“You can’t take what’s bad and make it good just by giving yourself good reasons for it,” she said quietly.
Her words found Rio, dug inside. No wonder he felt soiled down to his bones. Because he’d done exactly that—bad things for the sake of good. But it left a residue on his soul he couldn’t wash off.
“Do the right thing now, Darryl,” Rio said. “Buttles has to have a contact on the Canadian side. Or someone who can get them through border control. Think. Did you ever see anyone?”
“I don’t know. I switch trucks and drive back to Anchorage.”
“You never stuck around to see the handoff?”
Darryl had put his arm around Alicia again. She was crying.
“Yeah, once. There was a guy, another driver, I think. And Buttles was there. He was with a blond guy, hard jawline. Dressed nice—in a suit, like he was a businessman. That’s why I noticed him.”
“Did you get a name?”
“No. I went into the bathroom, and they were in a booth talking. When I came out, he was gone. But maybe he’s Buttles’s connection to the Lower 48.”
Darryl offered a small tug of a smile. As if he wanted to help. Really.
Alicia moaned again.
They hit the highway. “Which way to the clinic?”
“North. Just up the road—it’s closer than the Copper Mountain hospital. Hurry!”
Rio turned north, the fire in his view, and from here, he could make out the flicker of flames. They chewed into the blue sky, hungry.
“That’s a big fire,” Alicia said.
“I was fighting that,” Darryl said, with some pride in his voice.
Seriously?
“We were fighting it before a guy on our crew decided to make a break for it. Your husband decided to go with him,” Rio said.
Maybe if they had stuck around, the fire wouldn’t have resurrected.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Alicia said though captured breaths. “You’re going to be in big trouble, Darryl.”
“You’re worth it, babe.”
Rio shook his head.
“Don’t worry. FBI here is going to take care of us,” Darryl said. “He’ll get me out of trouble.”
Oh boy.
“Listen, Darryl,” Rio said. “When we get to the clinic, just…well, we don’t want to raise any attention. I don’t know if the marshals have reported our escapes, but they usually alert local hospitals and clinics in case anyone has been injured during the escape. So…keep your head down, and I’ll contact my people as soon as I can.”
“I’m staying with Alicia,” Darryl said, predictably.
The clinic was located on a hill just off the highway, a long shed-like building with a wheelchair ramp to the Urgent Care door, a garage for an ambulance, a chopper pad in the back, and a black SUV in the parking lot. Rio pulled up near the emergency door and hopped out, coming around to help Alicia.
Darryl had pulled her into his arms and was marching up the ramp. The doors opened, and Rio did a quick scan of the area. No cops.
He followed Darryl inside the small clinic to the reception area. They took one look at Alicia and directed her into a nearby exam room. Darryl joined her.
Rio stood, staring inside the room, scrubbing his hand down his face, when they pulled a privacy screen.
Perfect. Because he didn’t put it above Darryl to try to run again.
But probably not with his wife in labor.
Rio needed a phone. And a shower. And…well, he wouldn’t mind knowing if Skye was okay.
Please. Because he couldn’t get out of his head the fear that she would head right back to the fire line, dive back into danger.
He knew her. She wouldn’t give up if she knew she could save lives.
“Hands up! Don’t move!”
The voice froze him, and he brought his hands out, slowly, clasping them behind his head. Turning.
A US marshal—dark hair, the size of a linebacker—stood behind him, holding a Glock. He wore an I-mean-it look on his face.
Oh, perfect.
“Listen—”
“On your knees.”
He obeyed.
“Get down, on your face, hands behind your back.”
“Listen—”
“Now!”
Rio blew out a breath, lay on the floor, his cheek against the cool tile, and submitted as the big man put a knee into his back and cuffed him.
He hauled him up, and Rio turned to him. “Listen, I’m not who you think I am—”
“I think you’re an escaped felon who’s going back to prison for a very long time.” The big man looked at the nurse. “Do you have a lunchroom or somewhere I can put him?”
The poor woman stared at Rio, wide-eyed. Nodded. Pointed to a nearby room.
“Dude, you need to listen to me. I’m FBI. I can prove it. The real criminal is in that room with his wife. She’s in labor. And—”
“Tell it to your lawyer.”
Sheesh. “I’m not lying!”
“Right.” The marshal hauled him into a lunchroom and shoved him into a chair. “Your accomplice is in the exam room?”
“He’s not—” Rio shook his head. “Yes. Please go make sure he doesn’t get away.”
He got a sort of wry shake of the head. “I’m right outside the door. Stay put.” Then the man left.
And Rio was right back where he’d started.
But at least Skye was safe.
They were wasting time. Okay, maybe taking Archer Mills to the Denali Clinic where he wouldn’t die couldn’t be counted as a waste of time. And sure, Skye understood Stevie wanting to wait until her father was stabilized.
But now that they’d dropped him off at the clinic, now that they were on the way to Buttles’ place, Stevie kept looking at Skye as if her story might be a wild tale, and frankly, every time she repeated it, it did sound a little crazy.
“You’re sure it was Buttles?”
“Dark hair, cut across his face. Yes, it was him. I’m positive.”
“And he was with—”
“A blond guy. Good looking. He called him Pope.”
To her credit, Stevie had been useful. She’d called in the information on Darryl, asked to verify Rio’s identity, and gotten the address of Darryl’s next of kin, something the US marshals had gathered on all the fugitives. Darryl’s home address was listed as only two miles south of the clinic, into the back country.
Please, please let it be hard to find.
Tucker sat in the front seat, glancing now and again past her, through the window to the plume of acrid black and gray smoke that ate at the blue sky. He was trying to raise Seth on the radio.
Skye wasn’t unaware that she should probably be going back with him to fight the fire, that the very last thing he wanted to do was chase after Rio.
Rule number nine: Maintain control of your forces at all times.
She was clearly way out of control—a fire torch lit, that he couldn’t do anything about.
Yeah, well, for the first time in a long time, she knew exactly what she wanted.
Rio. And rescue for all those women he’d talked about.
Seth’s voice came over the radio with a grim report. The winds had kicked up, the fire tripled in size, and the team had withdrawn to the Boy Scout camp to call in fire drops and wait for reinforcements.
“Has the camp been evacuated?”
“Yes. We’re the only ones here.”
Tucker shook his head, his jaw tight, and he probably wanted to throw the radio.
Instead, “Okay. Hang tight, but keep your safety zone in mind. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
He signed off, and Skye didn’t look at him. He tapped his fingers on the dashboard. “How much farther?”
“GPS won’t work for these off-grid places,” Skye said. “I think we passed the road. We need to turn around.”
Stevie’s phone rang and she passed it to Tucker, who answered it. “Marshal Mills’s phone.”
<
br /> He listened, then turned to Stevie. “It’s one of the other marshals. He says he has the fugitives in custody.”
Skye leaned up from the back seat just as Stevie pumped the brakes. “Tell him we’ll be back.”
“But Rio’s not—”
“We’ll sort it out when we get there.” Stevie executed a U-ie that left a little rubber on the pavement and headed back to the hospital.
Breathe. Because…maybe she hadn’t actually seen Buttles. Maybe he hadn’t a clue where Rio was. Which meant she’d followed her heart and had wasted precious time that they could be using to fight a fire.
“We need to get back to the fire, Skye,” Tucker said. “I’m going to call Barry and see if he can come get us and drop us in.
“Not until I see Rio,” Skye said.
Tucker said nothing but pulled out his radio.
Barry Kingston came over the line.
Tucker relayed their situation, their position.
“Sorry, Tucker. All the pilots are busy with bomber drops. And Larke—she left with Riley, your injured smokejumper, to check on one of her patients who went into labor. I’m fresh out of pilots.”
“If we get back, can you chopper us in?”
“I’m just leaving to fly the bucket brigade.”
“Can you wait for us?”
Skye reached forward and grabbed Tucker’s arm. “Not until we see Rio.”
Tucker’s mouth closed in a tight line. “Listen. The Denali Clinic has a chopper pad. Can you pick us up? And we’ll need fresh gear—grab a couple extra PG bags, okay?”
Barry confirmed, and when Tucker clicked off, he turned to her. “Listen, Skye. I get that you want to check in with Rio, but we have a job to do—”
“I just need to say goodbye, okay? Five minutes.” And she didn’t mean to put that much pleading in her voice, but…well, she couldn’t leave without telling him…
Oh.
Uh. Well, maybe that he’d made her feel brave and capable and that maybe she didn’t have to be overwhelmed. That she believed him—that God would give her everything she needed.
After all, He’d given her Rio when she most needed protection.
And what if…what if after this was all over…
Tucker glanced at Stevie, then back to Skye, and maybe he got it because he nodded.
They pulled up to the clinic beside a Jeep. Skye barreled out of the SUV and ran into the clinic.
The bigger of the two US marshals, the beefy linebacker, sat in a chair beside a door. The other paced the hallway, looking up as they entered.
“Where is he?” Skye demanded.
The pacer frowned—she remembered his name from the ride over. Kennedy. He put his hand up, but she wasn’t slowing. She headed for the door next to the other marshal. “Is he in here?”
“Ma’am—”
“He’s not a fugitive. He’s a federal agent, just like you!” She went to slam her way into the room, but Beefy got up, blocking her path.
“Let her in, Warner. She’s telling the truth. And if you have him cuffed in there, let him go.” Stevie’s voice emerged from the down the hall. “Has my dad been transported yet?”
Skye heard the “No. We’re waiting on the chopper,” as she pushed past Marshal Warner into the room.
And there he sat. On a chair, hands secured behind his back, head back, eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’d changed into a clean white T-shirt and a flannel shirt, looking very Alaskan, with his tousled, albeit grimy black hair, the growth of his beard.
“Rio?”
She said it softly, not sure if she should wake him, not sure if…
Oh, she’d probably dreamed up the way he looked at her when he threw her into the river. Like he wanted to dive in after her.
And sure, he’d kissed her, twice, but maybe that had been about the heat of the moment, and now that they were all safe…
Then he opened his eyes. Golden brown like the fire at night, they settled on her with surprise, then a molten desire that had her stopping short, her breath catching. A dangerous smile tugged up one side of his face, and even though she knew he wasn’t a bona fide criminal, she felt something downright lawless about the way he rose to his feet, his shoulders impossibly wide, the smell of the woods and fire emanating off his skin.
She breathed him in, barely resisting the urge to put her hands on his chest even as he took a step closer to her, standing a breath apart, his voice low. “Skye Doyle. I thought I threw you into a river.”
Then Agent Warner was uncuffing him, offering a sort of apology.
“Go keep an eye on my prisoner,” Rio said, turning back to Skye.
Clearly with something besides justice on his mind.
The door had barely closed before Rio drew in a breath, his gaze running over her from her toes to her eyes, landing at her lips. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she said, putting a hand on his chest. His heart thundered under her touch. “Are you?”
“Now I am,” he said and slipped a hand around her neck.
He kissed her with so much force, it nearly knocked her over, his other hand going around her waist, pulling her roughly against him. He wasn’t a criminal, but he kissed her like she might be freedom and light and everything he’d escaped to find. She hung on, her arms around his neck, softened her mouth, and let him unloose his heart.
Because she was gloriously, deliciously in over her head.
He picked her up, set her on the table, and slowed them down, taking her face in his hands as he leaned away. He was breathing hard, his eyes glossy when he looked down at her. “I…I was afraid I’d lost you. That you were back fighting that fire, and…” He touched his forehead to hers.
She wound her hands around his wrists. “About that. I gotta go. Tucker’s called in a chopper to take us back to the fire line.”
Rio’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “And I have to bring Darryl back into custody. I’ll probably end up at the Copper Mountain sheriff’s office, for now, but…wait. What are you doing here?”
Oh, that. “Um…well, I thought you were in danger. I thought…I thought I saw Wayne Buttles in town a couple days ago.”
Rio frowned at her. Backed up. A heartbeat. “Why?”
“I saw a guy with the scar Darryl mentioned.”
“Where?”
“At a bar and grill called the Midnight Sun. We had dinner there. He was at the bar.”
Rio reacted a little like he’d been punched. “Oh wow. Okay…uh.” He rubbed her arms. “Yeah, you need to get back to that fire line, and I need to get Darryl out of here.”
“What?” She slid off the table, following him out the door and into the reception area. Archer Mills was being ushered out of the building on a gurney. Not far behind, Darryl had his arm around a very pregnant woman, also walking her out.
“What’s going on?” Rio asked.
Stevie came up to him, following the ensemble out the back of the clinic to the ambulance bay. Her gaze fell off Skye and onto Rio. “They’re transferring my dad and Alicia Salmon down to the Copper Mountain Regional hospital. Darryl’s claiming you said he could go with her.”
Rio blew out a breath. “Yeah, well. He’s…an informant.”
“And a fugitive. My team can take Darryl into custody.”
Rio shook his head. “He stays with me.”
“Right, well, that’s fine. You can come with us. We’ll be following the ambulance.”
Alicia was loaded into the ambulance, Archer next to her. “I’ll be right behind you, babe,” Darryl said.
Skye just stared at them, then back to Rio. “You’re letting him go to the hospital?”
Rio reached up and rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “Someone told me that compassion should always win.” He kissed her forehead.
“I’ll be in the car,” Stevie said. “Get Darryl and meet us there.”
Skye noticed that Tucker walked her back into the
building.
“C’mon, Darryl,” Rio said, even as he slipped his hand into Skye’s one last time. “Let’s get that arm looked at and then we’ll take off.”
“I’m fine.” Darryl walked away from the ambulance, now pulling out.
“Now,” said Rio, folding his fingers through Skye’s as they followed Darryl into the clinic.
“He was shot in the arm. We just need some fresh packing,” Rio said to one of the nurses. She directed them to a fresh exam room and Rio pushed Darryl toward it.
“Get on the table and don’t move,” he said.
Darryl obeyed, his mouth in a tight line. Rio turned his back to the door, one eye on Darryl before he looked at Skye. “You be safe out there. That fire is big.”
She pressed her hand to his chest, again feeling the warm beat of his heart. “You won’t go back to prison, right?”
“No. But…I don’t know when…”
He just stopped talking. Lifted his hand to her face and ran his thumb down her cheek. “I want…”
She captured her breath, seeing the emotion in his eyes.
“Me too,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, maybe feeling, too, that the words weren’t enough.
But maybe she didn’t need answers. Not yet. Just Rio, right now, here. This amazing man’s arms around her.
He finally loosened his hold on her, his lips soft as he let her go.
“So, this isn’t goodbye, then, right?” she said, too much terrible hope in her voice.
He shook his head. Smiled.
“Oh, not so fast, Agent Parker. I think this is definitely goodbye.”
Rio froze in her arms.
Skye looked up.
One moment she was in Rio’s arms, the next in a headlock, cutting off her breath.
Darryl held something sharp to her neck and spoke to the man holding a gun to Rio’s head. “Kill him and I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Deal,” Wayne Buttles said.
Nine
It took Rio a full second to figure it out. The gun barrel to his head, Darryl’s smile, Skye’s wide eyes.
Darryl had been playing him the entire time. The man wrapped his good arm around Skye’s neck, yanking her back against his body, his eyes on Rio.
“Let her go, Darryl,” Rio growled.
The Heat is On_Christian romantic suspense Page 12