Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers) (17 page)

Gia’s ankle throbbed, reminding her
that Vicodin, like so many things, didn’t last forever. She didn’t want to take
anything while she was on watch though. Two hours. One hundred twenty minutes.
Which was… she had no idea how many seconds. She’d take them one by one and the
pill at the end could be her reward. Since Rio didn’t seem interested in a
repeat of their earlier encounter.

She alternated between scanning the
dark woods and watching Rio sleep. He slept like he did everything, neat and
tidy. She hadn’t missed how he liked everything put away and in its place.
Maybe it was his military training. Maybe it was just him. He lay on his
stomach, his right arm pillowing his forehead, his face turned away from her. His
left arm was free to reach the small arsenal he’d parked by his bedside.

Hell.

He was relaxed and she was tense.
Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

She’d known that for years though.
Her PSVT was a big serving of unfair, but she’d also had plenty of good things
happen to her unexpectedly and undeservedly. Rio was one of those things. She
certainly hadn’t done anything to earn her taste of him or his bone-deep
loyalty. He’d stuck by her today, far beyond the call of duty. She thought
about that and counted stars. Stared at Rio’s gorgeous face some more because
she loved looking at him and what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

As the night wore on, the
temperature dropped steadily—as it always did at night in the
woods—and she tucked her hands beneath her armpits. Funny how there could
be a fire burning so close and yet here they were, freezing.

Rio would have changed that if he
could. He was all about the protect and defend. She
eyed the handgun by her side. The safety was on, but one quick flick of her
thumb and that would change. She knew how to fire a gun. Anyone who worked the
backwoods in a national park learned how to shoot a rifle. While the odds of a
bear attack were low, being prepared made those odds even better.

Rio, however, had taken on their
attackers like a trained pro. Which he was, if she thought about it. She was
the only member of the jump team without a military background but, even so, there
was far more to Rio than met the eye. She’d watched him all summer, drinking in
the playboy smiles and laughter. He gave good game and she’d wondered if maybe
that was all there was to him, good looks and sensual charm. She’d been okay
with that, too, which made her feel shallow now.

Her heart was at serious risk.

A stick cracked. A raccoon
wandering by, looking for a late night snack. That was all the sudden noise
was. Gia was almost certain. Almost. Automatically, she swept her hand over the
ground beside her, raising the handgun in the direction of the noise. She kept
her thumb on the safety but she was ready. Just in case the cause of the noise
had two legs and not four.

Beside her, Rio sat up smoothly
like he hadn’t been dead asleep just seconds ago, his left hand palming a gun
as he kicked away the sleeping bag soundlessly.Flowing to his feet, he pressed two
fingers against her lips in the universal gesture for silence. No worries. She
had no intention of hollering a welcome if they had unexpected company.

He obviously assumed she was good
with his sit-and-wait strategy because he promptly scanned the trees and then
disappeared into the woods, gun out in front of him. Following him meant
running the risk he’d accidentally open fire on her, not knowing she was on his
tail. Plus, her ankle hadn’t miraculously improved after a couple hours of rest
and it would take her at least five minutes to work her boots back on. She
wasn’t stupid. She’d stay put, even if it was tempting to shoot his ass when he
returned.

She stared at the shadowy patch of
trees where he’d disappeared. It was darker than hell out here. The full moon
helped some, lighting up their small clearing and the surrounding trees. The
smoke from the wildland fire, however, cut down on the amount of available
light as the wind shifted again, casting a pall over what had been a clear
night sky.

She didn’t see him come back. One
minute she was alone, and the next he was standing a few yards behind her, his
face expressionless. He looked at her and she had no idea what he was thinking.
She knew what her body was thinking however: Welcome home. Parts of her were
really, really glad to see him.

“We’re clear,” was all he said.

“I should shoot you,” she said. “Just
so we’re clear.”

“Really? Why?” He didn’t seem
concerned. Maybe it was because she’d never taken the safety off the gun or
maybe it was the business end of the gun pointing a careful forty-five degrees
west of him. He came towards her and tonight he definitely earned a ten on the
sexy scale. He was so big and in control—and on edge. There might not be
anyone out there now, but he’d wondered. He’d thought an attack was a
possibility and he’d reacted accordingly. She had no problem imagining him
moving through some South American jungle in military camo.

Playing the little woman and
hanging back while he checked out the scary noise still didn’t sit well with
her, but she could admit that he had the skills and the experience in that
arena that she lacked. She liked being in charge. Or, okay, she
insisted
on it. Her PSVT had taught her
that much. Control what she could. Live with the rest of it.

Rio was a whole other kind of
brave.

He was the kind of brave she
wished, in her heart, she could be. Genuinely fearless. He did whatever needed
doing and he didn’t hesitate. Like tonight. He’d grabbed a gun and stalked off
towards the trees. Someone had to go, so he did. No questions asked, no
hesitation. She had a feeling she would have thought first when faced with that
first step into the dark woods.

“Nobody calling?” she asked.

He grinned down at her, standing
beside her sleeping bag like some kind of conquering hero. “Wood rat. I think.
It turned tail and ran.”

He gave the woods one final scan,
however, so she wondered if he was one hundred percent sure or just telling her
what she needed to hear. Which would be so like him.

“Not
my favorite animal,” she agreed, “but probably better than the alternative.”

He hesitated, then dropped back down on their makeshift pallet. “You should get some sleep.”

“Not yet.” She exhaled. “You’re
sure we’re alone?”

He nodded. “There’s no one else out
there. And, if there were, they’d have moved in by now. The growers don’t gain
any advantage by waiting until morning. For all they know, we’ve already
radioed in our coordinates and the park rangers are en route.”

“Are they?” Color her optimistic,
but she’d rather trained professionals dealt with those armed guards. She
wasn’t stupid, but she was definitely out of her league there. Unfortunately,
Rio was already shaking his head, ringing the death knell for those hopes.

“I doubt it. I raised Jack on the
radio and gave him the code word.”

She nodded. So far, so good.

“Unfortunately, the guards
interrupted me at that point, so I had to sign off. He’s got the coordinates
for the grow, but we’re no longer there. If and when
law enforcement reaches the site—and I’m betting that will take a while
because not only is there a wildland fire blocking access to many of the roads,
but the terrain is damned rough—they’re not going to find much. The
growers will dismantle the site and move on.”

“And?” She could hear the unspoken
word tacked on to the end of his sentence.

“And we’re the only ones who can
tie faces to said grow.”

He didn’t have to say more.

“So if they’re not too concerned
about sticking to the letter of the law, they just might be hightailing it
after us to take care of that particular problem.”

Rio shrugged, like being chased by
armed assailants through a national forest was just part of a day’s work. Maybe
it was for him.

She shivered and he misread the
reason.

“Cold?” He sank down on the pallet
and opened his arms.

She had no problem taking advantage
of him. After all, she’d already done it once. She didn’t think twice before
she crawled into his arms. He was every bit as warm and solid as she remembered.
She liked to think that no one and nothing was getting through Rio. Bear, thug
or wood rat—she was safe. Laying her cheek on his chest, she savored the
feel of his cotton T-shirt and the warmth of his skin beneath that thin layer.
Thanks to the flannel shirt he’d snagged from his pack but hadn’t bothered
buttoning, his broad chest had plenty of room for her. She dug in and relaxed.

His hand cupped the back of her
head, massaging her neck. That felt so good she had to moan. Just a little. He didn’t
say anything, just dug in to the knots, working them out. He had magic hands,
but she’d already known that.

“You should try to get some sleep,”
he said softly.

“I’m not tired.” Or she was too tired.
He could take his pick. Her mind was going sixty, unable to turn off the day’s
images. “Besides, you might want the company. Just in case the wood rat pays us
a return visit.”

She liked to think they made a good
team.

“I could lie here, watching you.” He sounded absolutely serious.

“You’d get real bored real fast,” she teased.

“Never,” he said and she let it go. She didn’t want to win that
battle anyhow.

“You, me and the fire.” She leaned into his touch.

“You think it’s going to get worse tomorrow?”

“We’ve got strong
surface pressure forcing the winds through the canyons. Add in low humidity
and,” she shrugged, “voilà
.
Escalating fire danger.”

###

“Wow.” He hadn’t expected that.

Gia grimaced. “You didn’t want to
hear that. Sorry. Too long in grad school.”

Part of him wanted to smile. The part that wasn’t seizing up in his chest. “Don’t
apologize for getting an education. Ever. You worked hard for that knowledge.”

Her self-confidence was sexy as
hell even—if he was being completely honest—he didn’t always
understand what she was saying. He got the gist though. In layman’s terms, the
weather sucked and they ran the risk of a bigger, badder fire chasing them
through the woods.

She murmured something and, while
he didn’t catch the words, he understood the sentiment.

He tipped her head back, his
fingers cupping her chin. “You worked hard for that degree. I’m proud of you.”

“Six months,” she said. She didn’t
move away from his touch. “I won’t have my PhD before the end of January.”

She’d leave at the end of fire season, go back to Davis and her classes and whatever else
it was she did there. He was used to jumpers coming and going, and what his
guys did in the off-season was their business. He supposed he hadn’t thought
about Gia riding off into the sunset quite the same way. She’d go and he
wouldn’t see her again, unless he made the trip out to Davis. That would be
weekend work, though, since Davis was several hours from Strong. Plus, he
doubted she stuck around after she actually had the degree. There must be some
PhD-y thing for her to do elsewhere.

“What then? You read the weather on
the evening news?”

He kind of liked that idea. He
could see her, even if it was on his flat screen. Whatever reasons drove her to
jump, brought her out here in the field where the working conditions were
brutal and the money shit, she probably had other plans for her future. He’d
stay, because Donovan Brothers was his life and he and his brothers had built
the business from the ground up. He had a good thing and knocking down fire was
important.

She punched him in the shoulder.

“What was that for?”

He removed his hand from her person
and stared at her.

She stared right back, arms crossed
over her chest. “I’m not the weatherman.”

“Okay.” Agreement seemed like the
safest course of action. “I’ve just heard it mentioned,” he pointed out. “A
time or two.”

She snorted. “Try one or two
hundred times.”

“You don’t want to do that. Read
the weather on TV.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely
not.”

“I wouldn’t either,” he admitted
and she laughed. The mental image of him all suited up and staring at a
teleprompter while he mimed the week’s weather was pretty funny.

“You’ve got the face for it.” She
grinned at him.

“But not the PhD.”

She shrugged. “It’s hardly
obligatory. You went to school, right?”

Fucking
bastard. Come on over here so I can teach you a lesson.

Yeah. That particular temporary
stepdad had been big on educating Rio with his fists. Or the
belt. Whatever the man could find. Rio had spent most of
his
time making sure he was out of arms
reach. Funny how the bruises faded, but the words stuck to him.

“MIT,” he said, because now she was
staring at him.

She whistled. “Impressive.”

“I didn’t like my options. And
Uncle Sam picked up the tab.”

In retrospect, it had been lucky.
He’d left home as soon as he could and had met up with Evan and Jack. Together
the three of them had been Lost Boy wanna-bes, carving out a life for
themselves, first on the Sacramento streets and then south in San Francisco.
Beachfront real estate, Jack had announced the first night they’d camped on the
beach fronting the Pacific Ocean. The strip of sand was a long, thin piece of
wild fringing a wilder, rougher city. They’d had hotdogs, sleeping bags, and a
mindless determination to
not
go
home.

Rio was the one to push his
brothers to get themselves an education. Knowledge was power and he wouldn’t be
someone’s punching bag again. Even as a ten year-old boy, he’d known that
hitting back might stop the beatings short-term, but that forced you down a
violent path that couldn’t end well. He didn’t want to see the inside of San
Quentin.