Scorch (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 6)

by Piper Stone

  “Can do.” Frisco went into action, unraveling the twisted rope.

  He swung the light, capturing Mike’s lifeless looking body. “Mike. Can you hear me? It’s Sawyer. Remember, buddy?” His heart racing, he gasped as he was pulled into a memory, one so violent he almost tumbled forward.

  “Whoa.” Frisco yanked him back, his grip firm. “You sure you can do this?”

  The memory roared into the forefront of his mind.

  “You sure you can do this?” Mike yelled, tossing Sawyer a rope.

  “No choice. She’s barely holding on.” Sawyer managed to tug the end, wrapping it around his waist. Just as he did, the rocks under his feet slipped and he dropped almost ten feet, a series of smaller boulders flying down the edge of the mountain.

  “Shit! I’m getting you out of there.” Mike yanked on the rope. “I need some help over here.”

  “No! She won’t last another two minutes. Let me go!” Sawyer struggled to say. He glanced down at the young woman, her bloody and broken body dangling precariously.

  “Damn it, Sawyer. You have one shot at this. One!”

  “And I’m taking it.” Wrapping the rope around his waist, he had to fight to stay on the slender ledge as he tied the end. He could do this. Taking a deep breath, he glanced up. “Let me down slowly.” He could see two other jumpers had joined Mike, using their weight to keep Mike from going over the edge.

  “Yeah. Just take your damn time.” Mike groaned as he released the rope, allowing the dense material to slide through his hands.

  He knew he was like dead weight. Heights. He loathed everything about them. Swallowing, he pulled again until they eased off the rope and he took a step sideways, trying to find a place to slide his boot. The crevice was small and the second his foot hit the dirt encrusted area, another group of rocks tumbled down, several hitting the girl, the force pushing her even closer to the edge. “Stop!”

  “Shit. The rocks are too sharp. They’re cutting into the rope. We have to abandon!” Mike called.

  “I’ve almost got her.” Sawyer took another deep breath and twisted his body, reaching down. “Almost. Another six inches. Come on!”

  “You don’t have the time. It’s going to go.”

  “I’m not leaving her.”

  “Damn it! That’s an order. Get your ass up here.” Mike tugged, struggling to keep his grasp on the rope.

  Straining, he shifted again, finally able to grab her hand. “I’m here. Can you lift your head?”

  Moaning, the girl moved slowly.

  “The rope is going!” Mike screeched. “I’m bringing you up.”

  He knew he had roughly five seconds. As he struggled to grab her arm, wrapping his hand around her wrist, he heard a creaking sound. Another series of rocks slid. Digging his fingers into her skin, he heard what sounded like a snap!

  “No!”

  Sawyer blinked several times as beads of sweat trickled down his face. He was already several feet down from the curb, almost to Mike, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Mike. Can you hear me?”

  Mike shifted, groaning as he lifted his head. “What the…”

  “Don’t try and talk. Can you move?” Sawyer knew the man wasn’t going to be able to get out on his own.

  “Um…Yes.” Mike wiggled.

  “All right. I’ll be there in just a few seconds. Hold tight.” The slope was slippery as fuck, the area covered in greenery, shrubs hindering the climb down. But he had a straight shot. He glanced up at Frisco, who’d tied the rope around the steel rail, a portion wrapped around his waist. Sawyer wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Sawyer. Is that you?” Mike called, his voice strong.

  He chuckled. “Can’t get rid of me.” Taking another few steps, he was almost there, his hold firm.

  “I’ll be damned. Been meaning to look you up since I got back.”

  Creak! Whoosh!

  “Shit!” A section of the tree in which Mike was hanging broke off. Suddenly, Mike was dropped a solid two feet.

  “Fuck!” Mike yelped, his arms flailing. “Damn it. My leg is trapped.”

  “Stay still and that’s a damn order. I’ll be right there.” He looked up again and could see additional faces peering down. A bank of lights was turned on, lighting up the entire area.

  “Sawyer. This is Captain Thomas of Engine 15. You doing okay down there?”

  “Yeah, Cap’n. Just having the time of my life,” Sawyer studied the area below. If he could get to the more secure limb almost adjacent to Mike’s position, he would have the time to free his buddy’s leg. If.

  Captain Thomas chuckled. “Sending down another rope. You can do this.”

  He concentrated on crawling down, watching every step, his mind reeling from the vision as well as the understanding. He hadn’t even thought about that day in several years, but he knew in his gut this was the very reason Mike had left the jumpers. Haunting guilt. “Almost there, Mike.” He felt the second rope dangling near him and felt comfort in the realization that there were others above, men trained to get them out of this type of situation.

  He could only pray that karma wasn’t rearing her ugly head twice. When he was within a foot, he exhaled and eased onto the limb, immediately surveying. “Well, you could have just called instead of getting yourself tossed out a window. A nice cold beer would have done just fine for a reunion.”

  “You know me. Can’t hold my liquor.” His eyes searched Sawyer’s. “Good to see you, buddy. I think my leg is broken.”

  “Well, from the looks of it, I’d guess you were right. Let’s get you secured to the rope and out of here.” When Sawyer felt secure, he slipped the rope around Mike. “Nice and easy. No crazy moves.”

  “Don’t think I have it in me.”

  Chuckling, he moved with precision, tying off the rope. “Pull the slack. I need to release his leg.”

  “Got it.” Captain Thomas pulled until the rope was taut.

  “Now. Let me see about that leg of yours. You were never a good dancer anyway. Won’t be missing a thing.”

  “Always such an ass wipe,” Mike teased then yelped in pain the moment Sawyer freed the pressure.

  “You have a compound fracture my friend. There is no easy way to do this. It’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch. You okay with that?”

  “Your chance at getting back at me for all those practical jokes.”

  Sawyer snickered. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. I could leave you here.” He glanced back up. “When I say go, get him out of here.”

  “On your command,” Captain Thomas called back.

  “Take a deep breath,” Sawyer said as he grinned and winked. “No pain. No gain.”

  “Asshole.” Mike’s eyes reflected anxiety, yet he took the deep breath, holding it.

  “One. Two. Three.” He used his upper body strength and pulled the limb back, freeing Mike’s leg. “Go!”

  “Aaaahhh!” Mike screamed then clamped the sound.

  The captain and several other men pulled easily and had Mike over the guardrail in just a few seconds.

  Panting, Sawyer dropped his head, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

  “You want us to leave you there?” the captain teased.

  “I think I like it better up there.” He maneuvered his way back to the slope. “I’m good.” As he was pulled up, he reminded himself that the team he’d spent years with had saved more lives than they’d lost, but he would never forget what had occurred.

  “You did good, son. Appreciate you stopping.” Captain Thomas guided him back to the others.

  Sawyer wiped the sweat from his brow and bent over, catching his breath. “The folks in the car?”

  “Both are in critical condition, but they’re out.”

  Nodding, Sawyer looked through the crowd. “I want to see Mike before he goes.”

  “Understand.”

  Sawyer nodded to Frisco as he approached. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You did all the work. Heard about you from
Mike. Says you’re a good guy.” Frisco smiled and held out his hand.

  The shake was more about respect and he could see the same hungry, excited look in the man’s eyes that he once had. Too many years had gone by. Too many wretched experiences. He heard a call, then noticed a flurry of activity. Sawyer broke the connection and headed toward the bank of ambulances. “What’s going on?”

  Lieutenant Myers grabbed him by the arm, pulling him aside. “It’s Mike. He went into cardiac arrest.”

  Chapter 7

  Reese found Sawyer’s ranch easily enough, but she remained in the car, nervous. The reason why she had no answer for. They’d already had sex, for God’s sake. Perhaps the riveting court decision was keeping her on edge.

  Not guilty on all counts.

  She couldn’t fathom what had gone through the jury’s minds. There was no possible explanation for setting a monster free, but the second the verdicts had been read, the courtroom had erupted, families of the victims screaming for justice. She’d packed up her things, refusing to even look in Walker’s direction. Then she’d slipped out the back, avoiding the barrage of press members, vying for the next great story to break them into national news.

  Tonight, was going to be a wonderful respite from her life. Tomorrow? She’d call Roger and force him to accept her request for time off. After that? Who knows. Maybe she’d find a new career, like bull riding or working in a tattoo parlor. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her purse and phone, eyeing the screen. She knew she had at least five messages, a half dozen texts and her email would be flooded. Ignoring them was her answer.

  Trying to find the hidden girl inside, the submissive, the woman who’d been hiding from herself for far too long was going to be a chore. At least her jaded time spent with Christopher had allowed her to pry away at the locks. Maybe Sawyer was the man to provide freedom.

  While she hadn’t been able to see much of the ranch driving in, she knew he owned a couple hundred acres. The house itself was set back off the road and the warm glow of lights shining through the front windows gave her a quiet moment of comfort. Embarking on something new certainly had to be perfect timing.

  She glanced down at her attire before she knocked. He’d seen her in jeans, boots and what she would call a sleazy top. Her chosen attire for a lovely dinner with a sexy smokejumper was all black. A body hugging dress, highlighting what most men called her voluptuous curves, stiletto heels and matching undies.

  Just in case.

  Biting back a giggle, she knocked on the door. Hearing nothing for a few seconds, she was about to knock again when the sound of music, jazz music to be exact, began to create the perfect ambiance. Then she heard what had to be cowboy boots heading for the door. She took a step back, smoothing down her dress, her heart beating rapidly. The same excitement was building, the unknown, the electricity they shared sparking more than just her interest. She was already wet with desire.

  The door was cracked open and Sawyer peered out. “Who goes there?”

  “A wayward waif looking for refuge.”

  Laughing, he opened the door all the way, his eyes opening wide. “Whew. Lady, you are the one gorgeous sight this cowboy needs.”

  “Didn’t know you were a cowboy. Must be at the wrong house.” Pretending to walk away, the feel of his arm as he grabbed her, yanking her body against his chest pushed a moan past her lips.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but you are going to learn.” He captured her mouth as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Driving his tongue past her lips, he kissed her with wild abandon, forcing their tongues together.

  Whimpering, she palmed his chest, her fingers digging in, her mind reeling. As the moment of passion continued, she fell into a heightened state of bliss, every cell tingling, every muscle straining. The man could kiss like no other.

  Grunting, he kicked the door closed and dipped her back into an arch as he slid his hand down to cup her buttocks, kneading. Squeezing. He explored the dark recesses of her mouth as he ground his hips against her stomach, moving back and forth, the action slow and deliberate.

  She was so wet, her nipples erect and aching.

  When he eased back, he dragged the tip of his tongue around her mouth before sliding his lips to her neck, licking and sucking.

  “Jesus.”

  Sawyer bit down, keeping the pressure as he bunched her dress in his hands, yanking the material up to her thighs.

  She was on her tiptoes, undulating back and forth, her breath skipping. “Sawyer.”

  Smack!

  The single slap on her naked ass was followed by his tongue sliding into her ear.

  This had to be as close to nirvana as there possibly was. She clung to him, her fingers clasping around his shirt and she didn’t care if he fucked her right here.

  Breaking the connection, he eased back, his eyes twinkling. “Welcome.”

  “That’s some kind of greeting.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m glad you came.” He held out his arm, taking her by the hand. “A drink? I have a nice bottle of bourbon.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.” She grasped his fingers and as she was led through his house, she was surprised at the furnishings, but mostly the art. The outside was rustic, typical of a ranch cabin nestled against the mountains, but the inside was elaborately furnished with leather furniture, steel and glass lighting and vibrant art. From paintings to sculptures, everything seemed to have a place, as well as a meaning. “This is beautiful.”

  Sawyer caught her gaze and stopped, allowing her to study the living room. “I have varied tastes.”

  “I can see that. From the music to this amazing art. I wouldn’t have thought…” Reese allowed the words to trail off. “You are a hidden treasure.”

  “Every smokejumper isn’t a hunker down in the earth kind of dude you know.”

  “Who’s talking about smokejumpers? You are a man of many talents. That I can tell.”

  Grinning, he shrugged. “Aw, shucks, Miss Fancy Dancy attorney.”

  “Very funny. You might be surprised where I live.”

  Chuckling, he pulled her toward another room. “I know where you live. A very nice condo in the fashionable section of Missoula. Pretty pricey, I might add.”

  “I don’t own the condo. No possibility I can afford owning anytime soon. You want to know the truth? Honestly? At the rate I’m going, I won’t be able to afford the rent in about three months, but I do love the views of the city.” Led into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but gawk. “Wow. When you said you loved to cook, I wasn’t thinking about chef’s style.”

  “I dabble.” Sawyer moved to a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “Ice?”

  “No need.”

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  Reese shook her head as she walked to the other side of the impressive room. The appliances were graphite, the granite counters tinted with cerulean blue and the floor reminded her of polished marble, sleek and expensive. The bar, nestled on one wall, held an impressive wine cabinet, full of wines. The lighting was modern, adding to the seductive ambiance. Even the range hood was straight out of a Food Network show. “Amazing, Sawyer.”

  He eased around the island, handing her a glass, allowing his fingers to brush back and forth.

  Quivering, she had to bite back a moan as jolts of current rushed down the back of her legs, another sizzle sliding straight into her pussy.

  “If you keep that reaction going, we aren’t going to make it to dinner.” He lifted his glass, clinking with hers.

  “Food is highly subjective,” she whispered before taking a sip. As the velvety liquid warmed her throat, fueling the desire even more, she gazed into his intense eyes.

  He was close, his body only inches from hers, his gaze sliding down from her face to her neck then to her breasts. Inhaling, he issued a slightly husky growl, just loud enough for her to hear.

  Even without touching, their connection was electrified. She realized
her hand was shaking, her fingers gripping the dense crystal. She licked around the rim of the glass and almost slipped her hand down to his crotch. Taking a step back, she nodded nervously, trying to break the invasive longing. She wanted this night to linger. She craved his touch, but also wanted to learn more about him. The man was so fascinating. So alive. “You surprise me, and few people do, at least in a good way.”

  “Hearing you say that is very sad.”

  “Just the truth. Maybe I’ve lived too many difficult truths in my life, which is why you’re a wonderful surprise.”

  “I’m just a man who enjoys many things other than smokejumping.” Taking a step back, he chuckled. “I love your scent. Intoxicating.”

  She fingered her neck, brushing the tips of her fingers across the still damp skin, the location of his bite. “I have no words.”

  Another grin crossed his face. “I have some cooking to do. Make yourself at home.”

  “Mmm… Said the spider to the fly.” She noticed the fresh herbs on the counter, garlic and Italian parsley, basil and thyme. This man had several sides.

  “Careful. I’m still in charge.” He took another sip of his drink before easing the glass down on the island and walking toward the sub-zero refrigerator.

  Reese thought about Christopher’s house, the austere kitchen and even colder living room. There was no love or life in Christopher’s house. This beautiful cabin nestled in the woods had simple but eloquent charm, but so much more. She carried her glass into the living room, marveling at the massive stone fireplace, the chimney standing proudly in the center of the room, towering up to the cathedral ceiling.

  She slipped her hand along the back of the supple leather couch, digging her fingers into the soft material and dragging them to the edge. Her heels clipped on the solid wooden floor, which had to be teak, polished beautifully as if few had ever walked on the surface. She moved toward a sculpture, a bronze and jade statue of a woman, her long hair flowing, her body moving as if jutting out from the ocean depth. Everything was far too beautiful to touch, and she’d never been so comfortable.

  Eyeing the impressive looking bookcase, she was more than curious as to his favorite genre of books, and she sensed he was an avid reader. She darted a look toward the kitchen, smiling as she heard the sounds of pots and pans being shoved around. There were hundreds of books and all seemed very organized. From paperbacks to hardbacks, fiction to non-fiction, the collection was eclectic.