They rolled across the floor. Twisted. Lora came up on top and did a fast shimmy. The guy grabbed her shoulder, yanked her back—
And she flipped him, sending him flying on his stomach.
“Two minutes! Spade takes ’em down!” A guy wearing gym shorts and a sweat-soaked white T-shirt pumped his arms in the air. “Another one bites that firehouse dust, huh, Lora?”
She pushed up, grinning, and Kenton froze because he felt like she’d just punched him. Hard.
Then she blinked, and her gaze drifted to the right. To him. “Kent—what are you doing here?” Her lips parted, and she jumped off the sparring mat. “Has something happened? Did you find the bastard?”
“No.” The booming answer didn’t come from him. Or even from Monica, who stood like a shadow beside him. Frank Garrison stalked into the room. Garrison flatly announced, “They’re here to talk to you all.”
The exercise room got real quiet, real fast. The guy lifting weights froze. The woman running on the treadmill jumped off. All their eyes hit him.
“Talk to us?” Lora asked as she caught the towel one of the others tossed her, and then swiped it across her forehead. “Why?”
“Because the SSD thinks the killer knows a little too much about fire.” Garrison pushed by Kenton. “So they’re gonna be questioning everyone at all the stations in the city.”
“I told you last night, the killer’s a fire freak, not a firefighter.” This came from the guy Lora had sent flying. Quint. Max Quint. He’d already started a file on the guy. A firefighter and paramedic. He’d transferred down from New York about two years ago.
“And I’m afraid we have to explore every possibility,” Monica said, her voice carrying easily and hinting at just the softest southern drawl. “This is standard procedure in a case like this, and it’s certainly not meant to make any of you here feel—”
“Like a suspect?” Lora offered, her fingers tightening around the towel. “Lady, we fight his fires. We lost a man to that bastard. He’s not one of us.” Rage had her voice shaking.
“Maybe,” Monica offered, and Kenton saw the firefighters relax a bit, until she added, “Maybe not.”
CHAPTER Seven
Lora’s temples pounded as she stared at Kenton. He stood there, stiff and tall, but not quite meeting her eyes. After last night, after this morning, she sure hadn’t expected this from him.
But he’d told her. So had Hyde.
They didn’t trust her. But they were ready to use her.
“Some killers are very good at deception. They’re good at showing folks exactly what they want them to see.” Special Agent Davenport’s gaze swept the room. “You look, and you don’t see a man who has just torched a house and killed a woman. You don’t see a guy who just burned a handicapped man to death. You see a friend. A coworker.” Her shoulders lifted. “You don’t see the killer until he comes after you.”
Lora’s hands fisted in the towel.
“Chief, come on, you can’t let them—” Max began.
But Frank shook his bald head. “The conference room has been cleared. You guys are up.” His finger stabbed at Max. “Quint, you’re first.”
Frank turned away.
“Garrison?”
Kenton’s voice halted the chief. Frank glanced back.
“We’re gonna need to talk with you, too.”
Frank’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
Lora’s jaw dropped. The chief? No damn way. Lora sucked in a breath and marched over to Kenton. He’d turned to speak to Monica, but Lora grabbed his arm. “Did you know about this?” she whispered, glaring up at him. “Last night, did you know?” Because if he’d come to her bed knowing he’d be raking her and her team over the coals today—I’ll rip the guy a new one.
His head moved in a slow shake. “It’s procedure.”
“Fuck procedure.” It was hard to talk when anger boiled in her gut. The others were filing out. Some muttering. “You really think I could have something to do with this?” Lora asked. To think Kenton believed that, after last night… “And the chief? Frank?” Not Frank. He’d been with her through too much. He’d never do something like this.
Lora shoved by Kenton. “Screw off, GQ.”
He grabbed her, hands too tight, and spun her back around. “Lora, it’s procedure,” he gritted out. “I know you’re clear, but the questions have to be asked, and they have to answered, for the record.”
He knew she was clear. That was something, but what about Garrison?
“Ahem.” The chief slammed one ham hand onto Kenton’s shoulder. “Something I should know about here?”
“Yes, sir.” Lora glanced his way. Not the chief. “I had sex with Agent Lake last night. Full disclosure.”
“Lora—” Kenton’s brows shot up. “What the hell—”
“Damn, Spade, I thought you had better taste.” The chief released him and stalked out of the room. “Much better.” He threw the words over his shoulder.
Lora bared her teeth at Kenton. “Me, too.” Then she turned and marched right out after Garrison.
Max Quint slapped his palms down on the table. “Let’s get this shit over with. What do you need? Alibis? Witnesses?” His bushy blond brows rose. “I was working with the team when Charlie Skofield died. I was here when the call came in, surrounded by a dozen men—and Lora. I didn’t set that damn fire, I wouldn’t hurt any of my—”
“Why did you become a firefighter?” Monica asked, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. She had her files already stacked in front of her. That was Monica. Always calm and always organized.
Let’s see what secrets you have.
Monica was good at finding secrets. And hiding her own.
“Huh?” Quint rocked back on the rear legs of the chair. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Monica smiled her harmless smile. The cold one. But then, she didn’t really have a warm one. Not like Lora did—warm enough to singe a man. “Just answer the question.”
He smiled back with a lot of teeth. “I’m an adrenaline junkie. What can I say?” He raised his hands and spread them wide. “I like the thrill of fighting fires.”
Lie. Sure, Kenton knew some fire eaters did the job because they liked the rush, but Max was too cocky right then. The guy just seemed to be putting on a show for them and saying what he thought they wanted to hear.