’d have gone to work to find him two hours ago—when she’d heard from Lila and Sara about what had been going on that day—except that he’d laid down the law. No one was supposed to know they knew each other.

      Or rather, had known each other.

      The always-serious, always-businesslike, strict guy Reese was now wasn’t the man she’d known.

      But then, she probably didn’t even remotely resemble the girl he’d once known.

      One thing about him was the same—besides his apparent appeal where her screwed-up sexual psyche was concerned—he was fair.

      She hoped.

      Would he let her keep her job?

      What had he thought of Elliott? She’d spent so many hours mentally playing out that moment when Elliott and Reese came face-to-face. Would Elliott like him?

      Would Reese care at all?

      Or would Elliott just be someone else’s child, with no attachment value whatsoever?

      Had Reese liked him?

      When his shiny blue truck pulled into the drive, she welcomed the interruption from thoughts that served no purpose. Stepping away from the house, she waited for him to notice her. She’d purposely left her car parked down the block, not wanting him to see it and turn around before she had her shot at him.

      The scowl on his face as he climbed down from his truck didn’t bode well.

      “I know, you don’t want to see me,” she said, approaching him with her hand out in front of her like a stop sign. “But I can’t talk to you at work, and I was afraid you’d hang up on me if I called and...”

      “You’re right, I would have.” He walked past her and toward his door. “You can show yourself out,” he said, climbing the two cement steps and putting his key in the lock.

      She wasn’t in. Was he maybe more rattled than he was letting on?

      The house had a lovely front porch by the front door. But the side door was by the garage.

      She’d known that was the one he’d use.

      Some things hadn’t changed.

      “Reese...”

      He was still in uniform...all official looking in dress pants and shirt with his tie over one arm.

      “If you want to keep your job, I suggest that you leave now.”

      He said the words in the most congenial tone. Still, her feelings might have been hurt if not for the first part. If you want to keep your job.

      He wasn’t firing her.

      She turned before he could see the tears of sheer relief that flooded her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and pretty much ran back to her car.

      * * *

      HE WAS NOT going to get involved between her and her son. Hadn’t asked a single question.

      It wasn’t his business.

      He didn’t want to know.

      If the kid was punished...if they found out where he got the matches... What had Elliott written that was so bad he’d had to destroy it?

      None of it was anything he needed to worry himself about.

      And Faye...

      She did her job well. Damn well, according to Brandt, who had her riding with him most of the time. Calm and cool in the most hideous circumstances...and compassionate, too.

      She’d started an IV on a screaming four-year-old in seconds, finding the vein immediately. Dealt with the mother, whose face had been severely damaged by the crash, and had done CPR on an elderly occupant of the car. Everyone was still alive.

      And that had just been one accident.

      His second-in-command had told him that if he was ever dying on the side of the road, he’d want Faye to be the one who came to rescue him.

      Reese was busy not thinking about her on Friday night, just past ten, when his scanner beeped. There were reports of a fire out of control near a backyard on a cul-de-sac five miles from him. No one was home. There was no sign of anyone near the fire.

      His perp was back.

      Reese wasn’t on call but had consumed only half a beer. He could be at the scene. Pouring the rest down the drain, he grabbed his gear, suited up at home and headed to the site.

      The truck was there ahead