Seth stared at Maya. Even as she moved over to the chief’s desk to sign some sort of paperwork, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She hadn’t given him one inch during their conversation, or anyone else. The chief could be a scary guy, even to a veteran firefighter, but Maya stood her ground. There was fire in her eyes, and steel in her backbone . . . and yet. Seth cocked his head, watching as she scribbled her name at the bottom of the form. Probably promising she wouldn’t sue if she ended up with a piece of fallen timber on the head or something. The building was past saving, any idiot could see that, and yet no one had gotten around to bulldozing it yet. Maybe the judge’s wife was holding up proceedings; maybe the law was. Seth had no idea. It was his job to put the fire out, whatever came after was . . . well, after. He was already moving onto the next blaze.

“So when should I meet you?” Maya’s voice forced his attention back to the present. She was standing in front of him, holding a folder of papers. “Or can we go over there right now?”

He shot a glance over her shoulder at the clock. “I’m off in a couple of hours, need to go home first, take care of a few things. Maybe around eleven?”

She nodded curtly. “See you then.” Before Seth could reply, she’d spun out of the room. She clung to them as if they were the most precious thing in the world, at the same time making a hasty getaway. Just what was her story?

“You be careful with that one,” the chief said, nodding his head in the direction Maya had flown. “Rumor has it her brother is the one that put two bullets in the judge’s head.”

Well, crap.

He turned to Stone, his eyes narrowing. “Anything I need to know about there, Chief? Crime family, random drug addict? Am I likely to get knifed in the back before next shift?”

Stone’s face turned grim. “Oh, Son, it’s much worse than that.” Seth made a face. Worse? “He was a Fed.”

Okay. He knew the chief wasn’t exactly a fan of the alphabet soup agencies showing up in town and taking over, but it wasn’t something the firehouse had to deal with very often. That was usually left to the sheriff’s office and the cops. Sure, they might get asked a couple of questions, but that was the extent of their involvement. It had shocked the entire town when the judge had been killed, and it was all people had spoken about for weeks. Judge Turner hadn’t lived there full time, traveling to Atlanta when he was in session, but when he could, the judge liked to call Monroe home. His wife preferred the quiet life, or so the ladies who sat outside the grocery store said. He didn’t have much time—or interest—in local gossip. But even he’d taken notice when a federal judge had been murdered in their backyard. He just hadn’t realized it had been another Fed who’d done the job. What the hell had happened? And for that matter, what agency? “Who was he?” Seth asked the chief.

“FBI.” The chief shook his head. “To have to go through that, losing a family member and then finding out they can’t lie straight in bed. No wonder the girl is messed up.” He returned to sit behind his desk. “Walk her through the scene, Seth, and answer any questions. Maybe that’ll be enough for her to be able to put the whole mess to rest and move on.”

He nodded and paced out of the office. Shift was ending in just over an hour. He snagged another piece of bacon on his way through the main room and kept walking, ignoring Matt’s questions about what the chief had wanted and who the hot little piece of ass was in his office. The guy had been a part of the house so long he was practically furniture, and had clearly forgotten any sort of tact. Though Seth had no idea why it bothered him. Usually he joked right along with them. The firehouse wasn’t exactly politically correct, most of the time. Even Charlie—Charlotte—their EMT who worked shifts with Shane, joined in with the best of them. He opened his locker. Grabbing his bag, Seth snorted at the thought of the woman he’d met that morning being any sort of gentle or delicate. She’d looked like she was out for the kill. He closed his locker door, deep in thought. There had been something there, hovering just beneath the surface. As much as she’d tried to hide it, anyway.

Of course there is, Idiot.

With what she’d been through, even the most hardened soul would be shaken by that. Losing a family member, and one in the prime of his life, his career, only to find out it was all a sham. That brought up another question. Why was she here? Was she just looking for answers to what happened that night, or was there something more going on? Surely the FBI had already conducted their own internal investigation. He frowned. Just what exactly was protocol in situations like this? He had no idea. Taking off his watch, Seth noticed the time. Shit, if he was going to get out of here in time to meet her, then he had to stop trying to figure it all out and just get on with it. He rushed through his shower, almost groaning in pleasure when the suds ran over him and finally washed away the smoke and ash. Sometimes he spent the entire shift filthy, but at the end of the day, the warm water always felt good.

Except today, when he couldn’t get Maya out of his Goddamned mind.

He reached over and turned the water all the way to cold. The woman had lost her brother, and tragically, for fuck’s sake. He was there to help her and nothing more. He’d ignore her long, silky hair and deep pools of blue eyes, and get the job done. That was the only option. Besides, he had a feeling the chief would have a problem with him hooking up with a rescue victim, however loose that connection was.

Seth dried off and threw on his street clothes, shoving his uniform back in his bag. He was out of time to run it through the machines at the firehouse, and so he’d have to do a separate load at home and make sure he got it dry in time for next shift. His apartment wasn’t exactly large, but he could find an extra chair to sling his shirt and pants over. Fortunately, it looked as though his turnout gear had come through the fire that morning unscathed and was safely stowed away.

After walking out of the locker room, he turned the corner and nearly collided with Liam Cohen, one of the county’s fire investigators, and more recently hooking up with Meg, the owner of Promise House, a local shelter that all the boys supported. Liam was one lucky guy. They both were, he supposed. Meg and Liam, Amy and Dean, not to mention his captain, Mason, and Sloane. The boys were falling all over the place, but even with the ribbing he gave them, in a way he envied them. It had to be nice to come home at the end of a long shift and have someone waiting for you, keeping the bed warm. Seth didn’t even have a pet. His place was too small for much more than a goldfish, and besides, who knew where his life was going to take him?

He fell into step beside Liam. “Got a minute?”

Liam nodded. “Just finished meeting with Stone. I need to head over to Promise House for breakfast.” He grinned. “I promised Meg her favorite. But I can spare a few. What’s up?”

They walked into the main room and Seth grabbed a couple of mugs, waving one at Liam. He nodded and Seth poured them both a cup of coffee. It was strong enough that the spoon could just about stand up on its own, but it was what he needed after a long night out on a call. “The fire on Marshall, Judge Turner’s place. What can you tell me about it?”

Liam took a swig of coffee, grimaced, and reached for the sugar. “What the hell do you guys put in this stuff?” He added several heaped teaspoons to his mug, stirring. “And the Turner fire . . . why the sudden interest?”

“You didn’t hear about our visitor this morning?”

Liam shook his head. “Stone mentioned something about you probably having questions about a fire, but he didn’t mention which one. Who was here this morning, another investigator, FBI?”

“The perp’s sister.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? What the hell is she doing here?”

Seth shrugged. “No idea. She asked to see any records we had on the fire, and the chief nominated me to show her through the scene.”

“Huh. I’m surprised Stone let her have anything.”

“Only what’s already on the public record. Though why the FBI didn’t just give that to her, I don’t know.” He turned to Liam. “Is there something going on there that I don’t know about? Why would she be on such a crusade when her brother is the one that set the whole thing up?” Huh. Now that he stopped to think about it, it didn’t make a ton of sense. None, actually.

Liam tapped a finger on the tabletop. “You know, that night was a little weird.”

Okay. “Weird how, exactly?”

“We recovered two bodies, the brother and the judge. Mrs. Turner was still at their place in Atlanta, thank God, visiting friends. The judge had been double tapped, dead before the fire even started. The other body, though . . .” Liam frowned. “I actually don’t know the cause-of-death determination for that one. The Feds took it over before the locals got a shot at it. He was one of their own, from what I’ve heard, undercover.”

“But?” Seth gestured for Liam to continue.

“But why was there a second body in the first place? He was found upstairs, in the same bedroom where we found the judge. What was he even doing up there? Did he set the fire and then go back upstairs to check something, forget something? Or maybe it spread faster than he was counting on and he couldn’t get out in time. There were some pretty expensive—and flammable—fancy-ass drapes and rugs in that place.” Liam shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”

Flashover. It didn’t take long, far less than most people even realized, before the entire room was engulfed in flames. It was what had nearly cost Seth his turnout gear that morning. All you needed was a room with enough of certain materials in it and then heat it up and . . . boom. The entire room ignited in flames simultaneously. Enough firefighters were caught in them every year. Put a civilian in a situation like that, and he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Seth nodded. “Is the structure safe? Stone wants me to take her through the place after shift this morning.”

“Should be fine, just take a couple of hard hats and—”

“Don’t touch anything,” Seth interrupted. “I know the drill.”

Liam chuckled. “I was going to say don’t fall through the floor, but hey, have at it.” He leaned over, nudging Seth with his shoulder. “I’m serious, though; some of the second floor landing is pretty burned through. Be careful.”

“You got it.” He’d watch his step. One near-death experience a shift was enough for Seth. Added to that, the thought of anything happening to Maya—Miss Graves—was enough to send a shiver through him. He took another gulp of his coffee and forced the thought to the back of his mind. He’d show her through the place, keep her safe, and then she’d be on her way out of town. What other option was there?