Page 17 of Burning Justice

“I’m currently out,” Brett lied. “You can send everything to Agent Scott. We’re partners on this case.”

A corner of Gemma’s mouth lifted.

“We’ll be in touch if we have more questions,” Brett added, then he and Gemma left Hicks’s office.

He led the way outside to the parking lot. “Hicks is still living in the dark ages.”

“Dark ages?” Gemma shook her head disgustedly as she opened the passenger door and tossed her portfolio on the seat. “The man is a dinosaur. According to his puny dino-brain, all women should be at home, barefoot and pregnant, and if they actually have the audacity to go out and get a job, the only one they’re fit for is a secretary. No offense to secretaries, but it’s a stereotype.”

“Hicks is a dinosaur,” Brett said. “He’ll never evolve, and he’s doomed to extinction. People who hang on to the past are generally afraid of the future.” And Hicks was so wrong it wasn’t funny. In fact, some of the best agents he’d ever worked with were women, the best shots at the firing range, too.

“I’ve run into a lot of guys in this business who are dinosaurs,” Gemma said. “Maybe not T-Rexes, like Hicks. More like baby brontosauruses.”

Brett nodded. “Agreed. He’s not the only T-Rex out there, and there could be more of them before we’re done with this case. There’s nothing wrong with occasionally letting your partner take point now and then. Besides, the next person we talk to may not appreciate my devastating charm.”

Shaking her head, she arched a skeptical brow. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Once they’d gotten into the SUV, Brett phoned Sammie Aikens, the Denver Special Ops Task Force intel specialist. While they waited for Sammie to pick up, Blaze’s loud snores drifted into the passenger compartment.

Sammie answered after three rings. “Brett, where ya been hiding?”

“The Springs, mostly.” He pressed the speakerphone icon. “You’re on speaker. I’m working with an NICB investigator, Gemma Scott. We need a few registrations, criminal histories, and backgrounds.”

He rattled off the names of the three people Hicks had fired. Within minutes, Sammie came back with, “No criminal histories for Marissa Young or Stavros Medukin, just a few moving violations between the two of them. Young has a red Prius. Five months ago, she reregistered the Prius in Texas and got a Texas DL. Medukin has a white GMC Yukon.” Sammie recited the tag numbers for both vehicles.

Probably nothing there, but he and Gemma would at least track down Medukin.

Clicking came through the speaker as Sammie’s fingers continued working their magic. “John aka ‘Johnny’ Nash’s last registration is an expired 2006 green Tacoma. He has a record. He did a year for burglary. Prior to that, he was arrested once for arson, but the charges were dismissed.”

Arson? Gemma’s gaze cut to his. This could not be that easy. “Any details on the arson arrest?”

“Give me a sec.” More clicking. “He was caught fleeing the scene of a car fire. He had a can of paint stripper with him.”

“Can you get me a last known address?” Brett asked.

Gemma’s eyes gleamed with the same energy thrumming through his veins.

Because they now had a prime suspect.

Chapter Five

Sally Nash, Johnny Nash’s sister, lived in what could only be described as a dumpy apartment on the third floor of a building that looked like it was about to fall down any second and smelled like rotten eggs.

By the time they reached the third-floor stairwell, Gemma was breathing heavily. Naturally, Brett wasn’t. With those long legs and powerful thighs, he could probably jog up the stairs of the Washington Monument and not be out of breath. She reached for the door handle, but Brett got there first.

“I’ve got this.” In a very gentlemanly fashion, he held open the heavy door.

Good looking and chivalrous. A dangerous combination. That was, if she were the sort of woman who was attracted to the tall, handsome, hunky type, but she wasn’t. Come to think of it, when had she last been attracted to a man? Any man?

Try two seconds ago. Brett Tanner. Ugh. And she couldn’t deny how the brief contact with his arm in Hicks’s office had made her face heat and her skin tingle. She hadn’t noticed any reaction on his part, however, so any tingly feelings in this partnership were one-sided. But she did appreciate his moral support after the interview. More than that, he’d surprised her, because she hadn’t expected him to see, let alone understand, just how much Hicks had gotten under her skin.

Filthy wallpaper hung in peeling strips from the dingy hallway walls. The carpet beneath their boots actually made sucking noises as they walked, and the smell was even worse than the stairwell. Mold, mildew, and an odor that reminded her of dead fish. Gemma made a conscious decision not to breathe through her nose.

Brett knocked three times on the door. A shadow flickered in the gap between the door and the floor, telling them someone stood just on the other side. From inside the apartment, a baby started to cry. Brett held his badge in front of the peephole. A moment later, the door cracked open with the safety chain still in place. A young woman in her mid-twenties held an infant to her shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Ma’am,” Brett said, still holding his badge. “Federal agents. We’re looking for Johnny Nash.”

The woman’s eyes flared wide as she focused on the badge, staring at it as if it was the muzzle of a gun. “He-he’s not here. What do you want with him?”