"Riley." I'm already grabbing my keys from the hook by the door. "I'll drive you."
She hesitates for exactly one second, then nods. "Okay."
We head out, the charged moment abandoned but definitely not forgotten. In the stairwell, I catch her profile in the harsh fluorescent light—flushed, focused, a little bit dazed around the edges.
I know the feeling.
Whatever's building between us, it's not fake. Maybe it never was. Maybe the viral video just forced us to stop pretending we didn't notice each other.
I hit the unlock button on my truck and hold the passenger door open for her. She climbs in without comment, already texting someone—her lab tech, maybe, or thefire marshal.
As I slide behind the wheel and pull out of the parking garage, I steal a glance at her. She's twisted her hair back into that tight bun, the transformation complete—off-duty Riley disappeared the moment work called. But there's still color high on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the fire scene waiting for us.
The city lights blur past the windshield. Neither of us mentions what almost happened on my couch.
We don't have to. It's sitting right there in the truck between us, impossible to ignore.
Chapter 5
Riley
The commercial building is still smoldering when we arrive, tendrils of smoke curling into the night sky like ghostly fingers. Red and blue lights from emergency vehicles paint the scene in alternating flashes. The moment I open the truck door, the acrid smell of burned plastic and wet insulation hits me hard enough to make my eyes water.
This is what I'm good at. This is where I belong.
Not on couches with attractive firefighters, almost kissing like some kind of romance novel protagonist.
"You okay?" Aiden's voice cuts through my mental spiral.
"Fine." I'm already mentally cataloging what I'llneed to get my job done properly. "Just getting my head in the game."
The scene is controlled chaos. Fire crews finishing overhaul, police establishing a perimeter, a cluster of displaced business owners huddled near an ambulance with shock blankets around their shoulders. I spot the investigator SUV in the staging area—someone from the department must have brought it over. I scan for the incident commander and spot Captain Vasquez near the main entrance, her silver-streaked hair illuminated by portable work lights.
"Pritchard." She nods as I approach. "Thanks for coming in. Garcia's got a stomach bug that's taking out half the department."
"What do we know?"
"Fire started approximately three hours ago. Building's a mixed-use commercial space—accounting firm where the staff was working late on the ground floor, graphic design studio on the second that was empty, storage on the third." She hands me a tablet with preliminary notes. "First responders contained it to the second and third floors, but there's significant damage."
"Point of origin?"
"That's why you're here." Vasquez glancespast me to where Aiden hovers at a respectful distance. "Gentry. Didn't expect to see you."
"I was nearby." His voice is carefully neutral. "Thought I'd observe, if that's permitted."
Vasquez's eyebrow rises a fraction—she's not stupid, and "nearby" doesn't explain why he's arriving with me at 10 PM—but she just nods. "Stay out of Pritchard's way and don't touch anything."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
I shoot him a look that I hope communicates "we are absolutely not discussing the almost-kiss right now" and head toward the building's entrance. The structure is stable enough for investigation—fire crews have already done their assessment—but I still pause at the threshold to take stock.
Burned buildings have a specific smell. Not just smoke, but the chemical signatures of everything that burned—plastics, textiles, wood, paper. This one has an undertone I recognize immediately.
Accelerant.
My pulse kicks up, and not in the inconvenient way it does around Aiden. This is professional excitement. The thrill of a puzzle presenting itself.
"I'm going to need full access to the second floor," I tell Vasquez. "And I want this scene locked downuntil I've completed my walkthrough. No cleanup, no salvage operations."
