Chapter 1

Present Day

Joe Walker couldn’t believe his bad luck. He lay flat on his belly in an inch of cold, mucky water, surrounded by grime and soot and the thick stench of smoke, all of which was slowly permeating through his coveralls, his skin, and the mask he wore to protect his lungs. Just another day at the spa.

Or a day in the life of a fire marshal who worked for MAST, the Metro Arson Strike Team out of San Diego.

The fire had occurred only hours before. Now he turned on his camera, clicked the shutter, checked the digital display to make sure he had what he wanted, and blew a speck of dirt off the lens.

Firefighting was a dirty business. But inspecting the damage, searching for burn patterns, putting together the story of what had happened, and ruling for natural causes or arson, was dirtier.

Even so, he’d never expected to be here again, in the very basement of the warehouse that had so irrevocably changed his life twelve years ago. It was just past the crack of dawn—he stifled a yawn as he glanced at his watch—far too early to think about the past.

Damn he hated getting up before the sun, but given that the majority of arson occurred at night, early mornings were a common fact of his life. A common fact that never failed to annoy Cindy.

“Being the lover of a firefighter was supposed to be exciting,” she’d murmured as he’d crawled out of her bed at four a.m.—an hour ago now. “Not utterly exhausting.”

He opened his mouth to correct her—he’d gone from firefighter to fire marshal two years ago—but she’d run a hand down his torso, her eyes going molten as she did.

That she found him so desirable still stunned him. He’d never told her that he’d been the fat loser all through school, or that he couldn’t have gotten laid if he’d begged, a phenomenon that had lasted until the sheer physical labor of firefighting had gnawed away at his baby fat.

“Come back here.” Her soft voice had floated on the predawn air as he’d stumbled through her bedroom trying to find his clothes.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” She opened her legs, danced her fingers between them.

His tongue had nearly fallen out but he buckled his belt and added his gun and pager to it. “Cindy. I have to go.”

“Fine.” She turned over, exposing a mouth-watering ass as she stretched for a pillow, which she then aimed at his head. “But don’t even think about coming tonight. Figuratively or literally.”