Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers) (16 page)

“Is that an order?” He could hear
the smile in her voice. Fuck it. He reached his arm around her and pulled her
into his side. She didn’t protest. Didn’t tell him they were jumpers and
off-limits. Those things were true, but right now he didn’t care.

“Absolutely.”

He hooked his pack with his foot
and drew it closer.

The day’s bad news wasn’t over yet.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said.

“Another one?”

“You remember those bullets?”

“It’s hard to forget getting shot
at. I’m fairly certain I’m going to remember that part of the afternoon for the
next ten years at least. Why?”

“We didn’t get away clean.” He eyed
the hole in his pack. He was probably damned lucky he’d been carrying the
radio—otherwise he’d be wearing the bullet in his back—but now they
were definitely incommunicado.

She jerked up, pushing away from
him. “If your ass got shot, I’m going to kill you.”

Her hands pulled at him, running
over him as she checked out his arms and legs. Gia was no Nurse Florence. And
he loved it.

“Gia.” He captured her hands in
his. “I’m fine.”

She frowned.

“Well I know your ass is fine. I’ve
been watching it the last half hour.”

Maybe Vicodin made her loopy. That
would make the rest of this day interesting. He could pry all her deepest, darkest
secrets out of her. Definitely a good plan.

“The radio,” he explained, nodding
toward his pack, “is toast.”

“Appliance casualty. Got it.”

She looked unconcerned, which only
reaffirmed his assessment of Vicodin’s impact on her.

“Not that we could use it,” he
continued. “Bullet or no bullet, I’m pretty certain those growers are going to
be monitoring the airwaves. If we used the radio, we might as well stick a
Christmas bow on our asses.”

The night sky in the park was a
dark, star-studded bowl. Being so far away from any kind of civilization
guaranteed no light pollution, only sky and stars. Even though the fire lay behind
them now, the winds pushing the flames in the opposite direction, there was no
missing the orange glow on far ridge or the smoky taste to air. Rio drew in a
breath and then another. If he thought about the fire line less than a dozen
miles to the west, adrenaline pumped through him. He wanted to be out there,
fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with his team. Instead, here he was getting ready
to camp out in the forest. To go to sleep when there were still miles to cover
and line to cut.

He was surprisingly okay with that.

Because he was out here with Gia.

He liked her. He wanted…

Sex.

Sex, and something else. The opportunity
to get to know her better, away from base camp and the pressures of the team.
Out here, in the dark, they could be themselves, Rio and Gia. She’d made it
plenty clear that she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her spot on the jump
team, and he’d already pushed the limits when he’d taken her up on her offer to
have sex. With him. In her truck.

He grinned.

Damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy
that memory for the next twenty or thirty years. Even slouched on the ground,
her head tilted back against her pack, she was sex on a stick. He wasn’t sure
if it was her bold self-confidence, her earthy humor—or those legs. Just
to make sure, he started at her feet and worked his way up. Christ, Gia
definitely had long, long legs. The Nomex work pants weren’t Victoria’s Secret
and her steel-toes didn’t look anything like the hooker stilettos she’d teased
them with the other night, but she looked good. He’d had his hands all over her
legs—and the rest of her—and that one taste hadn’t been enough. He
wanted to thread his fingers through her hair and tousle her still more. She always
looked like she’d just rolled out of bed—and that was a good look for
her.

Gia.

His jump partner.

Who he wasn’t
supposed to touch.

“You’re staring,” she said, not
opening her eyes.

“How can you tell?”

She snorted. “A woman can always
tell, Rio.”

She stretched her arms over her
head, working out a kink in her back. The move pulled her T-shirt taut over her
breasts. Like him, she’d shed her jump suit. Now, with the sun down and the
temperatures falling, they might be glad for the extra layers. Or, if the fire
changed course.

He wasn’t thinking about fire.

Not now.

Because he was fairly certain that
was a black bra beneath Gia’s pale pink T-shirt. The lacy strap he spotted
peeking out from beneath the modest neckline woke up his southern parts.
Be a gentleman
, he reminded himself.
Just because he had her out here in the woods alone didn’t mean anything was
happening between them. In fact, he should absolutely be hands-off.
Technically, he was her boss.

Gia loved his orders.

Yeah.
Not
what he needed to remember right now.

“So not only are we stuck here for
the night, but we’re incommunicado?” Gia’s ball cap slid down over her forehead
until he couldn’t see her face. Unlike him, she looked perfectly relaxed and
completely oblivious to the erotic hook-up potential of camping out in the
woods for the night.

If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t
have stopped until he hit the fire road or he fell down a gully, whichever came
first. Sometimes, pigheaded stubbornness was its own reward. Maybe, alone, he
could have been back on the fire line in time for breakfast and sun up. Or not.
She yawned, reaching down to rub her ankle.

“We’re done,” he decided. “And
yeah, we’re definitely flying under the radar communications-wise.”

“All right.” She shoved the cap
back and opened her eyes. “What do we have to work with?”

They were definitely short on
camping supplies. The jumpers frequently spent a night out in the field, but
those were work hours. The plus side of fire was that you always had plenty of
light to see where you cut your line. And they’d crash for naps or to take ten.
Full blown camping, however, wasn’t in the cards and so they weren’t supplied
for that.

“We’ve got the Mylar emergency
blankets,” he admitted. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re going to conjure a tent
Hermione Granger-style?” She sat up, clearly ready to jump in and lend a hand
whatever his plan was. Her can-do attitude was something else he liked about
her. She didn’t complain and, once she was on board with a plan, she gave one
hundred percent. He brushed her shoulder with his hand.

“You keep an eye on the stuff,” he
suggested, because if he told her to rest she’d run laps around their impromptu
campsite just to prove she could. Which she couldn’t. He really didn’t want her
hurting.

“You’re worried about the locals?”
Her smile was tired.

“Hey,” he said. “If you want to
watch our Power Bar supply disappear with a raccoon, be my guest. But you’re
the one who’s going to have to MacGyver dinner.”

Like he’d hoped, she laughed, and
settled back, reaching over to snag his pack. Which she promptly propped her
ankle on. He wanted to take another look at her injury—although he had no
idea what he’d do if it was worse other than curse and worry—but she’d
resist. Gia and he had that much in common. Admitting to a weakness or an
injury wasn’t something they did.

So he left her sitting there and
moved off into the nearby trees. He could still make out her shadowed shape if
he squinted hard enough. If a mad bear tore through the woods or the growers
somehow miraculously caught up with them—which he was betting they
wouldn’t do until it was light—he could be right there for her. In the
meantime, since their campsite was sadly lacking in opportunities to play the
white knight, he cut down an armload of pine boughs. The branches were slightly
crunchy and definitely on the lumpy side, but they’d keep night damp away and
smelled damn good. Probably better than he did because the pines definitely hadn’t
spent hours slogging through a fire zone.

Circling back to Gia, he dropped
the branches by her feet, arranging them into a large mound and then adding the
two Mylar emergency blankets. It didn’t seem like enough, but it was the best
he could do.

“I see we’ve got reservations at
the St. Regis.” She grinned up at him, holding up a fistful of Power Bars. “And
some raccoon-proof, Michelin-starred cuisine.”

He’d refilled their canteens from a
stream they’d passed earlier. The
water was warm and tasted like the iodine pills he’d used to kill any unwelcome
bacterial guests, but wet was better than dry. For long minutes there was nothing
but chewing—he was pretty certain that if he checked the expiration dates
on the Power Bars he’d find they were past their “good by” date—and
swallowing.

“No fire?” she asked eventually.

He shook his head. “We don’t need
to hang out a welcome sign for the growers.”

“We probably shouldn’t be setting fires
anyhow.” She waved a hand towards the orange glow on the ridge. “There’s enough
in these parts.”

She laughed and the happy, husky
sound shot straight to his groin.
Hands
off
, he reminded himself. Again. The problem was, being out here alone with
her in the woods made him focus on the
alone
part. He knew what Jack would tell him to do. Hell, what any of their friends,
family or jump team members would say. Well, maybe not their fellow jumpers. He
had a feeling Mack and Joey would be all
go
for it
.

“You think we’ll have pursuers?”

And there went the happiness in her
voice. Reality check.

“It’s likely,” he said gruffly.
“Two million bucks worth of pot plants and two eye witnesses? The way I see it,
we’re worth a million each.”

He didn’t want to see her gunned
down. He’d witnessed a few street shootings growing up, both of drug dealers
and of innocent bystanders. He wasn’t sure which was worse—knowing the
dead man had chosen to squander his life for a handful of dollars and the
opportunity to rule a block of urban turf or that the dead man had simply
picked the wrong sidewalk at the wrong time and walked into a bullet. Dead was
dead.

“Maybe I should trade you in,” she
mused.

“I run faster,” he pointed out. “We’ll
sit tight until sun up and then we’ll move fast.” He laid out the plan. If she
had objections, he wanted to hear them now. “And we’ll take turns keeping watch
tonight. I don’t think anyone’s catching up with us in the dark—and I
didn’t see or hear dogs—but I don’t want to take the chance.”

“Got it.”

“So one of us should turn in now.”
Christ. Did she feel as awkward as he did? He didn’t want her worrying about
their sleeping arrangements, so he twitched his

Mylar bag to the far side of the pine bough bed and piled
their packs in the middle for good measure.

“Wow,” she said. “Someone’s afraid
for his virtue.”

Before he could rethink his action
plan, he took his spot on their impromptu bed. He had two feet and forty pounds
of gear between him and temptation. Surely, that was enough.

“I’m your boss,” he said and he
could have sworn that she growled. “I don’t want you to think—”

“What?” she interrupted. “That you
wanted a repeat of what happened in my truck?”

“You said you didn’t want anything
to change the team,” he pointed out.

“Right. Because sex changes
everything. Bad sex maybe,” she said and gave him a sweet smile that had him
backing up a step. She had her pissed off on all right. “But would you say we
had bad sex, Rio?”

Danger.
Flash fire ahead.

“There’s a chance someone on the
team finds out,” he said carefully. “Jack already suspects.”

“And we wouldn’t want to take a
chance,” she said sarcastically. “That would be too fucking bad.”

Jesus Christ. He was too tired for
this. When had their conversation taken a 180?

“Don’t worry,” she continued, “I
promise not to cross this Great Wall of China you’ve constructed and assault
you in your sleep. Hands off. Message received.”

“Gia—” he growled,
frustrated. He had pine branches poking him in the ass and a dinner that tasted
like week-old sawdust in his stomach. He didn’t need her gunning for him as
well.

“In fact,” she continued, “why
don’t I take first watch? You can catch up on your beauty sleep,
Mr.
Donovan.”

“I don’t want to be your boss,” he
growled. “I didn’t ask for this attraction.”

“Well neither did I,” she snapped.

“You’re the one who acted on it
first,” he pointed out. If he ignored their late night kiss action—which
he had initiated, if he was being fair—she’d come on to him. Pulled
him
into her truck and had her way with
him.

God, he wanted her to do it again.

Her eyes flashed. “It takes two and
I didn’t hear you complaining. It’s a little late for morning after regrets.
Plus,
you
kissed
me
first, so that counts for something.”

“I’m going to bed,” he said, before
he said something he regretted even more. He set the borrowed guns beside him
on the ground where he’d be able to grab them quickly if he had to. “Wake me in
two hours.”

He set his watch anyhow because he
didn’t trust her not to let him sleep on, probably just to prove some
convoluted idea she had in her head about how she was independent and could do
everything on her own. Christ. Would it kill her to accept a helping hand once
in a while?

You
don’t like asking for help
, a little voice in his head said as he laid down
and dragged the Mylar around his shoulders.

###

Ironic, that she was more scared of
opening up to Rio than she was of facing down twenty feet of flame.

Or going ass over tea kettle out of
a plane bay four thousand feet above the ground.

It was true though.