Page 37 of Burning Justice

When he’d returned from picking up dinner, her entire bed and half the TV credenza were covered with carefully arranged documents pertaining to the Leadville house fire, including the insurance policy and attached riders, bill of sale, title, deed, home assessment, survey, the fire marshal’s preliminary report, and all the photos.

The NICB’s access to the ISO database was proving to be just as useful to his case as Brett had hoped it would be.

So was Gemma.

NICB Agent Gemma Scott was not only competent, but he enjoyed her company.

Maybe too much.

She took a bite of her taco, chewing while she scrutinized the title for 986 Ruby Road. The printer took that moment to run out of paper, and she got up to refill the tray. While he’d been getting dinner, she’d changed into shorts, giving him his first look at her legs. Bare, shapely, perfectly proportioned legs.

Gemma glanced over her shoulder, catching him staring at her legs and her backside. He cleared his throat and grabbed his beer, taking another sip, and damn, if he didn’t feel like he was back in high school. When he looked up, she’d begun stuffing more paper into the printer tray. He could have been mistaken but could swear she was smiling.

While she refueled her printer with more paper, Brett’s tool of the trade also refueled. Crunching came from the corner of the room where Blaze chowed down on grain-free kibble and the special freeze-dried lamb patty Brett occasionally gave him.

“See this?” She handed him a sheet of paper the printer had just spit out. “I’m telling you this house is connected to the others. Guess what the titling company is?”

“Kobuk?” he answered before even looking at the document.

“Ten-four, Special Agent Tanner.” She sat and took another bite of taco. When a dribble of meat juices trickled over her lip, she swiped it with the tip of her tongue, then licked her lips. Lips that still—oh, holy hell—looked soft and still way too kissable.

He grabbed his beer, chugging a good third of the bottle. Thinking about kissing his partner could lead to all kinds of complications, ones that wouldn’t end well. Especially not with his lengthy history of crash-and-burn relationships. That and she’d probably slug him if he tried.

Brett downed the rest of his beer and snagged two more from the mini refrigerator, popping off the tops and handing one to Gemma.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the beer and continuing to type one-handed.

Blaze finished eating, let out a loud burp, then lay down on the floor between Brett’s and Gemma’s feet. She rested a bare foot on Blaze’s belly, rubbing it in small circles and making him groan with happiness. Was that—?

Yeah, it was.

Gemma’s toenails were painted fire-engine red, her big toes adorned with something that could have been orange flames. God help him. Even her toes were hot. The cargo shorts he’d changed into felt just a bit tighter. “Nice toenails. Are those flames?”

“Yes.” She wiggled her toes, then held up her foot for him to examine more closely. On instinct, he caught her calf in his hand. Her skin was warm, smooth, the muscles firm and supple. Their gazes met and held for a moment. “I, um. With the renovation, I’m always breaking my fingernails, but a pedicure lasts longer, so I splurge on a pedi every few weeks.”

With their gazes still locked, Brett mumbled, “An excellent investment.” He didn’t know how long they remained that way. Him holding her slim calf and both their chests rising and falling faster. It was all he could do not to slide his hand to her thigh, just to see if the skin there was equally as soft.

Brett groaned inwardly. If he wasn’t careful, whatever this thing was between them could easily get out of control, then blow up in his face the way it usually did. If that happened, he’d undoubtedly lose one of the best partners he’d ever worked with.

Eventually, she tugged her leg from his grasp and began shuffling through a stack of papers on the table.

“Blaze, you want to watch TV?” He reached for the remote. Anything to get his brain back on track.

Blaze scrambled to his feet and sat in front of the TV. Brett turned it on, keeping the volume low, then scrolled through the channels until he found Blaze’s favorite. Animal Planet. Blaze uttered low woofs, his head bobbing as he tracked the waddling ducks on the screen.

Gemma laughed. “I really did think you were pulling my leg about that.” As if realizing her choice of words, she rolled her lips inward and went back to focusing on her laptop.

Yeah, she would have to drag his Neanderthal brain back to him copping a feel of her calf. “Nope.” He shook his head. “Like I said, it’s his thing.” Again, Gemma laughed, a soft, gentle sound he liked.

He opened his laptop and logged in. The screen was barely visible, thanks to the last bit of daylight pouring through the room’s west-facing window. Brett stood to pull the shades but stopped. A large white SUV—a Yukon—slowed as it rolled past. The windows were tinted, preventing him from seeing the driver.

Brett bolted to the door and yanked it open. He stared at the tag, committing it to memory while the SUV continued rolling through the lot. He was tempted to give chase, badge the driver, and make him stop, but something wasn’t right.

Why, if they’d taken such great pains to evade Gemma and him at the fire scene, would they risk getting caught by trailing them to their hotel? And how would they know where he and Gemma were staying?

The vehicle stopped in the middle of the asphalt running between the two rows of hotel rooms. As soon as Brett started walking, the SUV picked up speed. So did Brett. Just when he was on the verge of kicking into an all-out sprint, the Yukon pulled into a parking spot. A woman got out of the front passenger seat, a man from the driver’s side. Seconds later, two small boys jumped from the rear seats.

Brett blew out a breath.