Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers) (15 page)

She gestured towards the two men lying
motionless on the ground. “They don’t teach those kinds of survival skills in
smoke jumper training.”

Were they dead? She squinted and
decided she saw a chest rise and fall. Slightly. If she was being optimistic,
which she was. Because she did
not
want to think about how her sensual, playful Rio had morphed
into a lean, mean killing machine in the blink of an eye. She’d known that Jack
and Evan Donovan were both ex-military, but Rio… that was a surprise.

His eyes didn’t move from her face.
Was that a hint of a smile she saw there? “Maybe they should.”

“You think?” She dropped her head
back on the ground, closing her eyes. There really was no point in getting up
just yet. “I’ll sign up for the remedial course when I get back.”

“You did good.” He sounded like he
meant the words.

She cracked an eye to judge his
seriousness. Dirt streaked his formerly white T-shirt, which now sported a rip
down the side. His big body radiated tension, the muscles in his forearms
flexing as he reached for her. Then stopped. He still looked ready to kill. He
also looked like a Navy SEAL or a Green Beret. She’d seen that face on the
cover of her favorite romance novels—she just hadn’t expected to meet him
in the middle of a national park. Over a pile of bodies.

“We
need to hit it,” he said gently.

“Right behind you.” If wishes were
horses, she’d do just fine.

“So let’s see it.” He gestured
towards her ankle, while his other hand circled her wrist and found her pulse.
Which was banging out of control. She tugged, but he hung on.
Déjà vu
. His lips moved as he counts.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he
promised finally, setting her wrist back on her thigh.

Great. She opened her mouth to
correct him—she wasn’t
that
scared—but then realized he’d handed her an out. He thought her too-rapid
pulse was because she was frightened and alarmed, about to pull a shrinking
maiden hissy fit on him. Which wasn’t true, but she’d work with what she had.

It wasn’t that she never got
scared. Because she did. Imagining the consequences of her PSVT, for example,
kept her awake at night more often than she cared to admit. She hadn’t told the
Donovans about her condition and that was undoubtedly grounds for immediate
dismissal from the jump team. Getting fired wasn’t her first choice and that
possibility scared her.

Being out here in the woods with
Rio Donovan didn’t.He was a
fighter and her partner. She had his back. He had hers. That was how these
things worked. Plus, Rio owed her for saving his life and Rio always, always
paid his debts.

He reached for her ankle again and
she butt-scooted away. No matter how hot he looked fighting, he definitely had
some explaining to do before he got his hands anywhere near her.

“Green Beret? Navy SEAL?”

He gave her a small smile. “I did my
time.”

But he hadn’t answered her question.
“Is your military status
need
to know
? Do you have to finish what
these guys started if you tell me?”

He exhaled roughly. “Yes. I’ve been
places, done things for Uncle Sam.”

“Infiltration?
Covert ops?” Talking took her mind off the vicious throbbing in her ankle, she
told herself virtuously. She didn’t really have a burning desire to learn
exactly where he’d been and what he’d done before he’d arrived in Strong. Of
course—she eyed the two bodies on the ground—some things didn’t
have to be
said
. Rio was all about
the show and tell.

“Gia.” He pointed at her ankle. “I
need to look.”

“I think we need to get out of
here,” she countered. “That guy may come back and bring friends. You can look
later.”

“I’m looking now,” he contradicted.
“Suck it up, Jackson.”

“There’s nothing to see,” she said
stubbornly. “I’m not a sideshow. You already taped the damned thing and, if you
unlace that boot, who knows what happens. You can look later.”

Rio being Rio, he insisted on
looking, handling her ankle with a careful tenderness she did her best to
ignore.

“Still attached,” he teased gently
before tightening the tape and lacing her boot up tightly. “You’re going to want
the support.”

No, what she
wanted
was a pair of crutches. A wheelchair. Or even a bed with one
of those Heavenly Mattresses the mega-star hotel chains boasted about. Instead,
she got a ten mile hike through back country on a busted up ankle. Lucky her.

He strode over to the two guards,
quickly frisking them for spare ammo clips and snagging their handguns.

She wouldn’t ask the question
burning on her tongue. Wouldn’t ask if they were dead. He’d done what he needed
to do to protect them both.

“They’re not dead,” he said without
turning around. She could hear the amusement in his voice as he answered her
unasked question. “They might
wish
they were when they wake up, but I’m planning on being far, far away before
that happens.”

“You’re sure?” The words came out
and she wanted to face-palm.

“Positive.” He straightened and checked
the clips on the two handguns he’d lifted. He handled the guns with an easy
confidence that bespoke years of practice. He flipped the safety on and then
slid the guns into his waistband. “You want one?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that.

When the silence had dragged on and
he’d finished his body sweep, he turned to her.“Nothing to say?”

“About?”

He shrugged. “The guns. Want to
check the ‘dead’ guys out for yourself and make sure they haven’t bought the
farm?”

“You said you didn’t kill them.”

He shot her a look she couldn’t
interpret. “And I’m such a good guy that you always believe me.”

She shoved up into a crouch and
sucked in a breath when her head swam. “You
are
a good guy, Rio.”

He strode back and planted himself
by her side. “And that’s where you’re wrong. There’s nothing
good
about me.”

He was wrong. He was one of the
good guys. He’d parachuted into the heart of countless fires, fighting to
preserve their national parks for another generation. To check the fire’s
advance before it consumed houses or cut off communities. He didn’t do it to
get rich. He did it because it was the right thing to do and because he had a
passion for jumping.

She’d bet his reasons for getting
up-close-and-personal with that grow were similar.

“Why did you stop?”

He thrust a hand at her and stood
there waiting for her to take it. The shiny pink scar decorating the back of
his left hand was a fire scar. They all had them. You took on a wildland fire
at close quarters, you came away with more than a few souvenirs.

“Killing them?” He eyed her steadily.

She made a face. “Here. To check
out the grow. Why not make a note of the coordinates
and keep on hiking?”

When she put her hand in his, he
carefully pulled her to her feet and then into his arms, steadying her as she
straightened.

“Nice and slow,” he said. His arms closed
around her, surrounding her with a familiar warm, slightly smoke scent.
Rio
. She put her foot down and, sure
enough, the jolt of pain was more than enough to drown out the jolt of lust
being this close caused.

“How bad?” His voice rumbles in her
ear.

Concerned.

Almost sweet.

“Smoke jumper,” she reminded him.
“If it’s not cut off, I can use it.”

“Uh-huh.” He sounded skeptical.
“What’s your policy on really large dangling bits?”

She laughed. “You worried about
yours, Donovan?”

Slipping back into jump team
camaraderie was almost second nature. She needed that space. A fellow jumper
would give her shit about the injury, maybe lend her an arm or an ace bandage.
He’d still expect her to pull her weight, however. He wouldn’t cut her any slack.
That was what she wanted. To be one of the guys, to be equal.

She didn’t need or want a lover. Rio
might be one hell of a lover—smoking hot with a side of sweet in
bed—but the lover wouldn’t be as willing to let her shuffle off on a bum
foot. She enjoyed that alpha side in bed. Out of bed, however, she was standing
on her own two feet.

Or foot.

She eyed the ATV. The key was still
in the ignition. “You don’t fancy a lift?”

He shook his head. “Not our best
option.”

“Why not?”

“ATVs are loud, they need gas, and
where we’re headed, there are no trails wide enough. We take one, we might as
well paint a neon ‘Come and get us’ sign on our asses.”

She hated it when he went all
logical on her.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t done yet.

“You got a good look at our departing
friends.” A statement, not a question.

“Is that a problem?”

He nudged her gently towards the
trail. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Rio—” Whatever he wasn’t
telling her, she wanted to know.

“You’re the only eye witness,” he
admitted.

“You kept your eyes shut during
that fight?”

He held a branch out of her way.
“The guy on the red ATV showed up at the end. He didn’t engage and he was
behind me. You’re the only one who got a good look at him.”

The path was too narrow to hike
side-by-side. Rio hesitated, then stepped out in front of her. She considered
the implications of his words while she fell in behind him. A drug grower’s
muscle knew she could identify him. She was out in the woods, miles from law
enforcement. She had one good foot. She could do the math.

She need to hike faster.

Much, much faster.

Six miles. That had to be enough,
because Gia didn’t look capable of more and the sun was going down fast. Not
that Gia would admit to any weakness despite the noticeable limp she sported.
She was Super Woman and Iron Man rolled into one sexy package. She didn’t
complain either—except when she believed he was acting
high-handed
and trying to boss her
around—but each time he snuck a glance back at her, her face was paler
than before. He didn’t know if they were on a trail or not and that was another
problem. Trails meant company and regular traffic. Which, out here this close
to an illegal grow, meant drug traffic.

Which he needed to avoid at all
costs.

The handguns tucked into his
waistband pressed into his back with each step and he’d slung the AR-15 over
his right shoulder. Their combined weight was comforting. If the growers came
after them, he was better prepared now. He’d always been a good shot. Handguns,
assault rifles, sniper rifles… there wasn’t too much he couldn’t fire. He’d had
his first shooting lesson in a Sacramento alley. The hard way, of course,
because he hadn’t done anything the easy when he’d been younger. People got
shot where he lived, so carrying had seemed like a good idea. For a few years,
he’d done so, until Jack had convinced him to leave the guns behind. It was hard
to forget those early days, however, when he’d never known who might be coming
after him. Afraid to turn his back. Afraid to stand down. The lessons he’d learned
on those streets would be keeping Gia safe now, though, so he wouldn’t give in
to the regrets.

“You can stop looking,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She didn’t sound mad,
just tired.

“Gia?” He really wanted to hear
that she was okay.

“Just spit it out,” she suggested.
“Whatever you’re thinking, tell me.”

“We’re stopping,” he decided and
that was it.

“Here?”

He eyeballed the small clearing one
more time. “Yes.”

Gia dropped like a stone to the
ground. “Thank God.”

He squatted down beside her, close
enough that his shoulder brushed hers and he could see that she had dirt on her
nose. She carefully stretched her leg out, her hand hovering over the ankle
like she didn’t know if touching would help or hurt. That was enough for him.
He popped his pack open, fishing for his field med kit.

“Next time you need to stop, you
tell me. Don’t wait.” He found the packets of pills and rifled through them.
“You got any allergies I should know about?”

“Nope. I’m healthy as a horse.
Except for this damned ankle.” She closed her eyes and he hoped like hell she
wasn’t passing out on him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Liar,” he said, almost tenderly. “They
shoot horses with bum legs.” She needed something stronger than aspirin or
Tylenol. Vicodin was just what Dr. Donovan ordered. He tore open the packet and
handed her the pill.

“Sweet
talker.” She took the pill though. “I thought we were in a hurry,” she pointed
out. “And that you were playing big-man-in-charge.”

“We were.”

But she also needed to rest. No
matter how badly he wanted to cover the twelve miles or so remaining between
them and the fire road, Gia had hit her limit for the day. He was fairly
certain they’d put enough space between them and the growers to make a rest
stop okay. The terrain was certainly rough enough to hide in.

“Change in plan?” She blinked up at
him from beneath the ball cap jammed down low over her forehead. Sexy tendrils of hair escaped in a dozen
different directions. Her hair curled in the heat. He hadn’t known that. Or how
the curve of her throat as she leaned her head back on her pack looked both vulnerable
and strong. He didn’t know how she managed to be both at the same time,
although she’d undoubtedly kick his ass if he mentioned any “V” word around
her. Virgin. Vulnerable. Those were a definite no fly zone.

Instead, he passed her the canteen
and watched to make sure she swallowed. She didn’t open her eyes. “What did you
give me?”

She trusted him when it counted. He
settled in beside her, his shoulder touching hers.

“Vicodin,” he said. “Just a small pill.
You’re going to feel better.”