Flaming Desire - Part 3 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (4 page)

It was back to digging, chopping, and clearing brush—one backbreaking foot after another.

By midafternoon, the entire line clustered together and watched as a bulldozer was finally able to make it through about the last hundred yards we had been working. It was clearing even more ground, taking down some saplings, weaving its way in between larger trees as it went. I stood with the others, watching, as Matt spent a few moments speaking with other members of his crew. I didn’t want to feel like an intruder, so I held back, just pretending to watch the progress of the bulldozer. To be honest, I was starting to feel a bit neglected.

Several moments later, I saw Matt speaking with the crew chief, and then he was calling my name and gesturing for me. I turned to begin walking toward him, but he gestured for me to hurry, so I gathered that it was important. I picked up the pace and jogged over to him. “What is it?”

Just then, a helicopter roared overhead, heading toward the north end of the fire line, up the slope. Moments later, an ATV pulled up to the crew. The driver got down, spoke to the crew chief, who pointed to Matt. He handed Matt a red bag with a white cross on it. A first aid kit. Matt climbed onto the ATV. I paused, unsure what to do. He looked at me once again and gestured for me to hurry and join him. I approached the ATV and was just about to ask what he needed me to do when he gestured for me to climb on behind them.

“Hurry up, get on! There’s an injured firefighter up near the top of the ridge!” He shoved the canvas first aid bag at me. I grabbed it and didn’t ask any questions; just quickly hopped on. I tucked the kit between us and wrapped my arms around his waist. Hard, firm muscle. I pushed any thoughts of sex out of my mind as he put the ATV in gear and off we went.

I had never ridden on an ATV before. Under any other circumstances, I might’ve thought it quite fun. An injured firefighter? Not so much.

Even over the sound of the ATV, I heard the chopper overhead. I glanced up. Through the treetops, I saw the helicopter a short distance ahead, circling. If that’s where we were heading, it was directly up slope, toward the fire line just over the ridge.

My heart leapt with a combination of anxiety, fear, and excitement. The ATV bumped and slid its way up the slope. I held tight to Matt, felt my butt lifting up off the seat several times as we bounced over ruts and tree limbs. Eventually, sliding and slipping a little bit, we made our way up.

Several times, members of the fire line further up the side of the mountain had to get out of our way, but word along the line had obviously made it through. As nurses, we were classified as medics for this section and come to the aid of other firefighters who were injured in the process of battling this massive wildfire.

“There!” Matt briefly lifted one hand and pointed about one hundred yards up the slope and off to the right.

I looked in that direction. I saw several firefighters wearing yellow long sleeved shirts and hardhats clustered around a fallen tree, trying to put out the fire that streamed along the top of it, as if someone had drizzled a line of gasoline along its top. They feverishly shoveled dirt on it, while another cluster of men hovered near the other end. As we got closer, I saw that the entire tree had pulled free of the roots and toppled. Half of the trunk was blackened, the roots old and rotted.

In the midst of the branches of what looked to be a spruce fir, I saw a splash of yellow. Matt quickly maneuvered the ATV as close to the fallen tree as he could, and then we both hopped off, quickly approaching as several of the firefighters shouted bits of information.

“…fell on him…!”

“Broken leg and—”

The sound of the chopper overhead drowned out their voices. The blades kicked up a huge amount of dust and debris. I was afraid if the fire was too close, the chopper would send embers flying in our direction, but then realized the crew would not get that close. If there was danger of whipping the fire in our direction, they would abort and we’d have to carry the firefighter down by hand.

Overhead, the chopper continued to circle. I could see that the crew up there was just beginning the process of lowering a Stokes basket. The drafts from the wind and the rising smoke and fire buffeted it, rocking it gently from side to side. I glanced back down at the tree. Matt was struggling to make his way through the fallen branches. I followed, clutching the first aid kit close to my chest.

When we got to the man under the tree, I saw that he was awake and conscious, though grimacing in pain.

“My right leg,” he pointed.

I looked down and saw that the lower half of the firefighter’s body was trapped under the top end of the trunk.

“We tried to lift it, but it’s too heavy,” a firefighter shouted. He gestured over his shoulder. One of the guys is coming with a chainsaw!”

“Hang in there, Bill! They’re going to help you.”

Words of encouragement made their way toward us as Matt and I knelt down beside the fallen firefighter, pushing and shoving branches out of our way and away from his face. Matt gestured for a hatchet or axe. A moment later, he was chopping at some of the branches as I performed a cursory examination, checked the man’s pulse and found it relatively strong. I bent down close to his ear.

“Anything hurt beside your leg?”

He shook his head. Matt was trying to look under the tree limbs closer near the trunk to see if he could see any bleeding.

“No signs of any blood,” he shouted in my direction. “But it’s hard to tell.”

Moments later, another firefighter arrived carrying a chainsaw. Without wasting time, he pulled the cord and revved the chainsaw to life. With Matt directing him where to cut, watching that the blade didn’t get too close to the firefighter, I continued to monitor the injured man’s condition. Slowly, limb by limb, the chainsaw operator managed to clear some of the limbs from around the fallen fireman. He carefully manipulated the saw and started cutting chunks of the trunk a short distance away from the firefighter, attempting to cut the top end off the tree so that the others could lift it off the fallen man.

In a matter of minutes, enough weight had been removed from the tree that, together, the five firefighters clustered around their fallen comrade were able to lift the tree. Matt knelt beside the man’s legs. I didn’t see any blood, but his right leg was twisted at an awkward angle just below the knee. That kind of damage could cause internal bleeding. Matt quickly fashioned a makeshift splint, using several of the gauze rolls from the first aid kit to fasten a couple of pine branches to either side of the man’s leg. It would have to do.

“Bill, can you move your neck and wiggle your fingers for me?” I asked. He did. “Super. Now, what about your feet? I watched carefully as the man moved his left foot, and then, grunting in pain, he did manage to move his right leg just a little bit. I nodded at Matt. It didn’t appear that the man had any spinal injuries, but one couldn’t be too careful.”

The other firefighters grabbed at the Stokes basket as it made its way down from the helicopter hovering overhead. Inside the basket was a short backboard along with a blanket and tarp. Working together, Matt and I carefully turned the firefighter in a log roll, keeping his hips and his spine aligned as we slid the backboard under him. He was trying not to cry out at the pain, but a groan escaped his throat as we turned him.

Making sure he was fastened, Matt, I, and several of the other firefighters gently lifted the injured man and got him into the Stokes basket. We strapped him in, and then with Matt holding onto the basket, he gave a thumbs-up to the crew overhead in the helicopter. He helped to keep the basket from twisting until he couldn’t reach it anymore.

We all watched as the man was lifted and then pulled into the belly of the helicopter. As soon as the Stokes basket was inside the chopper, it turned and took off back down the slope.

“Looks like he had a broken fibula, just below the knee. They’ll make sure he’s stabilized at the base camp, and then send him to the hospital in Butte,” Matt told the fire crew.

With their thanks, Matt and I climbed back onto the ATV and made our way carefully down the mountain, past our fire line, and down to the base camp. We arrived as the helicopter was taking off after unloading the injured man. Matt and I watched as an ambulance crew from Butte loaded the man, now on an ambulance gurney, into the vehicle and then drove off, lights flashing and siren blaring.

There was nothing more we could do now. I was glad that the man didn’t seem to be injured worse than he was.

Matt turned to me and then smiled. “Good rescue,” he said with satisfaction. “Let’s get a cup of coffee before we go back to the fire line.”

I looked up at him and nodded in agreement. I settled in the dining tent and watched Matt walk toward the folding table that had two large old-fashioned percolators sitting on it. Beside it were stacks of Styrofoam cups, and cups filled with creamer packets, a variety of sugars and sugar substitutes, stirrer sticks and a pile of small square napkins. He poured us each a cup of coffee and then turned back to the table, eyebrow raised. I shook my head, too tired to think. I’d drink it black at the moment. He placed one of the cups in front of me and then sat down across from me. We sipped for several moments. The coffee was hot and bitter, but it provided the jolt I needed.

I wanted to talk to him, although I wasn’t quite sure how to broach the topic. I took another sip, not meeting his eyes.

“What’s bothering you, Jesse?” he asked. “The guy’s going to be okay, you know that don’t you?”

I nodded. “Matt, there’s something I want to ask you about.” He said nothing, but merely stared at me. I sipped again. “I was talking to Sam this morning…”

Matt put his coffee cup down. I saw a change in his expression. Defensive. Wary.

“What is it?”

I guess the only way to get it out was to come right out and say it. I sighed. “Matt, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked, frowning, truly looking confused.

“From what I understand, you’re a billionaire—”

“So?”

“But why are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about that—”

“I was just wondering why you do the things that you do… endangering your life like this when you’ve got enough money… to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” I realized that I had overstepped when I saw his frown. I was surprised. I’d never seen Matt angry before, and I instantly regretted mentioning it. I don’t know if what I said came out the wrong way or what, but the next thing I knew, Matt was standing over me. His frown had turned into a scowl.

“You don’t know anything about me—”

“Matt, I’m just trying to understand—”

“And why is that so important, Jessica?” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “What does my past have to do with anything?”

To say I was taken off guard by his reaction would be the understatement of the year. “Matt, I didn’t mean anything by it! I was just—”

“Being nosy?”

That hurt. “Curious!” I snapped back. I tried not to feel hurt. Tried not to feel a sense of betrayal. After the things we had done last night in the sleeping bag… my gushing out my feelings to him in the truck bed in Santa Fe… didn’t that mean anything to him? What had he gotten out of it? An orgasm? I shook my head. I didn’t think Matt was that kind of a guy. But why was he so angry? Why so defensive?

“Like I said, Jessica, you don’t know anything about me.”

I frowned at his use of my full name for the second time. Another sign that he was truly annoyed. “And whose fault is that?” I asked. “Look, Matt, I’m not trying to pry into your personal life—”

“And what do you call this?” he demanded.

I didn’t know why he was so angry. I tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to understand you. After all, I poured my heart out to you the other night and—”

“And what?” He shook his head, gazing off into the distance outside the tent. “You think that I owe you an explanation? Because I don’t.”

I felt shocked, disappointed, and yes, hurt. “Matt, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jessica, I like you, no doubt about it, but my private life is my own. Just because you want to talk about yours, or feel the need to, doesn’t mean that I do.” He set his cup of coffee back down on the table so hard that some of its sloshed over the side. He abruptly turned and stalked out of the tent.

Matt!” I left my coffee on the table and followed. “Matt!”

He spun around, his face twisted with anger. I think I also saw a bit of anguish, although I could have been mistaken. His response took me by surprise, and to be honest, I felt cut to the core. And annoyed. I didn’t deserve such a reaction. “Matt, I’m just trying to understand!”

“It’s none of your business, Jessica,” he snapped.

I stopped stock still, staring up at him in dismay. Unbidden, tears burned my eyelids. I’d be damned if I let him see how his words hurt. I shook my head, refusing to let his words hurt me. “Matt, we’re partners—”

“Back off, Jessica,” he said. He pointed his finger at me. I stared up at him, my mouth open in surprise. “If you know what’s good for you, back off.”

He stalked off and this time I let him, stunned by the ferocity of his response.

What did he mean by that? Back off? Back off of what? Damn him! Did he think I was interested in his money? I could care less about his money! Money didn’t make the person.