Hot Pursuit

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Did he intend to start the blaze now—with Braden inside? But then knuckles bumped against the wooden door. He doubted the arsonist would knock.

The breath he’d sucked in slipped out in a ragged sigh. He shouldn’t have been surprised that at least one of the guys, if not all of them, would come by to check on him. Of course they would ignore his order to leave him alone. They could definitely be selective about which of his commands they followed sometimes. He’d have to bring that up at the morning meeting. But when he opened the door, he was shocked into silence because he hadn’t expected her.

How had she even known where he lived? Sam McRooney stood on his front porch, her face washed in the golden glow from the kerosene lanterns he’d converted to porch lights. Her cheek had swollen some more and was beginning to shift from red to purple.

Guilt made him feel even queasier than the smell of gasoline had. Hitting her had been an accident, but it was an accident he could’ve prevented had he kept his temper in check.

He knew better than to let jerks like Marty get to him. But then he’d been on edge—not just from the arsonist but from her. Or maybe it was like the guys had told him: he needed to get laid. Hell, Cody had left a box of condoms on his desk a couple of weeks ago.

He’d forgotten all about those until now—until he’d met Sam. Now not just guilt churned his stomach. Desire did, too. Even with the bruise, she was so damn beautiful.

Her mouth gaped as she stared at him. “Do you have something against wearing clothes?”