Page 10 of Controlled Burn
Full gear. Breathing hard. Eyes scanning and holding a nozzle.
"Where's your partner?" he barked.
"She bailed."
"Shit."
No time to argue.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
He nodded once. "Then let's go."
They cleared the structure as a two-person team, moving in sync. Tight. Efficient. She kept pace. Matched his rhythm. It was like muscle memory—working beside someone who didn't doubt her, didn't second-guess her judgment.
When it was over, when the fire was out and overhaul was winding down, he pulled her aside behind the rig. Away from the noise. Away from the stares.
"You shouldn't have gone in alone."
"I didn't know I was alone until I was."
"You should've checked."
"She shouldn't have frozen."
They locked eyes. No smoke. No radios. Just tension and heat rising off their gear.
For a split second—something passed between them.
Respect. Frustration. Heat.
Maddox exhaled and stepped back. His voice dropped, quiet.
"You handled yourself. I'll make sure the chief hears that."
"You're not going to write me up?"
"Not this time."
She turned to walk away.
Then his voice caught her.
"Don't make me regret trusting you."
She smiled over her shoulder. Sharp. Soft. Dangerous.
"I don't make it easy, Captain. But I never waste your time."
Chapter 5
Locker Room Heat
The gym door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off cinderblock like a heartbeat. Captain Dean Maddox pressed his palm to the cool steel frame, eyes closing as the residual heat of the fire crackled through his veins. His shirt clung to every ridge of muscle; sweat slid down his spine in thin rivulets. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake loose the memory of her—Cross—her soot-smudged lashes and that crooked smirk.
He could still taste the smoke on his tongue, the metallic tang of adrenaline. But it was she who burned in his blood. He remembered how she’d cocked an eyebrow at him in the wreckage, voice low but fierce: “I don’t make it easy. But I make it worth it.”
