“I figured Luke would tell you.” She ventured an innocent smile, hoping her explanation would be adequate, and that it would cool his anger and clear the tension draining her nerves. But his frown only deepened.
A.J. stiffened and, rather than abating under her smile, his anger seemed to intensify.
“I don’t give a flying fig who got the information first. What I care about is what could have happened to you.”
Sam blinked. Her heart lurched. Had she heard that right? Did A.J. really care about what happened to her? Don’t read anything into that, she told herself. He’d care about anyone. That it was you means nothing special. She opened her mouth to make a retort, but before she could, Chief Joe Santelli joined them.
“Should I get out the gloves? You two look like you’re ready to go a couple of rounds right here.”
Damn! She didn’t want her boss to know about this. He’d just make a big deal about nothing. And it was nothing, she told herself for the umpteenth time that day. If she let it become something, then she’d have to admit that she was scared spineless, and she wouldn’t do that. She would not give whomever planted the incendiary device that much power.
“A.J.’s just blowing this whole thing way out of proportion.” Before A.J. could retort, she picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder and then elbowed her way past the two men. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a hot bubble bath.”
“Out of proportion?” A.J. roared behind her.
Sam closed her ears to him and kept moving. As she walked away from them, she pushed the button on her car remote earlier than usual. It would start her car and get the AC busy cooling off the interior so she wouldn’t have to climb into the stifling heat of the closed SUV.
Instantly, an ear-splitting explosion shook the firehouse.
The whole scene took on a surreal quality. Firefighters carrying fire extinguishers rushed past her. The old man on the park bench bolted to his feet, his mouth forming an O like those plastic Christmas carolers Sam put on her coffee table every year. Directly in front of her, on the edge of the parking lot, a huge fireball burned, the flames leaping wildly toward the darkening sky. In the center of the fire was her SUV. She watched in stunned silence as the firefighters sprayed it with foam from the extinguishers.
Then it hit her. When the car exploded, she could have been in it. You should have been in it, an insidious voice whispered.
She should have died, just like she should have died when she found the incendiary device. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Her stomach heaved, and her knees began to cave.
Strong arms enveloped her and guided her back into the firehouse to Joe Santelli’s office. When she looked up, she saw A.J.’s concerned face looking down at her.
His legs no more adequate to support him than Sam’s seemed to be, A.J. pulled a chair up and sat facing her, their knees inches apart. “You okay?” His voice shook as badly as his insides. What if Sam had been in her car?
“I’m…not…sure,” she said, her voice shaky, her face a ghostly white. “It’s not every day…you get to see…your car…blown up, is it?” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth trembled and ruined the effect.
A.J. took her shaking hand firmly in his. He wanted so much to take her in his arms and make sure she was safe, but in his gut he knew that would be a temporary safety. No one had to tell him that this jerk would try again and again—and wouldn’t stop until he was caught or Sam was dead.
Just thinking about such a thing made A.J. wince with pain, as if someone had reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. He tightened his grip on her hand until she cried out and pulled it out of his grasp. He looked at her.
From the return of color to her face and the tight set of her mouth, it seemed that the pain had roused Sam from the shock. The old in-your-face Sam had emerged ready to do battle. She opened her mouth but before she could speak Chief Santelli entered the office shaking his head.
His pale face and awed expression told A.J. that the violent destruction of Sam’s car had shaken him, too. “They got the fire out. Now, does someone want to help me make some sense of what just happened out there? In short, what the hell’s going on?”
“Maybe this will help,” A.J. said, and turned out the contents of the brown envelope onto Santelli’s desktop. “Sam found this in her house yesterday morning.” Sam glared at him, but he ignored her.
A.J. stared down at the items spread out before him: a partially burned, white business envelope; a few small purple crystals of potassium permanganate that hadn’t gotten a chance to dissolve, thanks to Sam’s quick thinking; and a few drops of opaque hand lotion that hadn’t been totally consumed. A mixture that, if left to do its intended job, would have set Sam’s house on fire while she slept. Just the thought made A.J.’s stomach sour.
Santelli looked at the debris on the desk, swore softly, glanced at the firemen milling around the apparatus bay and then frowned at Sam. “I’ll be right back. We need to talk.” He got up and left the office.
“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?”