“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 the stairs that lead to the upper floor, where the dining room and kitchen were located, hating himself for his part in this. Dust motes danced in the long fingers of afternoon sunlight that fell on Sam’s retreating figure. Odd how, even from this distance, the highlights that flickered in her black hair like tiny blue flames had the power to send waves of heat over his entire body.
As he watched her, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, then turned away quickly.
A.J.’s heart thundered in his chest. Even mad as hell, Sam could stir his blood like no other woman ever had.
He gave a snort of impatience with himself, then moved away from the window. He had to get a handle on this. The last thing he needed in his life was a woman, any woman, but especially not Samantha Ellis. Sam was the kind of woman who would settle down and make a home—a nester. She was exactly the type he seemed destined to get mixed up with, screw up their lives and his, then run from. Sam didn’t deserve that.
What he needed to concentrate on was saving her life, not ruining it by hauling her into bed.
“She’s going to give some poor, unsuspecting guy a run for his money.”
At the sound of Santelli’s voice, A.J. did a quick take of the fire chief’s face. Santelli was also watching Sam move across the bay to the stairs. Was he interested in Sam? An electric charge of jealousy shot through him.
Santelli read his look, then smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested. I make it a policy not to get involved with women in my command. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to throw it all away on a surge of testosterone.” He leaned his forearms on the desk and stared at A.J. for a long moment before speaking again. “I know you haven’t asked for this, but my advice is to steer a wide path around Sam. She’s made it abundantly clear that a relationship with anyone is something she doesn’t want any part of.”
At first he thought the chief was teasing him, but Santelli looked as serious as a heart attack.
Had he been that transparent? A.J. avoided Santelli’s gaze by reading the duty schedule posted on a corkboard beside the door. Unconsciously, he searched for Sam’s name. When he found it, he read her schedule for the coming month. Then he felt Santelli’s gaze still on him, and he quickly turned away.
He sat in the chair across from the chief, then laughed. The brittle sound made his next words ring hollow. “Don’t worry, Joe. A relationship with Sam is the furthest thing from my mind. My only interest is to find out what’s going on—and who’s trying to kill her.”
The next morning, unwilling to call A.J. as he’d instructed her to, Sam rented a car and drove herself to work. She had just settled at the hated desk in the corner of the apparatus bay when the phone rang. “Engine company one-oh-eight,” she recited by rote with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which on her personal can’t-wait-to-do-it scale rated somewhere around minus one hundred.
“Sam?” Rachel Sutherland’s concerned voice came over the wire. “A.J. and Luke told me what happened yesterday. Are you okay? Luke says Santelli put you on the duty desk.”
Rachel’s concern didn’t surprise Sam, but it certainly raised her hackles at being reminded of her punishment, as if she needed reminding.
“I’m fine.” With any luck that would be the end of this part of this conversation.
She’d suffered enough embarrassment over this. The guys hadn’t stopped teasing her since the news got out. One of them even brought in a pillow for her to sit on.
More than a bit embarrassed at her situation, since her assignment would normally have been meted out to someone who had committed a serious infraction, Sam was miffed that A.J. had seen fit to spread the news of her embarrassment far and wide. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Rachel would be one more person to point out to her that her life was in danger—a reminder she could do without and if she heard it one more time would send her running screaming from the room.
She knew that this was not a punishment, and that the chief and A.J. were only thinking of her safety. She should be thankful for that. But if it wasn’t happening to her, it would be much easier. She could accept the logic of their actions. Still, being taken off active duty smarted and that A.J. had been instrumental in it really hurt. Then again, he had no idea how much firefighting meant to her.
Nor