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“Right? Anyway, we got called to a house fire, and the place was just fully involved. Flames showing all over the D side, jumping like crazy. So, Cap sends Hawk and McElroy up to vent the roof, which left me and Garrity to do search and rescue while engine prepped the hoses.”
This was basic SOP for a house fire. Lucy had been through the steps herself hundreds of times. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess things got a little hairy once you got inside.”
“Nope.”
“No?” she asked, shock spreading out beneath her dark blue sweater.
“Things gotveryhairy once we got inside,” he clarified. “The fire had spread more than we’d anticipated. I thought we should split up—we’d cover more ground that way, and we had next to no time. But Dallas said no. The fire was too dangerous, and we needed to stick together. He outranked me, so it was his call.”
Neither option was against protocol for S&R, and both had their advantages. And their drawbacks. “Did you find anyone?” Lucy asked.
“No. We searched as much as we could, but the fire was out of control. One of the worst I’ve ever seen, to be honest. Dallas and I were in a bedroom on the C side of the house when Captain Bridges ordered us to fall out. I took one step toward the door, and all of a sudden, there was a horrible cracking noise, and then the floor beneath my boots was gone. It happened so fast, I barely had time to react before I started to fall.”
Her heart vaulted against her sternum. Which was stupid, really, since she knew he was fine. Still, the thought of Sam crashing ten feet to the ground with a bunch of fiery debris raining down on top of him sent something through her that she couldn’t explain. It was enough to seriously injure or possibly kill even the most well-trained firefighters. “Oh, shit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he said, parking the Jeep in front of RFD headquarters, then turning to look at her. “The ground floor was burning out of control directly below us. I would’ve fallen ten feet into a damn inferno if Dallas hadn’t pulled me back at the last second. We ended up having to escape through a window since the rest of the floor wasn’t sound.”
“Was there anyone else in the house?” Lucy asked, relieved when Sam shook his head.
“No. The residents had been at work and school. Dallas never made a big deal out of saving me. He’s not really that kind of guy. But I know what I know. If we’d split up like I’d suggested, if I’d fallen through those floorboards…well, let’s just say, we wouldn’t be sitting here with you enjoying my sparkling wit and personality.”
Lucy’s laugh scattered the tension that had crept into the conversation, her chest loosening. “Dallas must’ve been one hell of a firefighter, hauling both you and your mountainous ego out of danger.”
“He was a great firefighter. And joke all you like,” Sam said, fixing her with a smile that turned her insides liquid. “But I think, deep down, you like my mountainous ego.”
“I likeyou.”
She hadn’t meant to say it, and if the shock on his face was any indication, he hadn’t been expecting anything of the sort, either. But fuck it. Shehadsaid it, and even though she knew it should scare the hell out of her, it didn’t.
Lucy reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “I’m really glad Dallas was there with you that day. And I’m really glad you’re here with me, now.”
Sam stared at her, his eyes dark with some emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint as he squeezed her fingers, holding on tight. “There’s no place on earth I’d rather be.”
“I guess you really are stuck with me, then.”
His laugh in return was soft and sweet and so damn good, she felt it all the way to her toes. “In that case, why don’t we go catch an arsonist so we can get out of here and have somerealfun?”
“Excellent plan.”
They got out of the Jeep and made their way toward the building, and not even the frosty chill in the air could dampen the heat buzzing through Lucy’s veins. They were going to need all the focus they could muster to make any headway on this case, though, so she reluctantly set her in-my-pants feelings aside and did one last mental review of the warehouse fire. By the time she and Sam had passed through the main entrance and followed the directory to a set of glass double doors leading to a small, third-floor office suite, Lucy was back to business.
“Hey,” Isabella said, rising from the polished wood bench where she’d been waiting for them to arrive. “Thanks for meeting me here. The rest of the unit was called in as backup on a high-risk arrest warrant, so they’ll be tied up for a couple of hours. But, since I’m not allowed to go on any calls where shots might be fired or fists might be thrown”—she ran a hand over the curve of her belly—“I figure we might as well talk to Dallas while last night’s fire is fresh in our heads in case it does turn out to be related to the warehouse fire. I’ll fill the rest of the unit in once we’re done here.”
“Sounds good,” Lucy said, and Sam opened the door to usher both her and Isabella into the waiting room on the other side. The space was cozy rather than cramped, with a small sofa and two chairs clustered around a coffee table littered with magazines. The overhead fluorescent lights were turned off in favor of two well-placed lamps that filled the room with softer, golden light, and a large potted plant gave the room a homey touch. Lucy was surprised not to see a receptionist of some kind waiting to take their names—she knew from Quinn that most of Dallas’s work involved counseling first responders who had endured trauma, Quinn having been a patient of his before Lucy had even come to Seventeen. But before Lucy could wonder what the protocol was for how to proceed, a tall, white man with wavy blond hair that nearly brushed his shoulders appeared in the doorway connecting the waiting room with the rest of the office space beyond.
His eyes landed on Sam first, and he fixed him with a warm, affable smile. “It’s good to see you, Faurier.” The two men engaged in a half shoulder bump, half back-slap move that split the difference between a handshake and a full-on hug. “Heard you’ve caught one hell of a case. I’ve been catching up on the details Isabella sent over.” Dallas reached out to shake Isabella’s hand. “Thanks for the case files.”
“Of course. Thanks for making room in your schedule to work with us.”
“I hope my input can be of use.” Turning toward Lucy, Dallas said, “And you must be Lucy de Costa.”
His handshake was firm but easy, the crinkle around his blue eyes marking his smile as genuine, and Lucy immediately liked him. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Garrity.”
He laughed. “Please. Call me Dallas. Why don’t we head to my office and see how much of this case we can sort out?”
He led them down a short hallway, sweeping one arm to invite them into an office that mirrored the waiting room. Sunshine filtered past cream-colored blinds, mingling in with the light from a standing deskside lamp. Two love seats faced each other along the back wall of the office while a pair of chairs stood across from Dallas’s slightly cluttered desk. Bookshelves lined the entire wall behind his workspace, crammed with careworn texts and dotted with a few photographs, his framed degree in criminal psychology holding a spot of honor on the second shelf.
Dallas shut the door behind them, sitting on one side of a love seat while the rest of them settled into a loose circle. “Before we dive in, I want to say that I’m a resource, just like the three of you. I do have a degree in psychology and a good amount of experience profiling, especially with cases that involve fire or arson. But I’m not the only expert in the room, so if you’ve got input, or—more importantly—if you disagree with mine, that’s okay. The only way we’re going to make progress is by working together. Sound fair?”
