Read Online Slow Burn (Smoke Jumpers) by Anne Marsh - Free Book Online Page A

jumpers. And yet you’re worried about that little brush fire.”
    His eyes moved over her face. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but he was going to pony up more words. “Spill, Evan.” She gestured with her fingers, and that little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again.
    God, that smile could melt a woman.
    “I’m speculating,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate. “I wouldn’t want this to get out.”
    “Between you and me, Evan. That’s where this stays. Just tell me why this matters so much to you. You owe me that much, right?”
    “I think someone set that brush fire.” Jaw tight, his gaze slid away from hers, assessing a battlefield she couldn’t see. This was a dangerous man to rile up. And he was definitely riled up. Seething. He saw this fire as personal .
    “Arson? But the only person I saw up there was a firefighter putting the blaze out. Are you saying it was an inside job?”
    “ That question is precisely the problem.” Evan didn’t sound mean, but there was a tone to his words. Despite the smooth rumble of his voice, that tone said he wouldn’t appreciate her messing with him. Not now. “You came here. You saw whoever it was. You tell me you’re not putting that into your article.”
    “I’m a photojournalist,” she said, because she couldn’t let this go. That article was a shot at something bigger than catalog work and a second chance she couldn’t afford to ignore. All joking aside, living in the Corvette wasn’t practical. “Of course I’m putting it into my piece.”
    This was magazine gold. She was on to something in Strong. Her photo documentary about the jump team’s efforts to bring a new firehouse to Strong wasn’t just local color anymore. This could be huge. Syndicated huge. Plus, she didn’t want the arsonist to walk, either.
    “Whatever you put in the article now would be guessing,” he said. “We don’t know the truth—not yet.”
    “Obviously, you believe the arsonist is a member of your firefighting team. How is that guessing?” she demanded, slapping a hand against his chest.
    “I think, ” he growled. Having this big bear of a man staring down at her should have been alarming. She should have been in the car. And yet . . . his face was impassive, but those eyes were hot, hot, hot. “I don’t know . Not yet. You don’t go public with this until we both know the truth.”
    “That’s not fair,” she protested.
    “I’m asking you to wait,” he countered. “Wouldn’t you want to smoke out an arsonist, Faye? Do you know what kind of damage fire can do? That fire you drove through was a baby. Imagine one larger, stronger, and faster. The kind no one runs from, not even in a Corvette.”
    “Yeah.” She fidgeted with the keys, getting the driver-side door open. He couldn’t force her to stay. They both knew that. “I know what can happen. My ex was a firefighter.”
    She’d seen firsthand the damage fire could do. Mike had come home more than once with burns. The stories had been worse, though, and she’d never known how much—or how little—he’d exaggerated. Fire was dangerous. That was the simple truth.
    “Wait,” he coaxed, and that deep, smoky rumble was pure trouble. That voice made her want to listen. Made her imagine things she had no business imagining. “I want you to wait a little, Faye. File the piece once I’m sure. That’s all I’m asking, because there’s too much at stake here. Do you know what the clearance rate is here in California? There’s a really low percentage of arsons that actually result in an arrest and charge. If I can’t prove arson, I don’t have an arrest. It’s that simple.”
    “And you think you can prove your case?”
    “This isn’t the first fire.”
    “You have fires every day of the week out here?”
    “We’ve had more than our fair share. And way too many small ones. Grass fires. Fires like the one you drove through.”
    “And you’ve checked them all