Touched By Fire. Elizabeth Sinclair
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“Thanks a lot,” Sam snapped. She rose and began pacing the office.
“Sam, I—”
“Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand. “I have to think.”
A.J. concentrated on returning the pieces of the incendiary device to the envelope, but, though he tried his best not to watch, he couldn’t ignore the seductive sway of her hips as she walked. His traitorous mind flew to imagining her in a dress, black and slinky. One cut down to the equator in the front and backless. One that would expose her tanned skin to his view. One that would sway against her long legs and mold to her hips and thighs. One that—
“Ellis?”
A.J. started. Blinking, he looked up to find Santelli had come back.
“Park it.” He pointed to the chair beside A.J. Sam resumed her seat wordlessly.
Santelli leaned back in the squeaky desk chair. “Okay, Sam, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”
Sam briefly recounted the events of the previous morning, leading up to and ending with her finding the incendiary device. As she spoke, A.J. quietly fumed at the idea of someone invading Sam’s house and endangering her life. But he managed to hold his tongue.
When she’d finished, Santelli leaned his forearms on his desk. “Any idea who would do any of this?”
Sam shook her head. “None. I’ve racked my brain, and I can’t come up with anyone except maybe an irate property owner who got miffed because I proved his fire was intentionally set. But even then, I don’t recall any of them being especially ticked off at me for ruining their claim.” She took a deep breath and waited while Santelli digested all she’d said.
A.J. studied the relatively new chief of Engine Company 108. Joe Santelli, a middle-aged man who had risen quickly through the ranks and been promoted to chief of the company a few months previous, had a reputation as a no-nonsense type of guy. A.J. suppressed a smile. Knowing that Sam was as headstrong as they came, he could imagine how this cramped her gung-ho style, not to mention made Santelli’s life…interesting, to say the least.
It was common knowledge that Santelli had an almost obsessive need to keep his firefighters safe. A.J. was more than certain that Santelli would take radical steps to see to Sam’s safety. He was equally as sure that Sam would rebel against anything that kept her from doing her job, despite the risk.
“I don’t like this, Ellis,” Santelli finally said, then turned to A.J. “You’re going to check the envelope for prints, right?”
A.J. nodded.
“The police are checking over the car for anything they can find, which probably won’t be much. Since your car was toward the back of the lot, it’s pretty safe to say that no one saw the bomb being installed.” Santelli sighed heavily, then turned back to Sam. “Until we get some results from the crime lab, Ellis, I’m taking you off the truck and putting you on the duty desk.”
A.J. cringed and glanced at Sam for her reaction.
Sam’s entire body went into resistance mode. “What?” She shot out of the chair, her voice raised and demanding. Santelli threw her a quelling look, and she slumped back in her seat and adopted a more respectful, but no less urgent, tone. “Why?”
“Any whack-job who had enough guts to shove this thing in your mail slot with the intent of burning you up—and then blow up your car in the fire department parking lot—is not going to like it that his schemes failed,” Santelli explained patiently.
“But—”
“Santelli’s right, Sam. This jerk is going to keep trying,” A.J. offered.
Sam sent him a scathing glare as if to say Santelli didn’t need any help from him, the chief was wrecking her life quite well on his own. A.J., on the other hand, was using his own unique wrecking ball, and it had nothing to do with envelopes and fire—at least not the kind of fire set with matches.
“Do you think I don’t know that he’ll try again?” she snapped. “Taking me off the truck isn’t going to change that. Besides, if I’m on the truck, I’d have all the guys around for protection.”
“And you really believe that will stop this nutcase?” Santelli countered, his expression telling them he didn’t believe it, and he doubted that Sam really did, either.
Sam seemed to wilt like a flower lacking water. Though relieved that she’d be removed from danger, A.J. felt for her. Any fool could see that firefighting was her life. To take that from her was like depriving her of air.
“Okay, I’ll concede that he may try again, but I still don’t see why you have to take me off the truck.” Sam’s deflated voice tore at A.J.’s heart.
Despite his agreement with Santelli’s decision and how much it eased his own anxiety, A.J. knew these were going to be the longest few days of Sam’s life. He made a mental note to hurry things up in the lab as much as he could to get Sam back on her beloved fire truck.
“Aside from the fact that you’ll be a sitting duck riding on top of that truck and exposed to any nut job at the fire scenes,” Santelli went on, “fires are dangerous enough. I need my attention on all my firefighters, not on who’s trying to do one of them in. And they need their attention on the fire, not on playing bodyguard for you. I want you here, where I can be sure of what’s going on.” When she opened her mouth to resume her protest, he raised a hand. “End of discussion, Ellis.”
Saying nothing, Sam glared at the chief, revolt written all over her features.
Santelli remained silent for a moment, then smiled. “There is another way, Ellis.”
She brightened. “What?”
“I can suspend you from duty and send you home until the police solve this.”
“But that could take—”
“Months,” A.J. interjected. When he saw her expression crumple, he tried to soften the blow. “Of course, you never know. It could be solved as soon as the fingerprints come back. I’ll make sure they get top priority, Sam.” Seeing the defeated sag of her shoulders, A.J. felt Sam had suffered enough trauma for one day. He stood. “If you’re through, Santelli, I’ll take Sam home.”
“Yes, I’m through.”
Sam stood and fixed A.J. with cold blue eyes. “No thanks. You’ve already done quite enough. I’ll get one of the guys to drive me.”
“I said I’ll take you home,” A.J. said, his tone brooking no argument. If he had his way, he’d never let her out of his sight, but he knew she’d never agree to that in a million years. “Until this is solved, I don’t want you going anywhere alone, and I want you to lock your doors when you’re at home.”
She glared at A.J., then Santelli. The chief gave a nod of agreement. “Fine. I’ll wait in the dining room.” Then she stalked out.
A.J. walked to the door. Through the window he watched Sam storm across the apparatus bay toward