Chapter 8
Athena slipped out of her light jacket and draped it over a dining chair, laying her purse beside Flash’s helmet.
The city skyline glowed through the windows to the distant hum of traffic.
Flash tossed her leather riding coat on the couch and extended her hand.
Energy radiated off her body, an invitation in her alluring brown eyes.
Athena took her hand, twirled around her, and led her to the bedroom.
She’d made certain everything was ready: clean sheets, an aromatic candle to light, hand towels beside the bed, and the playlist Flash had made cued up on her smart speakers.
“Echo, play Sexy Night playlist,” she said.
The velvety warmth of Marvin Gaye’s voice, accompanied by a smooth tune and rhythm, hummed softly in the background.
Flash peeled out of her vest, dropping it to the floor. Athena’s nimble fingers got busy unbuttoning Flash’s shirt. “Two weeks was too long,” the lean firefighter moaned. She tugged at Athena’s top until it spilled onto the foot of the bed.
“I missed you every day,” Athena breathed. She pulled the shirt over muscled shoulders, past the firefighter tattoo, and free of Flash’s hands.
With her hands freed, Flash cupped them on Athena’s face, captivating her with a deep, languid kiss.
Athena gave in to her craving, taking, giving, letting go of everything else—even her fears of being too old for Flash.
In the dim light spilling in from the living room, she caught a glow of desire in Flash’s gaze that sent a surge of anticipation through her.
With practiced deftness, Flash unfastened Athena’s bra, the corners of her lips curving.
“You know I love you for your mind, right?” she smirked, drawing a laugh from Athena.
“Your attitude, your strength, your dedication,” she listed as she eased the straps from Athena’s shoulders.
“Your tempting body is just the icing on the cake.”
The bra landed somewhere. Athena was beyond caring. “Is that so, Ms. March?” Her words sounded breathless in her own ears, and she was vaguely aware of goosebumps dimpling her flesh.
“It is,” Flash affirmed. She yanked the sports bra over her head, flinging it behind her. Athena sucked in a breath. “And you know what I like to do with icing?” Flash teased.
The answer was obvious, but Athena had lost the ability to form words.
Moments later, they lay bare together on cool silk sheets, surrounded by romantic music and the candle’s seductive scent.
Flash traced her finger lazily up Athena’s inner thigh, driving her to distraction.
“Valentine’s Day is coming, and I don’t know what to get you,” Flash murmured before rolling her tongue around Athena’s ear, sending shivers cascading over her.
“I think you’re on the right track,” she answered. She reached a hand to catch some part of Flash to hold on to.
Flash caught her wrist, gripping it firmly yet gently. Her teasing grin filled Athena’s vision. “Uh, uh,” she corrected playfully. “I’m going to have my way with you, Special Agent in Charge Bouvier. I intend to lick all the icing off my cake before taking a bite.”
Athena was completely done for, her mind spinning in a euphoric haze. “And what about my cake? I like icing too, you know.”
“You’ll get your turn.” Flash dipped her head, trailing her tongue along Athena’s neck.
She bent it, offering her lover complete access. Her muscles twitched, tightening and releasing without instruction.
Flash asked, “Do you know how amazing you are, how amazing you make me feel?”
“Uh-huh,” Athena uttered, “if it’s anything like how you make me feel.”
Flash released her wrist, moving her hand to caress her breast. “You are so special, so precious to me, Athena. Tell me, have you ever surrendered so completely to anyone else before?”
Her breathing raced, her pulse quickening. “No,” was the only word she could manage.
Flash’s lips touched hers like the gentle wings of a butterfly. “Neither have I.”
Athena relinquished her last vestige of control, only to take it back when Flash offered it.
She seized and delivered pleasure, but what grew between them was far more than carnal.
It was deep, roots firmly set, feeding, nurturing each other with emotional as well as physical intimacy.
The bond felt stronger than any Athena could remember sharing with another person.
Dangerous jobs, age, money—none of it mattered.
It was as if their souls had merged on some higher plane, waiting there for the humans to catch up.
It was beautiful, profound, and terrifying. And Athena gave in to it all.
Sunday, February 8
Flash drifted awake before dawn. Athena’s head nestled into her shoulder, an arm and a leg draped over her.
Her lover’s embrace was warm and felt right, filling Flash with satisfaction.
She gazed at Athena’s serene expression through the ambient light and smiled, pulling her closer.
She dropped a light kiss on her head, not wanting to wake her.
Thinking back at the whimpering moans, the cries of ecstasy, and the purrs of delight she had drawn from Athena’s lips left her with a sense of awe. I did that, she marveled to herself. She trusts her all to me. She’s given me everything.
A sudden wave of protectiveness flooded Flash’s being.
She longed to safeguard Athena from everything bad or dangerous in the world, to bring her endless joy, to be by her side through all life might throw at them.
She’d felt protective of girlfriends before, friend-friends, her parents and siblings, and all the residents of the city besides.
But not like this. Not with the fervor of a Knight Templar or the ferocity of a mother bear.
Athena was perfectly capable of defending herself and others, and yet Flash felt the pull so strong in that moment. She would die for her. She knew she couldn’t be at her side every minute to defend her from harm, that Athena would balk at the very notion. Still, the desire tugged at her heart.
She remembered how Athena had safeguarded her from the cartel’s hitman.
In turn, she’d carried Athena out of the burning abandoned hospital when the felons had laid a trap for her, then pulled her from beneath the SUV after a bazooka blasted it on top of her.
Athena had told her that she spent most of her time in an office, directing investigations from a distance, but Flash knew there were times when she put her life on the line.
This acceptance of dangerous occupations cut both ways.
Still, Athena was a crack shot, with a brilliant mind and decades of experience. She was no damsel in distress. None of that changed how Flash felt.
Her breathing and heartbeat fell into sync with Athena’s as a calm settled around them.
The city still slept on that early Sunday morning.
Flash’s thoughts drifted to her family, work, her performance as a lieutenant thus far, to Valentine’s Day …
she hadn’t gotten a proper response from Athena.
A ring? No, too soon for a ring. But jewelry, maybe?
It had to be unique, and it had to be classy, whatever she came up with.
But what hadn’t Athena done and what didn’t she already have?
I’ll ask Nita, she thought. And if that fails, I’ll ask Mom.
Athena stirred, shifting positions to roll on her other side.
Flash moved with her, spooning her from behind, a protective arm snug around her.
She breathed in the sweet smell of her shampoo, and it mingled with the candle’s remnants and the musky scent of their lovemaking.
She remembered the first night after her firehouse was attacked, after …
when Athena crawled into bed behind her and just held her.
The comfort, the connection, had been indescribable.
This was what she wanted—Athena in her bed, in her arms, every night. Content in the thought, Flash closed her eyes, surrendering to sleep for a few more hours.
Athena sat in her office, feeling relaxed and thoroughly satisfied as she read through the incident interviews Detective Bach’s police officers had turned in. She hadn’t felt this energized and happy for weeks. Last night was exactly what she needed.
She still wished her tech specialist, Agent John Paulson, and Agent Cedric Howard would finish their temporary assignment and get back here. Howard was a competent leg man, and Paulson, the most experienced member of her team, was indispensable.
Through the slits in her office blinds, she kept an eye on the others as they manned stations, made calls, and ran in-depth checks on the company and persons of interest. Even Agents Ice and Hernandez, who preferred action in the field, remained on task at their desks.
This was her home, she realized—not the bland apartment where she slept, showered, and changed clothes.
Though whenever Flash was there, the space seemed more vibrant.
That feeling was always much stronger at Flash’s loft, which smelled of sweat, dog, and citrus, with aromas from the microbrewery downstairs drifting up from time to time.
It made her smile to remember the real Christmas tree Flash had cut in the woods and set in front of the windows, cheering all who walked by.
Athena laid the memory aside to focus on the reports.
Most read much the same. “Working across the way at a pump station, didn’t see anything, heard the explosion,” or “was in the staff meeting, had been there for almost an hour, when suddenly the whole building shook.” “The noise was terrifying.” “I was trapped in the basement,” or “on the second floor.” More than a few said, “Mr. Booker got me out safely.” Others praised the fire department’s response.
She picked up the next sheet, an interview by Officer Tracy with LeShawn Jones, groundskeeper.
Tracy: Did you see anyone around the generator that morning?
Jones: Only one of the janitors. (seemed unconcerned)
Tracy: Is that typical?
Jones: Yeah. A couple double as maintenance workers, like your building’s super.
Tracy: Do you recall the janitor’s name?
Jones: I think it’s Isaac Mora. He’s a whiz at mechanics. At least once a month he’d check out all the generators.
Setting the report aside, Athena thumbed through the stack until she found Isaac Mora’s interview and opened it. This one had also been conducted by Officer Tracy.
Tracy: Walk me through your morning.
Mora: I got there early to clean the office and nearby restrooms to make sure they were spiffy for the OSHA guy’s visit.
The administration building’s generator was due a tune-up, so I changed out the spark plug and tested the battery.
Then I moved on to change some lightbulbs, restock paper in the copy room, dust mop the hallways.
Tracy: About what time was this, that you worked on the generator?
Mora: I reckon about nine or nine-thirty? Most everyone had already arrived at work, and not many folks were wanderin’ around.
Tracy: Did you notice anything different? Did it appear to have been tampered with?
Mora: Naw, it looked fine. I sure would’ve noticed a bomb, if that’s what you mean. Well, unless it had been planted deep beneath everything I worked on. It’s a big 2,000 kW generator, and I wasn’t inspectin’ every inch of it—just what was on my list to do.
Tracy: Did you notice anyone loitering outside who didn’t belong? Somebody suspicious looking?
Mora: Can’t say that I did. I waved at the groundskeeper—forget his name. Some dude in a suit pulled up and entered the buildin’. I think he was the OSHA guy.
Tracy: And where were you at eleven-ten when the blast went off?
Mora: Cleaning up a spill in the basement. Another custodian and I rushed upstairs, because what the hell? There was smoke and the fire alarm was goin’ off. I rounded up two members of the day shift cleaning crew, and we got out of there.
Athena jotted notes, forming a timeline.
9:00 a.m., workers arrive. 9:15-9:30, Inspector Nolan arrives.
11:10, explosion. She compared that to what she already had and added: 11:19, Fire Station Eight vehicles arrive on scene and get to work.
Station Eighteen arrived a minute and a half later, and Twenty was on scene by 11:22.
So, Athena calculated, either the perpetrator planted the bomb between 9:30 and 11:00, or it had already been there, and Mora missed it during maintenance.
She sifted through more interviews, some making wild accusations about who they thought was responsible. China and Russia featured prominently. One worker accused ICE. More than a few pointed fingers at CEO Whitmore, choice words included.
Athena reached for her coffee when a rap sounded at her door. “Come in,” she called.
Agent Ice’s broad shoulders filled her doorway, and his expression said he had something. “Tell me,” she ordered as she braced for the news.
“The M.E.’s report just arrived,” he said, his honest face revealing everything. “Inspector Nolan wasn’t killed in the fire. He was already dead when it started.”