Page 9 of Burn Protocol

I groan. It’s already starting.

I pour the burned coffee into my cup, before I reluctantly sit back down. Then I roll my neck and lift my chin. She just sits there and watches me. It’s not her fault that we are here, not really. Salisar knows this is out of my comfort zone. He should have paired her with Rosa. She is good. Green, but good. I exhale and then nod softly at her. Let’s just get this over with.

“Miss Gonzales, before we continue, would it be okay if I call you Elena?”

I blink when my name rolls off her tongue. In here people call me by my last name, out of respect and out of habit. When we use first names, it’s only for personal business. But I can’t expect a civilian to know that. So, I grunt, reluctantly.

“Oh, good,” she says, surprised. “Then you can call me Maya.”

“Okay.”

She chuckles a little at that, but rolls her shoulders and straightens her spine.

“Alright, Elena, can you tell me a bit more about yourself?”

I raise an eyebrow, but she won’t budge. Her eyes bore into mine and she puts her hands under her chin, waiting patiently.

“Fine. Elena Gonzales, thirty-nine, lieutenant here at stationhouse 2.”

“That’s stuff I already knew, I meant more like… what do you enjoy doing when you are not on the job?”

I close my eyes for a brief moment and inhale. Fine.

“I work out. I run and I swim. When it’s sunny I like to sit outside with a good book, and…”

What the hell am I doing? Why am I even entertaining this?

“And?” She presses.

“And I need to get to work. Let’s go.”

Before she can object, I press myself out of the chair and march back to the stairs. I barge down and stride toward the locker rooms. It is bad enough that Maya has to follow me around everywhere, but I won’t let her get hurt on my watch.

“What size are you?”

“S... sorry?”

“Your shoes. What size do you wear?”

“I’m a thirty-nine, I think.”

She thinks? What the hell is there to think about? She either is or isn’t.

I press through the door but find the courtesy to hold it open for her. That way she can’t run to the Chief, saying I threw doors in her face too.

Maya is right behind me, and when she slides into the old locker room, her eyes widen. Sure, the place stinks like sweaty socks and moldy cheese, but it is pretty much a safe haven for me. She seems to feel the sanctuary of it and nods appreciatively. I furrow my brow because I find that I actually like her silent approval.

I shake off the thought and pull open the communal locker. There are a bunch of safety shoes piled up, and some turnout coats hang in the corner. I hand her the boots and size her up. She blushes and looks down. Cute. I fight a smirk and grab the smallest coat.

“If we happen to go out, you put this on. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My eyes shoot up to meet her gaze, but she isn’t mocking me. She looks at me earnestly, as if she understands the importance.

“Now, kick off those sneakers and boot up. You’ll wear those inside and outside of the station. They are steel-toed, waterproof, and even have a bit of extra tread so you don’t slip. Safety is sexy. I’ll wait outside.”

She keeps her eyes on me while I find myself rattling. I tear my gaze away, march back outside and lean against the wall. My whole body aches for a good work-out. This pent-up energy inside of me is nearly consuming me and it isn’t even ten yet. I grunt, deeply annoyed, and run my hand over my face again. What have I done wrong to be punished like this?