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“No way,” Quinn said, putting her arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “That would be letting him off far too easily.”
Gamble stood to his full six foot five inches, every last one of his muscles flexing beneath his uniform. “Not the way I deliver an ass-kicking.”
“Not that I don’t believe you, or necessarily disagree, since I’m sure you could seriously fuck him up with just your thumbs,” Shae said, “but Quinn has an awful lot of medical knowledge. I’m notsayingshe could make a murder look like an accident and that I would be her lookout while she did, but…” She shrugged and gave up a catlike smile.
“While I very much appreciate the sentiment,” Lucy said, wanting to cut this line of the conversation short before someone broke an actual law, “trust me when I say that Brandon isn’t worth the trouble. Now, if we happen to channel all of this ass-kicking energy into this year’s charity softball tournament…”
“Oh, that’shappening,”Luke promised. “Station Forty-Six is going down like a sack of hammers.”
“Okay, okay,” Shae said, waving one hand through the air. “We’ve only got ten minutes before roll call, and if I can’t spend them thinking up creative ways to bury a body—hypothetically—then you can bet your ass that I’m going to be spending them getting some juicy details about this relationship of yours, Firefighter de Costa.”
Gamble, Kellan, and Luke all scrambled back a step, each of them looking anywhere but at Lucy directly. “That is my cue to go to wherever it is in this fire house that is the exact opposite of right here,” Gamble said, and Kellan and Luke nodded in agreement. They were gone a second later, and Shae wasted no time pouncing.
“Sam Fucking Faurier,” she crowed, and God, Lucy had known it was coming.
She pressed (most of) her smile between her lips. “It just sort of happened.”
“The best relationships always do,” Quinn laughed, lifting her left hand and wiggling her fingers so the light glinted off the gold band there. “Ask me how I know.”
“Well, things will still be the same here. Work is work,” Lucy said.
“Wait.” Shae looked at her. “Does Bridges know?”
Lucy lifted a brow, unable to resist ribbing Shae just the tiniest bit. “Do you think I’d pass on an opportunity to follow the rules?”
“No, but Faurier sure as shit loves to break them,” Shae countered, the words making Lucy’s heart pinch.
She shook it off. “We told Bridges this morning. There’s no freelancing, remember? We’re all a team.”
“Well, I can’t say I saw it coming,” Shae said, “but then again, Capelli and I are the perfect example of opposites attracting. Faurier might fly by the seat of his pants, but he’s a good guy, and you’re obviously awesome, becausehello, you’re one of my besties. I’m so glad you’re happy.”
“I am happy,” Lucy admitted, letting Shae and Quinn hug her one more time.
But somehow, the pinch in her chest at the idea of Sam breaking the rules refused to fully ease.
28
Malachi needed something to set on fire. Need crawled under his skin, rough and dry, like sand. It filled every part of him, all the tiniest spaces, making it impossible to move or breathe or even think without feeling it. Scraping. Begging to be scratched.
One flicker,the voice promised, low and sweet. This voice had taken the place of his father’s over the past few days, and although it was kinder, it was far more insidious.
Burn,it told him, making his heart pound.Start the fire with one flicker. Feed it and watch it bend to your will. Let it destroy everything. Watch it all burn.
Burn. Burn, burn, burn, burn…
Malachi gasped, his breath ragged in the cold morning air. He pressed his back against the dingy concrete wall of the abandoned building where he’d spent the night. He hadn’t been able to risk going to a shelter or even a part of the city where houseless people tended to congregate in tents or sleeping bags. He’d seen the RPD flyers with his face on them, the patrol officers who had been more present than usual in the parts of North Point where they thought—smartly—that he would be.
He didn’t know the last time he’d slept or eaten. Neither of those things had mattered when he’d had plans to make. But he’d needed to stay hidden, and that had made planning difficult. The voice was so insistent now, demanding fire, screaming for something to burn. It had occurred to Malachi that the voice washisvoice, and that it had been silenced for so long that now it craved freedom. Rebirth. Now, more than ever, Malachi needed to rise from the ashes, finding new things to burn so he could restart the cycle of cleansing over and over again.
But first, he needed to finish what he’d started.
Now,the voice whispered.Do it now. Today.
Malachi paused. He’d come up with a good plan, scouting out sites and taking inventory on the storage locker he’d rented with a fake ID and paid for in cash after he’d had to move out of the house he’d shared with his mother. He had nearly everything he needed to put his plan into action. But he’d wanted more time to let the RPD get complacent. To let Sam and Lucy think they’d gotten away with besting him, that they’d made him disappear.
You’re going to get caught,the voice told him.All it will take is one person to see you. One person getting lucky with a surveillance feed, and you’ll be caged for the rest of your life like your father.
Malachi’s heart raced, adrenaline pulsing through him, hot and fresh. No. No. He could not be caught. He’d rather die than rot away in an eight-by-eight cell with nothing but this need to burn things and the inability to heed it.
