by Anne Marsh
Finally, briefly, he took his eyes off the road. “This is for us.” The look of heartfelt honesty in his eyes chilled her. Whatever Eddie Haverley was, he wasn’t sane. Not completely. “I did this for us, to show you how good things could be between us, Lily. I thought you knew that.” Hurt colored his voice. “I thought you knew what those fires meant.”
She thought furiously. “You burned my things, Eddie. Anything I cared about, you set it on fire. My books. My house. My farm.”
“Those were messages,” he said sadly. “You weren’t listening to me, Lily. I had to get your attention.”
“What kind of messages?” she asked carefully. They were slowing down. He turned the wheel sharply and sent the truck bouncing down a narrow, rutted track. She saw a small cabin up ahead. Rustic. She’d bet there was no running water. No electricity. Off the grid. Intended as a weekend getaway spot for campers or people who just wanted a little getting-back-to-nature. People who didn’t want to be contacted and just wanted to lose themselves in the mountains ringing Strong.
Another time she might have admired the wooden shake roof. The little porch with its obligatory Adirondack chairs and red geraniums. Right now that porch was a neon sign spelling out: end of the line. She had to do something soon, or she’d be able do nothing at all. She wasn’t stupid. Once a man had a woman alone in a confined space like that, that woman ran out of options, and biology triumphed. He was bigger. Stronger.
He just wasn’t smarter, she reminded herself.
Slow anger started to burn inside her, burn away some of the fear. He’d turned her life upside down. He’d stalked her. Set her things on fire. Set her home on fire. If he’d lit a new blaze on her farm, she’d . . . she didn’t know what she’d do. But it would be bad. Very bad for him.
He threw the truck into park, the expensive ride shuddering to a stop on the gravel parking strip. Turning in his seat, he stared at her. “You didn’t understand my messages?”
Silently she shook her head, letting her gaze run over the surrounding forest. The cloudy sky. As if the U.S. Marines might drop out of the clouds and rescue her ass. She’d take them. There were times when being independent and getting it done for yourself mattered. This wasn’t one of them. Staying alive mattered most right now.
Those clouds looked like another storm was coming. Her breath caught. Not clouds. Smoke. A thick, deep, black bank of the stuff so damned close, it crept up over the tree line and blocked out the sky.
She must have blinked—stupid, stupid—because she didn’t see him swing his fist, and then she was hitting the ground, hard. Her breath left her in a single, painful evacuation. Even though she knew it was only temporary—unless he used the gun on her—her mind couldn’t convince her body to wait it out. To not panic at the sudden vacuum her lungs had just become. Score one for Eddie.
Choking, she rolled onto her knees. Shoved upward on her bound wrists. Her arms buckled, and she saw movement from the corner of her eye.
She was almost ready for the kick that sent her sprawling back into the dirt. He stood over her, straddling her. One foot pinned her wrists, and, fuck, that hurt. One minute, she had one long minute to stare stupidly at his choice in footwear—expensive men’s loafers, a rich amber color. Those shoes were meant for striding around city streets and kicking back in high-powered boardroom meetings. They weren’t mountain wear, as the red dust streaking the expensive leather announced.
“You should have listened better,” he said reproachfully. “I loved you, and you were supposed to be mine. When you didn’t listen, when you didn’t pay any notice to me, I needed to get your attention. You weren’t being the good girl I know you are.”
He knelt over her, and now his knees pinned her wrists to the ground. Any more weight, and she’d hear bones cracking. That she didn’t meant he was playing with her. If she’d had any energy left, his restraint might have pissed her off. As it was, she settled for lying there, desperately trying to inhale much-needed oxygen into her abused lungs.
Her skin crawled at the sexual tone of his voice. His thumb was once again exploring the healed burn on her forearm. He wasn’t sane, and he had a gun against her throat. He wouldn’t miss so close, and she didn’t need to be a marksman to know what would happen when a bullet tore through her throat at this range.
“Instead,” he continued, his fingers tightening on the gun, “you chose him. Jack Donovan. Just like in high school. I saw you that night, you know,” he added conversationally. “You went swimming in the old pond, just like you always did at the end of the week. I’d watch you, and you never knew I was there.”
The growing sound of roaring flames seemed to mix with the pulse of plane engines and the relentless beating inside her head. He’d knocked her head against the ground, she realized. Hard enough for her to see stars. And spots. Large, dark spots. And the smoke mushrooming inexorably over the nearby ridge. Not that Eddie seemed concerned.
Of course, he’d probably set the fire himself.
“That’s not a nice thing to do,” she said carefully, painfully. Maybe if she kept him talking long enough, those Marines would finally charge to the rescue. All she knew was that she couldn’t let him get her inside that cabin.
He looked wounded. “You didn’t want to look at me when we were in school, so I watched you when you were alone. I didn’t hurt you. All I did was look.”
“Some moments are meant to be private.” She made a small, trial movement to escape him, and the gun bit into the skin of her throat, making her feel even dizzier and more nauseated.
“No,” he said. “You wanted me to look. You loved me, and just didn’t know it yet. Then he showed up, and I knew I was going to have to do something. You wouldn’t stop looking at Jack Donovan, and then he kissed you, and I knew I’d have to do something if you were going to be mine.”
“But you didn’t. Not then.”
“No,” he repeated, and his fingers tightened around her arms. Forcing her to her feet and toward the porch. “He went away. I thought that might be enough. I gave you a little time to get over him and realize you were really meant to be mine.” His voice rose. “And then you left. You weren’t supposed to leave, Lily. I was willing to let you have a little freedom,” he continued. When his feet hit the porch, she gave up on subtlety and dug her heels in. “But you’d had enough time. I needed you to pay attention to me.”
“So you followed me and started setting the fires.”
“Of course.” He stared at her. “I knew you’d understand. Fire is so beautiful, Lily. Just like you. You’re scared,” he added suddenly, surprise coloring his voice. “You don’t have to be scared, Lily. I’m going to take good care of you.”
“I . . . I don’t want to go inside.” She left off the with you.
“That’s okay,” he said, surprising her. Dropping into an Adirondack chair, he pulled her down into his lap. Through his chinos, she could feel the hard pressure of his erection.
“I want to leave.”
“No.” He gestured toward the ridge where the smoke bank was building. She could smell its acridness now. “Right now, we’re waiting for Jack, Lily. We both know he’ll come. That’s a big fire, and he’ll want to put it out.” He nodded. Plucked at the abused pleat on his pants. “He’s going to be coming right to us. We can watch my fire eat him up when he tries to rescue you. The big, bad hero needs to learn a little lesson. He doesn’t get to choose you. I chose you first.”
“What . . . what have you done?” she gasped.
“Forced him to choose,” he said calmly. “You’ll see, Lily. Jack would rather be fighting fires than holding you.”
She fought back panic. Because she knew that if it was a choice between her and the fire, Jack had already chosen. He’d picked the firefighting. He might come up to that ridge, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be looking for her. No, he’d be jumping straight into hell, because he was a damned hero, and he fought fires.
So she was all alone, and there wa
s no one to blame—or call on—but herself.
So, fine. She’d do.
Or she’d die.
Chapter Twenty-four
The lookout tower had begun life as a water tank for the railroad cutting through Strong. Later, some bright soul had gotten the idea to build a tiny cabin on top of the tank, so the town’s spotters could park their asses forty feet in the air and watch for smoke. Now the wooden tower was damned old and jonesing for historical-site status. Most of the fire departments he’d worked with had abandoned towers—putting a plane up might be more expensive short-term, but nothing beat the view. The view from a tower usually wasn’t all that great. Strong’s tower had been built on fairly flat ground, so it provided just a little extra visibility.
Jack hadn’t complained when his number came up for watch duty that early morning. The itty-bitty cabin at the top of the tower was just big enough to hold two men and a couple of armchairs—and how the hell his boys had hauled the armchairs up there, he didn’t want to know. Rio had only said that, if he had to park his ass up there, he was damned well picking his seat. Good enough for Jack. And the perfect place to do a little quiet thinking on his own.
I love you. He never wanted to forget those words. And then she’d told him it was okay for him to not say it back. Hell, she’d practically shoved him out the door. He should have been grateful. Instead, he was angry. And hurt, he admitted. Worse, he wasn’t sure she was right to be so cynical about him. He was pretty damn sure he wasn’t walking away from Lily Cortez. Ever. She was under his skin and inside his heart, and he was a fire burning way, way out of control when he thought about her.
He was getting set to climb on down and send some other poor ass up to do lookout duty, when he saw the smoke on the horizon. Without the tower, he wouldn’t have spotted the cloud for another ten, maybe twenty minutes.
It was damned big smoke, too. The dark column punched up from the horizon, a boiling black screen that was far more than a couple of charred logs re-burning after a little time off to smolder. Too much, too fast. That was human carelessness or arson looking him in the eye—not a wildfire.
He radioed the smoke in, barking orders into his hands-free as he swung down the ladder from the lookout tower.
His cell vibrated even as he threw his truck into gear and pulled out.
On the other end of the line, Rio didn’t waste time.
“Bastard’s got her. I picked it up on the Web feed. I had me a ringside seat and couldn’t do a thing. He had her in the truck before I hit the gas.” Anger and disgust colored Rio’s voice. Rio never had tolerated mistakes, from himself or anyone else. “He had a gun to her head.” So Rio would have backed off because that was the best way to get the intended victim out in one piece. “He took off in a truck.”
“You followed him.”
“Yeah.” Brief pause. “Hung back, though, because I didn’t want him spotting me. Lost him up in the canyons. He was driving too fast.” Hotrodding it in those canyons was a death warrant. They’d lost a high school classmate to those roads. After that, they’d learned to respect those dangerous curves. “I got a real good look at his face. It was Eddie, all right.”
Eddie Haverley had just signed his own death warrant. There was no excuse for what he’d done—what he’d tried to do—to Lily Cortez. Anger and fear tormented Jack at the thought of Lily being in that man’s hands right now. She’d be scared. Angry. Would she trust him to come for her?
She believed he’d walked away.
“I want a plane ready to go up,” he answered. “I’m two minutes from the hangar.” The countryside blurred past the windows of his truck. God help anyone who got in his way now. “You have my plane gassed up. Loaded and ready to go.”
“You magically got coordinates now?”
“You lost Eddie in the canyons. There are only a couple of ways out of there. I’ve got a big smoke suddenly out on the north ridge. I’m betting that’s him. He’s waving that fire in our face, Rio. So I’m going to pay him a house call.”
The hangar came into sight, and he finally slowed down, because wrecking Betsey now wasn’t going to help anyone. Lily. He couldn’t stop the cold fear snaking through his gut.
He got out of the truck and hit the ground running. The plane was right out on runway where she should be. Evan was running hose from fuel tanks. Five minutes, and she’d be good to go. He’d grab gear and be out of there in under ten.
When he hit the tarmac, however, Ben was on an intercept course.
“Not now,” Jack growled, throwing his gear into the plane. He’d suit up as soon as they were airborne.
Ben put a restraining hand on his arm. “You need to hear me out.”
“Wrong,” he snapped.
Rio was running command center from his laptop. Maps and coordinates flew across the screen as Jack geared up.
Ben shook his head. “That’s a massive fire out there.”
“I’m getting to Lily,” Jack countered.
“Her, too.” There was something in Ben’s eyes. “But this isn’t just about her.” He held up a hand when Jack cursed low and hard. “Not just about her—she’s where this all started, where I’m thinking it ends. Far as we can tell, Eddie Haverley set himself a nice little wildland fire. I don’t know if he intended his fire to grow this quick or this big, but it has. Now we’ve got us a wildland fire eating up acres. So I need to know, Jack, what you’re intending to do. I need a jump team in there. I need a goddamned fire line, and I needed it an hour ago.”
Fuck. And that was Jack’s job, wasn’t it?
He was supposed to keep the entire goddamned town of Strong safe and sound. He’d signed up for that the day he’d brought the jump team here. Bail on them now, and there might not be a Strong tomorrow.
On the other hand, he was damned sure Eddie Haverley didn’t plan on keeping Lily around much longer, either. Bastard had a whole lot of anger, and she was a convenient target.
“Put the plane up. Get the team,” he snapped to Rio, and Rio tore off toward the hangar, bellowing orders. Around him, the base exploded into action as the ground crew ran for their trucks, throwing fire packs and hard hats into the truck beds and getting ready to roll out. The trucks would be slow. They’d have to stick to the access roads, cut their way through any new snags. It would be at least a half hour before they got close.
Spotted Dick clambered on board, and seconds later the engines roared to life as Rio pounded across the tarmac, followed by seven members of the jump team. Evan was close on his ass, tossing a gear bag to Jack as he jumped up into the plane.
“Jack.” His name sounded more like a curse on Ben’s lips. “I need words, Jack. Tell me where this is headed.”
“I’m putting a jump team up, Ben. You want a line, you’ll get a line. ” He dragged on his jumpsuit and helmet. Four minutes to taxi and no time to double-check his gear. There was just enough time for a hope and a prayer. Any gear Evan gave him would be good.
The last man made it through the open door, and Jack swung up behind him, pulling the netting across the door, and then the plane was racing down the runway, jolting up as the pilot cleared the sandbags at the end and aimed for the brightening sky. The ten minutes it took to make the distance between base camp and the ridge were the longest ten minutes of his life.
The view from the plane wasn’t helping, either. The fire ate up the forest beneath them, turning the too-dry underbrush into a crispy bed of red-hot embers that shot up the trees and exploded into new life in the canopy.
Rio tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the coordinates on the laptop’s screen where he’d lost Eddie’s truck. Figured. That was the heart of the smoke. When the plane pulled in close, he moved to the open doorway and started scanning. Right there. A big black pickup parked in front of a small hunting cabin. There could have been someone on the porch, but the plane’s angle made it hard to tell. Still, that was the truck, all right. And the road was a welcoming beacon of open space. Narrow and
hemmed in by some killer ponderosa, but the wind wasn’t bad right now, and a skilled jumper could bring it down there without hanging up.
The perfect welcome mat.
Just over the hill, a bright orange line of fire crawled slowly upward. She’d crest, and then she’d come barreling down, devouring the backside of that ridge in no time. If the team jumped on the other side, they’d have a good chance of containing it before it hit Strong. If the wildfire made the ridge, though, Strong would be right in its path.
“What do you want me to do?” Spotted Dick roared the question at him, holding the plane nice and steady. Left or right. Over the ridge toward the fire or keep on heading straight for Lily.
Christ. This wasn’t a choice he wanted to make.
The jump team watched him, Evan and Rio’s faces front and center in that crowd of concern. They’d stand behind him. Jump with him, too, wherever he told them to jump. He could drop the entire team onto Eddie Haverley’s driveway, and they’d go, no questions asked. Which was why he needed to do the right thing here.
“Get ready to jump,” he ordered. “We’ve got fire here and here.” He stabbed a finger at the ridge’s coordinates on the screen. “Hold the line here. We’ve got open space, so if we dig fast enough and the wind holds steady, we can keep the goddamned fire from jumping the canopy. There’s a dip site four miles over, so radio Ben and tell him to get every chopper he’s got up in the air. I want every load he can give us. Dick will drop us and go back for a load of retardant.” His team nodded, staring him in the eye. “I’m not losing Strong today.”
“You sure?” Evan stared at him, then out the door. “We all know that’s got to be Lily down there. Don’t know how much time she has or if she can wait until this fire is out.”
Christ. He wanted Lily safe. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her all the things he’d kept back last night. This time, if she’d give him those words, if she told him she loved him, he’d give her those words back, with interest. He loved Lily Cortez. That was the truth, plain and simple. She had to be alive. Eddie Haverley wanted to fuck with the two of them, so he wouldn’t have killed her. Not yet. His mind shied away from the truth. That Eddie wasn’t sane. One burst of temper, and Lily could be no more.
