She nodded.
Maybe the chief had sent the right investigator. “That fire was a few years ago,” he said. “You look so young I didn’t realize you’ve been on the job that long.”
She emitted a shaky sigh, and he felt the sweet caress of it against his throat. They were still standing in the doorway—too close. “I thought you were too young, too,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.
“Too young?” Already married and divorced, he felt old—older than his thirty-three years. And after dealing with the threat of the arsonist, he felt even older.
“Too young to be a Hotshot superintendent,” she said. “I didn’t think you were Braden Zimmer when we met in the hallway.”
“Maybe I look younger in just a towel,” he said.
Her lips parted on a soft gasp, and her eyes darkened as her pupils dilated. Her skin flushed. Then she finally stepped away from him and settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Was she embarrassed? He was the one who should have been embarrassed.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he dropped into the chair behind his desk.
“I know,” she said. “You didn’t expect me to show up as quickly as I had.”
“Where were you?” he asked.
“Already on my way here,” she said.
He cocked his head. Did she have a sixth sense, too? How had she known he was going to call? So far the US Forest Service had been letting him and the state police handle the arson investigation. “Why?”
“My dad is Mack McRooney,” she reminded him. “He respects you and also thinks highly of a Hotshot named Cody Mallehan. Mack’s concerned about all of you and asked me to look into the fires.”
“Mack tried to poach Cody from me,” Braden said with mock resentment. “Recruit him as a smoke jumper.”
She smiled. “The way he tells the story, he only lent you Cody, and you won’t give him back.”
Braden chuckled. “I could see how he might see it that way.” Since that was the way it had actually been.
“Lucky for you Mack doesn’t hold a grudge.”
“You call him Mack?” he asked. “To his face?” If he called either of his parents by their first names, Ben and Ramona would kick his butt even now.
She nodded. “He prefers it. My brothers and I have always called him Mack.”
He suspected she’d had an interesting upbringing. “And your mom allowed that?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t stick around to protest.”
And now he remembered hearing that Mack had raised his kids alone. But nobody had ever said if his wife had died. Apparently she’d just left, deserting her husband and her kids.
Sam had had a very interesting upbringing then. He wanted to ask her more. But she was pointing toward the note on his desk. “Is that it?”
Braden suppressed a groan. He’d rather talk about her than the arsonist. He already talked about the fire-starter entirely too much with his team. But he never got any closer to discovering who he was. Maybe Sam could actually help. She had caught the Brynn County arsonist, after all.
He touched the edge of the paper, but she reached across the desk and caught his wrist. “Don’t...”
He didn’t mind her touching him. In fact he kind of enjoyed it—enjoyed the sensation of her fingertips sliding over his skin. But it wasn’t necessary for her to stop him. She moved her hand from his. Then she stood up and moved around the desk until she stood behind him.
“You won’t find any fingerprints on it,” he said. “The state police didn’t find any on the notes he left for Avery Kincaid.”
“She’s the reporter,” Sam said. “The one who did the special feature on your assistant superintendent Dawson Hess.”
He nodded, and his head nearly bumped hers as she leaned over his shoulder. Her breath whispered across his cheek as she read, “‘You made a terrible mistake...’”
He felt her gaze on his face, as if she was speculating what that mistake might have been. He waited for her to ask. But instead she continued to read, “‘And it’s going to cost you—’”
The mistakes he’d made had already cost him.
“‘—and your team gravely...’”
He flinched. He didn’t care about himself as much as his team. It was his responsibility to make sure they were safe. Working fires like they did, they were in enough danger without a psychopath targeting them.
Her breath whistled between her teeth and brushed warmly across his ear. He nearly shivered at the sensation. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in quite a while—not since the drunk women who’d tried to tear off his clothes some months ago. That would teach him for letting Wyatt Andrews talk him into checking out some new club—one that had featured male exotic dancers on the night they’d gone. Braden had fended the women off then, but he suspected he wouldn’t fight Sam McRooney too hard if she had the inclination to undress him.
“Mack was right to be concerned,” she remarked.
Braden uttered a ragged sigh of resignation. She was Mack’s daughter. And Mack was a friend. Braden wouldn’t cross that line with her even if she wasn’t the US Forest Service arson investigator.
“You’re in danger,” she said.
“We already knew the arsonist was fixated on us,” Braden said. “The fires only happen when we’re in Northern Lakes. He’s gone after a couple of my men directly.”
“Cody Mallehan,” she said. “The arsonist cut his brake line and sabotaged a shower, making him slip. He got a concussion out of that.”
Braden added, “He went after Cody’s girlfriend, Serena Beaumont, too.”
“Her boardinghouse was burned down.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have worried about wasting time bringing Sam McRooney up to speed. She obviously knew quite a bit about the fires.
“Just like he burned down Avery Kincaid’s cottage,” she continued. “He’s targeting your superintendents and the women they’re seeing.”
Braden’s stomach clenched with dread. If Dawson had lost Avery or Cody had lost Serena...
He would have lost his men as well. They would have gone out of their minds if such amazing women had been taken from their lives.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.
Braden turned his head, and his mouth nearly brushed across her cheek. Her eyes dilated, the pupils swallowing up the blue until it just rimmed the black.
