He swallowed and choked a bit.
He could make out her eyes better now. Gorgeous, shimmering gold, so clear and deep and—
He threw the oxygen mask aside and leaped to his feet. “You left a man in there!”
Those golden eyes widened. Very slowly, she lifted her right hand, a fragile hand that had packed a whole lot of punch, and pointed to the left.
A fire truck ladder was lowering as it moved away from the building. And a man was on the ladder. Older, with stooped shoulders and a soot-stained face. A firefighter had him in a tight grip, and the guy appeared to be coughing up a lung.
“Got him,” she said sweetly, her voice a slow drawl of the South that reminded him of a teammate at the Bureau.
His gaze flew back to her. He looked now, really looked. Short blond hair, wet from sweat and the heat, was molded to her head. Her face was all strong angles, with a sharp, pointed chin. Wide, golden eyes. Cat eyes. Not conventionally pretty. Not really.
But with those full lips, those cheekbones and, damn, those eyes—sexy.
Definitely sexy.
Her hands were on her hips now. He couldn’t tell a thing about the shape of her body, not in that thick uniform, but she was tall, just a few inches shy of his own six foot three.
Probably long and lean, and he usually liked them a bit softer around the edges and—
“Wanna tell me why you’ve got a death wish, GQ?”
GQ? He glanced down at his ruined suit. Right. So she was funny. Or wanted to be. “I heard…” He coughed and had to pause to clear his throat and breathe. “I heard… him calling for help.” He wouldn’t tell her the guy was his informant, not yet. That was on a need-to-know basis. Bedroom eyes didn’t need to know that yet.
Those eyes. Impressive, really. They were so big that he was surprised she’d gotten them to go so mean and small, so fast. “Firefighters fight the flames.” Ice could have dripped from that drawl. Interesting. Ice in a fiery hell. “Not businessmen with a hero complex.”
He rubbed his jaw. It hurt. So did his ego. “You always punch out your victims? That part of your complex?”
She shook her head. “I only punch when the guys are dumb enough to fight help when it comes.”
Ah, now that was the second time she’d insulted his intelligence. He reached into his back pocket. Yanked out his wallet. The leather stuck a bit when he tried to open it, but he shoved his ID toward her. “FBI, sweetheart. I think I know how to handle a dangerous situation.”
She didn’t even glance down. “I think that’s debatable.”
A snicker came from behind him.
Great. An audience. He’d forgotten all about the EMTs.
His sexy savior—with the serious attitude—turned away. “Get him checked out, Harry,” she called out and marched away.
That was it?
His gaze dropped. Couldn’t help it. Even in that thick garb, she had a nice sway.
“You—you assaulted an officer!” It was all he could think of right then. She was heading for his informant, leaving him in her dust.
He didn’t want her to go. Not yet.
Her name was on the lower back of her uniform. Spelled out in big, reflective letters. L. SPADE.
She threw a vulgar gesture over her shoulder, but didn’t stop walking.
Well, well… He couldn’t fight the smile that lifted his lips.
“Dude, you better stop while you’re ahead.” From the EMT. What had she called him? Harvey? Harry?
Kenton tossed the oxygen mask at him. Spade was too close to his informant. No way was she getting first crack at him.
The guy was his. Once he stopped trying to cough up his lung, anyway.
“Hey—wait! You need to go to the ER. You can’t just—”
Kenton shoved his way through the crowd. There were gawkers lined up across the street, watching the fire begin to sputter. Smoke drifted lazily into the night air, the sirens wailed, and general chaos ensued.
Nice.
The informant reached the ground, and the paramedics immediately swarmed him.
“We need him taken to Langley General, stat!” Spade’s voice. “Sir, sir—you’re gonna be all right! You hear me? You’re safe!”
The guy coughed, shuddered, and seemed to pull in on himself. Then he broke free of the paramedics and ran right at L. Spade.
“Sir!”
Uh-oh, was she gonna punch him, too?
No, a coughing fit took him down.
Then it was a pile of bodies as the paramedics got to work. When the guy appeared again, he was strapped to a gurney, twitching, shouting, and spitting.
“You’re welcome.” Spade sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “Must be the night for ass**les,” she muttered.
Kenton came up close beside her. “Guess it must.”
Her head turned toward him. Those amazing eyes narrowed. Huh. Kinda like golden fire staring right back at him.
“Who the hell are you?” someone snarled.
Kenton glanced away from Spade, and up. Damn. A big guy, both in height and width, with a grizzled gray beard and beady moss-green eyes.
“Chief, this here’s an FBI agent…” Her drawl thickened, deliberately, he was sure.
A grunt. “You the fool Lora had to pull out of the building?”
What was with these people? Weren’t firefighters supposed to be helpful and kind?
“What were you doing here?” the chief demanded, jabbing a thick finger toward him. “This is a known drug area, and it’s—”
“That’s why I was here.” Ah, bullshit. He could do it so well. “Investigation, you know. Classified—can’t discuss it with you.” His prey was getting away. An EMT shoved the screaming man into the back of the ambulance. Great. He already knew the guy was a runner. If the fellow made it to the hospital, he’d vanish long before emergency personnel got hold of him.
The chief turned away. “Long, Suvalis—get those hoses over here! We still got flames…”
“You are so full of crap.” Ah, this from the sweet-tongued Lora Spade.
He blinked at her. “Sorry, I’m suddenly feeling… a little woozy.” He rubbed his jaw. “Could be from the blow I took. I think, I–I think I need to get to the hospital.”
Kenton took a step away, his eyes already on that ambulance.
She touched his arm. He felt the heat of that touch right through the sleeve of his dress shirt. “What’s your name, GQ?”
“Kenton. Special Agent Kenton Lake.” So she felt the connection, too, that hot zip of attraction.