Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2)

by Susan May Warren

  More, actually, than enough. And now he’d taken out his heart, put it right out there for her to see. The truth was, “You didn’t like me enough. You took off—twice—without telling me—”

  “No. Conner. I was just trying to play by your rules. No promises, right?”

  His mouth tightened.

  “You didn’t like me enough to make an entire life with me,” she said quietly.

  And despite her soft words, they landed sharp, brutal in the soft, still healing places inside. And right behind them, a rush of panic. That sense of having something amazing in his grasp. And, like a year ago when she’d said, Now What?, the same hand reached up, wrapped around his throat.

  An entire life.

  And that was the problem. If he promised her a future...well, his profession wasn’t exactly safe. He was ever more aware of that now after losing Jock and the team.

  Frankly, he simply saw himself letting her down. A final epitaph to a slew of broken promises.

  He couldn’t dodge that truth even now.

  But wasn’t she the girl who embraced each new sunrise? He’d sort of thought, out of anyone, Liza was the one who wouldn’t expect more than just right now. Had never let on differently, really.

  “Aw, Liza. C’mon. You know what I’ve been through. None of us knows how long that life is. We shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep—”

  “What promises might those be? To live happily ever after?”

  “I dunno. Maybe—yeah. Because you know I don’t do promises. Isn’t it enough to show up every day, one after the next, with you?”

  “Maybe it should be. But not for me.” Her eyes glistened. “You’re right—it wasn’t my fault my brother’s friend came on to me. Or that the football player took advantage of me. But I didn’t do anything to stop them. I just let them, because I was too needy to know how to protect myself. I walked right into the situations, my heart open—and they took that and hurt me.”

  She turned away. “But—I’m not that girl anymore.”

  Conner couldn’t breathe with the tumult of her words rocking against him and the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  “The thing is I wish I had misunderstood you. But we communicated perfectly. You can’t make me promises...and I can’t live without them. The worst part is that I do know what you’ve been through. I shouldn’t have expected more. This one really is my fault.”

  “Liza—”

  “So, please, stop saying nice things and calling me beautiful. I panicked. I called you. And yes, I needed you. I might even still be in love with you. But that’s my problem, not yours. When this gig is over, you’re going to walk out of my life, and I’m going to let you go, okay?”

  Not okay.

  I might even still be in love with you.

  But before he knew what to say, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, turned and kept trekking into the forest.

  Liza—

  Movement from in front of her caught him—forty feet away, a shadow at first, then the outline and a hulking form.

  He caught her by the arm, whirled her back to face him.

  “Conner, really—”

  “Shh. Don’t move.”

  She stilled. “What—”

  “Remember what I said about the bear? About being scary and loud?”

  Then of course she turned.

  He felt, more than heard, the welling of her scream.

  And then, because he had suggested it, and because he wasn’t sure what else to do, he joined her in an all-out yell at the grizzly, who reared up and roared.

  Chapter 10

  Liza didn’t know which shook her more—the roar of the grizzly as he scraped the air with his razor claws or Conner’s primal shout behind her.

  But she didn’t have time to sort it out. Not with her screams ripping through the shadowed forest, echoing against the folds of darkness gathering in the gorge.

  Spittle cobwebbed from the bear’s jaws as it roared at them.

  “It’s not running!” So much for scaring the bear.

  Conner’s arm snaked around her and yanked her back, against his chest.

  Her breaths tumbled, one over another, and she simply held onto Conner’s grip, her fingers digging into his forearms as she watched the animal’s hoary head swing back and forth.

  “Is that—is he warning us? Is it—what did you say about him stalking us?” Sorry, but screaming seemed akin to throwing marshmallows at a charging rhino.

  Conner edged her backward, still holding her tight. “Shh. I don’t know. Is that the same bear?”

  “Maybe. I didn’t exactly stick around—”

  He made a sound that might have been a harrumph.

  The grizzly opened his mouth, roared again. Liza whirled around to face Conner and gripped onto his backpack straps. “What do we do?”

  She barely knew a rattled Conner, had never seen him truly untucked, even after the near disaster in Deep Haven, but as he gripped her shoulders, his eyes widened. He glanced into the gorge below, back to the animal.

  “Do—should we play dead?” she whispered. Except that would probably lead to them being dead.

  “If it’s the same animal, then he’s not spooked, he’s hunting us.” He grabbed her face in both hands. “Trust me?”

  She made a noise—might have been a yes, sounded more to her ears like a yelp of panic. Conner grabbed her hand, turned to the gorge—

  “Jump!”

  Liza glanced behind her and caught a glimpse of the animal, saliva flinging from its open mouth, teeth bared and—

  Her feet left the earth without any help from Conner. Still his hand gripped hers as they flung themselves into space.

  Held it as they fell, his grip iron.

  She screamed a second before they hit the water. Bracing, but not icy, the shock of the chill stabbed into her skin, swiped her breath as the water sucked her under. Her pack turned to lead, and she fought the current, kicking against the riverbed.

  Oh no, she’d let go of his hand. Or maybe he’d let go of her.

  She paddled her arms, kicked, her breath leeching out, burning her lungs, aching—

  She felt herself rising. She kicked and twisted, lurching for the surface.

  Her face broke into the light, and she gulped in air, sputtering as the foam and spray assaulted her nose, her eyes.

  Conner held her by her pack straps. “Take this thing off!”

  “It’s got my first aid equipment!”

  “And rocks, apparently.”

  “It’s my mag light and my bear spray!” She worked her hand into his backpack strap, the pot calling the kettle black.

  The river had grabbed them and now swallowed them in the fury of the rapids, dragging them into the froth. Conner, still fisting her straps, tried to swim them away from a cauldron of swirling water forming on the backside of a bison-sized boulder. “Kick with me!”

  She caught a glimpse of the grizzly overhead, angry.

  Then the current slammed her into Conner’s arms, and he caught her to himself, one arm around her waist, wedging himself with the current against a boulder, safe in a small eddy.

  The water churned around them. For a second, their eyes met. Hers, she imagined, huge and terrified. His blue eyes somehow solid. Calm. And the sense of it slid through her, down to her heart, took a hold. Yes, whatever faults this man had, he showed up when a girl needed him.

  And maybe it should be enough.

  “Hang onto me, Liza. Just hang on.” Then Conner pressed a crazy, quick kiss to her forehead and let her go. “I’m going to swim, and you just hold onto my pack. We’ll find a way out.”

  She didn’t see how. From here, the walls of the gorge loomed thirty, even fifty feet from the water, with the river tumbling over boulders, into eddies, over ledges, all on its way to yet another roaring waterfall.

  The river thundered in the distance, warning.

  Conner rearranged her grip to the back of his pack, just above his shoulder, where
she could hold on as he towed her.

  “Listen, we’re going to work our way to the edge of the river, see if we can find a place to climb out. But the current is going to force us downriver. Keep your head up and try and stay behind me.”

  Then, before she could respond, he pushed off into the current.

  It gulped them whole, into the froth and spray. Conner lay on his stomach, trying to swim diagonally toward the shore. She couldn’t help but kick with him, landing a couple of blows in his thigh, but he didn’t stop.

  Her head went under, cold, brackish water doused her nose, blinded her. She came up, gasping, and he grabbed her hand.

  “You okay?” he yelled over the flow.

  He kicked and fought, reaching for boulders, dragging the two of them closer to the edge.

  His breathing heaved with exertion, the current’s relentless grasp wringing them out as they tumbled farther downstream.

  It occurred to Liza that maybe Esther hadn’t escaped the river at all.

  Conner finally slammed up against a boulder, his back to it, bracing his legs on some hidden outcropping. He reached out and pulled her to him.

  She locked her arms around his neck, breathing hard as his chest rose and fell. She couldn’t help but collapse, her forehead against his.

  “I just gotta...catch...my breath,” he said.

  She fought to keep herself from weeping.

  He traded positions with her, anchoring her in place with his hands on either side of her.

  She couldn’t guess how long they’d fought the rapids—it seemed like only a few minutes, but in that time, twilight had sunk deep bruises into the landscape, turning the water nearly black and cutting their chance of finding footholds in the rocky walls razor slim.

  “We’re never going to—”

  He grabbed her backpack, pulling her up, close to him. He put his forehead to hers, breathing, as if trying to conjure up the words. Then he moved his mouth across her cheek, almost like a kiss, and found her ear. “We’re getting out of here.”

  He leaned back and met her eyes. Despite the darkness, a fire lit inside them, something primal and fierce.

  She could almost hear the I promise on the end of his words.

  She nodded.

  “Stay here!”

  Before she could protest, he launched himself off the rock, back into the current, swimming hard for the edge, aiming toward a low-hanging tree stripped of its branches and lodged in the river. He flung himself toward it, and she could barely make him out in the spray and kaleidoscope of light hazing the canyon.

  His silhouette arched out of the water as he pulled himself up on the tree, draping himself over it.

  He stayed there a long moment, as if catching his breath. Then he turned. “Float down to me!”

  Had he lost his mind?

  Apparently he had, because he wrapped his legs around the tree, dropped down, and leaned back, his arms outstretched. “If you kick off the rock on the other side, the current will bring you right to me. I’ll catch you.”

  Now, frankly, she could use some promises.

  Lose the pack. The thought—in Conner’s tone of voice—swept through her head, and she shrugged it off, let it fall into the current.

  It sank as she pushed off, swimming hard for Conner.

  She hit a boulder with her shoulder, pushed away, landed her feet on it, and launched herself toward him.

  Their hands touched, but the current yanked her beyond the tree, away—

  And then something snared her neck, noosing her, choking her. He had her by the collar. She lunged for him again, fighting the burn and praying the shirt wouldn’t rip.

  His hand caught hers, tightened in a vice grip. Then he was pulling her to himself. “I got you—I got you!”

  She clung to his strong arms.

  He reached for her other hand, moved to a solid branch. “Got it?”

  She nodded, and held on as he swung himself up. Then, leaning over the tree, he reached down and grabbed her by her arms, swinging her up onto his lap, across his chest, falling back with her on the tree.

  A big tree with just a wide enough trunk for her to collapse beside him, gasping, his arms around her.

  She’d forgotten his strength and how she relished it.

  How he’d held her when they jumped from the plane, her fear disappearing, the sense of calm that bathed her. Now she clung to his amazingly solid shoulders, feeling his breath in her hair.

  He lay with his arms around her waist, securing her against the long, soggy planes of his body, his chest rising and falling. Maybe he didn’t even know that he’d reached one hand up to her head, twining his fingers into her wet hair.

  Or gave a hard exhale, as if he’d nearly lost her.

  And certainly he didn’t know that his touch ignited all the places, all the feelings she’d tried to stamp out.

  I might even still be in love with you. Might?

  But in this nanosecond, caught between tragedy and the sweet, calming strength of Conner Young, she didn’t care.

  Yes, she would let him walk away, but right now, she didn’t have to. Right now, as the folds of night and the hiss of the jealous river reached for her, she turned her face to Conner’s shoulder, tightened her arm around his chest, and held on. He smelled of the wild, his skin clammy and wet, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the feel of him, his heartbeat against her hand, her fear dissipating.

  She wouldn’t think about tomorrow. Just sink into the now.

  It was enough.

  A crack splintered the moment and with it, a jolt from their perch.

  “Are you kidding me?” Conner said as the tree lurched again. Splintering, the air rending with barks and snaps as the earth and rock surrendered to the added weight on the tree.

  Liza jerked up as Conner scrambled to his feet, one hand vicing her arm.

  “C’mon!” He was scrambling toward the cliff, up the length of the tree trunk, tripping over branches as he yanked her along.

  Her shirt caught on a twig—she heard it tear, then a branch speared her in the gut. She cried out, but he wouldn’t let go.

  The tree sank toward the frothing, dark water. With the sun nearly gone, the river turned into a twisty, deadly roil, heading straight toward the hungry waterfall hidden in the darkness beyond.

  “Hurry!”

  He still had her arm, but the tree jerked again, and she pitched back. “Liza!”

  Her arm windmilled, his grasp tearing away.

  He yanked her up toward him, holding her tight against him as he clung now to the roots of the tree with one hand. “Hold on!”

  To what? She wrapped her arms around his waist as he let her go and lunged for the cliff, seeking a handhold as the roots snapped, whined.

  As he struggled to land his hold, the tree tore away from the cliff, falling from beneath them into the river with a deafening splash.

  “Don’t let go!”

  And wow, she wanted to obey him, but the tree tugged at her. The roots had wrapped around her foot and now yanked as the rapids snared the tree, ramrodding it over boulders to send it downstream.

  “My foot’s stuck!”

  “Liza!” He grabbed her shirt and she wished, then, for her backpack, because the flimsy material ripped again.

  He slipped, let go of her, clung to the cliff.

  The tree wrestled for ownership.

  He reached again for her hand. “Hold on!”

  “You can’t hold me!”

  “We can do this—don’t let go!”

  But the weight of the tree grabbed her, and he couldn’t last, not with his flimsy grip on the rocky cliff.

  If they both went down, no one would be left to find Esther. Or, her, for that matter.

  “I’m sorry, Conner!”

  With the tree tugging at her, his gaze desperate in hers, and slightest shake of her head, she let go.

  #

  “Liza!”

  Conner clung like a lemur to the roc
k, dangling out over the spittle of spray and foam, watching as the river engulfed her, hurtling her toward the falls.

  No!

  Beyond impulse, all the way to sheer panic, Conner launched himself into the river, hitting hard, grateful he didn’t face-plant into a hidden boulder. He came up fast, sputtering, and swam hard into the roiling blackness.

  In the fragile minutes between twilight and moonrise, the river turned inky, snarled, the cold stinging his bones. He slammed against rocks, letting the river take him, keeping his eyes on the bulk that he hoped was Liza and the tree.

  He prayed that the massive boulders en route to the falls would hang up the tree.

  “Liza!”

  No answering call. The river yanked him under. He bounced off a boulder, and came up fighting.

  He would not lose her—not this way.

  Not after she’d clung to him as they lay on the tree, the way she burrowed her face into his neck. He could still feel the heat of her breath against his skin.

  Not to mention her words still pulsing through him, spoken right before they’d cannonballed off the cliff.

  I might even still be in love with you.

  Still. In love.

  Conner rolled over, breathing hard, lying on his back, feet up, arms out, riding the current, kicking off of boulders. If he wanted to save Liza, he had to stay alive, instead of, say, slamming his skull against a boulder hidden in the folds of darkness.

  He hoped the bulk he spied was the tree and Liza. Its skeletal branches scrabbled against the deep bruise of the horizon as it careened down the canyon.

  The waterfall thundered ahead. And perhaps above that roar, a scream.

  Suddenly, the tree jerked, arrested in the water, the bulk of it coming around to lodge at an angle.

  Snagged. “Liza! Hold on to the tree!”

  He couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her anymore. Please, God, don’t let the tree have dragged her under.

  The river slammed him against the trunk. He held on, and climbed along it, against the current, sputtering as water and foam crashed into his face. The force of the current threatened to wedge him under the tree, drown him. A branch speared him in the shoulder, and he jerked back, held on, gasping.