“Rachel’s not going in there tomorrow or any other time,” Luke said, his face set in determination.
“What?” A.J.’s shocked voice combined with Rachel’s.
Luke’s expression never wavered. “She’s going back to Georgia. We’ll find someone else. Someone who—”
“No!” Rachel’s fury nearly choked her.
He doubted her ability to come through on the job, all because of what had just happened. But the worst had passed, and she could attack this case with the composed professionalism she’d always shown on her job. His trying to cut her loose before she could prove it infuriated her.
When she spoke again, her tone clearly showed both men just how pissed off she was. Her gaze narrowed on her ex-husband. “Who in hell do you think you are that you can make that decision? I chose to come here from Atlanta to help you. The first time I flinch, you’re going to send me home?”
Luke glared back at her. “That was hardly a flinch. And as for who I think I am… I’m the one heading up this task force, and I need people who won’t fall apart on me.” He stopped, took a deep breath and spoke slowly, as if addressing a child. “I don’t want you here.”
She did flinch this time.
The flames behind them billowed skyward, their hissing roar a reflection of the anger Rachel felt. She took a step closer to him. “You weren’t the one who called me here. And as for me falling apart, I suppose you came to that brilliant conclusion from what happened a few minutes ago.”
“What happened?” A.J. asked.
They ignored him.
“Damn straight I did.” Luke clenched his fists. “I saw how those crime-scene photos affected you this afternoon, and now the fire. Bringing you here was a huge mistake, but there’s still time to fix it before your emotions get you killed.”
“What will get me killed is not having my mind on my job because I’m worried that you’ll throw me on the next bus home,” she shot back at him. “What about you? Are you gonna tell me that your emotions aren’t kicking in on this case?”
His whole body stiffened. “We’re not talking about me,” he said, evading her question. “We’re talking about you, and I say you go home.”
Rachel faced off with him and gritted her teeth.
“Whether I go or stay is my call, and I say I stay.”
“You’re both wrong,” A.J. said, stepping between them. “It’s my call.” He faced Rachel, his features set in an uncompromising expression. “No one knows if you’re up to this better than you do, Rachel. So, I’m only going to ask this once, and I expect you to level with me. Can…you…handle…this?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She glared at Luke over A.J.’s shoulder, daring him to argue the point. “Yes, I can.” A.J. looked deep into her eyes, then nodded. “That’s good enough for me. I’ve known you for a long time, and in that time, you’ve never put yourself or anyone else at risk by taking on a job to prove a point or to feed your own ego. I’m assuming the same still holds true. If you say you can do it, then we’ll go for it.” He turned to face Luke.
Luke opened his mouth, but before he could say one word, A.J. raised his hand to silence further discussion.
“Meet her here tomorrow to walk this scene. Afterward, you can take her to the others. They’ve been officially released, so you’ll need a warrant to get on the premises. I’ll call Judge Hawthorn when I get back to my office and get the necessary paperwork out of the way.”
“Thanks, A.J.,” Rachel said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Don’t thank me.” His demeanor had transformed from her friend, to a hard-nosed cop. “Do your job. If I think for one second that you’re giving me less than one hundred percent, I’ll replace you faster than my ex-mother-in-law decided she hated my guts.” He turned to Luke. “One more thing. Whatever personal issues you two have with each other, settle them on your own time and keep them out of this investigation.” He glanced at Rachel. “That means both of you. Am I clear?”
Rachel nodded.
Staring first at A.J., then Rachel, Luke cursed under his breath. “I hope to hell you both know what you’re doing,” he muttered, and walked away.
Luke ordered another neat scotch, then glanced around the crowded bar. A blonde almost wearing a red minidress made eye contact and smiled. For lack of anything else to do, Luke smiled back. She sauntered toward him, then leaned one forearm on the bar and thrust her ample, man-made chest inches from his nose. The top of her strapless dress nearly lost its precarious hold.
For a second, he imagined Rachel’s luscious body filling the flaming red dress, her full breasts overflowing the top. His groin tightened painfully.
“Buy a girl a drink?”
Luke gave her feminine display the once-over. When he was a young stud new to the force and during the two years since he’d last seen Rachel, this woman’s barely veiled invitation would have called out to his male libido, but not since Rachel had come back into his life. Since the moment he’d first seen her at headquarters, his head was filled with his ex-wife and that left no room for contemplation of a quick roll in the hay with someone else. He turned away and motioned for the bartender to give the woman whatever she wanted to drink.
A few minutes later, the man behind the bar set a frothy, pink drink in a Manhattan glass in front of her. Instantly Luke thought about Rachel and her favorite drink, gin and tonic. No frills. No pretense. Just like the woman. Suddenly, the all-but-nonexistent interest he’d had in the woman diminished to minus zero, replaced by a soul-deep need for Rachel. Would he ever be able to think of her without that excruciating pain of loss filling him?
“You alone?”
Luke shook his head. “I’m taken,” he said, and flashed the ring on the third finger of his right hand, the thin, gold band he’d never been able to bring himself to take off completely.
“Wrong hand,” the blonde said, her voice a low purr, her smile seductive and full of unspoken promises.
“I never could tell left from right,” Luke said, then downed the last of the scotch and flipped some bills on the bar. “I’m still taken.” And probably always will be, he added to himself.
The blonde looked around. “So, where is she?”
He tapped a finger over the left side of his chest. “In here.” Then he left the bar.
Outside, he stood on the sidewalk and looked absently up and down the street. The deafening music coming from the bar followed him. He glanced back at the open door and could see the baffled woman at the bar staring at him. He saluted her. She frowned, made a rude hand gesture and turned away.
He probably should have warned her that drinks didn’t always come with promises. Hell, little in life did. She’d read more than she should have into a friendly gesture. He could have lied to her, but he hadn’t. Rachel was in his heart, as much a part of him as his skin, and had been from the first day he’d seen her with soot on her nose and a determination in her expression that defied explanation. Ever since that day, there hadn’t been a night or a day he hadn’t thought about her, longed for her, pained for her.
He thought about her at the fire tonight, how scared she’d been, how tortured, and had a sudden need to affirm that she was okay. As he walked toward his car, he obeyed the longing churning inside him and reached for his cell phone, then punched in the numbers he’d memorized off the paper A.J. had given him and pressed it to his ear.
“Hello.”
At the sound of his ex-wife’s voice, a familiar band of pain tightened around his heart. He