Griff grabbed two more water bottles and wearily made his way back to her. He was used to the aftereffects of a fire—well, when he had full gear on—but Sam wasn’t.
He found Sam still looking at the blackened metal bar, adrenaline likely fueling her energy. But she pushed away when he neared her.
He settled his wrench over a bolt, glad to see he’d chosen the correct size.
“Don’t touch the bar, okay?” She sounded anxious.
He glanced at her. “You really think you’ll find prints under all that soot?”
“We’re far enough away from the fire’s origination point. I think they survived. I’ll remove the soot at my lab to locate them.”
“You have a lab?”
“A small one in the back of the training facility.” A fond smile lifted her lips. “Gage insisted. He’s the best.”
Griff shook his head. “You keep surprising me.”
“Me? It’s all Gage.” She met his gaze and held on. “We’re first class at Blackwell. Gage ensures that we have the best of everything. I’ll show you the equipment room sometime. It’ll blow your mind.”
“Looking forward to it.” If he missed anything from his SEAL days—and that was a long list—he missed firing all makes of weapons and testing out some of the newest models. But he rarely allowed himself to linger on the past. Not with his reason for leaving. He didn’t even like to go to the range for target practice. He still went. No way he was going to get rusty. He just didn’t enjoy it as much as he once did.
He set to work removing the bolts, being extra careful not to touch the bar. When he had most of them undone, Sam took hold of the metal with her gloved hands. Once free, she wrapped the metal with dry paper bags from her Jeep.
She shouldered her tote bag and held the bar gingerly as if she worried she might damage the prints, and they headed toward the door.
Outside the landing was covered with a sheet of plywood, she stopped. “You see that?”
He looked down. “Boot prints? All the firefighters are wearing boots.”
She bent down and carefully set down the bar to get out her camera. “One of these prints is different. He tracked the accelerant or something out here.” She pointed at a large print with heavy treads.
The camera shutter came to life, and she clicked nonstop. “The size tells me it’s a guy. I might be able to track the tread to a particular brand, too.”
“Could be one of the firefighters. They’re wearing department-issued boots, so it should be easy to see.” He looked around. “Let me grab someone, and we can compare.”
“Thanks.”
He went back inside and could hear her camera clicking away as he grabbed the nearest truckie—a firefighter assigned to a ladder truck—who was picking up equipment.
“We need to take a look at your boots for elimination purposes.” Griff gestured at Sam out on the landing.
“Sure,” he said and followed Griff back to Sam, but stopped just inside the building.
“Would you mind taking off your boot?” Griff asked.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Please. It would be a big help.” Sam smiled up at him, her blue-green eyes catching the sunshine.
Dang. Here in her element, even with filthy clothes and hair, her face striped with ash, she never looked more beautiful. The truckie must have agreed. He stared at Sam, a dopey grin on his face as he kicked off his boot, setting his stocking foot right in a big puddle and had zero reaction to the cold water.
Sam didn’t seem to notice, her eyes on the boot only. She tipped it up and took photos of the bottom. She got up and handed the footwear to the truckie. “I really appreciate your help.”
“Don’t mention it,” the truckie replied, but stood staring at her in a daze.
“Hey, thanks man.” Griff clapped him on the back, and he jolted out of his trance.
He turned to leave then realized he hadn’t put his boot on and quickly stepped into it.
“You must be quite the problem at crime scenes,” Griff said to Sam.
“Why’s that?” She honestly looked confused.
“If that guy’s reaction to you is any indication, you have to be distracting to men on site.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a hand. “I just do my job.”
She squatted again. “FYI, his boot tread doesn’t match the stain.” She rubbed a swab over the print and put it in a paint can. “We both know gasoline was the ignition source, but this could prove it.”
She picked up the bar and stood. “Okay, that’s it. We can go.”
“Then we should head out to your top-secret compound,” he joked.
She arched an eyebrow. “Joke all you want, but you’ll be in awe. There’s no better team than ours to find Andy’s killer.”
He only had to pull into the Blackwell compound driveway to agree with her. The gate swung open, and Sam drove through. Griff followed her and took a good look at the security that was even more high-tech than Sam led him to believe. But of course it was. Gage was once a SEAL, and Griff didn’t need to meet him to know that he had the skills to secure anything and everything.
Griff would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to working with this team. He had nothing but respect for all of them, and he hadn’t even met them. On the way to their vehicles, Sam filled him in on how Gage hired only people who’d been injured in either a military or law enforcement job and had to leave their jobs due to the injury. So he formed a team to give them a second chance. That was beyond cool. Gage had to be some kind of guy.
On top of that, he was the reason Sam smiled when she talked about her job. Griff respected anyone who made Sam smile with such gusto when she was mourning Andy’s loss. Well, not make her smile in a romantic kind of way. He still wanted to be the one to make her smile like that again. Even after she bailed on him.
How pathetic was that? She’d dumped him cold. No reason. Just said it wasn’t working for her.
But that was a lie. Her actions proved she was still into him. So why did she lie to him back then? What was her real reason for leaving? A lot of the guys on his SEAL team had failed relationships because of the danger they faced and from the many lengthy absences, but she’d never complained about that.
So what was her problem? Why did she bail on him? The seven-year-old question still rolled through his brain at the oddest moments.
She pulled up to a ranch house and parked. He stopped behind her. The house was surrounded by a neatly manicured yard and the building looked well-kept. As a SEAL, he’d learned that it was all in the details in life. As a firefighter and medic it rang true, too. Take care of the details, and the big things fell into place. But never lose focus on the big picture, either, or things went south in a hurry.
Sam climbed wearily out of her Jeep, and without a word went to the front door. He joined her in the misty rain that smelled of the ocean and waited for this Gage guy to answer. The door was soon opened by a man a fraction shorter than Griff with dark hair and an intensity that burned bright in his eyes.
“Sam, good.” He ran his gaze over her, his look possessive.
Griff didn’t like it one bit and stepped closer to her.
Gage didn’t change his focus but gave her a side hug, looking down at her with deep concern. “Thank God you made it out of that fire.”
Was she involved with this Gage guy? A fit of jealousy colored Griff’s vision red.
He heard charging feet coming their way, and a woman with curly red hair burst through the door to sweep Sam into her arms. “Oh, my goodness. I heard about the fire. I was so worried.”
Gage’s smile blossomed into love. “My wife, Hannah.”
He shot out a hand to Griff. “Gage Blackwell. Welcome.”
“Thanks,” Griff said and meant it, his good mood being restored by the four-letter word “wife.”
“I’m filthy,” Sam said wearily, pushing back and trying to wipe off smudges she’d transferred to Hannah’s clothes.
“Nonsense, honey. You’ve been through a trauma, and I’m so happy you are safe and sound.”
Hannah put her arm around Sam’s shoulder and ran her gaze over Griff. He felt more uncomfortable under her intense gaze than during inspection when he was a seaman recruit. Still, he stood without wavering and found acceptance in her eyes.
She offered her hand. “As Gage said, I’m Hannah.”
She was a little bit of a thing, and he didn’t know if he should shake firmly or take it easy on her. In the end, he didn’t cut her any slack. She looked like a strong woman who would expect strength from any man working with her husband’s team.
“Thank you for rescuing Sam,” she said, moving Sam to a nearby bench, obviously picking up on her fatigue. “We’re all so thankful for that.”
“No thanks needed. I’m just glad I got there on time.” He glanced at Sam, but she looked away.
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Hannah’s gaze intensified, noting the tension between him and Sam.
Gage stepped forward and took her arm. “Leave it be, honey.”
She frowned but didn’t say a word. Griff got the impression that she liked to meddle.
“I have forensics to process,” Sam pointedly changed the subject. “But I also hoped we could get the team together for a briefing and planning meeting.”
“Shower and rest first,” Gage said. “I need you clearheaded enough to take lead on this investigation.”
Sam firmed her shoulders and nodded with confidence that surprised Griff after all she’d just been through.
“Okay, then,” Gage said. “I’ll text everyone to meet in two hours, and I can have someone take care of the equipment for you.”
“About that—”
He waved his free hand. “Don’t worry if anything happened to it. You didn’t start the fire and insurance will replace anything that was ruined. Go ahead and give me a list, and I’ll get replacements going.”
Sam nodded. “Still, I’m sorry, and if you incur any costs, I want to pay you back.”
“We know you’re sorry, sweetie.” Hannah smiled at Sam. “I know I speak for Gage too, when I say all that matters is that you’re all right.”
Gage turned to Griff. “Glad to have you onboard for this investigation. It would be easier for all of us if you stayed at the compound. You—”
“Now wait a minute,” Sam said then suddenly stopped. “Sorry for interrupting, that was rude. Go on.”
She obviously valued Gage as much as she claimed. She’d always been respectful of military men and women and appreciated their service. That’s why she didn’t have a problem when he deployed. She believed it was necessary for the country. Thank God for all the military spouses and families who felt the same way. Sure, they didn’t like seeing their loved ones go off, sometimes to war, but they got it. Totally got it.
“You could use one of our trainee cabins,” Gage said, ignoring the interruption.
“That sounds good.” Griff wanted to stay, to be in the thick of things. But not at the cost of making Sam so uneasy that she couldn’t work. He faced her. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”
“Sure, fine,” she mumbled.
“Cabin four is vacant. I’ll grab a key.” Gage went inside.
Hannah got up and stepped closer to Griff. “You can eat with us if you want while you’re here, or I’ll pack a bag of supplies for you.”
He smiled at this kind woman. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll run into town and grab something.”
“Um, Griff.” Sam mocked a horrified look. “Don’t ever refuse Hannah’s hospitality or she gets cranky.” Sam laughed.
“She’s right.” Hannah laughed, too, a small, high almost childlike giggle. “So choose my food and avoid the cranky woman.”
Though she was a bit intense, he figured she was a perfect personality type for a former SEAL, and he liked her. “Whichever is easiest for you.”
“I’ll gather some snacks and sandwich fixings and drop them off later. You and Sam can clean up and rest before the meeting. Then you can decide about your other meals.” She gave Sam a pointed look that Griff didn’t understand.
“Most appreciative,” he said to Hannah.
“Of course.” She smiled, a kind of motherly fondness. “Gage told me you served as a SEAL, and that means you’re family. No questions asked.”
Griff loved the SEAL brotherhood. He was and would always be welcomed by SEALs, and he would extend the same welcome to his brothers in arms.
Gage returned with a key. “Sam can show you to the cabin.”
“Thanks again.”
“No worries,” Gage said. “Let’s find some time to talk while you’re here.”
Griff nodded and not just a patronizing response. He would make time for Gage. He would want to pick Griff’s brain about his service. That was a given. Even if Griff didn’t want to talk about it, he owed Gage for his hospitality.
Griff shook his hand as Sam got up and headed for her vehicle. Griff climbed into his truck and followed Sam’s Jeep down a winding road past six cabins all built in varying designs. But she continued past them. He had to figure the Blackwell staff lived in these cabins. He also had to wonder which one was Sam’s, but obviously she didn’t intend to show him.
She stopped in front of another grouping of smaller buildings, all the same basic log cabin design. She got out, and he joined her. Lights spilled out of the nearby cabins and smoke filtered up from a chimney, the pleasant smell of burning wood filtering into the air. One thing that surprised him after becoming a firefighter was that he still liked campfires and wood burning fireplaces. But he had to admit he was more careful around them now.
She ran a gaze over him. “I suppose you’ll need clothes and stuff.”
“I’d planned to stay in Lost Creek while figuring out who killed Andy.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a bag in the truck.”
“That’s good then.” She nodded at a large building the size of a gym just down the road. “That’s where we’ll meet—in our training facility. The building will be locked so I’ll stop by and get you.” She turned to leave.
Griff grabbed her arm. She pulled away. He let go and backed off. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t be touching you. But I just wanted to say thank you for letting me work with you all and stay here. Means a lot to me to help find Andy’s killer.”
A flood of sadness washed over her face. “I totally get that. I want to do the same thing. But stop calling me honey or taking my arm whenever you want. It’ll send the wrong signals to the team. Hannah’s already suspicious about the tension between us, and I don’t want others to feel the same way.”
He nodded and watched her leave, an ache in his gut. He hated to admit it, but it hurt that she wanted to totally erase their past when the year he’d spent with her had pretty much been the best year of his adult life.
5
Griff was rarely intimidated, but the five men and one woman looking up at him from the long conference room table when he entered the space with Sam at this side gave him a moment’s pause. Each and every one of them looked interested in him, but more than that, they seemed overly protective of Sam as if Hannah had mentioned the tension between him and Sam. Or maybe the rife emotions were just hanging in the air between them, and these top-notch operators were wise enough to pick up on that.
Gage stood at the front of the room. “Sam, you can do intros.”
“I know Gage has filled you all in, and you have to know Matt, here, saved my life today.” Sam gave him a thankful smile and stopped by the only female in the room. She had long black hair and an inquisitive expression. “This is Eryn Sawyer, former FBI agent, and our computer genius. Next to her is her husband, Trey. He’s a former Green Beret. They’ve been married since Valentine’s Day.”
“Congratulations.” Griff shook hands with Eryn.
“Nice to meet you, Matt.”
“My friends call me Griff.”
“
Sure, Griff,” she smiled. “Thank you for saving our girl.”
He nodded, then shook hands with Trey next. Trey smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
Sam moved down the line to an extra tough-looking guy with dark hair and a firm jaw. “This is Cooper Ashcroft. Was a Ranger and is one of our helo pilots and also our air assault guru.”
He shoved out a hand. “Coop.”
Griff headed down the table and leaned over to shake. “Helo pilot—nice!”
Coop’s grip was firm, and Griff did his best not to wince and look like a weakling in front of the others and embarrass Sam.
Sam rested her hands on the shoulders of another dark-haired guy. “Jackson Lockhart. Former Green Beret.”
Griff shook hands with him, too, not at all surprised to learn that Gage surrounded himself with other spec ops guys. “Glad to meet you.”
He gave a firm nod. “Likewise.”
Sam moved to Griff’s side of the table and tapped a friendly looking guy on the shoulder. “This is Alex Hamilton. He was a Recon Marine and is our tactical tracking expert.”
“Nice of Sam to bring a friend over to play.” Alex chuckled and shook hands.
Sam thumped him on the head and stepped down the way to the last man. “Riley Glenn. Previously a PPB sniper and now teaches concealed carry and urban sniper classes for us. Plus, he’s a helo pilot, too.” She ruffled his hair. “And he’s the only other one on the team besides me with gorgeous blond hair.”
He shook her hand off, rolling his eyes. “Hey, it’s natural. Not like I chose it.”
“I know, but it got a rise out of you.”
Griff liked the way she joked with the team. They’d once had the same easiness, and he missed it. Missed how perfect they’d been together. How she fit in with his team. With his siblings. His parents had loved her, too.
“Go ahead and have a seat.” Gage handed a marker to Sam and faced his team. “Sam will take lead on this investigation.”
Griff took a seat next to Riley and turned his attention to Sam. She wore a black knit shirt with a Blackwell Tactical logo on the chest and khaki tactical pants. He knew she always liked to wear them for the many pockets instead of using a purse. She didn’t carry a purse like most women Griff knew unless they went on a formal date, and then she carried a little glittery thing that couldn’t hold more than a phone.
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