Page 53 of Flint’s Strike

“Eliot, can you pull up every approval tied to Haight in the system?” I try not to watch his hands as he runs the search. I can still feel him touching me in that hallway. The strength of his grip around my waist, the way his fingers tightened on my neck. And the taste of him…God.

“More than five thousand entries.” Eliot shakes his head. “The last week of his life, he signed off on ten. Most are limited in scope. Suppression system, framing, electrical… Only two final occupancy certs. A restaurant down on Sixth Street and Cedar Park.” He leans closer to the screen, narrows his eyes, and swears under his breath. “Fuckin’ hell. The day he died…Cedar Park is the only record.”

Shit.

The conference room door swings open. I know the second I see AJ’s face, this ain’t gonna be good.

“Austin’s fire chief just called. Another suspicious blaze in the Mueller district. New construction, only cleared for occupancy yesterday.” His voice roughens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Two fatalities. The scene’s secure. Flint, they want you down there ASAP. Nate, go with him.”

Eliot shuts the lid on his laptop and pushes back from the table.

I close my laptop, stand, and touch the butt of my gun out of habit. Only to find Nate and Eliot staring at me.

For a moment, I don’t know why. Then I remember I’m supposed to be on desk duty. “Hell, no. AJ, you are not benching me.”

“Parker, you fell through a floor two days ago,” he says. “This ain’t up for discussion.”

“Which makes the chances of me falling through another one pretty damn small. Austin PD is gonna be all over that scene. You need both of us down there to make sure they don’t fuck it up.” I take a step away from the table, more than a little proud when I manage not to wince. “I won’t go in the building. But someone’s gotta find out why there were two people inside. If we leave it up to APD, they’ll spend six hours proving the victims shouldn’t have been there before they ever ask why they were.”

“She’s right.” Nate caps his highlighter and returns it to the box. “Talking to witnesses requires zero cardio. Besides, if I go alone, who’s gonna tell me I’m asking the wrong questions?”

“Parker, I want your word that you’ll stay outside the tape. Hell, that you’ll both stay outside the tape.” AJ braces his hands on the doorway like he might physically stop us from leaving.

He probably would.

I nod, holding his gaze. “Arson is Eliot’s job. Murder is ours. I promise.”

“Call me when you’re done.” He turns on his heel and strides back toward his office.

I let out a breath, and force my fingers to uncurl one at a time.

“I’ll give you kids a minute,” Nate says. “If I start the car now, we might not die of heat stroke before we leave the parking lot.”

My partner slips out of the room, leaving me alone with Eliot. I rest my ass against the edge of the table. “Should we reschedule dinner?”

Eliot steps close, one of his thighs fitting between both of mine. His hands mold to my waist. “Probably. I’ll cancel the reservations when I get to the scene.”

“Reservations? As in…plural?” I press my hand to his chest as Eliot goes very still. “How many did you make?”

His cheeks turn bright red. “Three?”

“Stars and garters, Eliot. I know that enchilada plate was a lot yesterday, but I don’t need three dinners.”

His laugh smooths out the tension lines around his eyes. “They’re all for seven p.m. I didn’t know what you liked. I was going to ask, but…” He pulls out his phone, opens the TableMatch app, and shows it to me.

The first reservation is at a place known for its seven-course tasting menus, waiters in black tie, and a wine list where the cheapest bottle costs more than my car payment.

The next one is a dive bar. Too loud. And while I love a good fried pickle or two, I need to be a lot more comfortable with a guy before that.

“Rachel’s. They’re good. Quiet,” I say.

With a couple of taps, he cancels the other two bookings, reschedules the third for tomorrow night, and pockets his phone. “Done.”

Eliot leans in and brushes his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle. Tender. Almost sweet. Somehow, that leaves me more off balance than ever. “Tomorrow night, Parker. We finish what we started this morning.”

The words send a little thrill through me, and I watch him walk away, those damn Wranglers a sight to behold.

Five minutes later, I ease myself into the passenger seat of Nate’s Chevy. The AC is trying its hardest, but it’s still well over eighty.