Page 18 of Burn Protocol

“Okay?” She offers, a bit insecure— still raw and cautious.

“You can’t keep ignoring my commands, Maya. You are putting yourself in danger.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me.

“By following you for paperwork? What kind of danger would that be, Elena? Death by boredom?”

I groan— partially to hide my chuckle— and roll my eyes at her. She grins and the tension finally leaves her face.

“I need you safe, do you understand?”

“Elena, I’m a grown…”

“No.” I quickly raise my hand. “That argument doesn’t hold up. I am responsible for you. When I am out there, I need to focus on my job, Maya. If I am worried about you, I can make the wrong call. That kind of distraction gets people killed.”

She frowns. For a moment I fear she’ll take it personally, but then she nods. There is something in her eyes that tells me she understands. Actually understands.

“I didn’t realize. Elena, I only wanted to help.”

She reaches for my hand, but stops herself right before touching it. Her eyes are pleading. Why do I feel the urge to reassure her?

“I know. And at some point, you will.”

What the fuck? Why did I just say that? But the way her eyes light up—

“Let’s go. Let’s file that report before the next call comes in.”

***

I toss my backpack on the floor, kick off my shoes, and make a straight line for my couch. Three fucking fires in one day. I am exhausted and stink of smoke, but I’m too tired to shower. It will come later.

As soon as my back hits the soft cushions, my mind drifts to Maya. She must have had a horrible day. Why was I so cruel? Because she gets under your skin. The thought comes up quick. Sharp.

“Fuck!” I groan aloud. “How did she already get in my head?”

My fist slams the couch and I squeeze my eyes shut. No woman has ever had this effect on me before. It must be guilt. Guilt for freezing her out like that. For the hurt in those blue eyes. I press the palms of my hands against my eyes. The way she looked at me…

Frustration flames up in my core and I push off the couch. I pace up and down my small living room, practically burning holes in the floor. Why does it bother me so much? I don’t care what other people think of me.

You care what she thinks. I’ve only known her for one day.

“Geesh, Gonzales, get a fucking grip,” I snarl at myself as I sit down again.

There is a dull throb behind my eyes. Great. A tension headache. How can I get rid of this pent-up frustration? The gym. A quick workout should balance me right out.

Just as I get up, again, my phone chimes. Shit. As I grab it, I pray silently that it isn’t the station. I can’t handle being called in again after today. But when I glance at the screen, I see an unknown number. My thumb swipes over it to open the message.

19:04 Maya Carter –

Hey Elena, it’s Maya. The Chief gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind. Can we talk?

I stare at the message for two minutes. The Chief gave her my number. So now I can’t get away from her even in the privacy of my own home. Do you want to? What?

My thoughts tumble over each other. If I want to apologize, this is my chance. The image of how hurt she looked flashes before my eyes again. Fine.

19:07 E. Gonzales –

Good evening. Yes, sure. Not a problem.