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He laughed, but still tread with care. “Guess I’m just taking your advice. It’s good to relearn the basics.”
“No. You’re really paying attention,” she said. “I’ve been watching you this week, and you’re not just doing as little as possible to get by.”
“You’ve been watching me?” Sam asked, flashing her a grin to see if it would throw her.
Nope. “Don’t get cocky.” Lucy rolled her eyes, although wait, was she flustered? “I just meant that it’s obvious you’re invested in what Nolan and the other instructors are teaching everyone, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, a little pop of surprise working through his chest at the admission. He’d thought it would be torture, especially the classroom assignments. But the knowledge was practically sewn into his brain, so obvious it might as well be one plus one equals two, and—while he didn’t love stair drills, because that would equate to masochism—the physical fitness aspects of the training had always been his sweet spot. While Sam would way rather be at Seventeen, knocking down fires and containing hazmat situations and whatever else any given shift might throw his way, he didn’thatethe time he’d spent at the academy this week.
If only he could get that damn warehouse fire out of his head once and for all, he’d be good to go.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” The words had barreled past his lips before he’d even realized he’d speak them. “This might be a weird question, but was there something off about that warehouse fire? The way it spread so fast?”
“Oh, my God,yes,” Lucy said, her eyes lighting up as she straightened. “It’s been—”
“Driving me crazy,” Sam said with her in unison, both of them laughing softly. “I can’t quite put my finger on it,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I do know something’s not right.”
He braced for her to tell him he wasn’t making any damn sense.
Only she didn’t. “I actually thought for a second that it might’ve been set on purpose. Which is totally outer limits, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself.
Sam thought about how quickly the flames had jumped, covering far more area than he’d have ever expected them to in the time they’d been inside, then shook his head. “I don’t think it’sthatimprobable, actually.”
Gigi arrived with their breakfasts, then, placing various dishes in front of them and doling out two large glasses of water. The pancakes looked amazing and smelled even better, and Sam didn’t hesitate to dig in as soon as he’d thanked Gigi and she’d reminded them to let her know when the coffee ran low.
“Okay, seriously,” Lucy said, picking up where they’d left off. “You’ve been a firefighter for what, ten years, right?”
His brows lifted in surprise. He couldn’t have mentioned that more than two or three times in her tenure at Seventeen. Her memory must be a goddamn vault. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Patience,” she chided, not unkindly, but ha. Fat fucking chance that his brain would comply with that little directive. “In all of those years, how many cases of—oh, my Goddddd.” She paused to chew the bite of pancakes she’d just taken, and Sam stifled twin urges to yell “I told you so!” and hurdle the table between them to taste her pleasured moan.
Holy shit, he needed a reality check. Fast. “Good pancakes?” he asked, leaning extra hard on his grin. “Dare I say, the best?”
“These are not pancakes,” she said, forking up another bite, her blissful smile almost as hot as the food-moan. “These are an out of body experience. One that I am not telling Hawkins about. Ever.”
“They can be our little secret,” Sam agreed. “Anyway. You were saying?”
“Oh. Right. In ten years, how many cases of arson have you actually seen?”
“A few,” he said, thinking back. “A guy who tried to burn down his house for the insurance money before I came to Seventeen. The cases McCullough worked a while back. The arsonist who targeted Gamble and Kennedy when you were a rookie.”
Lucy shuddered at the reminder, and he didn’t blame her. That guy had been dangerous as hell before the Intelligence Unit had gotten involved and Gamble and Kennedy had helped to take him down. “Okay, but statistically, most fires aren’t arson at all, even the crazy ones. Chances are really high that even though the warehouse fire was pretty unusual, it was also an accident.”
“But there’s achanceit wasn’t,” he said, his brain kicking into high gear. “Those flames jumped way faster than they should’ve, almost as if some sort of accelerant was involved.”
She reasoned, “You’re on squad. You of all people know that lots of chemicals are flammable.”
“Sure, and exactly none of them are usually stored in abandoned warehouses. Come on, de Costa.” He pointed his fork at her. “You know in your gut that something wasn’t right with that fire.”
Funny, if anything, that dissuaded her. “Gut feelings are just guesses until they’re substantiated.”
“Educated guesses,” he semi-corrected. “And between us, we’re pretty experienced. I’d say we know something wonky when we see it.”
An idea exploded in Sam’s brain, a starburst too bright to ignore. “We should go check it out.”
“Absolutely not,” Lucy said, her headshake firm.
But he wasn’t about to let go so easily. Something had been weird about this one. Heknewit. “You just said gut feelings are only guesses until they’re substantiated. So, let’s substantiate.”
