Page 14 of Burning Justice

“Ready?” He adjusted the AC vents to blow directly through Blaze’s kennel window between the two passenger seats.

“Give me a minute. I want to finish reviewing my interview of Logan Hicks after the first fire. I have a copy, if you want to read it.” She tugged out another report and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He took the report and five minutes later was up to speed on the first warehouse fire two weeks ago. The report was brief but jam-packed with all the requisite details, better than most federal agents’ reports.

As he’d been in her office, again, he was impressed by Gemma’s investigative and organizational skills. The data she’d culled from the ISO database, her maps, spiderweb diagrams… Gemma really did know her shit.

The local CFI, Jose Turin, had found no evidence of MEK or any other accelerant as being the root cause of the first warehouse fire. Unlike the recent fire, the first one had spread slowly enough that the local department was able to respond in plenty of time to save the structure and most of its contents. Though not a certainty, the cause had ultimately been deemed a “probable” accident, with the possibility of a short circuit in one of the overhead fluorescent light fixtures, which, Logan Hicks said, occasionally made a popping sound when turned on.

Brett watched Gemma studying her report. She’d worn casual yet professional beige slacks and a green sleeveless blouse that clung to her body, accentuating her petite figure. She’d pulled her hair high and tight in a thick red ponytail that draped over her bare, shapely shoulder. It reminded him of the way his best friend Deck’s fiancé, Tori, wore her hair. As it did on Tori, ponytails looked good on Gemma. But he shouldn’t be thinking about her in those terms. Working together was reason enough to keep things platonic.

The moment he met someone he liked, he inevitably screwed it up. As soon as things started getting good, it was like someone flicked a switch in his brain. He’d shut down, go cold, and close up. When it came to relationships, either he ended it, or they did. It was better that way. If he stayed, his personal shit would inevitably wind up hurting them.

As Gemma flipped to another page of her report, Brett laughed inwardly. With her perceptive abilities, she’d see through his messed-up life in a heartbeat and kick his ass to the curb lickety-split.

To get his mind off thinking about Gemma in ways he shouldn’t, he focused on the report. “Does the warehouse have any security cameras?” He hadn’t noticed the other night, but it had been so dark, and the fire may have destroyed the cameras before he’d arrived on scene.

She looked up. “It did yesterday, but not for the fire two weeks ago. After the first fire, the owner installed two cameras, one over the front door and the other on the rear corner looking down on the loading bay. Until the first fire, they never thought it would be necessary.”

“If the cams were set up to store footage, maybe we can pull something from the feed.” Although in Brett’s experience, catching arsonists was never that easy. Far too many arson fires went unsolved. “What about a security system?”

“It never went off. Smoke alarms or break-in sensors.”

Hmm. “Could be we’re looking at a disgruntled employee who knew the security code, but that doesn’t explain the smoke alarms not triggering.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Gemma stuffed the reports back into her portfolio, then twisted in the seat and reached through the kennel window to pet Blaze. She might not have a thing for him, but she definitely had one for Blaze. “We’ll be back soon.” Brett’s dog stuck his head out and sniffed Gemma’s ponytail before finally licking her cheek.

Well, she did smell good—like warm milk and honey—something he had noticed when he’d caught her in the warehouse and the second he’d picked her up this morning. That and the fact that she was even prettier than he’d first thought. Stunning, actually. Long, thick red hair with subtle waves. High cheekbones and eyes the color of hazelnuts. No makeup, but she didn’t need any. Not with her clear, creamy skin and full, pink lips.

But again, thinking about her in anything other than professional terms was a wasted cause. More like, he and relationships were a wasted cause.

“He likes you,” Brett observed. Chesapeake Bay Retrievers weren’t known for being overly friendly with strangers, although Blaze was an exception to that rule. He pretty much liked everyone but seemed to have a soft spot for certain people. Like Gemma.

“I think I’m a dog magnet.” While Blaze licked her other cheek, she laughed, which only incited him to lick harder.

Apparently so.

After Gemma got out of the Expedition, Brett locked it up, leaving the engine running and the AC kicked on high.

“Since I’ve already spoken several times with Logan Hicks,” she said as they walked to the entrance, “I’ll take point on the interview.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brett was tempted to throw a salute. NICB Agent Gemma Scott was turning out to be a take-charge kind of woman. Some agents might not appreciate that level of drive or playing second fiddle to someone who wasn’t a federal agent. Brett didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered was that she knew what she was doing, and he wanted to verify his instinct that she did.

She stopped to glare at him. “You don’t need to call me ‘ma’am.’ We’re about the same age, you know?”

Yep, he did know. He was thirty-six and figured she was a couple of years younger. Technically, that made him the senior agent. “Yes, ma—” He grinned when her glare went glacial.

Minutes later, they were shown into Logan Hicks’s office. Only it wasn’t Logan Hicks sitting behind the desk. This man was much older than the one Gemma had pointed out at the fire.

The man stood and stretched his hand across the desk. To Brett, not Gemma. “I’m Robert Hicks.”

Brett shook the man’s hand. “Special Agent Tanner. I’m with the ATF, and this is—”

“Glad to see the ATF is finally involved in this,” Hicks interrupted. His hand was big, his handshake enthusiastic. “Insurance company people don’t have the experience you do.”

What Hicks was saying, in a not-too-subtle way, was he’d be deferring to Brett, not Gemma. Her jaw tightened. Yeah, that had gone down about as well as a blast of pepper spray to the face.

“My experience with insurance agents,” Brett said, glancing briefly to Gemma, “is they can be a real asset to an investigation.” How much of an asset remained to be seen. So far, things were looking promising.