She grabbed his backpack and opened it on the foot of the bed, rifling through it.
“There’s a blue compression bag—”
She found it and tossed it to him.
“Toothpaste and the brush?”
She handed him a plastic bag.
“Now, take this stupid thing out of me.” He held out his arm and the IV line.
“Riley—”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“What about your morphine drip?”
“The bag went empty about four hours ago. Please, Larke. I’m fine. I gotta get out of here.”
Her face turned dark. “Listen. You can’t dig or chop or do anything. I don’t know why—”
“Because they’re all I have!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, so he cut it low. But he met her eyes. “Because those guys are depending on me, and I can’t let them down.”
She stared at him, unblinking. He didn’t move, his jaw tight.
“It’s not up to you to save everyone.” If she wasn’t angry before, he had no doubt about her tenor now. “You don’t have to run into trouble or…or get yourself killed doing something that others can do—
“What if they can’t?” He shook his head. “Listen. I’m not trying to be arrogant here, Larke, but the fact is, for some reason, I’m, well for lack of a better term, fearless. I’ve known for a long time that I’m different. Maybe it’s my ADHD, maybe it’s my curiosity, but I like danger. I like doing the hard things. I like showing up when others can’t. I like…” He sighed. “I like to jump into fire and do anything and everything I can to stop it and save lives.”
He closed his eyes, his jaw tight. “I know that sounds crazy. And reckless and prone to trouble, but…I guess I’m just broken that way.”
She was still silent at the end of the bed.
He opened his eyes. “I know that’s the last thing you need or want. And I’m sorry about that. But that’s who I am.”
She stared at him a long moment. Then she came over to the side of the bed, took his free hand. Met his eyes. “Don’t apologize. You say you’re not like your dad, but you’re everything like him, Riley. Or at least the man I suppose he was. What is the SEAL warrior creed?”
His throat was tight. “‘If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight.’”
“Yeah, that one.” Then she let go and went into the bathroom.
He leaned his head back on the pillow. No, he was nothing like his old man. His father would have never made a mistake like he had. Never would have landed in some hospital, cozy on pain meds for a little dislocated shoulder while his fellow soldiers were on the line fighting. Maybe for their lives. His dad was a planner who thought out everything.
Not the kind of man to take crazy risks.
Larke emerged from the bathroom with toilet paper and a washcloth. Came over to his arm with the IV.
“This might pinch.”
“Seriously.”
She held the toilet paper over the exit wound, then wrapped the washcloth around the cannula and eased it out. Pushed on the wound with the paper to stop the bleeding. “You need a bandaid—”
“I’m fine. Just get me out of here.”
She checked the wound, then wrapped the cannula in the paper and placed it on the tray near the bed. “You’re free, hotshot.”
He couldn’t stop himself. He reached up, wrapped his hand around her neck, pulled her down to himself, and kissed her.
And it wasn’t sweet or patient or particularly honorable, but the kind of kiss that spoke of the way she made him feel—as if, even though he had issues that should make a girl run, she still…wanted him.
As if to prove it, she sat on the bed, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him back, slowing him down, letting him linger.
Letting him know that maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at being the guy who meant his words. I can be more, if that’s what you need.
Yes. Yes, he could.
Her pocket buzzed, and she pulled away, her eyes on his. He was breathing hard, painfully aware now of the flimsy blanket between them and how much really, he didn’t want to go back to the line, but probably should make a beeline for it if he—
“Dad. What’s up?”
She backed away from the bed, her gaze on Riley, her fingers to her lips, as if still reeling from his kiss.
Well, yeah.
“Oh no.”
And right then, his heart might have stopped.
She looked at Riley, and he swallowed. What—?
“Really? Okay. Tell her I’m on my way.”
Her.
Riley held his breath as she hung up and walked over to the bed. “I have a problem. One of my patients is in labor. And I need to go see her before we go back to the ranch.”
Oh.
“Did you think—oh no. You thought that was about your team.” She pressed her hand to his arm. “Sorry.”
“I’m good. Let’s get out of here. Go check on your patient.”
“Really?”
“Larke. Wherever you’re going, I’m going.”
“As long as you end up back fighting fire, right?”
He grinned. “Oh honey, I like it when you talk that way.”
She grinned too. “Get dressed.” She took the cannula and dropped it into the medical waste box. Then she headed to the hallway, but not before stopping at the door. “And, thanks, Riley.”
“I’m getting out of bed now, ready or not—”
She laughed and left the room.
Yeah, maybe he could be the good guy after all.
Riley clearly wasn’t the only one addicted to jumping into the fire.
Larke really was sitting next to the ghost of Freeman.
Not physically, really, because Freeman had been tall, dark haired, dark skinned, with a calm intensity about him that she’d needed overseas when chaos and destruction and daily danger kept her jumpy and on edge.
Riley might just be the complete opposite with his easy smile, tousled golden brown hair, the way he sat next to her in her truck, wearing aviator sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a clean black T-shirt tucked into his grimy fire pants. Riley was fun and flirt and charm.
But he and Freeman shared the same core. The fearlessness, the sense of duty, the determination to finish the job.
To rescue.
I like to jump into fire and do anything and everything I can to stop it and save lives.
Shoot, she was going to get really hurt here.
Because a gust of crazy relief had whooshed through her when Riley said he’d go with her to Alicia’s. Not because she needed him. And certainly not because she wanted to keep him from dropping out of the sky back into danger—although, yeah, that hovered in the back of her mind—but just because…
With him she felt like she might not be on the ground in pieces, listening to the gunshots, smelling the smoke, trapped and not sure how to get to safety. And sure, she was still outside the fence, but with Riley, maybe not alone.
She’d slept hard, for at least five hours. Again.
In Riley’s amazing, strong, safe arms.
Oh, yes, she was in big trouble. Because for the first time, she wanted to figure out how to make it back inside the fence.
Maybe start over again. As her father would say, turn the page.
Riley looked at his cell phone again.
“Did you get ahold of Tucker?”
He shook his head. “And the guys are on a sat radio, so I can’t check in with them, either.” He leaned his head back on the seat. “See the different colors of the smoke? The gray is long burning, less hot ground cover and debris. The black is what we need to worry about. It’s from hot, fresh fire, moving fast and growing.”
He was referring to the mushroom cover of haze that shadowed the park, blurring the mountains and turning the sunshine blood red. She could barely make
out the Denali range for the boil of smoke above the lush green foothills.
“You don’t think it could reach the ranch, do you?”
He shrugged, just the one shoulder—the other still encased in the sling. She’d helped him remove it to put his T-shirt on and gotten a glimpse of the ripped core that he’d developed as a firefighter. That and a few scars. He’d given her a funny, almost childish look as she helped him on with his shirt, tugging it up his arm, then over his head, and onto his other arm. She wanted to remind him that she was a medic, that she’d seen men’s bodies before.
Except, she hadn’t harbored medic-type thoughts as she pulled the T-shirt down over his abs, so she’d kept her mouth shut, her face just a little hot.
“I think anything can happen with fire,” he said quietly, and she appreciated the straight answer. “We do our best to plan the most effective attack, but winds can shift, and fire doesn’t always behave, and suddenly you can find yourself in over your head.”
She nodded.
“The smartest thing you can do is know where your safety zones are and try and stay ahead of trouble.”
Now he sounded like Freeman. Be prepared at all times, expect the worst.
But what if trouble found you?
Took you down and left you broken?
“Who is this woman in labor?” Riley asked.
“Just a patient. She lives off the grid with her husband. He’s in jail right now—I don’t know much about it. I checked on her yesterday, and she was tired but not having any contractions. She’s not due for over a week, so it might not be anything, but—”
“Better to check,” he said.
She made a noise of assent.
“What does he look like?”
She glanced at Riley. “Who?”
“Her husband, the prisoner.”
“Uh, I’ve only met him once. He’s a trucker—red hair, sort of pudgy. Nice guy, I think. I’m not sure why he’s in jail.”
Riley was looking at her, something of horror in his eyes.
“What?”
“It’s just—there was a guy who could have been him on the hand crew. He took off with the others.”
“Darryl is one of the fugitives?”
“Could be. Tucker didn’t introduce them to us. They just showed up and started working.”
“Do you think he could be headed to Alicia’s place?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know. How dangerous is this guy?”
She shook her head, shrugged.
Riley blew out a breath, nodded. “Okay, then.”
There it was again, the whoosh of relief that he sat beside her in the truck. Sheesh. She’d spent years taking care of herself, and Riley showed up and suddenly she couldn’t function without him?
A smart woman would remember that Riley wasn’t exactly sticking around.
At best, he was another battlefield romance. Well done, Larke, well done.
Maybe that was the only way she could let a man in…when she was in over her head. Afraid.
She shook her head.
The movement made him glance at her. “What?”
“I was just…” She gave him a look. “I think we need to be real here. I like you, Riley, but you’re leaving as soon as this fire is out, and we both know it. And clearly I’m not the one-night stand girl I thought I could be, so…”
He frowned.
“I guess I should probably come clean. I’ve never…never been the girl who takes a guy home. I don’t know what I was thinking…”
He was shaking his head. “I told you—I don’t have to be the guy you thought you wanted. I—”
“Can be more. I know what you said, but…it won’t work.”
His mouth tightened. “It’s Freeman, isn’t it? His death wasn’t your fault, Larke.”
“It’s not Freeman. I hear you—and I could probably agree, but… I guess I just don’t—”
“Need another guy in your life who could get killed?”
“No. It’s not that… It’s me.” She glanced at him. “I’m broken too, and you know that.”
He gave her a small smile. “Maybe I like that about you.”
Aw shoot, those eyes. “You’re a problem, Riley McCord.”
He winked at her.
She turned off the highway onto the bumpy, narrow road that led to Alicia’s A-frame. Slowed almost to a stop as a branch hung low and scraped over the truck. A couple more branches were broken, evidence of a recent vehicle passing through. Maybe Darryl had made it back.
Or maybe he’d hijacked a car…
“The problem is, I don’t know how to put myself back together. I don’t even know what that looks like. And until I do, I don’t think I can figure out how to put you back together, either.”
He looked at her. “I don’t want to be put back together. I’m just…this way. There’s no fixing me.”
She went over a pothole and the car jerked. “Sorry.”
“Listen, Larke. My mom used to take me to church, back in the days when she was desperate to put a little self-control in me. I usually just got into trouble, but in between that time, some of it stuck. Like the story of David, the kid who God chose to be king. He wasn’t the best or the strongest. He stood up to a giant with nothing but his bare hands, a slingshot and a couple rocks. I think that’s me. A scrapper. I know I’m not a hero, but I can show up—with my bare hands, if that’s what it takes.”
“‘Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.’”
He looked at her. “What?”
“King David. He wrote that—it’s the Twenty-third Psalm. One of my grandmother’s favorites. She cross-stitched it—it’s in a frame in the lodge.”
“Your dad quoted it before we headed out.”
“Yeah, he does that a lot. He says that sheep are sort of stupid. That they’d follow the other sheep right over a cliff. And they get lost easily.”
Riley reached up and unclicked his sling.
“What are you doing?”
He put his hand on the seat, palm up. “You don’t try and fix me, and I’ll try not to get you into trouble, okay?”
She glanced at him, the quirk of his smile, the texture of his eyes, and slipped her hand into his. “Not much trouble, at least.”
Because maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be whole to let Riley into her life.
Maybe he could simply help fill the broken places.
He closed his hand around hers. “Hey, there’s a car up ahead.”
They’d jerked and rolled their way down the dirt-tracked mile, and the road opened to the A-frame clearing. A dirty red Accord sat in the driveway.
“Maybe that’s Darryl’s car.” She pulled the truck up next to it and reached for the door handle.
“Stop.” He tightened his hold on her hand.
She frowned at his knotted expression. He shot a look at the house. “Let me go in first.”
“What are you going to do? You’re supposed to be in a sling. And I’m the one with combat training.”
He blinked at that. Then he pulled the sling off his neck. “Just stay behind me.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake— “The woman is in labor—”
“And her husband is a fugitive from the law!”
She held up her hand. “Down, boy. Fine. You go first.”
“Thank you.” He got out and rounded the truck to meet her, then took her hand in his.
As if she might disobey him. Good grief. But again, there went the crazy whoosh of, well, yes, relief.
Oh, he’d gotten her all worked up, thinking danger was lurking… This was silly. “Alicia!”
No movement, and the front door was closed. Riley led the way up the steps, then let go of her hand to knock on the door. “Alicia,” he said, “we’re here to help.”
“She could be in the back,” Larke said and reached for the knob. It was unlocked.
She eased the door open, glanced at Riley, and he stepped inside first.
Only the plink of water sounded in the sink, the curtain to the back drawn, the house eerily quiet. “Alicia?”
A wadded-up blanket lay on the sofa, an indented pillow against the arm. Riley walked over to the sofa and pressed his hand on the pillow, checking for warmth, maybe.
She closed the door behind her.
And that’s when a hand clamped onto the back of her neck, fingers like a vice into her flesh. “Don’t move.”
She jerked, and across the room, Riley whirled around.
The stark, hollow look on his face, the widening eyes were the only warning before the hard, cold tip of a gun pressed to the back of her skull.
“Don’t even breathe, or I’ll shoot you both.”
Six
“Darryl, I’m just here to help Alicia,” Larke said, her voice incredibly calm, considering the Glock held to the base of her skull.
It wasn’t Darryl standing behind her—at least not from the description she’d given Riley. Red hair, overweight. That man Riley had seen on the fire line, sweaty and overwhelmed. That man took off the first chance he could with the rest of the fugitives. That man could be captured or dead right now.
This man looked like he’d stepped off a tour bus, a lawyer on vacation from the Lower 48 for a high-end fly fishing trip on some remote Alaskan river. He wore a windbreaker, a pair of jeans, a blue Life is Good T-shirt.
But the way he glanced at Riley turned him cold.
They were in a movie with an assassin. At least that was the first thought that came to mind as Riley raised his hands, his shoulder limiting movement and sort of cutting short his immediate options, although he would take out his body if it meant saving Larke.
“I’m not Darryl,” Mr. Assassin said, stating what Riley had already concluded. “Where is he?”
“Clearly we don’t know,” Riley said. “We’re here for Alicia. Where is she?” And he kept his voice even despite the images his brain conjured as an answer.
“She’s at the hospital,” the man said. “At least that’s what the note on the door said.”
Riley couldn’t even guess at what happened. “Who are you?”
“A business associate.” He pushed Larke forward, his grip still on her neck, and she winced.
“Hey, man, go easy there,” Riley snapped.
Some Like It Hot: Christian romantic suspense (Summer of the Burning Sky Book 3) Page 7