She sat up, then grabbed her coffee and walked to the edge of her porch.
He wore his jaw hard, his eyes steely. “There’s a problem on the line.”
She braced her hand on a pillar. “What?”
He put a foot on her step. “The team brought in a hand crew from the Copper County Correctional Facility, and evidently this morning, a number of the prisoners took off.”
She stilled, not sure how to assimilate that information. “What—I don’t understand. Prisoners?”
“Apparently the fire was bigger than the team thought, and the smokejumpers needed reinforcements. Remember that team I brought in yesterday? Prisoners.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“I don’t know. The team has a US marshal with them, and she called in for backup. There are marshals headed here from Anchorage—I’ll fly them in as soon as they get here. You have fresh coffee?”
She nodded and followed him into the house. He walked over to the pot and poured himself a steaming cup. Then he leaned a hip against the granite countertop. “They took one of the smokejumpers hostage.”
She stilled, her entire body hollowing. “Who?”
“Skye. The girl.”
She shouldn’t feel relief—she knew it—but she put her cup on the island and braced both hands on the cool surface. Drew in a breath. “Okay. So, what can we do?”
“Nothing. Just bring the marshals in. But…that’s not all.”
It was his pause that turned her cold.
“What?”
He took a breath.
“Dad.”
“There was an accident. One of the smokejumpers is hurt.”
“How bad?”
“Serious enough to fly out.”
“Who?”
He met her eyes, shook his head.
And for a second, Riley was in her arms, shaking, his eyes holding onto her. No.
Because she simply could not—would not—care that much.
Aw, shoot. Her voice turned soft, broken. “Don’t say it’s—”
“Sorry, honey. It doesn’t sound life-threatening, but when we drop off the team, we’re supposed to pick up Riley and bring him out.”
She sank onto a stool, her hands on her knees. Nodded. “Okay. I’m going with you.”
“Larke—”
“I’m going with you!” She stood up. “You need a copilot anyway.”
His mouth pinched tight. Because no, he hardly needed help.
Something she should have admitted long ago, maybe. Still.
He set his cup down, his thumb drawing down the handle. “I saw you two together a couple nights ago…”
Oh. “It wasn’t anything, Dad.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry. We watched the sunset.”
“The sunset takes a long time out here.” He wasn’t smiling.
“I don’t have room for anyone else in my life right now. Especially for a bad boy with a dark past.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
“Hear this. I just want him—all of them—safe, that’s all. There’s nothing else.”
He took a sip of his coffee, examined it. “And if there was, well…” He met her eyes. “Someday you have to turn the page, honey. Let God walk you into new paths, new pastures. Not with this guy, but with someone good. Honorable.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I’m still in the valley, Dad. And I’m not sure how to get out. And I certainly don’t want to be trapped there with anybody else.”
“A blind person can’t lead themselves out of the darkness. You have to ask for help.”
“I’m not blind, Dad. I’m just…still stuck outside the fence, I think.” Her mouth tightened. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
She took the stairs fast, grabbed her shoes, a jacket, a hat, and by the time she returned, her father had finished his coffee, was washing his mug in the sink.
She dumped hers and followed him outside. Cast a glance at the haze of smoke in the distance.
Stay alive.
Really, she should stop asking if she didn’t want to get hurt.
Four
Everybody just needed to take a breath.
Just clear their heads.
But yeah, strike three. Or maybe four, five, and six, because their entire callout had gone south.
Riley sat on a boulder, his arm drawn up tight to himself, a little high on pain meds, trying to sort it out.
About five this morning they’d awoken to the disappearance of the prisoners. Tucker had nearly lost his head.
It only got worse when Seth discovered that someone had stolen his bear gun.
Tucker had dispatched him to find Skye.
Riley could admit a little anger at the fact that Thorne had dashed too. But just because he knew his father’s poetry didn’t make him a man of honor.
Then things got very quiet, very dire, and very broken when three of the prisoners—the three youngsters—returned, found by Seth, with the news that the rest had taken Skye as a hostage.
Amend that. A serial killer-slash-rapist-slash-someone very, very bad had taken Skye.
No one protested when Tucker announced he was going after her. With the brunette, aka US Marshal Stevie Mills.
Tucker left Riley with easy instructions.
Call the authorities.
Put out the fire.
Get out.
And yet, the hits kept coming.
“Watchout—Seth. How’s it looking?” The big blond sawyer’s voice came over the radio. He’d taken the helm when…
Shoot. Riley knew better than to walk under a snag. Probably should be grateful it had only grazed him. Left his arm dangling from its socket. Yeah, that had been pretty—him writhing on the ground, trying not to scream as Romeo shoved the scorched tree limb off him.
Even now, the pain could curl Riley into himself. He sat, the arm secured to his body like a straitjacket, and no matter how many painkillers he downed, the pain shot fire through his body, straight into his skull.
He lifted the radio to his mouth. “Seth, Watchout. No sign of the chopper. Smoke is turning, though. We’ll need a flyover.”
It almost hurt more to see his team mopping up without him. Armed with Pulaskis and shovels, they worked the blackened forest, turning over the hot spots, putting out simmering cinders that could ignite with a stiff wind.
However, in the three hours since they’d been burying coals, the wind had stirred off Denali, awakening the blaze that had died down to flickers in the night.
Riley stood up, finding his feet on the scree of rocks where Tucker had run to safety yesterday, and now calculated the thickening smoke, the occasional flash of flame. He toggled his radio again. “Seth, Watchout. I’m seeing some activity on the eastern flank.”
Riley could barely make out Seth’s yellow shirt through the skeletal remains of the forest. “Let’s have Barry give us a report when he drops off the feds.” And picked him up.
Riley hated to admit it, but yes, he probably needed medical attention.
Then he was coming back. Because it wasn’t the first time he’d popped out a shoulder.
He didn’t know why someone didn’t just pop it back in. But Romeo had freaked out the minute he’d opened Riley’s shirt, and okay, there was something protruding from his collarbone.
Honestly, Riley was trying not to freak out, too.
So, yeah, they were so far beyond their three strikes it was getting ridiculous. All that remained was for the fire to kick back up and turn into an inferno, maybe head south and take out that Boy Scout camp.
A couple homes.
Sky King ranch.
No, it wouldn’t get that far.
Riley sat again on the boulder and raised his glasses to scan the fire. Black smoke started to embed the gray, not a good sign. The air smelled of green trees being consumed.
In the distance, he made out the whump-whump heartbeat of a chopper. He turned his glasses toward the noise and spotted the Sky King chopper
coming into view. It would put down in the meadow they’d burned over.
He picked up his PG bag and managed to climb the ridge without screaming.
Mostly.
More of a grunt, in his opinion.
The rotors kicked up ash and soot, but the bird set down softly, and he waited until the blades stopped spinning.
Seth had come running, breathing hard as he crunched his way down the ravine.
The side door opened, and a couple blue jacketed marshals got out. Big guys, one was linebacker sized, dark skinned, and raked a gaze over Riley that suggested he was exactly the guy to go after the fugitives.
The second guy got out and the wind flattened his blue jacket against his shoulder holster.
A coil loosened in Riley’s chest. They would find Skye and Tucker and bring them all back safely. Then the front door opened, and the copilot stepped out, her blonde hair pulled back, her face hard as she came over to him.
Oh. She wore her medic face.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.
“Stop talking.”
She was mad? Apparently, because she grabbed his bag, not in a Hey, I’m glad to see you way but all business and marched over to the chopper, threw the bag in, and pushed him onto the deck. The two marshals were talking to Seth. Riley supposed the big guy, who had at least a couple years on him, did look like the man in charge.
“How’d this happen?” Larke said as she took his pulse. Pressed a hand to his forehead.
“A snag. I walked right under it.” Might as well tell the ugly truth. She was already angry.
Her mouth tightened, as if she might be holding back a comment.
“It could have been worse. It could have landed on my head.”
“Not helping,” she snapped. She opened his shirt and peeled it away. Sucked in her breath as she saw the wound. “That’s definitely a fractured collarbone.”
“The fire is rekindling. I need to get back on the line.”
“What you need is a hospital.” She ran her hands over his shoulder, and he tightened his jaw, let out a grunt despite himself.
“That’s a doozy of a dislocation, too. You might need surgery to get that back into the socket.”
“You can’t put it back in?”
She stared at him. “Did you not hear me? You have a broken clavicle.”
“And we have a fire that is turning!” He shook his head. Closed his eyes. Cut his voice low before he opened them. “Listen. I’m not trying to be a hero. We could be in real trouble here. The fire could flash over, and if I leave, there are only rookies here.” His gaze cast to Seth, who might have heard him, because despite his girth and the fact that the marshals still raked him with questions, he nodded. “They need me, or someone who knows what they’re doing.”
She put her hands on her knees. “I could try and get it back into the socket, but that clavicle is still an issue. Maybe if you have surgery, get a pin it it—”
“Yeah. That. We’ll pin it.” He turned to Barry sitting in the cockpit, still wearing his headphones. “Then, can you drop me back off?”
“I mentioned surgery, right?” Larke snapped.
“If the weather holds,” Barry answered. “And if it doesn’t get too smoky.”
Riley nodded. “I could always drop in, I guess.”
“Oh my gosh, what is your problem? Not with a broken shoulder!” She got up. “Just get in the chopper.”
She opened the door to the copilot’s seat.
“Not quite yet, honey.” He got up.
The world tilted, but he forced himself upright as he walked over to Seth. “Listen. If that wind continues to grow, the fire is going to kick back up. Stay ahead of it. If you cut a line from the ridge over to that peak, you’ll keep it from going south, drive it east. There’s a river about a half mile from here. Best bet would be to corral it. I’ll send Barry back with some water dumps, see if we can slow it down, even kill it out before it gets that far, but at this point, with our numbers, we need to think containment.”
Seth nodded, but his eyes contained doubt.
Riley reached out, more for balance than support, but still, he clamped his hand on Seth’s big shoulder. “You remember the Watchout rules Tucker drilled into us, right?”
Seth nodded.
“The most important thing—most important—is safety. Do not wait until the last minute. And know where your safety zone is at all times. Got it?”
Now he’d probably scared the man, but Seth just set his jaw and nodded.
Romeo had come up, joined them, listening with a grim face.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Riley glanced at the chopper, at Larke inside, her mouth in an annoyed line. Turned back to them. “Stay alive. Got it?”
Seth nodded. “Got it, boss.”
“I’m not the boss. Tucker is. But until he gets back…let’s all try not to do anything stupid.”
He limped over to the chopper. Got in and struggled with the door.
Seth stepped up and closed it. The US marshals had already taken off on the trail of the fugitives.
Riley leaned back, cradling his arm, listening to the bird shudder to life.
They lifted off and for a moment, he got a good view of the fire. Blackness scraped the land, the trees broken, gnarled corpses of the once lush forest, the meadow a charred blanket. Dead.
On the northernmost flank, tongues of flames lapped up still-green trees, the land glowing red as the cinders baked the earth.
Barry turned the chopper up and away, Riley’s view now of vibrant, green land, shaggy spruce, meadows sprinkled with white flowers amidst a backdrop of jagged foothills.
Barry’s words before they’d deployed rushed back at him. You are their good shepherd. Protect them. Guide them. And bring them home safely.
Riley leaned his head back. Closed his eyes. And wished his instincts weren’t always right.
Good thing Larke had decided not to let him into her life, because one look at Riley sleeping in the hospital bed, a little broken, scuffed up, and vulnerable, one of his wide, ropy shoulders bandaged, could turn her all gooey and warm inside.
He looked like a wounded warrior.
A smart girl would remember that she’d had her fill of those, thank you.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave his room. Probably just the medic inside, wanting to see her patient stable. Keep him from doing anything stupid.
Like run back to a fire line and possibly do worse damage to his already broken self.
Even from here, through the wide picture window on the second story of the Copper Mountain Regional Hospital, she could gauge the thickening cloud of soot and smoke that hovered over the park.
I’m not trying to be a hero. We could be in real trouble here.
His angry, almost desperate voice still shook through her.
They need me, or someone who knows what they’re doing.
He wasn’t trying to be arrogant—she knew that. But if he only could have seen himself when they picked him up—a raw scrape on his chin, his golden brown hair sooty and matted, his face blackened, his eyes reddened, and his hand securing his arm to his body—he might have agreed that he wasn’t exactly the guy for the job.
Or maybe he was, because he’d definitely been in serious pain, but he’d still stumbled over to Seth, the big blond guy he’d left in charge, and shouted final instructions. She’d nearly gotten back out of the chopper to catch him, woozy as he was on his feet, but the look on Riley’s face suggested he would only push her away.
He seemed angrier at himself than anyone else, however. Proven by the fact that he could barely look at her when she helped him from the chopper to her truck, once they’d landed at the ranch, and by the time they reached the hospital, he was gritting his teeth rather than openly groaning.
Tough guys. They drove her crazy.
A nurse came into the room and checked his vitals. An oxygen cannula ran under his nose, a pulse ox on his finge
r, an IV line with pain meds taped to his arm. They’d washed his hair and given him a sponge bath before taking him into surgery, and now his hair lay in thick tousles, his beard even longer, golden strands mixed with deep chocolate brown.
Tempting.
She tucked her hands under her armpits and stood away from him as the nurse finished.
“He should be waking up soon,” she said. “And you should get some sleep. It’s after midnight.”
Larke nodded, then sank down in a chair near his bed.
No, she shouldn’t, because the minute he woke up he’d probably want to do stupid things, and she’d start worrying all over again. And now she definitely rued the decision to follow Reckless to the Midnight Sun and get tangled in his arms.
What on earth had she been thinking?
She leaned forward, rubbing a sudden fatigue from her face.
“I can admit wanting to wake up next to you, but this isn’t what I had in mind.”
She looked up into Riley’s brown eyes, one side of his mouth lifting up.
Oh brother. “This is as close as you’re going to get to that fantasy, so drink it in.”
“I am. That and whatever drugs they have me on…” He breathed deeply. “Maybe I’m dreaming…”
She rolled her eyes and got up. “They had to pin your collarbone. And your arm is in a braced sling. You’re in no shape to fight any fires there, champ, so sink back into that morphine and enjoy.”
The tiniest flicker of challenge raked through his eyes, and his smile dimmed.
Especially when he looked past her, out the window. His lips thinned to a tight line. “Any word on the fugitives?”
She shook her head, and when he closed his eyes, as if in frustration, she nearly reached for his hand.
Instead, she put hers in her pockets. “Are you thirsty?”
“I’ll take a whiskey, straight.”
“Ha.” She picked up a Styrofoam cup and angled the straw toward his mouth. “I have water. Neat. Sorry, the ice has melted.”
His gaze latched onto hers as his lips closed around the straw. He took a couple swallows, then leaned away. “You didn’t have to stay.”
She put the cup back on the patient tray. “I know. I didn’t trust you not to make a break for it.”
Some Like It Hot: Christian romantic suspense (Summer of the Burning Sky Book 3) Page 5