Connor half-threw himself down on the couch at the fire station. They’d been at the scene longer than usual, poking around in the rubble and assisting the cops on scene. The number of recent fires must have been starting to rattle those higher up on the food chain, too, as an assistant chief from HQ had shown up after they’d been there about an hour. They’d made a beeline for Alex Stone, their battalion chief and then the highest ranking boy in blue there. Connor had watched as the guy had pulled out the plastic baggie holding Scarlett’s find, Connor dropping his head when the sergeant gestured his way. He was in no mood to explain why he’d been the one to hand the evidence over.

He’d barely recovered from the feel of Scarlett’s lips on his before she’d turned and ran. He’d still been reeling from the sensation when she’d uttered those seven little words that had just about imploded his world. Her taste had been incredible, and her touch . . . Connor didn’t want to admit just how little attention he’d been paying to the rest of the world when her hand had brushed his. All the chaos of the scene had just floated away. Standing there behind the truck, shielded from the remains of the fire and the shouts of his co-workers muffled just enough that he’d been able to pretend they were in their own little world.

The kiss had lasted under a minute before he’d jumped back, cursing the sudden stab of whatever the hell that thing was in his chest. He should have ignored it, kept touching her, his lips moving against hers harder, taking her . . .

Mason plopped down on the couch next to him, jolting Connor out of his thoughts. God, he was a complete idiot. He and Scarlett might have been tucked away from immediate view, but they were still only steps away from the heart of a suspicious fire in the center of a joint investigation. It would have only taken one of his crew to need something from the truck, to step around the side, or worse yet, the lieutenant who had arrived on scene maybe ten minutes after Scarlett left arriving early. All his guys would have done is some good-natured teasing, but he didn’t know what Scarlett faced at work. From the little she’d told him, the guys at the station had been awkward around her for months after her husband’s death, and still treated her with kid gloves.

He hunched his shoulders and shifted on the couch. Some of it was justified, probably. He wasn’t sure he’d know what to say to someone’s widow without making a total ass of himself. Thank God they’d never lost anyone at the firehouse since he’d started, but the threat was always there, worming its way inside your brain if you let yourself think about it too long. Coming face-to-face with the death of one of your own and then having to investigate it would be as hard as hell. It was a crap situation all round, and he hated that Scarlett was stuck in the middle of it all. Though he couldn’t blame her fellow cops from wanting to protect her from anymore heartache. He did, too. But trying to shield her from the evils of the world wasn’t the way to go about it.

Scarlett needed to be in the thick of it, solving cases and getting the assholes off the street. It was where she felt like she belonged, where she shined. That much had been obvious to him in just the short time since he’d met her. That didn’t make the urgent need to protect her surging through him any less powerful. Even if there wasn’t anything more between them than friendship, he’d want to keep her safe, but the sparks that her mere touch could ignite, the way her body softened against his, the small noises she’d made as he’d thrust . . .

Connor shifted on the couch again, needing to adjust a different part of his anatomy that time. Mason looked over from where he was fiddling with the TV remote, raising an eyebrow. “Alright over there, Cowboy?” His lieutenant’s hair was wet, and he’d changed into a fresh uniform. Unlike Connor, he’d taken the time to freshen up before taking a seat on the furniture. Connor didn’t seem to be able to get out of his own head long enough to do anything since Scarlett had taken off that morning.

Connor smiled, inclining his head, half in acknowledgment of Mason’s words and half in case his control over his expression wasn’t working. He’d felt the slow crawl of heat on his neck at Mason’s words and could only hope the blush hadn’t made it onto his cheeks. He couldn’t exactly avoid replying. His cock, which seemed half-mast almost constantly around Scarlett, had surged to life thanks to his imagination, making standing up and moving impossible. He really didn’t want to explain why he was sitting there in the firehouse with a stiffy.

Mason must have taken his head jerk as a response, as he ignored Connor’s idiotic shuffling and kept talking. “Alex mentioned you found something at the scene?”

Okay. There was obviously no getting away from it. Storing the memories of Scarlett that had nothing to do with her job away for safekeeping, he turned to Mason. “Scarlett did, actually. I noticed her digging through the rubble and went over to help.” Mason nodded and Connor continued. “No idea what it is, really. Some weird piece of metal with a design stamped on it. Could be something, could be nothing. I helped her clean it off at the truck so we could get a better look.” He paused, shrugging. “She . . . uh . . . forgot it when she had to leave and sent me a text asking me to hand it in to the officer in charge to be processed.”

Mason’s gaze was sharp. “So it never left your custody before you handed it in?”

Connor shook his head. “No. It was in my line of sight the entire time.”

“Good,” Mason said. “Last thing we need is to bungle any of this. We haven’t worked together like this before, but I’m all for it if it’ll figure out what the hell is going on.”

Connor’s thoughts returned to the fires from the last couple of shifts, his dick fortunately deflating as his attentions switched. There would be time for working out what the hell was going on between Scarlett and him later when shift was over. For now, maybe he could help her in a different way. He turned back to Mason. “Can I borrow your laptop?”

“No problem,” Mason said. He stood and stepped over to his office, returning a few seconds later holding the device. He passed it over to Connor. “Anything I can help with?”

Connor pulled out his phone. “Whatever it was that Scarlett found, it had a symbol stamped on it.” He touched the camera icon and then swiped through to the images, passing his phone to Mason. “I didn’t recognize it as any logo I know. Seen it anywhere?”

Mason studied the image, swiping through a couple of the photos Connor had taken before handing the metal over to the sergeant, turning the phone around, and looking at the image at different angles. “Nothing I recognize either, but look here.” He pointed to an edge. “That’s not a clean break. It’s been sheared off.”

He passed the phone over, and Connor studied where he’d been pointing. The metal piece was too deformed to see what it had once been a part of, but Mason was right. A sick feeling took up residence in Connor’s gut as he stared at the photo. It didn’t matter how hot a fire got, heat alone wasn’t enough to do that. The edge of the metal fragment was stretched, the edge feathering, and a slight blue colored the end. Was that simply an artifact from his camera in the low light, or evidence of something else? He thought back to the various household chemicals they’d found at the first fire, and those weird-as-hell tanks at the next. It was possible, if there had been an explosion, that it was entirely accidental. Improper storage of chemicals wasn’t exactly new. Spontaneous combustion caused a large amount of fires, even at residential buildings. Was that all this was? “What are Liam’s thoughts?”

Mason’s face was grim. “It’s too early for any of the forensics yet, and the police are handling most of that from the latest fire, but he’s concerned.” Mason picked up the laptop and opened a search engine. “He’s right to be. We all are.” He typed into the search bar, his jaw tight. “An upsurge in activity like this is never good.”

Connor pocketed his phone and shuffled closer to Mason on the couch, leaning over to share his view of the screen. “Find anything?”

“Nothing yet.” Mason clicked through the first page of results, then switched to the image search.

They’d made it through three pages of results when Alex Stone appeared at the door, the assistant chief with him. “Rawlings. My office.”

Mason huffed and pushed off the couch, handing Connor the laptop, his head inclining slightly over to where Chief Stone had disappeared down the hall with command. “I think we’re all a little on edge right now.” He pointed at the screen balanced on Connor’s lap. “Keep looking. You never know.”

Connor nodded. He pulled his cell out again, his hand lingering over the phone button now that he was alone again. It would be so easy—just slide his finger over Scarlett’s contact and call her, even type out a reply to her earlier message. But he couldn’t make his hands cooperate. Nerves, guilt—who the hell knew. He was torn between wanting to feel her under him again and potentially losing her forever, between protecting her from the dangers he was becoming more certain by the second were out there, or letting her fly, to do what she did best. To find joy in her job again, even if that was all she could do for now.

He scrubbed at his face as he clicked to another page. Scarlett had been hurt deeply, past anything he could imagine, but she was also the most passionate woman he’d ever met. She had a light about her that surely nothing would ever completely extinguish. She was just too damn smart, too good. Working their type of job, helping others—it was in her blood as much as it was his. There was no way she was going to hide away from the world forever, and he was determined to be there when she was ready to take it on again. He turned his attention back to the laptop. Until then, he had a job to do, one that could potentially help her in another way. This case meant something to her, more it seemed than others she’d recently worked on. If he could help her solve it, even the tiniest part, it would be worth hours staring at identical thumbnails, searching for a small clue.

He stood, made his way over to the kitchen and prepped himself the strongest cup of coffee that was possible from the disgusting instant stuff they kept at the firehouse, and then moved back to the laptop. Mason was still nowhere to be seen, which proved how intense things were getting at HQ. He took a swig of the coffee, then started up a new search.

One page turned into two, then ten, then more than a hundred, as the words started to blur before his eyes. Connor glanced over at his half-filled coffee cup. Someone other than he had taken to keeping it filled and hot, though he hadn’t noticed who, with his nose buried in the laptop. He shifted, and a muscle in his lower back protested loudly. He groaned, placing the laptop next to him and standing up to stretch. Just how long had he been sitting there, stinking up the place?

With one last look at the screen, he snapped the lid shut and then made his way over to the showers. He’d freshen up and then get back to it. Maybe someone would take pity on him and find him some sugar to go with the caffeine. Mason wouldn’t notice if he borrowed something from the stash Sloane sent over, would he? Connor grinned at the thought as he shed his smoky clothes and stepped into the shower. Mason would probably punch him if Connor stole his favorite muffin, but there was probably something slightly healthy tucked in the back of the freezer, something that contained actual fruit or some shit like that. The man wouldn’t complain too much if Connor ate one of those. Probably.

It wasn’t until he had his head under the water with his hair lathered up that Connor heard the buzzing of his phone alone the tiled bench of the bathroom counter top. Normally he’d have left it in his locker, but he hadn’t been able to make himself leave it behind. Swearing, he rinsed quickly and lunged for it, thankful that he was alone in the showers. After grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist with one hand while turning the phone over to read the screen with the other. He nearly dropped it as the illuminated screen flashed Scarlett’s name. He swiped to answer, ignoring the droplets that fell onto the screen from his hair. “Scarlett? What’s up?”

There was a long pause before her voice came down the line, and when it did, it chilled Connor to his core. She was quiet, too damn quiet, her voice thin and lacking any emotion at all, not even the fighting spirit he adored. “Connor? I need some help.”