Oh, she had a mouth on her. Both literally and figuratively. Her full lips looked sweet. Yet she spewed such sarcasm and sourness. Why was she treating him like the enemy?
“Goodbye.” She turned in the direction of Clark Street. But Omar put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
She turned, looking up at him in surprise.
Omar said, “Not so fast.”
Gabrielle’s eyes widened as she looked at the firefighter. Why was he stopping her now?
“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe me,” she said.
“I do...believe you.”
“Then why aren’t you letting me go?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, and she noticed the way he was suddenly looking at her. There was something in his eyes. It was a look that Gabrielle had seen many a time. Most notably, with her own ex-fiancé—when he had leveled his eyes on other women.
This man was a player. It was practically written on his forehead. So often, the attractive ones were.
“If you are out here hoping to get a scoop, I have to ask that you don’t insert yourself into this investigation. Things get complicated when journalists get in the way.”
Gabrielle gritted her teeth, and held back a nasty retort. Of course, he didn’t believe her. He clearly thought she was interested in nabbing the arsonist for the glory. But that had nothing to do with it. She was in this for justice.
Justice for her parents.
Her parents had been victims of the arsonist. Their restaurant—the culmination of their hopes and dreams—had been burned down after only six months in operation. Two weeks later, her father had had a heart attack. The stress had gotten to him, and he’d almost died.
“I’m trying to catch this arsonist, because somebody has to. He has the city gripped with fear, and it’s mind-boggling that no one is able to figure out who he is and stop him.”
“You don’t think we’re doing our job?”
“Not good enough,” Gabrielle said.
She saw a little bit of irritation flash in the firefighter’s eyes. And she wondered why she was goading him. They shouldn’t be at odds. Ultimately they had the same goal. Yet, they were arguing.
“Why don’t you have a camera crew with you?” Omar suddenly asked.
The question caught her off guard. She wasn’t prepared for it. “I’m not here in an official capacity with the station. I already told you, this isn’t about me getting a story.”
“But you were at the last fire. Maybe the one before that, too. I’ve seen you before. That’s why, when I saw you tonight, I thought it was suspicious. More than a coincidence.”
“It is more than a coincidence. I heard about the fire on the radio, and I came down to the scene. Same as I did with the last fire. You guys are busy, and I wanted to see if I spotted anyone in the crowd who looked suspicious. I came armed with my cell phone camera.”
“You got the arsonist on camera? Why didn’t you say so?”
“You see how dark it is out here. I got pictures, but they’re not great. And I couldn’t get close to the guy.”
“Can you give me a description of him?”
“Not exactly.”
Omar chuckled mercilessly. “But you were so certain that you were chasing the right guy. This is ridiculous.”
The only thing ridiculous was that he was paying no attention to her at all. He wasn’t getting it.
“I couldn’t tell who he was because I wasn’t right beside him. And because he also was wearing a hat. And it’s dark out. I can tell you that he’s a white male. I saw him at the last fire as well. When I saw him tonight... I just knew.”
“Then why didn’t you try to get the attention of someone in authority?” Omar asked.
“I...” She had been too absorbed with trying to keep her eye on the person she believed to be the arsonist. “I’m not sure it would have done any good. The authorities in the city seem completely inept at catching this perp.”
“Ouch.” Omar made a face. “For such a beautiful lady, you certainly know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.”
Then he smiled. And Gabrielle’s jaw went slack. She couldn’t believe it. He was flirting with her!
“Omar!”
The firefighter turned. Another firefighter—Gabrielle recognized Mason Foley, because he had been in the papers some months earlier—was striding toward them through the alley. “Did you find something?”
“Thought I did,” Omar answered. “But I was wrong, apparently.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed on Gabrielle. “Her?”
“I saw her in the crowd,” Omar explained. “She was acting suspicious. I saw her take off, so I did too. When I caught up to her, she said she was in pursuit of the alleged arsonist.”
“Until he got in the way and stopped me,” Gabrielle quipped.
“You’re Gabrielle Leonard, aren’t you?” Mason asked.
“Yes.” At least this guy didn’t only read the sports pages, she thought sourly.
“The guy got away,” Omar said. “Did you see anyone running down Clark Street?”
Mason shook his head. “Naw.”
“Damn.”
Gabrielle looked up at Omar. There was something about him that looked familiar. And his name...
Yes! It came to her. Hadn’t he dated a friend of a friend? Two, from what she remembered. Both had been head over heels for Omar, but he’d broken their hearts. There was some story about a love triangle. It had been a few years back. But it was becoming clearer in her mind. Omar had played both the women. In the end, both had been devastated.
“Omar, we need you back at the truck,” Mason said.
Omar suddenly met her gaze. And there was that look again. Now Gabrielle could define it. It was the bedroom eye. She quickly averted her gaze to Mason, who nodded at her, and said, “Have a good day.”
Then she looked at Omar again, and though it was a quick glance, she felt something she didn’t want to feel. A spark of attraction. There was an undeniable sizzle between the two of them.
She jerked her gaze away and turned down the alley.
“Gabrielle,” Omar called.
But she pretended not to hear. Because the last thing she wanted to do was have any further involvement with him.
* * *
“Don’t quit your day job,” Tyler McKenzie joked when all of the firefighters had returned to Station Two. “You’d make a lousy detective, Omar.”
The guys had a good laugh at Omar’s expense. Mason, having gotten a kick out of the fact that Omar had “nabbed” Gabrielle Leonard, had enthusiastically shared the story. With everyone.
“Very funny, Tyler,” Omar said.
“Wasn’t Stacy Jackson out there with Channel 10 news?” Mason asked. “Maybe she’s the arsonist.”
More raucous laughter from the guys.
Omar rolled his eyes. Okay, so he had made a colossal mistake. Gabrielle Leonard was clearly not the arsonist.
“I