“Have you got the supplies?” she asked him, feeling a shudder of pain behind her eyes.
Scott dropped the red bag on the ground, crouched down and jerked the zipper open. “Right here.”
Her head began to pound. The smoke was invading her pores. She reached into her black backpack and extracted the can of OxyBlast. For half a minute, she sucked on the mouthpiece, inhaling pure oxygen and clearing her lungs.
“The oxy-mask is in the bag,” Scott muttered in a voice that was hoarse from breathing in too much smoke.
When he brushed the hair from his eyes, she sucked in a puff of air. The left side of the man’s face was scarred—a motley web of spidery burns.
“Hazard of the job,” he shrugged when he noticed her shocked expression.
Detective Randall joined them. “You done here, Scott?”
“Yeah,” the firefighter grunted.
Randall stared at Jasi and laughed rudely. “I don’t know why she needs the mask.”
Scott scowled at her. “Yeah, it’s as useless as tits on a bull—unless she’s gonna go into a live fire.”
The men grinned at each other, then caught her eye.
“Detective Randall,” she said coldly. “There are many things that are useless on a bull.”
She allowed her eyes to slowly drift down past Randall’s waist, locking in on his groin area. The man’s face grew pinched, and then he muttered something indistinctly.
She turned her back and reached into the bag, removing the familiar navy-blue mask. It had a built-in filtration system that eliminated air contamination, giving the wearer a clean source of oxygenated air. Small and lightweight, the oxy-mask fit securely over the nose and mouth.
She drew it snugly over her head and adjusted her ponytail. Fighting back a feeling of claustrophobia, she took a deep breath.
“I’m fine,” she assured Natassia who was watching her intently. “The residue is bad out here.”
The oxy-mask muffled her voice.
“It wasn’t that big a fire,” Scott huffed.
“Not this fire. The Kelowna fire.”
The firefighter eyed her suspiciously.
“What? That fire was years ago.” The scarred side of his face stretched tautly and barely moved when he spoke.
“Agent McLellan?” Ben called out, hurrying to her side with Sgt. Jefferson in tow. “Everything all right here?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him.
Her head swiveled and her eyes latched onto Detective Randall’s. “Right?”
The man flashed her a dangerous smile. “We don’t need your help. Victoria PD is more than capable of handling—”
Jasi threw the man a frigid glare.
“This isn’t a pissing contest, detective. The CFBI was called in and it’s our case now. Both of them. And if you have a problem with that, then take it up with your supervisor.”
Outraged, Randall tipped his head toward Scott, then stomped back to the truck and sped away in an angry cloud of dust. Scott watched him go. A second later, he rasped a quick goodbye and headed for the field. Joining a small group of firefighters, he pointed in Jasi’s direction and circled one finger beside his head.
Crazy.
Cursing under her breath, she spun around and looked Eric Jefferson directly in the eye.
“What about you, Sgt. Jefferson? You have a problem with us being here?”
The police officer smiled. “Whatever gets the job done, Agent McLellan. That’s my motto. With a serial arsonist on the loose we can use all the help we can get.”
“Too bad those two don’t feel the same way,” Jasi growled, casting a shadowed look in Scott’s direction.
Jefferson glanced toward the field. “Scott’s just a rookie with a big mouth. Randall, on the other hand, he’s a hotshot. He needs the collar.” He nudged his head in Detective Randall’s direction. “It’s guys like him you need to worry about… and maybe Chief Walsh.”
“I’ll take care of the chief,” she muttered. “As soon as I find the man.”
Jefferson elbowed Ben. “If Scott or Randall get in your way, you let me know. I’m the CS Supervisor.”
Jasi caught a brief nod then the man headed for a patrol car.
“Good luck with the chief,” Jefferson called over his shoulder.
When the officer was gone, Ben removed two mini-cans of OxyBlast from the equipment bag and passed them to Natassia. Natassia tucked the cans into Jasi’s backpack and pulled out a small protective nosepiece. She handed it to Jasi who carefully tucked it away in the top pocket of her black PSI jacket.
“Thanks,” Jasi smiled beneath the oxy-mask.
She shoved her arms through the straps of her pack, shifting it slightly so the weight was balanced on her back.
Natassia nudged her. “Let’s find the AI Chief. He’s supposed to be here somewhere. Then we can get a ride to the scene. Man, I’m starved! I could go for lunch right about now—maybe a nice marinated steak.”
Jasi grinned. “Yeah, with sautéed mushrooms.”
“Excuse me for interrupting your culinary exchange,” Ben nudged dryly. “I’m going to talk to the police. You gonna move or stand there swapping recipes all day?”
Laughing, Jasi adjusted her backpack while Natassia picked up the red bag. Then they headed toward a group of firefighters.
Jasi noted their smoke-covered faces and sooty yellow fire jackets. The men were in the middle of a serious discussion and no one noticed their approach.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Natassia called out.
The men stopped talking.
Oh Jesus! They’re gonna start drooling any minute.
Jasi rolled her eyes when she saw the firefighters focus in on Natassia like a swarm of bees. One of the firefighters stepped forward, grinning unabashedly. The man’s eyes slowly perused Natassia’s body, then his ice blue eyes turned and rested on hers. One eyebrow lifted when he registered the mask she wore.
She stiffened slightly, registering his obvious contempt.
“Well, well. What have we here?” the man drawled sarcastically. “Uh, ma’am? The fire is out now. There’s no need for that mask.”
The firefighter was over six feet tall—a lumbering, magnificent personification of man. He had eyelashes that most women would die for, and eyes that were such an unusual pale shade of blue that she wondered if he had visited a SEE office. A jagged scar intercepted his right brow, narrowly missing his eye. A slight cleft in his chin gave him an air of stubbornness. Dark wavy hair clung to his head and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through those curls.
Jasi held his gaze while she examined him like a lab specimen in a jar. Built like a tank, she thought.
“I think maybe you’re a bit lost, ma’am,” he said, his lip curling disdainfully.
He turned toward the men, brushing her off like an annoying wasp at a barbecue.
She stared at the back of his head and then flipped her badge. “That’s Agent McLellan, not ma’am. Where’s the chief?” Her voice was cool, her eyes unwavering.
“Whoo-eee!” the man whistled when he caught sight of her ID. “An agent with an attitude. How rare!”
He shifted so that he was standing in front of her. Behind him, some of the men snickered loudly.
Jasi’s smile was deadly sweet. “Listen, you arrogant asshole. When I find the chief and report you I’ll have you on desk duty for a month. Now where is he?”
The man’s eyes snared hers, turning her knees to mush.
Suddenly he reached for her arm, gripped it firmly and led her away from the laughing eyes of the firefighters. She felt the heat of his fingers through her jacket, branding her as his possession.