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Sam thought of Dempsey, Tyler, and Hawkins, who were the only family he’d had for more than a decade; of Gamble and Kellan and Shae, who had put their lives on the line right beside his on every shift. Of Lucy, who’d had his back even though she’d known she’d take the heat for it, who inexplicably saw him in ways no one ever had and who he’d give anything to protect, and in that moment, he wasn’t scared.
He was certain.
“Then we’ll just have to catch him before he gets the chance.”
* * *
Lucy lived by the rules.Knowing that there were ordered steps to get her through any situation gave her a sense of calm that let her take on even the biggest of problems with a cool head. But now that she was facing a pyromaniac who had set fire to a warehouse she’d barely escapedandher SUV, which had very likely been a warning for her to stay away (or worse…oh, God, she couldn’t think of worse), she was pretty sure there were no rules that applied. The realization had nearly tanked her, right there on Dallas Garrity’s office couch, her fear and adrenaline threatening to pull her under and lay claim to her ability to function. But then Sam had slid his pinky finger along the outside of her wrist, the contact so slight she might not have felt it if she hadn’t needed it—neededhim—so damn badly, and she’d been able to focus. To breathe.
Lucy knew this was dangerous, but it felt too right, too vital, for her to fight it.
“Hey,” Sam said, breaking through her churning thoughts with that charming smile that turned her insides all hot and melty despite the fact that they were standing in the lobby of RFD headquarters, their meeting with Dallas and Isabella having ended only five minutes before. “I just got Captain Bridges up to speed. He’s going to connect with Sergeant Sinclair and Dallas to make sure the RPD has enough support, but he agreed that—at least for now—you and I should stick to desk duty and not work any shifts at Seventeen, in case this guy sets a barn burner to try and bait us to a scene.”
It was a smart call, Lucy knew, but still… “Ugh.”
“My feelings exactly,” Sam said. “I know it could be worse, and as badly as I want to nail this son of a bitch, I don’t have a death wish. But patience isnotone of my virtues, and now that we’ve been limited to public places during daylight hours—”
“We’re both going to be climbing the walls while this investigation unfolds?” Lucy finished.
“Misery loves company?” Sam tried, and the words made her speak before her defenses could stop her.
“Speaking of which, I was thinking there might be a way to make this whole thing less painful.”
“Of course you were,” Sam said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “I bet you’ve been making an alphabetized list ever since Isabella said we should only leave our apartments during the day and not to go anywhere that isn’t absolutely necessary.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, but damn it, her laughter escaped anyway. “Nobody likes a smart-ass, Sam.”
“Ah, but we both know that’s not true.” His smile moved through her, making her flush. “Anyway, tell me about this plan of yours.”
“I was thinking that it might be smart for us to, um, stay together.”
Sam’s coppery lashes fanned up to frame his look of surprise. But she couldn’t take it back now, so she barreled forward with the rest.
“Just for a little while, until there’s a break in the case, I mean. Being together kept us from going crazy before, and it seems silly to have two patrol check-ins when we could stay in the same place and have one.” God, she was rambling. “Plus, we’d probably be safer that way. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It was just, you know, a thought, and maybe you’d rather have some space. But—”
“No.”
The word was swift and almost harsh, stopping Lucy short. “Right. Okay. Of course. It was a crazy thought anyway.”
Sam’s brows tugged together for only a split second before he shook his head, adamant. “No, I don’t want space.”
Oh.Oh.“You don’t?”
He took a step toward her, his voice dropping low in the soft din of the lobby, making the conversation entirely private. “I only want you, Lucy. In case you haven’t noticed, I like you, too, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. But”—he ran a hand over the back of his neck—“I know you’re really private about your personal life. I get why, and I respect that one hundred percent, but the Intelligence Unit is going to set up patrols and check-ins. If we stay together, they’re going to know, and somehow, I doubt they’ll buy that we’re doing it for safety purposes. Isabella’s a detective, and she’s also your friend. She probably already suspects something is up.”
“I know,” Lucy said, and although the fact would have terrified her before, now it gave her strength.
This was right. Sam was right. And she didn’t want to fight it anymore.
“I know that if we stay together, that means the Intelligence Unit will know, andthatmeans everyone at Station Seventeen will find out, probably sooner rather than later. It’s not something I take lightly. But it’s also not something I want to hide. I’m okay with everyone knowing, as long as you are, too.”
He laughed, and God, how could something so simple make her feel so damn good?
“I don’t care if no one knows or if you take out a billboard in the middle of downtown Remington. I meant what I said, Lucy. I only want you. Now, do you want to pack a bag, or should I? We’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do.”
23
Sam’s kitchen table looked like a war zone. Not even Lucy, with her impeccable organizational skills and her penchant for keeping things in tip-top order, had a chance of keeping this much information in check. Granted, because they were working out of his place rather than going down to RFD HQ to sit among the boxes of actual files, the chaos here was mostly scribbled pages and sticky notes, along with two poster-sized whiteboards worth of (yep) more notes. But the Intelligence detectives had agreed that the less he and Lucy left his apartment, the better, so in order to circumvent the RFD’s strict policy on no hard-copy files leaving the building, Capelli had set the two of them up with secure laptops to access the RFD’s database. While some older cases hadn’t yet been scanned in, they still had access to most of them from the past decade or so, and poring over the details had taken Sam and Lucy the last three days. They had lists and theories and more lists, fact upon fact about every fire the RFD had fought from start to finish. The only thing they were missing at this point was string connecting the facts that might form a pattern, like a true crime scene board.
