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“Oh, I’m up.” Sam pressed his cock over the indent between her thighs, their underwear the only thing keeping him from fucking her on the spot. Lucy moaned in response, her nipples tight little beads against his chest, and Christ, he was never going tonotwant her. “Let’s see what we can do to wake you up, too, hmm?”
Lucy nodded, thrusting against him. “Yes, please.”
Redistributing his weight onto one forearm, he slid a hand between their bodies, dipping his fingers into her panties. His dick, the greedy bastard, throbbed indignantly at all the fun his fingers were having, circling and swirling and making Lucy—fuck, yes—moan in pleasure. A distant buzzing sound tugged at the edges of his awareness, but he shoved it aside in favor of his current task. Unfortunately, Lucy’s penchant for following the rules spilled over into a need to answer the phone under all circumstances, including being more than halfway to orgasm.
“We should…oh, God…answer that,” she whispered, rocking her hips against his hand even as she looked at the phone.
“Or”—Sam pressed the pad of his finger even harder over her clit—“we could ignore it so I can make you come.”
For a second, he thought she’d capitulate. But thenbothof their phones began to buzz, and damn it, something was clearly going on.
“Sam,” Lucy said, her hips now still, and yeah, he’d been officially cock blocked. He shifted all the way to his side, letting her slide out from beneath him to scoop her cell phone from the nightstand beside the bed, his hard-on becoming far less of a distraction when Lucy stilled at the sight of the caller ID. “It’s Isabella.”
Although they spoke with someone from the Intelligence Unit daily for regular updates, those calls were always scheduled. And definitely never at—Sam sent a quick look at the clock on his nightstand—seven twenty-six in the morning. His hard-on (mostly) forgotten, he waited impatiently for Lucy to get past the “hello” part of the conversation.
“Hey, Isabella. No, no, it’s okay. You didn’t wake us. Me,” Lucy amended weakly. “Right. Yeah, Sam is here, too. Do you want me to put you on speaker?”
A quick silence ensued, during which Sam was sure he’d lose his mind.
“Oh,” Lucy said, her eyes wide. “Okay, yeah. We’ll do that, then. In an hour? Okay. We’ll be there. Thanks.”
She hadn’t even fully ended the call before Sam pounced, questions pinballing through his brain at Mach 2. “Was there another fire? Do they have a lead? Did they bring somebody in for questioning?”
“No, maybe, and no,” Lucy said, replacing her phone on the nightstand. “They want to do a debrief in person with us and Dallas. They found a potential lead, but Isabella said it’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” Sam echoed, his mind trying to move in six different directions at once. “What does that even mean?”
But Lucy was right there to ground him. “It means we need to go down to the precinct so they can walk us through what they found and we can all work out what comes next.”
He managed a breath. “Fair enough. You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she said, sliding out of bed and turning toward the bathroom with a grin. “Now are you getting in the shower with me, or not? I was promised an orgasm, and I’d like to collect—and reciprocate—before we have to run out the door.”
Sam flung the covers from his body, chasing her into the bathroom with a laugh as he fell in love with her just a little bit more. “Bet I can make you come twice and we still won’t be late.”
Lucy laughed back, pulling her tank top over her head and letting it flutter to the floor. “Even if I take that bet, I won’t lose.”
And she didn’t.
One shower, two orgasms (three if you counted his), and sixty-two minutes later, they pulled up in front of the Thirty-Third precinct. Nervous energy buzzed under Sam’s skin like a low hum in his veins, but he channeled it into movement, getting out of the Jeep and walking beside Lucy to the main doors. Isabella was waiting in the lobby, and her eyes wasted no time zeroing in on Sam and Lucy’s entwined hands as they walked toward her. He hadn’t expected Isabella to already be downstairs, and his heart stuttered, his body readying for Lucy to loosen her fingers from his. Except instead, she simply held on in that no-nonsense way he loved so much, and Sam held on right back.
Isabella tucked a smile between her lips, then greeted them with a nod. “Hey, sorry for the early wake-up call. But we found something yesterday afternoon that ended up leading us down a very useful rabbit hole. We had a few things to confirm, but now that we have, Sergeant Sinclair wants to bring you two and Dallas up to speed.”
“That sounds promising,” Lucy said, and Isabella led them down the hall to sign them in.
“Mostly, yes. Dallas is already here and Nat was looped in last night. We had to go through additional case files from a few separate jurisdictions, which Capelli thoroughly enjoyed,” Isabella explained without an ounce of sarcasm, “but now that we’ve reviewed everything, it’s definitely looking like it’s all connected.”
They didn’t waste time on anything other than necessity. Sam and Lucy passed through the metal detector in the lobby, clipping their visitor’s badges to the front of their jackets and following Isabella up the stairs to the Intelligence office. The detectives had already gathered in the main space, with Sergeant Sinclair and Capelli talking quietly to Dallas over by the array of monitors along the wall, and Sam’s heart whipped up a fresh batch of adrenaline to pump through his body.
Sinclair lifted his gaze as they approached. “Sam. Lucy,” he said by way of greeting. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.” He gestured to everyone gathered in the room. “Now that everyone is here, let’s get started, shall we?”
“Do you have a lead on the case?” Sam blurted, unable to rein in the words, and Sinclair gave up a wry smile.
“I admire your enthusiasm, Faurier. Yes, we believe we have a credible lead, albeit not one without complications.”
With one lift of Sinclair’s chin, Capelli typed in a command that sent a series of fire scene photos over all six monitors on the array over his desk. Lucy let out a small gasp, and yeah, Sam couldn’t blame her. The images depicted massive amounts of fire damage, although given its catastrophic nature, it was impossible to tell if the photos were all of the same scene or separate incidents. This fire had destroyed even more than the warehouse fire Sam and Lucy had run into, and his throat tightened at the idea of a fire that devastating.
“These photographs were taken from three separate fires set eight years ago,” Sinclair said, giving Sam, Lucy, and Dallas a minute to digest them. “There are six other incidents that fit the same timeline and M.O. Sites range from townhouses and single-family homes to businesses—specifically, a law office, a photography studio, and a hair salon—to an office building and a hotel, both under renovation at the time of the fires. Every one of them burned to the ground.”
