Page 90 of Burning Justice

Gemma gasped. “That’s why they killed him.”

Brett nodded. “I think David pulled the trigger on Nash, and I also think he tried to shoot me and attacked you. That all happened after we interviewed Michael at his office.”

“Are we getting warrants for all of them?” She’d thrown in we to see if she was still part of the team. Then again, with Brett on suspension, there might not be a team.

“No. At least not yet.” Brett made a disgusted sound. “My RAIC ordered me to turn over the tape I made of Pilcher’s confession. She’s reassigning the case to another agent, probably Tom Willard, the agent who investigated the Torrance fire. I spent the rest of the day getting my ass reamed out for violating a direct order and for insubordination.”

So that was it. Brett had gone all Lone Ranger on her, and now they were both, essentially, off the case, because she had no intention of working with Willard.

This partnership had spiraled down the toilet faster than a tornado, and the last thing she would do was partner with anyone else. Maybe she should have gone with her gut, should have found a way to get around the fact that she’d need subpoenas to move forward with her own NICB case.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Maybe she still could move forward.

“The decision to go with you to Pilcher’s office wasn’t yours alone to make,” she gritted out. “We’re partners. We should have talked about it first. And let’s get something clear.” She pointed a finger at him. “You might have been suspended, but I wasn’t, and I don’t answer to the ATF. Thanks for getting us this far, but I still have all my evidence, and I plan to keep going. With or without the federal government.”

Brett leveled her a cold, hard look. “Do that, and you could be charged with obstruction.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on the fact that this is an active federal investigation. If you go off on your own, without a federal agent, and withhold critical information, it could be considered as interference.”

No way would she let him tell her what to do. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“And I’m not willing to let you take it. It’s too dangerous.” He stood, then knelt on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in his. She tried pulling them away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I know you’re used to working alone, but you can’t do this by yourself. Let me make a call in the morning to my boss and to Tom Willard. This was your case to begin with. My RAIC knows you brought me and the ATF into it. I’ll make sure Tom does, too. They won’t push you out. I won’t let them.”

There were so many personal stakes at play here, he could never understand. This case was an opportunity to re-earn the respect that had been stolen from her four years ago. Despite Brett’s reassurance, she didn’t completely trust the ATF not to push her out. Mainly because he’d already pushed her out when he’d gone after Pilcher without her, and that was what mattered most. Not the rest of the ATF. Only Special Agent Brett Tanner, because he mattered to her. Somehow in the middle of all her caution and skepticism, she’d started having strong feelings for him. Or dare she say it…

She’d fallen for him.

A storm of emotions whirred around in her head and in her heart. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. She took a deep breath, struggling not to lose control. “I understand why you believe you did the right thing, but you did, in fact, push me out because this was our case.” Or so she’d thought. “You getting kicked off the case affects me, too.” In ways he would never know, and she could never tell him. Not now. Maybe never.

Remorseful eyes leveled on her, and she was reminded of how her mother and father looked at each other after they’d had a big, raucous argument. But her parents had a closeness, a loving partnership. They shared everything, good or bad, with no secrets between them. She, on the other hand, had never had that with anyone, and she’d stupidly begun to think maybe Brett could have been that person.

Apparently, her parents had thought so, too, or they wouldn’t have been planning to set her up with him. They saw what she’d seen. A handsome, intelligent, perfect man. Everything a woman could want.

Only he wasn’t perfect. His singlemindedness, the intense determination that drove him, was all there was to his life. There might never be room for anyone else, including her. That was why he was alone and perhaps always would be.

“I’m sorry, Gemma.” Brett’s eyes clouded with guilt.

Guilt. That was the key to what drove this strong-as-iron, yet vulnerable, man. Survivor’s guilt was a powerful emotion, one that could have horrible and lasting effects on people.

Her anger was instantly tempered by the knowledge of how desperately he needed to assuage the guilt that still ate him up inside after all this time. That guilt had been compounding daily since the Torrance Lane fire, when Brett hadn’t been able to save those teens.

The virtual balloon filled with Gemma’s anger didn’t exactly pop. It was more like someone slowly letting the air out of a tire with a resounding hiss. What would happen to him if Charles Pilcher and the Hawkin brothers somehow managed to evade justice?

Would Brett forever remain in the past, held down by memories he could never escape? He’d once told her that people who hung on to the past were afraid of the future. And doomed to extinction.

As long as he remained on this destructive path, this destructive destiny, she’d be a fool to let him take her with him. But she couldn’t help it. Her emotional body armor not only lowered, it dropped to the floor and stayed there. With nothing to protect it, her heart went out to him, fully.

Where he was concerned, she was weak. Gemma cupped his face with both hands, then let him break her rules again.

He slipped his hand to her nape, pulling her toward him, then knotting his fingers in her ponytail and tugging the band from her hair.

His lips were hard and hot. There was no teasing, no gentle foreplay. His tongue was devastating as it swept her mouth.

She sifted her fingers through his short hair, then down to the corded muscles of his neck and back. His kiss tasted of need, pain, and desperation.

When he hauled her to the edge of the sofa, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Heat bloomed in her core. His big body trembled beneath her touch. Then their hands were everywhere, tearing off clothes, stroking bare skin, white hot with desire.