Page 55 of Up In Smoke

Yes. But she fought the bark of laughter that tried to erupt. It was wholly inappropriate right now. He was being nice and sweet and protective of her. And she was in no more danger now than she ever was. Lately, though, the dial had been set pretty high.

“I'll be okay,” she told him, her head turning to look at the rifle beside her. The wordsI love youalmost rolled off her tongue, but she wasn't quite sure what to do with the words or how to handle them. She didn't know if she'd ever said them before.

She'd come from a place where love was supposed to be understood and not stated. In life number two, she loved nothing but pleasure. Here in life number three, she was finding out that she loved Redemption. She loved Jo and her friends. And she thought she was falling in love with Luke.

But she didn't say it.

Not certain and not ready, she said, “I'll see you in the morning before I go to work.”

They hung up, their goodbyes hanging like warnings in the air.

Chapter Forty-One

“Hernandez.”

Luke looked up and listened to his assignment even as he continued to move. He pushed his feet down in the waiting pants, already loaded into the boots, so he donned it all in one economy of motion. Next, he pulled the suspenders up and over his shoulders. Having heard his own name, he only vaguely listened to the Chief’s assignment for the other positions.

Climbing into the last of his turnout gear, he headed to the truck and swung up in. Embedded in the back of the seat was his SCBA—the last of the gear he would need to be ready to plunge into the fire as needed.

Once again, Ronan Kelly was driving and he swung up into the front seat with a fluid motion. Kelly was starting the engine even as he closed the door, calling out names and checking positions.

They pulled forward, the big truck running smoother than people would expect, but the bounce at the end of the drive was always enough to lift you from your seat. Luke held on as they hung the sharp right turn toward their destination.

His gaze was aimed out the window, but he wasn’t watching the scenery. Just because he was in the back didn't mean he was off the hook. Everyone had eyes on the road, watching for cars on side streets, for people who didn't hear or simply didn't stop.

The comms all buzzed to life with the chief reading off the address. Luke felt the heavy pounding of his heart slide to a stop.

He knew that address.

Dammit. Things had been quiet for a while. He’d started to let his guard down. He and Ivy had a whole week with zero bullshit and no fires and not even any word about Tiago doing something stupid. Luke had let himself revel in it.

He checked the dash—6:34am. Monday’s call had come in at 7:15 in the morning and kept them until well after ten, clearing out a space that had not had a fire at all.

A false alarm—one that he’d missed passing by Ivy on her way to work for. This fire would definitely ruin that again. But he pushed his thoughts back to the side roads, watching as one by one the locals pulled to a respectful stop as they honked and plowed on by.

He couldn’t think about Ivy. This had always been part of the job: shift ended at eight sharp, unless it didn't. Today, it wouldn't.

He could swing by the library later and say hi to her—if he was upright. But he needed all of his focus right now on the job.

As they pulled to a stop, his heart doing a dull slide, he saw the small house he recognized from his childhood. This time the neighborhood was at the outskirts of town and featured houses relatively far apart on a country road. Still, half of them were boarded up and so was this one.

Jesus, the number of decrepit houses in his history made him begin to understand how poor the family actually had been while he was growing up. It couldn't possibly be normal to have moved so much, and it couldn't possibly be normal to have so many of the places where you had once lived fall into such disrepair and abandonment.

The house was now blue, or it had been blue most recently, and honestly calling itbluewas a bit of an overstatement. Half of the roof had started to sag in. Interestingly enough, it was the opposite end of the porch that seemed to want to slide off the front of the house. Particle board was nailed over the windows, not even level or plumb. At some point, some asshole had attacked the poor decrepit home with spray paint.

But the murmurs were going through the truck like waves. Everyone saying the same as Luke had seen with his own eyes: no roiling black smoke.

He glanced quickly around the truck but didn't let it stop him from doing the job. Jo, sitting opposite him, was reaching for the door and the two hopped down just as the Chief pulled up right behind them in the red truck.

“Hernandez, Huston, take a lap!”

They nodded and were off. Moving quickly, they looped once around the building at a wide berth, checking out everything they could by visuals alone. Luke used the thermal scanner and checked from every angle. By the time they cleared the fourth corner, the entire team was standing on the lawn looking at the house, arms crossed and shaking their heads much the same way.

Not what they’d expected from the report.

He wanted to call it a prank, go back to the station, and maybe get off by eight a.m. But that simply wasn't allowable. Someone had called in a credible threat and, if they failed to check it out to their fullest ability, the liability would be on them.

Chief divided them up. “The structure may not be sound. We’ll have to do checks from the outside. Heat signatures?”

---