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Blaze can be a dick, but that doesn’t stop my raging attraction to him. Too bad I have to pick the guy who seems to want me here the least to drool over.
“Just making sure you can really handle yourself.”
Well. At least I know where I stand. I tip my hard hat to him. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He surveys me with cool blue eyes, but says nothing.
Whatever.
Even my own family thinks I’m incapable of keeping this job. They never thought I’d land a position in the first place. When I did finally get hired, my mom cried. And they weren’t tears of joy. If it wasn’t for the constant encouragement from my cousin Talia, a journalist and environmental activist in Mapleton, a small town outside Chicago, I probably would’ve given up on this dream.
We pull up in front of an old brick building—a Catholic high school.
Arson fire. Set by a student. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I know the mind of a teen pyro.
The flicker of flames light the windows on a lower wing. The captain directs me to the nearest fire hydrant and I line the truck up perfectly, then jump out and start my job of getting the pump in gear.
The captain stays on my ass, letting Scott do the officer-in-command thing, providing initial size-up and forcible entry. I set the pump to the right pressure and get the water flowing. We have the fire out in ninety-eight minutes. Damage reached the second floor, but the sturdy brick and concrete construction kept the building from sustaining structural problems.
I can’t shake the urge to figure out where the fire started—to prove my hunch is correct.
A heavy hand claps down on my shoulder. “Good work, Sparks.”
I turn, hoping it’s the captain, but it’s Scott.
I kick myself for wanting Blaze’s approval so badly. I know I’m doing a good job and that’s all that matters, right? So far, I haven’t frozen up once. Even when I wanted to just stand back and watch the flames, my fascination with the destruction is a deadly pull. It must be that same pull that nudges me about this fire.
The guys are packing the hose back up, and I should be helping, but I slip away for a chance to do some searching on my own. I circle around to the back corner where the fire was biggest.
There, outside a broken window, I find a gasoline can.
“Burke!” the captain calls, jogging over to me. “Why the fuck aren’t you helping pack up the truck?”
“I was just trying to figure out the cause of the fire.” I point out the gasoline can.
He purses his lips. “Don’t touch anything. We’ll leave it for the inspector to investigate.”
I nod.
“And Burke? You’re not an inspector. If you wanted to search out clues, you shoulda been a cop like the rest of your family. Now get back with the team.”
Asshole.
“Yes, sir.”
But then I realize what he revealed.He knows my family.Why does that set off alarm bells? Is he the source of information for my brother’s friend at another station? The one who told him they’re betting on how long I last?
“I don’t need a fucking hero, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I repeat.
I’m not trying to be a hero. I know that’s why most of them are here, but not me. I’m here because I have twin needs that will never be quenched: Fire. And atonement.
* * *
Blaze
I smellthe scent of sulfur from behind Lia’s closed door and grit my teeth. She’s lighting matches again. That girl seriously needs a talking to. I rap sharply on the door and push it open.
