Chapter 3
Late that night
Athena dragged herself into her spartan apartment, lugging a wheeled suitcase behind her, and flicked on the light.
She had spent a week in Laredo helping coordinate a multi-agency investigation and was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed.
Exhausted from the trip and the long hours it took to bust the smuggling ring, the silence hit her.
No bouncing bundle of joy racing to meet her on dancing paws with excited yips.
No melting into Flash’s firm embrace. She missed the hint of sweat that always stirred something inside her, the infectious grin and twinkling whiskey eyes that assured Athena she was loved.
This condo might be her official residence, but it wasn’t a home. It never had been.
She slipped off her heels, smoothed her skirt, and sank onto a pristine couch, brushing the fabric with manicured fingers. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered making out with Flash on this couch. Pulling the phone from her purse, she texted her.
I’m home.
When no response came at once, she figured Flash was out on a call or fast asleep.
It was after midnight, after all. Athena sighed and studied the four walls of her living room, with its barely used dinette set and kitchen that lacked any personality.
Flash’s loft overflowed with character and was always littered with dog toys.
In contrast, her condo wasn’t just clean—it was sterile.
Maybe it was the pool, the big-screen TV, or, more likely, the gigantic walk-in shower that drew them to the suburbs whenever they had a free day together to spend at the house Flash always called a mansion. She’s so precious.
These days, a million-dollar house on the outskirts of Houston, including the pool and her security system, was a pretty normal price tag. The retreat Athena had purchased with part of her inheritance was a very lovely house, but it wasn’t a mansion—not like the one she’d grown up in.
Moving in together simply wasn’t practical, she reasoned, her spirits sinking further.
This place was close to the FBI building.
Flash’s loft across town was near her fire station.
The retreat in Piney Point Village was too far from either workplace to come home to every night.
Flash likes her independence. Our current arrangement is working just fine, she told herself, then frowned at her dark cell screen.
It had been almost two weeks since they’d seen each other in person, since Athena had felt the warmth of Flash’s touch, tasted her kiss, or breathed her in.
She’d have to wait at least another day.
Athena pulled a bottle of water from her nearly empty fridge and headed to bed.
Before turning out the nightstand lamp, she checked her messages one more time.
Then, keeping up a tradition they’d begun seven months ago, she typed in something new about herself.
After so long, it was getting hard to think of things she hadn’t already told Flash.
Some of my high school friends thought I was a prude.
A friend and I double-dated with our boyfriends to senior prom, and I refused to go back to the hotel with them afterward.
I told them a good Christian girl doesn’t do that.
But honestly, I had no interest in sex then, certainly not with Remy Watkins.
See how you’ve loosened me up? G’nite. Love you.
In the dark, the last thing she heard was the wail of a siren speeding past.
Saturday, February 7
Athena clicked off her alarm, feeling as if she’d just closed her eyes. She reached for her phone and smiled.
Hurray! You’re finally back. We had a busy shift, but I’m headed home soon. Come see me when you can.
You, a prude? Never! The stories I could tell—but won’t.
Something you don’t know about me. I’m not wild about Japanese food, especially sushi.
I know you like it, so I didn’t want to say anything.
Too busy trying to woo you. But knowing you were a virgin when you graduated high school, it’s only fair that I come clean. Don’t buy me sushi. Love you more!
A warm feeling welled in Athena’s chest, and she pressed the phone to it, closing her eyes for a moment’s daydream. Then she texted back.
Have to go to work. Definitely tonight. Make sure you’re rested. She smirked and pushed send. The day was looking up.
Athena selected a winter fog-gray skirt suit paired with a stark black blouse and heels.
She frowned when she opened her refrigerator.
A quick stop at a drive-through was called for.
She’d pick up coffee and a bagel on the way to the office, give Director Smith a briefing on the Laredo operation, catch up on a little paperwork, and then meet Flash for some much-needed R she leaned into her feminine side because it enhanced her power. She’d spent over twenty years perfecting the game.
Director Smith made the introductions and assured Zapata and Bach that the FBI would work in conjunction with their departments to apprehend the guilty party. “Marshal Zapata?” Smith passed the torch to the distinguished, silver-haired man in a sharp uniform and starched shirt.
“Our investigation is still ongoing,” he began. “However, we have determined the origin of the fire.” He swiveled his chair to face a large screen. Mr. Smith’s assistant brought up the images.
Zapata used an extendable rod to point out the evidence.
“This large generator, outside the office area. Something caused an explosion that blew into the office, igniting the fire. Hundreds of buildings in Houston use this type of generator, and I’ve never seen one simply explode.
Fire Inspector Ballard is on scene with HPD crime scene investigators collecting evidence right now. I don’t believe this was an accident.”
“Neither does the Houston Police Department,” said Detective Bach.
He leaned his elbows on the table, passing his gaze between Mr. Smith and Athena.
“Four people died in the blaze. One was Jeff Nolan, a senior EPA compliance investigator, conducting a joint inspection with OSHA. Gulf Allied Chemicals has a spotty record and has been cited for safety and environmental violations over the years. The CEO, Charles Whitmore, has reported receiving threats from radical outfits, including the Green Resistance.”
“They do something with petroleum products, right?” Athena asked.
“Yes,” Zapata answered. “The publicly traded company has its headquarters in Houston but operates multiple facilities around the Gulf. This plant manufactures industrial solvents and oxidizers, both of which are highly flammable. Our firefighting crews were racing the flames to prevent a major disaster. If the stored chemicals had ignited, it would have been catastrophic.”
Again, Athena thought about Flash. Her insights would be useful, whether or not she’d fought that fire.
This reminded her of just how dangerous her girlfriend’s job was.
It wasn’t just getting cats out of trees and putting out backyard fires.
It was explosive chemical plants, train wrecks, high-rise infernos, and battling hurricane-force winds to rescue idiots who refused to evacuate.
Being a firefighter was far more hazardous than being shot at occasionally. An icy shiver ran through her.
“Now, it’s possible a mechanical problem with the generator caused the explosion and subsequent building fire,” Detective Bach admitted, “but I’m prone to think industrial sabotage or someone with a grudge against the company—maybe a disgruntled ex-employee.”
“We’ll consider all angles,” Athena said. “I need to see the scene and talk to people who were there.”
“Inspector Ballard is at Gulf Allied now,” said Zapata.
“I need to go over there too,” Bach added. He rubbed a hand across his scruff. Athena imagined it must itch. “Since we’re going to be working this case as a joint venture, Special Agent Bouvier, why don’t we drive over there together?”
She raised a brow at him, considering his offer. The only things she knew about him were that he smelled bad and was so overtaxed that he didn’t have time to shave. Neither inspired confidence.
“Thank you for the offer, Detective,” she said with a polite nod, “but I prefer the comfort of my own vehicle. It will save you from having to drive me back here when we’re done.”
Bach produced a half-hearted smile and nodded. “As you wish.”
“Do you plan to call in your team on this?” Mr. Smith asked.
“Agents Paulson and Howard are working a counterfeiting case, if my information is correct.” She’d been back less than twelve hours and already had a major investigation dropped in her lap.
“I’ll call the others in when we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.
” At least the rest of her team could enjoy their Saturday.
Zapata said, “I’ll let Ballard know to expect you.”
“OK, folks, I’ll let you get to it. But keep a sharp eye out over there,” Mr. Smith charged. “If the perpetrator wanted to blow those tanks and create a veritable disaster, he might return to finish the job.”
“Yes, sir,” Athena replied.
From the luxury interior of her blue Lexus, Athena retouched her lipstick, then pulled out her cell to text Flash. She didn’t trust a phone call, knowing if she heard that sweet, lively voice teasing her ears, she’d be late to the crime scene.
Hey, sweetie. I caught a case. Explosion at Gulf Allied Chemicals killed a federal inspector. I’ll be a little late. Still on for a night together? Dinner and a movie?
She pushed the ignition button and waited a beat. Flash replied, I was there yesterday. It was a close call. A night with you? I don’t care how late—I’m not turning that down. Let me know where and when.
My place, she texted back. I’ll let you know when. Thanks. I missed you.
I missed you too. Snuffles sends kisses.
Oh, only the dog sends me kisses?
?? You’ll be getting kisses and a lot more, silly woman. Go catch a bad guy.
Athena laughed and tucked her phone into her purse. Checking her rearview mirror, she shifted into full investigative mode. I wonder what we’ll find?