by Nora Roberts
Her breath stuttered in her throat. He’d been sitting behind a tree, she saw, on the far side of the clearing. And now he used the wind, the gloom, those first quick patters of rain to mask his movements.
Simon laid his hand over her mouth, leaned close to her ear.
“You stay here. You keep the dogs right here. I’m going to circle around, cut him off. Stay here,” he repeated. “He won’t get past me. Cops’ll be here in minutes.”
She wanted to argue; couldn’t risk it. She ordered her confused dogs with a down and stay, a firm, angry hand signal that had their heads drooping, their eyes casting up at her whining with hurt feelings.
The game wasn’t over. The prize was right there, lurking in the shadows. Her unexpected anger had them letting out low whines until she silenced them with a furious look, a jabbing finger.
Satisfied, she eased out a little to look, and saw the gun in Eckle’s hand. His head cocked to the side—listening—as he turned slowly in the direction Simon took.
She thought, very simply, No. And stepped out into the clearing.
She held the gun up and aimed. Cursed that it trembled as he completed the turn and looked into her eyes.
“Drop your gun, Francis, or I swear on every life you and Perry took, I’ll shoot you.” She would live with it, could live with it. Had to live with it.
“He told me not to underestimate you.” As she did, Eckle held the gun up and aimed. But it didn’t tremble. He smiled as he might at the unexpected appearance of a friend. “You know when I kill you, your partner will rush in this direction. Then I’ll kill him, too. His dog. Yours. Where’s your dog, Fiona?”
“Put the gun down. You know the police and the FBI are coming. They’re spread all over this area. You’ll never get through them.”
“But I’ve finally lived. In a few short months I’ve lived and experienced more than I did in all the years before. All those gray years. I hope Tawney’s with the ones who come. If I have a chance to take him, it would be like a parting gift for Perry.”
“He betrayed you.”
“But first he freed me. I wish we had more time, Fiona. Your hand’s trembling.”
“It won’t stop me.” She drew a breath in, prepared to kill.
Simon charged out of the trees, his body low and between hers and Eckle’s. He rammed Eckle’s right side, making Fiona think briefly, crazily, of a speeding train.
The gun fired, the bullet digging a trench in the soft earth an instant before the gun flew from Eckle’s hand.
She rushed forward, grabbed it. Even as she aimed both guns she heard James shouting, and thrashing through the brush. Just, she thought, as Eckle had predicted. When he broke through, she shoved the guns at him.
“Hold these.”
“Fee, Jesus. Jesus.”
She simply dropped down beside Simon as he viciously, methodically battered Eckle’s face with his fists.
“Stop. Stop that now.” She struggled for the firm, no-nonsense tone she used with misbehaving dogs, and nearly succeeded. “Simon, stop. He’s finished.”
He flicked one furious glance at her. “I told you to stay under cover. I told you he wouldn’t get past me.”
“And he didn’t.” She took one of his balled fists, the knuckles bruised and bloody, and laid it on her cheek as her dogs shoved against her. “I told them to stay, but they didn’t. We all protect each other. That’s how it works.”
She barely spared Eckle a glance. “Is she alive?” she asked James.
“Yeah. But I don’t know if she’s going to stay that way. She’s in bad shape. I have to get back to Lori. You scared the shit out of us.”
He, however, took a long study of Eckle’s battered, slack face. “You do nice work, Simon. Here.” He handed the guns back to Fiona. “I hear the cops, or feds. Whichever. We’ve got to get the victim out and to the hospital. We’re going to do some serious talking in the debriefing,” he added, then shoved through the brush.
“I didn’t know if you saw the gun,” she told Simon. “I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t take a chance.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t just blast away at you. What if he hadn’t wanted to chat for a minute?”
“I’d have shot him.” She put her own gun back in her holster, then Eckle’s in her belt. “Another fraction of a second . . . I’m glad I didn’t have to. Glad you broke his goddamn face instead.”
She let out a long breath, then crouched. “Good dogs! You’re such good dogs. You found Eckle.”
She had her arms around the dogs and her head on Simon’s chest when the cops rushed the clearing.
IT TOOK HOURS MORE, hours that seemed like days. Questions, reports, more questions, the briefing.
Mantz walked over to shake her hand. “I still say you’d make a good agent.”
“Maybe, but I’m really looking forward to the quiet life.”
“Good luck with it.” Bending, she petted Newman, who’d yet to leave Fiona’s side. “Good dog,” she said, and when Fiona cocked a brow, laughed. “I guess they’ve changed my mind about the species. See you around.”
From Tawney, she got a hug.
“Don’t wait until there’s trouble to come see me,” she murmured. “Because I’m done with trouble, but not with you.”
“You gave me a whole new patch of gray hair today. I’d say take care of yourself, but you already do. We’re going to need to do some follow-ups.”
“Anytime.”
“Go home.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep.”
Since she nearly dozed off on the drive home she didn’t think that would be a problem.
“I’m going to have a shower, then I’m going to eat whatever’s in the refrigerator, then I’m going to sleep for twelve hours.”
“I’ve got a couple things to do, then we’ll both eat whatever’s in the fridge.”
She started out, stopped. “Would you check, see if there’s any update on Starr’s condition? I know it looks bad for her, but maybe . . . We hate losing one.”
“I’ll check. Have your shower.”
She wallowed in it, basked, lingered. Then, tying her wet hair back in a tail, pulled on cotton pants and a soft, faded tee. Comfort, she thought. She wanted nothing but comfort.
And the start, please God, of her quiet life.
She picked up the little penknife she’d set on her dresser, pressed it to her cheek. “You’d be happy for me,” she murmured. Setting it down, she studied herself in the mirror. She looked a little tired, she thought, but she didn’t look like hell.
She looked, she thought with a smile, free.
As she started downstairs, she frowned at the quick toot of a horn. She loved her friends, but God, she just wanted to eat and sleep. No more talk.
But she found Simon in the kitchen, alone with the dogs.
“Who was here?”
“When? Oh, James. I needed a hand with something. Here.” He shoved a cracker with a thin slice of cheese on top into her mouth.
“Good,” she managed over it. “More.”
He shoved a second in. “That’s it. Now you make your own. Here.” He pushed a glass of wine in her hand.
“Did you call the hospital?”
“She’s critical. Exposure, dehydration, shock. She’s got broken fingers, a broken jaw. There’s more. He had considerable time to pound on her, and he used it. She’s got a decent shot.”
“Okay.”
“Eckle’s got a few problems of his own.” He glanced at his own bandaged hands.
“He earned them.” She took those bandaged hands and made him mutter to himself when she kissed them.
“He was writing a book.”
“What?”
“You took a long shower,” Simon pointed out. “Davey filled in some blanks. She was, too. It looks like Eckle did some editing on hers, added some material.”
“God.” Closing her eyes, she pressed the wineglass to her brow. “You were right. He wanted to be someone.”
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“Still does. According to Davey, he waived a lawyer and hasn’t shut up. He wants to talk, wants to give details. He’s proud of himself.”
“Proud.” She repeated the word, gave in to one shudder.
“And he’s finished. He’s done. Like Perry.”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes, lowered the glass. She thought of the prison walls, the bars, the guns, the guards. “He didn’t get that blaze of glory, not the kind he wanted. I think we should sit outside, watch the dogs, drink this wine, then eat like maniacs. Because we can.”
“Not yet. Bring the wine. I want to show you something.”
“Is it more food?”
He took her arm and pulled her into the dining room—where the table, she noted, was sadly empty of food. “Okay. I really hope you don’t want fun on the dining room table because I don’t think I’ve got it in me tonight. Now tomorrow—” She broke off as she spotted the wine cabinet. “Oh!”
She rounded the table in a flash. “Oh, it’s wonderful. The wood’s like chocolate silk and heavy cream. And the doors? Those are dogwoods. It’s just, oh . . .” She opened the doors, danced in place. “It’s just absolutely fabulous. Every detail. It’s charming and fun and beautiful.”
“It suits you.”
She spun around. “Is it mine? Oh my God, Simon—”
Before she could rush him, he held up a hand. “It depends. I’m thinking a trade. I’ll give it to you, but since it’s going to stay here, that means you stay, too.”
She opened her mouth, shut it again. Picked up the wine she’d set on the table, sipped. “I can have the cabinet if I live here, with you?”
“I’m the one who lives here, so yeah, with me. This house is bigger than yours. You’ve got the woods, but I’ve got the woods and the beach. The dogs have more room. And I need my shop.”
“Hmmm.”
“You can keep doing your classes here, or you can move them back. Keep the house for the business. Or sell it. Or rent it out. But if you want that, you stay.”
“That’s some interesting bartering.”
“You started it.” He slid his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “I figure we got through some of the worst anybody gets through. And here we are. I don’t see the point in wasting time. So, you want the cabinet, you live here. We should probably get married.”
She choked, managed to swallow the wine. “We should probably?”
“I’m not coming up with some fancy proposal.”
“How about something between we-should-probably and fancy?”
“Do you want to get married?”
Now she laughed. “I guess that’s between. Well, I want the cabinet. I want you. So . . . yeah, I guess I want to get married.”
“It’s a good deal,” he said as he stepped to her.
“It’s a very good deal.” She laid her hands on his cheeks. “Simon.”
He pressed his lips to her right palm, then the left. “I love you.”
“I know.” She slid into his arms. “It’s the best feeling in the world, knowing. And every time I look at that cabinet, put a glass in, take a bottle out, I’ll know it. It’s an incredible gift.”
“It’s a trade.”
“Of course.” She laid her lips on his, lingered.
She was free, she thought, and she was loved. And she was home.
“Let’s go tell the boys,” she murmured.
“Right. I’m sure they’ll want champagne and cigars.” Still he took her hand to walk out. “Let’s make it fast. I’m starving.”
He made her laugh, and that, she thought, was another very good deal.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
INITIAL ATTACK
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
EXTENDED ATTACK
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
BLOW UP
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
ALSO BY NORA ROBERTS
Honest Illusions
Private Scandals
Hidden Riches
True Betrayals
Montana Sky
Born in Fire
Born in Ice
Born in Shame
Daring to Dream
Holding the Dream
Finding the Dream
Sanctuary
Homeport
Sea Swept
Rising Tides
Inner Harbor
The Reef
River’s End
Jewels of the Sun
Carolina Moon
Tears of the Moon
Heart of the Sea
The Villa
From the Heart
Midnight Bayou
Dance Upon the Air
Heaven and Earth
Face the Fire
Chesapeake Blue
Birthright
Remember When
(with J. D. Robb)
Key of Light
Key of Knowledge
Key of Valor
Northern Lights
Blue Dahlia
Black Rose
Blue Smoke
Red Lily
Angels Fall
Morrigan’s Cross
Dance of the Gods
Valley of Silence
High Noon
Tribute
Black Hills
Vision in White
Bed of Roses
Savor the Moment
The Search
Happy Ever After
WRITING AS J. D. ROBB
Naked in Death
Glory in Death
Immortal in Death
Rapture in Death
Ceremony in Death
Vengeance in Death
Holiday in Death
Conspiracy in Death
Loyalty in Death
Witness in Death
Judgment in Death
Betrayal in Death
Seduction in Death
Reunion in Death
Purity in Death
Portrait in Death
Imitation in Death
Divided in Death
Visions in Death
Survivor in Death
Origin in Death
Memory in Death
Born in Death
Innocent in Death
Creation in Death
Strangers in Death
Salvation in Death
Promises in Death
Kindred in Death
Fantasy in Death
Indulgence in Death
Treachery in Death
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Copyright © 2011 by Nora Roberts
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Roberts, Nora.
Chasing fire / Nora Roberts.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-51378-1
1. Women firefighters—Fiction. 2. Montana—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3568.O243C
813’.54222
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
http://us.penguingroup.com
To Bruce
For understanding me,
and loving me anyway
INITIAL ATTACK
Soon kindled and soon burnt.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
1
Caught in the crosshairs of wind above the Bitterroots, the jump ship fought to find its stream. Fire boiling over the land jabbed its fists up through towers of smoke as if trying for a knockout punch.
