Page 73 of Burning Justice

Brett grinned. “Some things a good dog just knows.”

They continued to the Expedition. When they were all inside with the AC cranking, Gemma tossed her portfolio on the dashboard. “What did you think?”

“He didn’t give us anything we can use, and he’s alibied for the time we were chasing that white SUV and for the shooting.” Brett made a sound of disgust. “But my gut says he’s dirty.”

They watched Michael and Kelly Hawkin leave the office together. While Michael locked the glass door, Kelly jabbed a finger at her husband and began shouting. Brett rolled down his window but still couldn’t make out her words. Whatever they were discussing, she was one PO’d woman. They both got into the BMW, with Kelly driving. A moment later, tires screeched as she punched it from the parking lot.

Gemma sighed. “Quite the loving couple, aren’t they?” Her phone dinged, and she looked at the screen. “Logan Hicks sent an email.” She began scrolling. “There are at least thirty invoices for materials purchased by Michael Hawkin of Hawkin Construction in the three months prior to the Torrance Lane fire.”

“And?” he prompted. From the way the crease on her forehead deepened, she’d found something.

“And,” she said, handing him her phone, “most of the purchases were processed by guess who.”

Brett stared at the phone. “Johnny Nash.” He scrolled through five more invoices. “That fucker was lying. I’d say he definitely knew Nash. It would be hard to forget someone you made thirty or so purchases from in ninety days.”

“Begging the question…”

“What else is he lying about?” Brett finished for her.

Chapter Twenty-One

The drill whirred as Gemma squeezed the trigger, screwing in the last of the window break sensors on the second floor of the house. She squinted as the sun’s rays blared through the window. It had to be after eight.

Last night, she’d gotten a jump on installing her new security system, then, since she couldn’t sleep, had risen early, at four a.m. to be precise, and dived right in again.

She stepped back to make sure the two pieces of the sensor aligned properly on the sash. Thoughts of the case—and Brett—had left her tossing and turning last night. Their unstated, silent agreement not to discuss anything besides work was driving her up the wall.

Like him, she’d thought Hawkin had been hiding something, even before they’d spoken with Logan Hicks about the warehouse invoices. There was something about Hawkin she couldn’t put her finger on, but no one had ever been convicted on gut instinct. As Brett continually pointed out, they needed more.

She headed downstairs to brew a pot of coffee. At least she’d managed to fend off Brett’s insistence on helping her install the security system.

Yesterday, after they’d left the Hawkin Construction office, he’d driven directly to a store that sold residential security systems and helped her pick one out. He’d wanted her to hire the same company to install it, but after being attacked, the idea of total strangers walking around her house sent a spurt of anxiety through her. When Brett had offered to install it for her, she’d politely declined. If she could renovate an old Victorian on her own, installing a security system was a cake walk.

That and she really didn’t want him in her house again, taking up the same space, breathing the same air. Not after the intimacy they’d shared. The man’s presence was too big, too powerful. Just thinking about his big, strong hands stroking her skin, cupping her breasts…the rest of what he could do to her body was too much to handle.

She let her head fall back, chastising herself for being stupid and breaking the proverbial cardinal rule by getting involved with a colleague. Being so attracted to Brett had taken her completely by surprise. What surprised her more was how much she’d come to care about him.

From now on, she’d either meet him at his office, the bagel deli, or at whatever location they were headed to for the day. The last thing he’d said when he’d dropped her off was that he’d call this morning, and they’d figure out their next step. As long as he stayed out of her personal space, and as long as they stuck to business, everything would be fine.

Gemma was reaching for the coffee carafe when a knock came from the front door. She set the carafe on the counter and grabbed her phone to test the new camera. It was probably Bonnie checking in.

As she cued up the door cam, her eyes widened, then her idiotic, incapable-of-sticking-to-its-resolve heart beat faster, because standing on the stoop, holding a Great Scott Bagel Deli bag and a cardboard tray with two large coffees…

Was Brett. Beside him, Blaze cracked his jaws and yawned.

Just when she’d made the decision never to meet him at her house again, here he was, looking showered and clean, and he probably smelled good, too. She, however, hadn’t had the chance to shower and probably smelled like a sweaty hippo that’d been rolling around in the dust all day.

Wearing a pressed pair of khaki cargo pants and a black agency polo shirt, he looked every bit the handsome, authoritative federal agent he was. He was so tall that the top of his head practically brushed the bottom of the hanging light fixture. A laptop case was slung over his shoulder.

“You can do this,” she whispered, forcing her feet to take her to the door. She reached for the knob. You can do this.

When she opened the door, Brett’s gaze traveled down her body then up, sending a wave of goose bumps spiking across her skin. So much for doing this. All he had to do was look at her once, and her willpower dipped into single digits.

She mustered a smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Naturally, the morning sun took that moment to make his eyes appear so clear and so blue, it was like looking at two perfect sapphires.

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how smitten—God, did people still use that word?—she really was with Brett Tanner.