Under Fire (Southern Heat Book 7)

by Jamie Garrett

  She reached down and fished out her cell, calling dispatch. “Holly, what’s Officer Ellis’s current location?” Three minutes later, she had her answer. Exactly the hell where he was supposed to be, walking in his assigned beat area. One hand returned to her mouth as she gnawed on a fingernail, her thoughts racing, while the other still held her cell. If he wasn’t in charge, then who was? What was she missing? It had to be someone like her, probably plainclothes, to have enough sway with the captain to get her taken off the case. It wouldn’t have been hard, she supposed. Most of the cops in town were close personally, too, typical small-town America.

  She could imagine it now. Hey, Cap. How’s Scarlett going? She looks a little run down. Did she take any time off after the shooting? Maybe we should give her a break. I’m happy to work a double for a while. Already mad at her for keeping him out of the loop, it wouldn’t have taken much for Harrelson to agree.

  He probably thought he was doing her a damn favor. When was he going to realize he wasn’t any more responsible for what happened to Derek than she was? For nearly two long years, she’d let him protect her because it was easier than feeling anything real, but now it was suffocating. Scarlett wanted her life back, all of it.

  She was so lost in thought that she’d almost forgotten she was sitting in Connor’s truck, and Scarlett jumped when her cell rang in her hand. She looked down at the screen. Unknown caller. A jolt of nerves went through, but she pushed it back seconds later. She wanted this. She was still working the case, damn it, no matter if it was official or not. She clicked to answer and brought the phone to her ear, not speaking a greeting. Dead air filled her ears, and for a moment Scarlett wondered if she’d made a mistake. Just as she opened her mouth to ask who was there, a low electronic voice filled her senses. It was entirely inhuman and sent shivers down her spine. “Curiosity killed the cat, Scarlett Christensen. Maybe it’ll kill you, too.”

  19

  Connor

  The next morning, Connor slapped out his hand when his phone alarm sounded in the pre-dawn light, fumbling for the damn thing and switching it to silent before it could go off again. He rolled over in bed, his eyes still half closed, and for a moment, he was puzzled when his hands met nothing but cool sheets. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up, but then memories assaulted him, and his morning wood turned to a full-blown hard-on as his cock tented the sheet. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Unfortunately, unless he was going to jerk himself off in the shower, there would be no relief for him that morning.

  He’d wanted Scarlett to come back to his house the night before. She still had to be hurting from her injury, not that she’d ever admit it, and whoever had been shooting at her that night was still out there somewhere. Not that she’d ever admit it was anything other than a random act, either.

  He threw back the sheet and padded into the bathroom, ignoring his dick even as it bobbed against his stomach. Any time his brain was on the topic of Scarlett Christensen, it took seconds to get him hard. Problem was, she’d refused his offer to meet him after work. Connor grimaced as he turned on the shower, making it as cool as he could stand. She’d gotten a call just as they’d arrived at the police station the day before. Scarlett had gone all quiet soon after she’d answered, and she had barely spoken after she’d hung up. Instead, she’d leaned over and kissed him quickly. He’d moved to capture her waist and draw her into a deeper kiss, but before he could, she’d opened the door of the truck and slipped out.

  They’d exchanged texts throughout the day, but she hadn’t answered her cell, claiming that she was in meetings most of the day. What about, he had no idea, but Connor had figured he’d see her after her shift and find out what was bugging her then. Instead, he’d been met with more texts. Going by the tone, it likely wasn’t him she was mad at, but someone had Scarlett either pissed or scared as hell. Neither of those was okay by him, but it was as if she’d shut him out again.

  Climbing into the shower, Connor let out a groan, finally giving in to temptation and wrapping his hand around his cock. He’d tried being mad at Scarlett for shutting him out once again, but he couldn’t do it. She’d been hurt, more than anyone deserved in one lifetime, and he’d vowed that he’d be there waiting for as long as she needed. She ignited something inside him that no other woman ever had, and Connor wanted more, even if he had to wait. But God, the feel of her hot, tight body surrounding his cock. He groaned, tightening his grip as he twisted his fist at the tip of his crown, imagining it was Scarlett’s hand, Scarlett’s mouth. With the image of her on her knees in front of him, it took barely two further strokes before he was coming so hard he shot out an arm to brace himself against the shower wall. He shuddered, watching as the water washed away the remainder of his cum that had painted the shower walls. He washed quickly and toweled off on the way back to his closet, grabbing his uniform. At least he had shift today to keep his mind occupied.

  The drive over to the firehouse was quick, the streets quiet before seven a.m., even on a weekday. Still, Connor kept his gaze shifting every chance he got, watching for anything that looked out of place. Things had been relatively quiet for B and C shift, with no weird-ass fires. He’d been holed up with Scarlett for most of his days off, combing through her small mountain of illicit paperwork, but Connor was sure he would have heard through the grapevine if there’d been another explosion. That was the sort of information that got around the community, even if HQ tried to keep it under wraps. Either Liam or Mason would have found out regardless, and from there it was unlikely to be more than an hour before the rest of their squad knew the details. Anything larger and they might have even been called in.

  He strode into the firehouse, waving at some of the members of C shift as he made his way into the communal area, reaching into his pocket for his cell. After he’d stashed his gear, he’d check in with Scarlett and see if she’d sorted out whatever had kept her so occupied the day before. Either that, or he’d just bribe Mason to make a trip over there and find out what the hell was going on. But when his feet traveled down the hall and hit the common room doorway, Connor nearly dropped his phone on the spot. There, sitting at the long dining table, typing away at a laptop, was the woman who was driving him equal measure horny as fuck and crazy as hell.

  Scarlett didn’t look up as he walked into the room. She stared intently at her computer screen, her brows furrowed as she twirled a pen in her hand. He hesitated. His first instinct was to walk over and sweep her up in his arms, check her over in case there’d been another incident that she was keeping quiet, and then kiss the living daylights out of her. Connor didn’t give a crap who saw them. He was ready to stake his interest publicly, and by the clearing of throats as a line backed up behind him at the door, everyone already knew anyway.

  Matt patted him on the shoulder as he pushed past him to get to the locker rooms. He eyed Scarlett and then grinned at Connor. “Go for it,” he said. “Best thing you’ll ever do.” Connor smiled back. Matt had recently rediscovered the love of his life, after giving up a chance with her over a decade before in an attempt save her life. Connor looked back over at Scarlett. Was that what would happen if he didn’t fight for whatever it was growing between them? When they were alone together, they burned damn hot, but in the light of day, Scarlett seemed to panic. After the night together where she’d blown his mind with both orgasms and intimacy, Connor had thought they were on the same page, but then he’d thought that before, too.

  He sucked in a breath, moving out of the way of the door. He was overreacting. Whatever had happened on the other end of the phone the day before had spooked Scarlett, of that he was certain, but only days earlier he’d told himself that he’d be there to support her, not try to wrap her up in cotton like everyone else had. Did that mean letting her still charge into battle when something was freaking her out? He ran a hand over his head. As much as it sucked, it did. He’d just have to make sure she wasn’t going alone.

  He walked over and plonked himsel
f down in the chair opposite her. Scarlett looked up, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn’t look too shocked to see him. She had to know it was his shift, Connor figured, and Chief Stone had a reputation for putting you on scut for the week if you were late. No one really felt like washing the whole engine by themselves, or scrubbing the grease stains off the floor, and so usually every man was through that door at seven a.m. sharp. Except today it looked as though Scarlett had beaten them all there. “What you doing here? Everything okay?” Connor pushed his body to relax. Concerned casual . . . that he could do.

  Scarlett shrugged, looking back at the screen. She chewed on the end of her pen, talking around it. “Figured if I worked from here, no one would find me,” she looked up briefly, shooting him a grin. Connor felt his mood lighten. Looks like he’d at least read her right that he hadn’t inadvertently done something to piss her off. “I still have my database access,” she continued, tapping away at the keyboard, her gaze on the screen. “Until someone notices what I’m doing, I can keep working the case from here.” She looked up, her expression now back to tense. “I’ll probably find out more here than I would at the station, anyway.”

  Connor frowned. They’d cut her out entirely? That wasn’t right. If he was pissed at that move, he could only imagine Scarlett’s reaction. Was that all the last twelve hours had been, her working furiously to prove they’d made a mistake pulling her?

  “Engine 81, Ambulance 32, unconfined fire at Rolling Hills Preschool. Multiple squads en route.”

  Fuck! Connor dropped his bag on the table and stood, moving quickly back down the hall and out to the garage. Calls like that were the reason he always arrived at work in his uniform. He didn’t want to waste a second. At least this early, the kids wouldn’t be there yet. He hoped that no teachers had decided to make an early morning of it. Within minutes, he was dressed in his turnout gear and sitting in the truck. He turned in surprise when the door was pulled open just as the garage bay doors were opening. He looked around the truck. Everyone was already there. His eyebrows jumped up when Scarlett hauled her way through the door and squeezed in next to him. “Mind if I catch a ride with you guys?”

  “Fine with me,” Mason answered her from the lieutenant’s position in the front seat. “Just stay back when we get there, and don’t get yourself killed on my watch.”

  Scarlett saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  He grinned back. “Save that for Chief Stone. I just care about your staying safe.”

  A smile played on Scarlett’s lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Connor resisted the urge to pick up her hand and squeeze it. He was ready to shout it from the rooftops, but he wasn’t sure if Scarlett wanted the rest of the squad—or the world—to know what had happened between them. Instead, he concentrated on the soft press of her thigh on his, the way her shoulder bumped into him when the truck hit a pothole. Plus, it could have been his imagination, but he was sure Scarlett took advantage of every corner to lean just a little closer to him than was necessary. Perhaps she needed the comfort, too.

  Being called out to a fire at the school was freaking Connor out just a little, which wasn’t going to help anyone once they arrived at the scene. With everything they’d been researching the last few days swirling around in his mind, another fire in Monroe—this time at a place small children played every day—was enough to make him want to hunt down the bastards and end it himself. Cops weren’t the only first responders who knew enough to make something look like an accident.

  He tensed his jaw, and his hands fisted on his knees as he forced the thoughts out of his head. As much as he hated whoever was behind the fires, and assuming it was the same fucker, even more for what they’d done to Scarlett, he couldn’t think about it. Not now. His focus had to be on the fire, on rescuing anyone who was trapped and then putting the damn thing out before it could spread or take out more of the school than absolutely necessary. That was his job, and he would do it right. There would be time after shift for hunting the evil behind it.

  When the truck pulled up at the scene, the area was already cordoned off, the lights from more than one emergency vehicle lighting up the scene. Mason made his way over to the lieutenant from a nearby firehouse. “Anyone inside?” His voice was loud, but Connor still strained to hear over the noises that blasted his senses: the crack of old wood, muffled thumps as it fell to the ash-covered ground, the hiss of melting plastics and the sharp cracking of glass crazed as the water from the hoses shocked it. All that intermingled with the shouts of the firefighters as they cleared the building. The only sound that Connor didn’t hear was the shouting of trapped victims, or their screams when the fire finally breached their hiding place. For that, he was grateful. With one last look back at Scarlett to make sure she was safe, he turned and walked toward the flames.

  20

  Scarlett

  Scarlett leaned against the fire truck, her gaze never still as she roamed the scene laid out in front of her. It almost seemed surreal. On the amount of sleep she’d had the previous week, without the smell of burned wood, she could almost imagine the whole thing was a dream. Strangely, the smell wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was an acrid undertone, but if she closed her eyes, it almost became more woodsy. That was strange, too. It was the middle of the day, and yet the sky seemed darker, more oppressive. The smoke wasn’t thick enough to obscure anything, but tendrils still spiraled up from nearly everywhere on the burned-out corner of the preschool. Thank goodness Connor and the guys had managed to save most of the building. The whole place would likely need to be rebuilt anyway, the smoke and water damage likely finishing off what had been spared by the flames.

  She leaned forward, watching the firefighters as they combed through the building, making sure everything had been extinguished and the danger was over. A shiver ran through her at the sight of a spot fire breaking out along one of the walls that was still standing. The men and women who had responded to the fire were safe, and only one teacher had been at the school early and had managed to get out. No one had been hurt, but if the perp had waited even just an hour longer, the place could have gone up with over thirty four-year-olds inside.

  Scarlett gripped her water bottle to stop it from shaking right out of her hands. She’d worked this case relentlessly, and so far she had jack. Less than that, in fact. When everything was boiled down, she had a piece of metal with a weird stamp on it and a whole lot of suspicions. Add the fact that she didn’t think the officer involved was even remotely in charge, and she had squat. She might be given more leeway from her colleagues, but she’d railed against that every chance she got after the first fog of grief had lifted. She’d be damned if she was going to take advantage of that in this circumstance. Arsonist or not, she wasn’t going to say his name out loud as a dirty cop until she had more proof. She glared at the ruined building before her, as if maybe if she stared at it hard enough, the answers would come floating out.

  That was it. She’d had enough of sitting on the sidelines. She pushed her hand into a pocket and grabbed the heavy-duty gloves she’d equipped herself with on the way to the firehouse that morning and then strode over to where Chief Stone stood. “Safe to go in, sir?”

  He nodded. “Grab a hard hat from somewhere first, and stay as close to the entrance as possible.”

  She returned the gesture, moving quickly to search for a hat and get in there, before he changed his mind. Technically, she shouldn’t be there at all, and while Scarlett guessed that particular piece of news hadn’t filtered through command yet, she wasn’t going to push her luck by asking any more questions or making herself more visible than strictly necessary. She’d just stepped back past the trucks when a large pickup with the Monroe firefighters’ emblem emblazoned on the side pulled up near her position. She paused midstep. Attracting the attention of HQ wouldn’t help with her attempt to stay under the radar. When the door to the truck opened and a tall, dark-haired man stepped out, Scarlett’s held breath left her in a whoosh,
and she smiled. Liam Cohen—the county arson investigator. Even though he worked out of HQ, she knew he spent more time on the road than stuck in an office. The way Connor and the others had spoken about him, Liam was just one of the guys.

  She hurried over, waving to catch his attention. “Liam, hi.” He smiled back, tipping his head in greeting as he climbed out of the truck and then leaned back inside, grabbing a jacket and hard hat. Scarlett gestured toward it. “Would you happen to have another one of those I could borrow?”

  “No problem,” Liam said. He turned, reaching into the bed of the truck and pulled out a second, presenting it to her. “My spare. It’s a little beat up, but it’ll do the job.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Better that than your head.”

  Liam chuckled and leaned forward, plonking the hat on her head. “Very true.” He turned to walk toward the scene, and Scarlett fell into step beside him. “They find anything for me yet?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not that I know about. This is the first time I’ve been allowed to leave my assigned waiting point on the back of the truck.”

  Liam grinned. “I hope the boys aren’t making things too difficult for you. This is the first time since I’ve worked here that there’s been a joint task force, officially, anyway.”

  “Not at all. They’ve been great.” Her cheeks stained lightly at the comment. It was the truth. The guys at the firehouse had been nothing but welcoming, and had been happy to talk to her about whatever could help—once they’d figured out she wasn’t trying to push them aside or take over, that was. But still, Scarlett couldn’t help her thoughts returning to Connor. He’d been a big reason why she’d been so warmly welcomed, she was sure, and he’d definitely made the last couple of weeks more enjoyable, no matter how frustrating the actual investigation had been. There, it had been one road block after another. Perhaps searching the scene with Liam’s trained eyes would give her something. “See anything?” she asked.