Risk the Burn

by Marnee Blake

  The statement covered so many things. That he stayed after nearly dying in smokejumper training last year, obviously. But his heart said she was trying to warn him that she wouldn’t stay when things got hard with them, the same as she didn’t plan to stay now.

  He retreated, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. If he thought it would help, to hold her, even to make love to her, then he’d do it. If he thought touching her would change her mind, he’d never take his hands away from her.

  But she didn’t need him to hold her. She needed to see this differently than she did. And he didn’t know how to make that happen.

  “I’m sorry, too. Because I’m the kind of guy who does stick it out. And I’d stick around with you, if you gave it a chance, too.”

  He waited, holding her gaze. She looked away first.

  The silence elongated, filling the space between them. His heart ached and, the persistent panic threatened to block his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp it down. He’d relied on her, this connection between them, to soothe himself. That wasn’t fair, not to either of them. He needed to stand on his own now.

  “All right, then. I wish you the best.” He backed out of the room, rubbing his palms on his thighs and trying to hold it together. “Let us all know when you’re there, okay?”

  She nodded, her throat working. He couldn’t watch her let him go.

  Spinning, he left.

  * * * *

  Charlie dragged her suitcase out to her car, letting it thump down the few steps out front.

  Hunter had left a few hours ago, and she was still second-guessing whether she’d done the right thing.

  He didn’t understand. She was running away? No, she was giving the police time to do their job without her there to be a distraction. She was a phone call away if they had any questions.

  He’d basically called her a coward. Not in as many words, but it had been pretty damn close. She loved him, but maybe she’d read him wrong.

  It sure wouldn’t be the first time.

  She clicked the key fob to open her car door. Wrestling the huge suitcase down the sidewalk, she left it on the curb as she lifted the hatch on her car. Swinging the luggage off the step, she was grateful for every workout she’d done recently. That thing was heavy.

  She’d been too preoccupied with her mammoth luggage to see the woman standing next to her car. It wasn’t until she straightened that she noticed the knife. A moment later, it was buried in her side.

  Pain sliced through her and she cried out, stumbling back, her hand pressing to the wound. When she pulled her fingers away, they were sticky with blood.

  The woman with the knife was staring at it as if she wasn’t sure how it had gotten in her hand. Her pause gave Charlie time to reach into her pocket and pull out the pepper spray she’d bought today on her way home.

  How she had the brain function to unlock it and point it properly, she might never guess. But when she sprayed it, her attacker fell to the ground writhing and screaming in pain.

  Some other time, under other circumstances, she might have experienced sympathy for the girl, but right now, with blood gushing from her side, she couldn’t work up much of anything.

  Tripping, she hurried inside, her hand pressing more firmly over her wound. Though initially the stab had felt more like a punch, now the pain radiated down her side, stealing her breath.

  She fumbled in her purse for her phone, keeping an eye behind her for the woman she’d sprayed. As she picked it up, she dialed 911. When someone answered, she said, “Yes, I’ve been stabbed. The woman is still here.”

  She hurried to give her location as she shuffled down the stairs, still bleeding and in misery. But she needed to make sure the woman was still there, still down. That she was in control. When she reached her attacker, she saw the woman still writhing on the ground, obviously in agony.

  It was irrational, but Charlie wanted to spray her again. According to the directions, though, people who had been sprayed would take between fifteen and forty-five minutes to recover. No way she was getting up anytime soon. But the pain stretching up Charlie’s side wasn’t making her charitable.

  Dizzy and hurting, she lowered herself to the ground, trying to breathe through the agony. As she stared up at the sky and her moans melted into the woman’s, she wondered what Hunter was doing right that minute. Was he thinking he should have stayed, tried to talk her out of her decision?

  Right now, bleeding on the sidewalk, cradling the pepper spray in case the woman became threatening again, she wished he would have stayed, too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Hunter stepped up to the nurses’ station later that evening, he already expected to be turned away. Still, being asked what his relationship was to Charlie was a bit of a sore point.

  He was nothing to her. He’d left her alone today.

  He spun away, his helplessness so intense he choked on it. She’d been here—alone—for almost two hours. Meg had called to ask if he needed her to pick him up on the way. Confused, he’d needed to ask where they were going. Because Charlie hadn’t reached out to him.

  Burying his hands in his hair, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. She could be dying in there. He wouldn’t have had any idea.

  The kind-eyed nurse smiled at him, telling him that it was only family right now to see her, and directed him to have a seat in the waiting room down the hall.

  As he turned the corner, though, he found Lance and Meg. He stepped forward, folding his sister into a hug without a word. If he were a different guy, he might have argued that it was to support her. But he wasn’t that guy. It was as much for him as it was for her.

  Holding his sister helped him. It didn’t stop the panic clawing at his stomach, but it took the edge off.

  Pulling away, he asked, “What do we know?”

  “Not much so far.” Meg crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth tight. “She was brought in for a knife wound.”

  “Did she call you?” It was a small thing, but it stung that Charlie would call Meg and not him.

  “No.” Lance stepped forward, clasping him on the shoulder. “One of the guys on the hotshot crew is dating a cop. Recognized the name, met her at the engagement party. Knew she and Meg were friends.”

  It was a small world.

  “A knife wound?” What the hell had happened? “Did they get the guy?”

  “Woman.” Meg nodded. “Charlie pepper-sprayed her.”

  “Since when did Charlie have pepper spray?” She would have told him that, wouldn’t she? She’d never mentioned it. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her.

  The way she’d let him go earlier? He never would have expected Charlie to be capable of something like that.

  Meg shrugged. So Charlie hadn’t told her either. That wasn’t something she’d have left out. They were all worrying about her. She would have used the existence of a pepper spray to reassure them all, wouldn’t she?

  He had no idea. The past hours had made him question what he thought he knew about her.

  A doctor finally came out, a face mask around his neck. “Meg? She’s out of surgery.”

  She’d needed surgery? That revelation struck him in the gut. He remembered what going into surgery had felt like, when he was on oxygen and being rushed into the emergency room. The sounds and smells of the operating room rose in his mind, clobbering him with pain, hiking his pulse up until it roared in his ear. The noise was so loud that he almost missed his sister’s question.

  “Thanks, Carl. How did it go?” Meg folded her arms over her chest. Hunter forgot sometimes that Meg worked here, in Bend, as a physician assistant. Obviously she must know this guy. Bend wasn’t a huge town.

  “She came through splendidly. The knife missed all of the dangerous organs. She’s got a fair amount of stitc
hes and she’ll be in a whole lot of pain, but she should make a full recovery.”

  Full recovery. That’s what the doctor had said.

  She would be okay.

  He could breathe again.

  The rest of the explanations were more detailed and better suited for his sister. All he’d needed was the reassurance that she’d be fine.

  He faced the window, staring out, attempting to get his emotions in check. The scene was nothing to write home about—the top of the medical center. But it soothed him. He’d been in this hospital, last year. They’d taken good care of him.

  His Charlie was in good hands.

  Lance joined him, staring out at the lackluster skyline. “You okay?” he asked, under his breath.

  Hunter could only nod.

  “This is a good facility.” Lance’s voice was still low, private.

  He jerked his head in agreement again. He’d forgotten Lance had spent time here, too, in the events surrounding his brother and uncle last year.

  After another long moment, Lance said, “She’s going to be okay.”

  “I know, man.” Hunter’s head dropped. “Thank God.”

  Lance patted him on the shoulder. Not a comforting pat, but the solid smack that said man-to-man that he believed in him. That he was sure Hunter had it together.

  Biting his bottom lip, he desperately hoped his friend was right.

  A couple of cops came from the same direction as the doctor. Hunter recognized one of them from his hotshot days. “Hey, Kendall.”

  The guy’s mouth split into a grin. “Hey, man. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. You here for Charlie Jones?” He tried to keep his tone light, but his concern was probably all over him.

  Kendall was onto him, too. His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. You know her?”

  “Yeah. We’re close.” He didn’t know exactly what they were right now, but close definitely covered it. “They caught the attacker, right?”

  “Yeah. Addict. Said she was paid to go after the girl. I didn’t get much beyond that because she’s tweaking and paranoid. But she said her dealer paid her.” Kendall shrugged, lifting his hands.

  “Her dealer paid her?” Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not how it usually goes, right?”

  Kendall chuckled. “Definitely not.”

  “She give you the dealer’s name?”

  The cop shook his head. “Nothing beyond a street name. Runt. Probably some small-time kid. We’ll follow it up. Meth, though. Stuff is messed up. If he’s a smaller dealer, there’s someone over him. We’ll see what we can find out.”

  “Meth.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Another meth addict raised a gun at her a month or so ago.”

  That was too much of a coincidence. There was no way Charlie had become a target of drug addicts by herself. Even if she’d been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time twice, that they were both tweakers suggested something more organized.

  Besides, this was Charlie. She drank smoothies with green stuff in them. She worked out religiously, was a physical therapist. She took her health seriously. There was no way she’d gotten tangled up with meth addicts on purpose.

  But he had. And meth…

  “Our only guess is that she did something to piss off someone in that food chain.” Kendall’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you have any ideas? Miss Jones was coming out of anesthesia when I last checked in on her. I wasn’t going to bother her yet, give her a few hours. Is there something I’m missing?”

  “Yeah. I think I know who you should be looking at.” He put his hand on his stomach, suddenly ill. “Johnny Santillo. He might be targeting her to get back at me.”

  * * * *

  When Charlie woke, Hunter was sitting next to her, holding her hand. The lazy circles he drew on the back of it calmed her, like all the other times he touched her.

  Seeing him, she wondered if it was a mistake, if this was another hallucination from the anesthesia. She had some crazy dreams earlier, a bunch of stuff about bugs. As she stared at him, she realized she was itchy. Probably the painkillers. Any of the morphine derivatives would have made her itchy. They’d told her she was allergic when she had the same reaction the last time she’d needed them, after Joshua.

  Probably explained the bug dreams, too.

  Still, Hunter looked corporeal. She blinked a few times and he remained. Definitely real.

  Except he shouldn’t be here, should he? They’d had a fight. He’d told her she was running away.

  Then she’d been stabbed.

  Right now, his eyes were full of emotion, things she didn’t understand. But she was obviously drugged, so maybe that was all in her head.

  “Hey,” he offered, breaking the silence. He dropped her hand onto the bed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she missed the warmth of his touch.

  “Hi.” Her voice cracked, and the inside of her mouth felt like sandpaper. He must have noticed, because he retrieved the cup on the tray table next to them and lifted the straw to her mouth. She reached for it, only to be stopped by a sharp pull and a burn of pain on her side.

  That’s right. That’s where she’d been stabbed.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “I got it.”

  She allowed him to hold the cup. Before she was done, he took it away, though.

  “Not too much. So you don’t get sick.”

  She nodded, shifting, but no position was comfortable. She didn’t want to struggle in front of him, either. Giving up, she sighed, falling back onto the pillow. “What are you doing here, Hunter?”

  He dropped his gaze, and she regretted the harshness. Trying again, she said, “Thank you for coming. I didn’t expect you. That’s all.” She’d considered calling him. In fact, it was all she could think about as the ambulance drove her to the hospital. But the entire point of pushing him away had been to keep him safe. Asking him to be by her side now would be counterproductive.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure you’ll want to talk with me after what I’m going to tell you.” He grimaced.

  “What happened?” Excitement raced through her. “Did they find out anything from the girl who stabbed me?” She smiled at him. “I pepper-sprayed her.”

  “You definitely did.” He offered her a half grin. “Great job.”

  Her triumph dimmed, though. “What do you mean after I talk to you?”

  Seeing him here, his obvious concern, well, it was bad news. Not just because he was in danger here, with her, but it was risky for her heart. She loved him. She hadn’t wanted to let him go, didn’t want things to end this way.

  Didn’t want things to end at all.

  Every second she spent with him weakened her resolve. Maybe, if they found out who was doing this to her, they could make it stop. She would be safe, especially now that Joshua had found the light or whatever. Things between them could return to the way they had been. She could buy into the therapy practice, and they could keep going as they’d been.

  They could be happy.

  When he didn’t speak right away, her stomach sank further. “What’s going on?”

  “They did get some information out of the woman who stabbed you.” He held her eyes, but his were full of apology. “She’s an addict, meth. Like the woman who tried to shoot you last month.”

  “She is?” Two meth addicts. What did that mean?

  “Yeah. I spoke with the police officer who questioned her.” He toyed with the sheet. “He said the woman was paid by her dealer to attack you.”

  “Why would he pay her to attack me?” This was crazy. She wasn’t connected to drugs, never touched the stuff. “I don’t know any drug dealers or even people who do hard drugs. I smoked pot once in college, and I didn’t like it. I’m not exactly the poster child for getting tangled up in drug wars.” />
  “No. But I am.”

  “What?” What was he talking about? “You don’t do drugs.” She’d only gotten to know him well over the past couple of months, so she wasn’t the expert of all things Hunter Buchanan. But she could say with reasonable certainty that he didn’t use illicit substances. A man couldn’t be as healthy and strong, accomplish so many physical milestones, without taking care of his body.

  “No, but I helped put away a meth dealer a few years ago. Johnny Santillo. We stumbled on a couple of cooks in the forest, in an isolated lab set up in an RV. I helped them escape the cycle, get help. They ratted him out, put him in jail for all sorts of things, even human trafficking.” He bit his lip, his jaw tightening. “Real piece of work. But, apparently he got out on good behavior recently. A couple of the guys at work were talking about it because there have been other explosions in the national forests, stuff the Forest Services has come across or been called in to manage. I didn’t make the connection, not until this addict attacked you. One meth addict is one thing, two is a pattern when added to all the other things you’ve had to deal with.”

  It might have been because of the painkillers or leftover anesthesia, maybe exhaustion, but she wasn’t sure she understood exactly what was going on. “You mean that this drug dealer—”

  “Johnny Santillo,” he supplied.

  “Right. Johnny Santillo. You mean he’s targeting me because of you?”

  Hunter winced as he swallowed. “Yes. I think that’s what I mean.”

  She could only blink at him. For weeks, she’d been worrying that her past relationship with Joshua was the reason she was suffering. That her old, bad judgment when it came to men was coming back to haunt her.

  She hadn’t considered that her current judgment was the root of her problems.

  “Why?” That was the question echoing through her mind. “Why is he coming after me if he’s angry with you?”

  “I honestly have no idea.” He shook his head, letting it fall low between his shoulders. “I don’t know why he’s doing this. If he has a problem with me, he should have taken it up with me, left you alone.”