Page 5 of Fire Fight

I knew the expression he wore—had seen it numerous times over the course of the last five years since I’d moved home and became a captain with the Dusk Valley Fire Department. Dude was about to become a fucking problem.

I leveled my finger in his face. “Stay away from her.”

Childers gasped theatrically and pressed a palm to his chest. “Me? What about this fucker?” He hooked a thumb in Tuck’s direction.

“You stay away from her too,” I said as I stepped into my pants.

“Ahh, you say that now, Cap,” Tuck grinned. “But you’ll be singing a different tune when you see her. Take my word for it and get in on the action. I’ll bet you guys a hundred bucks I get her digits first.”

I shook my head, and Childers protested as droplets of water sprayed in his direction.

“I can’t be playing your childish games anymore, Tuck.” I paused to pull my polo over my head, tapping at the patches on the lapels of the collar that held my bugles, smiling cheekily. “I’m a big boy now.”

“With a big stick up your ass,” Childers muttered.

Tuck tipped his head back and laughed, and I dove at Childers, wrapping an arm around his neck and giving him a noogie.

“Lawless!” Chief Madden’s shout stilled me, my head swinging around to meet his eyes. “Stop fucking around and get your ass out here.”

I let Childers go and straightened. “Yes, Chief.”

When he disappeared with an exasperated shake of his head, I stuffed my feet into my boots and saluted the guys. “Duty calls.”

We filed out and found Chief standing in the center of the common room, an unfamiliar woman at his side.

Tuck and Childers hadn’t been lying—she was a fucking stunner.

Rich, warm brown hair and eyes the color of cinnamon. Full, pouty lips with a light sheen I guessed came from lip balm; she didn’t look like a gloss or stick kind of woman.

She was petite, barely coming to Chief’s shoulder. So petite, in fact, that with her pert little nose, delicately pointed chin, and high cheekbones, she almost looked like a fairy.

But there was something…hardened about her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I thought that, other than the darkness in her eyes, and the way her smile didn’t quite reach them.

Somehow, I knew this wasn’t a social call for her, or some fun exploratory mission about bringing her kid in to see the fire trucks and meet some real life first responders.

“This is Aspen McKay. She’s a private investigator looking into the Prom Night Arsonist,” Chief said, confirming my suspicions. “She was hoping one of us would be willing to sit down with her and review our incident reports.”

“I volunteer!” Childers supplied quickly.

The withering look Chief gave him had Tuck and I coughing into our fists to hide our laughter.

“Appreciate the enthusiasm, Childers, but this is a job for your Captain.”

I collected myself, perking up at that.

The woman—Aspen—raised a brow. “You’re the captain?”

Shuffling forward a few steps, I extended my hand. “Captain Crew Lawless, at your service.”

God, I sounded like a tool.

The corner of that plump mouth ticked up a fraction before it flattened again.

When her hand slid into mine, those slight, delicate fingers wrapping around my much larger and calloused ones, a jolt shot up my arm, like an electrical current coursing through my veins. I barely held myself from yanking back in surprise.

“You’re awfully young to be a captain,” she said when she released me, and I flexed my hand at my side, attempting to shake off the lingering tingling sensation.

I shrugged. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard the sentiment, and it likely wouldn’t be the last until I aged another decade or so. “I’ve been a firefighter for thirteen years, ma’am. I think I can handle myself.”