by Bella Andre
"We need to get out of here. Do you think you can walk?" he asked gently.
She nodded, her throat clogged with a full range of emotions: Fear. Love. Confusion.
He helped her to her feet and put an arm around her waist, holding her close as they headed downhill. Five minutes later they were finally able to see the blue sky and breathe in fresh air again. She sucked it into her starving lungs as they picked up their pace on the steep downhill grade. Logan never let go, never let her stumble.
Several minutes later when they were in a much safer spot, he carefully ran his hands over her face, her neck, her shoulders, her wrists.
"Damn her for touching you," he said against her lips.
Maya threaded her hands into his slightly singed hair and kissed him. She'd never get enough of him, would never want to stop kissing him. But this wasn't the time and place for making love.
He held her tightly to him. "When I heard the chainsaw, I thought ..."
She pressed a kiss into his shoulder. "She didn't hurt me," she insisted, knowing how helpless he must have felt, running to save her from a madwoman.
"Why was she after you? What did you ever do to her?"
"She saw us in the bar. And she was jealous. She wanted you, Logan. Badly."
When Jenny had run away, Maya hadn't wanted him to go after her. She hadn't wanted him to risk his life again, to leave her and, possibly, never come back.
Maya knew that if she gave in to what she wanted-- what he clearly wanted too--if she agreed to be with him, this was the same fear she'd face every day, every night he was called away to put out a wildfire. He might end up being the target of an insane arsonist again, and she wouldn't know it until it was too late.
She put her hand on his arm. "Do you think she'll make it out?"
"She better not. This time I'll kill her."
"No," Maya said, turning her mouth into Logan's palm. "She isn't worth it."
His eyes were dark with fury. "She hurt you. She killed Robbie."
"They're just scratches. I'll heal." But Robbie wouldn't. And neither would Tony. She had to tell him. "She knew my brother. They dated."
He pulled her close. "She was obsessed with firefighters. I only wish I'd realized she was obsessed with fire too."
Maya was glad that Logan's shirt was already wet. It made her tears seem smaller.
"She says he dumped her when she got too clingy. She set the fire that killed him and said she was happy when he died. That he deserved it."
"She's insane, Maya. I'd bring him back for you if I could."
No one had ever loved her this much, enough to slay all her dragons and dry all her tears.
"When she told me she was going to kill me--" Her voice caught. "I realized I'm finally ready to start living again. It's time for me to accept that he's gone."
"Stay here, Maya. Stay in Lake Tahoe with me."
But she wasn't sure she could. Not when she loved Logan too much to lose him. Even after everything they'd been through together, she wasn't sure she could hack it as a hotshot's wife. She felt like she was wading through black smoke, trying to find her way toward the light, to a place where she would take a deep breath and feel whole again.
But she wasn't there yet. And wasn't sure that she ever would be.
So rather than answering him, rather than having to make a decision about her future--about their future-- she focused on the fire. On her duties. And his.
"I need to call my boss and tell him everything that's happened."
Logan searched her eyes and she dropped her gaze. She didn't want him to see her fear. Her uncertainty.
He stroked her arms. "I know you're not ready yet, Maya, but I'm going to tell you again anyway. I love you."
She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. He was so gentle. So wonderful. And still she was afraid.
"Will you still be in Tahoe when I'm done putting out the fire?"
She swallowed hard. "I don't know."
He didn't pressure her into making a decision or a declaration. She was paralyzed by her fear of losing him, was still convinced that it would be better to give him up now.
They moved down the trail in silence. She gasped when they got to Joseph's cabin. It was a massive fireball in the middle of a forest.
"She made me do it," she confessed in a shaky voice.
Logan squeezed her hand. "Joseph understands. He'd never blame you for doing what you needed to do to stay alive."
She held her stomach with both hands, willing herself not to hurl. "But everything you have is gone. Your memories from his cabin, and your house too."
"Joseph's going to move in with me. Or Dennis. So he doesn't need the cabin anymore." Logan pulled her against him, kissing her hard, stealing the breath from her lungs. "You're here, Maya. I don't need a house. I only need you."
Her heart broke into a million pieces at the thought of going back to San Francisco. Alone.
Suddenly, one of the cabin's windows blew out and he dragged her behind him as he ran. They didn't let up their pace until they saw the fire trucks roaring onto Joseph's driveway.
Sam MacKenzie jumped out of the lead truck. "You guys all right?"
Chief Stevens was right behind him. "Maya, thank God." His face was deeply lined with worry as he hugged her. "I could barely hear you--we had to access our recorded telephone logs to replay what you said. I wish to God we'd gotten here sooner."
"I'm fine," she said weakly. "Thank you for coming."
She felt herself weave on her feet and Logan was instantly at her side again, holding her steady. "Can you walk down the driveway?"
She blinked hard, forced the black spots away from her vision. "Yes. Of course I can," she insisted, even though it was more pride than truth.
"We'll go slow," he said as they started walking.
But he had a job to do. Which was why she was going to force herself to walk out of his arms even though she never ever wanted to let him go.
"You have to go now to see if you can salvage anything from Joseph's cabin. I'll be fine."
He searched her eyes for a long moment before he said, "Joseph's waiting for you out on the road. He'll get you a ride back to your motel."
She nodded, her heart stuck in her throat. He held her hand fast, not letting her go. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll come back to you. I promise."
And then she made herself walk down the driveway, away from the man she loved as he raced straight into the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JOSEPH WAITED for her at the end of the drive. "Welcome back from hell."
Her throat grew tight as she stood before the kind man who'd given Logan so much. "I'm so sorry, Joseph. I should have fought harder. Then maybe you'd still have your house."
He put his arms around her, his solid warmth comforting. Logan had been lucky to find a father like this.
"You did exactly the right thing. All that matters is getting out alive."
"But she got away."
Joseph's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll end up paying big-time for what she's done. You'll see." He helped her into a waiting minivan. "Go back to your motel. Take a shower. Eat something. And get some sleep. We'll all still be here when you wake up."
The drive back to her motel was a total blur. The man behind the wheel kept telling her she looked bad, kept saying he wanted to take her to the hospital, but she couldn't stand to have a bunch of strangers poking and prodding her. She needed to be alone, to regain her bearings and process everything that had happened.
The blonde girl was sitting at the motel's front desk watching TV when Maya walked in to get a key. "What happened to you? You look like shit."
Three days blurred together in a strange and murky cloud in her brain. "I lost my key" was all Maya could manage. She was too tired to say anything else.
The girl snapped her gum. "Name?"
"Maya Jackson."
Her name was the same, but she was a completely differ
ent person.
The girl handed her the key and Maya was surprised to see her hands shaking as she took it. Funny how you could fool yourself--and everyone else--into thinking you were holding everything together when you weren't.
Maya headed for her room, surprised that taking the stairs to the second floor felt like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. She was so fried she could barely stand, yet at this exact moment she knew Logan was knee-deep in ashes, wielding heavy equipment and hoses to save what was left of Joseph's cabin.
Once she got inside her room, she stripped down, barely acknowledging the bruises, scrapes, and welts that covered her arms, legs, and torso. She walked into the shower and leaned her weight against the tiled wall. When she looked down, the white floor tiles were black beneath her feet. She watched ash and dirt wind down the drain until the water ran cold.
Shivering, she wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the bedroom. Heavy weights hung from her eyelids, and she used up her last burst of energy crawling under the covers. There were a hundred things she should be doing. But all of them required strength and energy she didn't have.
Additional hotshot crews and smoke jumpers from all across the West were on their way to fight the forest fire in Desolation Wilderness. By late Sunday afternoon, Logan had to make the difficult decision to bring his crew in again. With forty-mile-an-hour winds, the usual method of digging fire lines wasn't going to cut it. And while he reassessed the situation, his men could get some much-needed rest.
They'd straggled into the station, exhausted and covered in ash and dirt, each one of their faces lighting up when they saw him behind the maps.
"Logan, glad you've decided to join the party. How was your vacation?"
He'd grinned at the rookie who was as happy as a pig in shit to be out there with the rest of the hotshots, risking his life. Logan had been that kid once. Hell, he still was, only with more responsibilities on his shoulders.
The Forest Service superintendent had already called to apologize for getting in Logan's way this weekend with the suspension. Logan told the man he knew he'd simply been doing his job. Putting him on suspension was a judgment call. Nothing personal.
He shared a chili dinner with his crew, and when they stumbled off to bed, he, Gary, and Sam discussed tactics.
Most of the guys looked beaten all to hell. Not Sam MacKenzie. Even the toughest fires didn't scare him. Nothing did.
"What's the forecast?" Sam asked.
"High winds and low humidity for the next forty-eight hours. Water is either blowing out from beneath the helicopters or evaporating before it hits the ground. Some of the guys are getting in as close as twenty feet, but it's not making a difference."
"It's been too long since these forests have burned. The trees are ripe for it," Gary added, fatigue hanging on every word.
"Both of you need to get some sleep."
Sam remained at the table. "I talked to Connor today."
Firefighters were masters of understatement, part and parcel to the life-threatening risks they took every day. But sometimes Logan wanted to jump for joy anyway.
"Thank God he's awake. How's he feeling?"
"Like shit," Sam said. "I never thanked you for saving his life."
"We did it together."
Nothing more needed to be said, so Sam pushed back his chair and headed off to his bunk, leaving Logan alone with the maps. A couple of hours later, he finally accepted that all they could do until the winds died down was keep the fire out of the trees. By dusk the next day, chainsaws and axes were going to feel like natural extensions of their hands.
When night fell, he'd sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, thinking of Maya. She was so beautiful. So stubborn. Too damn stubborn to tell him she loved him. Even though she did.
It didn't matter if she stayed in Lake Tahoe until they put this fire out. He'd find her wherever she went.
And he'd love her forever.
When sunlight finally glinted in through his eyelids, he splashed his face with water then rang the station bell. Fifteen minutes later, his men were assembled, looking sharp and ready for another killer day in Desolation. He kept his instructions short and sweet.
"Clear all low-hanging branches and chop down any burning trees. We've got to keep the fire from spreading to the treetops. Helicopters will continue making bucket drops on the hot spots as long as it's safe to keep flying in." He paused to make sure every last one of them understood his orders. "At the first sign of danger, get out. I don't care if every house in Tahoe turns to rubble. I'm not losing any more men."
Somber eyes met his, filled with determination. He followed his men out the door to their trucks.
He thought about Maya, knew she'd learned that lesson well: At the first sign of danger, get out. Her casualty list was long enough already. She didn't need him to be one more name, one more firefighter she'd loved and lost.
He couldn't turn his back on a fire. And he couldn't walk away from the woman he loved. Even if it was what she thought she wanted.
The original anchor point was no longer safe, so the crew drove into a wide clearing that had been bulldozed flat. From there, Logan watched flames jumping across treetops as heat rumbled over the mountains like a fleet of jets. Entire trees were torching, exploding into flames instantaneously.
He pulled down his hood and picked up a chainsaw. It was time to get back to work.
Maya woke up stiff and sweating beneath the thick comforter as the sun set through the thin drapes on her window. Logan's face was the first image she saw. She had faith in his fire knowledge and his years of experience as a hotshot, but the madness wouldn't end until Jenny was behind bars--or dead.
Moving quickly, she brushed her hair and teeth, then realized she had to put on her same filthy clothes again. Picking them up off the carpet, she shook them out in the shower. Her stomach growled. Grabbing her key, she walked down to the lobby.
"I need to use the phone."
The girl behind the desk shrugged. "Whatever."
Maya walked as far away from the blaring TV as the phone cord would allow. Using her company calling card number, she dialed information and got her boss's home number. He picked up on the third ring.
"Maya? I've been trying to reach you all weekend. What happened to you?"
Where should she start? So many things had happened in three days.
"We found her."
"Her?"
"The arsonist."
"The arsonist is a woman?"
"Yes."
For the millionth time, Maya wished she'd figured it out earlier.
"How'd you find her?"
Maya rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I didn't," she admitted. "She found me." She paused. "She tried to kill me from a distance and when I didn't die she came to finish the job."
How strange it all sounded when she said it aloud. Almost improbable.
Albert cursed. "You should have come home. I can't believe I let you stay, let you put yourself in danger."
But Maya wasn't at all sorry. Because if she'd left, Logan and Joseph would probably both be dead by now.
"I'm coming to Tahoe. Straightaway. Keep her in jail until I get there. And stay out of trouble."
Maya could hardly believe what she was about to tell her boss. "She's not in jail, Albert. She escaped."
"You've got to be kidding me! How the hell did that happen?"
Albert was one of the calmest men she knew, and a great boss, but obviously even he had his breaking point. Looked like she'd found it.
She summed up the past forty-eight hours in as few words as possible. "She didn't stop at setting my motel room on fire. She set off an explosion that killed a hotshot. She bombed Logan's truck. She set two homes on fire, then taped me to a tree and nearly killed me with a chainsaw. When Logan saved my life again, she got away."
"Logan?"
"The initial suspect," she clarified. "He's one hundred percent innocent."
She
waited for everything she'd said to sink in. Lord knew, it was a lot to handle over the phone.
"Are you sure you're not in any more danger?"
No, she wasn't sure, but if she told Albert the truth, he'd drive up to Tahoe and force her to get in his car and leave all the madness.
"I hope not" was as honest as she could be, adding "I'll e-mail you a copy of my report as soon as I can."
"No need. I'll be there in four hours. Where are you staying?"
She gave him the name and location of the motel, then hung up the phone. The teenage girl was staring at her with an open mouth. "You were making up that stuff about being attacked with a chainsaw, right?"
"I wish I were."
The girl looked at her with new respect. "Cool."
Heading for the downtown strip, Maya bypassed a smoke-filled diner in favor of a deli. Sitting outside on the sidewalk in her ratty clothes, she forced a turkey sandwich down, then walked into a boutique and picked out the least flashy clothes on the rack.
She threw her ruined clothes in a trash bin on the sidewalk and felt a hundred times better as she hailed a taxi to take her to the city library to look up Jenny's address, then called Chief Stevens and asked him to meet her there with a set of universal keys. He was waiting on the curb for her when she arrived.
"You've done good, kid. Real good. And you're looking much better. Did you get some sleep and something to eat?"
She nodded but didn't say anything else. She didn't want to relive it all over again. "I need to go through her things for my report to make sure the case against her is solid." She couldn't bring herself to say the woman's name aloud. Not after what she'd done. "Thanks for helping me out."
Patrick patted her shoulder. "It's my pleasure."
Thirty seconds later he had the door unlocked and open. Nothing seemed particularly odd when she first entered the apartment. A few dirty plates in the sink, a stack of People magazines on the coffee table, tennis shoes kicked off under a dining table.
She found it hard to reconcile the normalcy of the apartment with the madwoman who'd ruined so many lives. Patrick moved past her down the hall and she followed him into Jenny's bedroom.
The bed was neatly made, and it looked as if it hadn't been slept in for some time. Not bothering with the dresser drawers quite yet, she walked back out into the hall and tried to turn the doorknob of the second bedroom, but it was locked.