Free Slow Burn (Smoke Jumpers) by Anne Marsh

take your photos—I’m not standing in the way of the truth coming out—but you give me two weeks to take care of some investigative business. I get to make sure that we’ve really got ourselves a firefighter arsonist before you trumpet it to the world.”
    “You want to be sure. Very altruistic of you.”
    His look said that altruism had nothing to do with this. God. He did big and scary really well. Unfortunately for him, when you’d woken up next to him, wearing his T-shirt, and then he’d kissed you senseless, it was hard to go back to the shaking-in-your-boots part.
    “You know what happens when a fireman’s accused of setting his own fires? Accusations like that destroy the man and rip a team apart. When this team hears that I think one of them has been setting fires, fingers are going to point, and it’s going to get ugly. Men accusing other men. Suspecting guys they’ve been friends with for years. Some feel betrayed. Others? They go after the accuser with their fists flying. Either way, my team gets put through the wringer. So I say nothing until I’m as damned certain as I can be that there’s a real need.”
    “You need to know.”
    “We all need to know.”
    She put a hand on his arm simply because she wanted the contact. His skin was warm and firm. Strong hands, with a small puckered burn mark on his forearm. “Okay,” she said. “I get why this matters. I really do.”
    “Two weeks,” he interrupted. “Fourteen days of adventure. Whenever I’m not out on a call, I’ll make sure you see plenty of action. Think about it, Faye.”
    She didn’t like his assumption that she wouldn’t do the right thing without a bribe. Of course, she hated the idea of ending her big find-herself-and-start-over adventure before it had even really started, but she knew how to do the right thing. Plus, it wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to waiting around for a firefighter to finish doing his job and make time for her.
    Waiting around summed up her marriage with Mike. Two years and more nights alone than she cared to count. In comparison, fourteen days with whatever time Evan Donovan could spare her would be a treat. Giving in too quickly, though, meant giving up her leverage—and she suspected she’d need all the leverage she could get with a man who’d walk off with her car keys to ensure her compliance.
    “You win,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
    “Good.” He opened the driver-side door for her. “Do that thinking on your way out to the fire camp.”

Chapter Five
    T he fire camp was doing a brisk business in barbecue. Firefighters lined up wielding plastic plates instead of hoses, peppering their teammates manning the grills with good-natured teasing. All those hard bodies relaxing at the handful of picnic tables or sprawled out on the logs someone had rolled around a fire pit looked equally delicious. And familiar. Faye recognized that low rumble of male voices retelling war stories, while their owners enjoyed the food and the summer evening. God, how long had it been since she’d gone with Mike to a department thing? She’d sworn them off at the end, tired of watching from the sidelines. She’d been the firefighter’s wife. Not one of them.
    Faye admired what they did, day in and day out, putting their necks on the line to extinguish the fires that always kept coming. Los Angeles needed men like that. So did Strong. She believed with all her heart that firefighters were heroes, and she had nothing but respect for them and what they brought to the table.
    She just wanted to be more than someone who watched while others did .
    Using their barbecue as an impromptu and covert lineup wasn’t what she’d had in mind, though. Earlier, Evan had handed her off to his brother, Jack, who’d made the rounds and the introductions with her. She’d met man after man, shaking hands and trading names with the full intent of outing someone if she could.
    Since Strong’s fire chief, Ben Cortez, also