Page 71 of Up In Smoke

Another firefighter, heavy in turnout gear, stepped into the fray. And Luke still struggled against the Chief's hold. But the man—for all that he wasn't quite as tall and not quite as thin as Luke—was stronger than he appeared.

The new firefighter wielded a sledge hammer.

“Are we good here?” Luke could hear the question over the Chief’s comm, they were standing so close.

“It's our only option,” the chief called back, still holding Luke where he’d hauled him away from the fray. He pulled his bullhorn from the truck, one hand still firmly on Luke’s arm and he told Luke, “Don't you dare move. You might kill her if you do.”

Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the bullhorn to his mouth and his voice boomed. “Ivy you need to step back. Can you get low and cover your head?”

Luke didn't hear anything. But the firefighters up close called back, “We've got her!”

The sledge hammer began to hit the cinderblock as the other end of the house cracked and boomed and caved in on itself.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Luke sat in the small interrogation room by himself. Being held like this made him feel like he was a criminal. And he was pretty certain he was getting investigated as one.

He looked out the small window embedded into the door, it was his only view other than cinderblock walls. The wire running through the glass didn't obscure the flurry of activity in the hallway. He was confident Mario was being held just a couple cells down.

Had it only been seven hours since he'd watched them execute the warrant at Mario's house?

He’d been so foolish. He’d thought they’d pick up his brother and that would be the end of it.

He thought maybe it had been eight hours or more since then. They’d taken his phone. He couldn't check on Ivy. He couldn’t even check the time. But he’d seen the firefighters pull her from under the house. She'd been alive when they'd done it, but she'd been coughing, covered in soot, blinking.

He hadn't even gotten to step forward and hold her. Immediately, the hands on him had changed from belonging to Chief Taggart to belonging to the Redemption Police Department.

The more he sat here and stewed the more he admitted it looked bad. He'd known he was on the suspect list from the start. His goal had been to prove to Ivy that it wasn't him. Now he had to prove it to the detective on the case. After all, he had shown his face at both the fires tonight, just like an arsonist proud of his handiwork would do.

He sat and stared at the walls for a little while longer and tried to tell himself it would all be okay. How many times had he repeated that in his brain before the door opened again?

He recognized the detective who walked in but, behind him, a blond woman in a pale gray suit followed. He knew her. Why did he know her?

“I'm agent Melissa Watson with the FBI.”

Lovely. He just nodded. There was clearly no need to introduce himself. They knew who he was. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, I need to know what you know about the fires tonight.”

“No worries,” Luke replied calmly. “But first, I need to know how Ivy Dean is.”

“I'll tell you after we talk.”

“Then we won't talk.” His heart pounded. Was he really playing hardball with an FBI agent? Normally, it wasn't anything he would have done. But, right now, he desperately needed to know about Ivy.

“You're not holding the cards here,” she said, tilting her head as though he were crazy.

“I believe I am.” Unless she already had all the documents from Tavares, he should have a few cards to play … if he could play them right now.

“You're a firefighter who knows how to light fires.” She leaned forward, hands clasped, shoulders still squared. It was a wonderfully non-threatening, threatening pose. “You're related to every single one of the arson sites. And it's your girlfriend who's now been insidethreedifferent burning buildings.”

“Exactly,” Luke said. “I wouldn't lay a finger on her.”

“No, setting her up and saving her just makes you the hero.”

She wasn’t wrong. That was a motivation for any number of arsonists—it wasn’t about the fire at all for them. It was about the glory. He looked her up and down, his heart still flooding. He needed to know about Ivy. And he liked this agent less and less right now. “Lots of FBI agents get off on it, too. They're not immune.”

“What have you got?”

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