Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) (11 page)

“There’s a wash just north of here, maybe we can get down, cut across the field—”

Conner’s phone buzzed in his back pocket and he fished it out.

Looked at the caller ID.

Stilled.

What—?

And shoot if his heart didn’t nearly take a flying leap out of his body. “Liza?”

“Oh...Conner.
Conner
!”

And his world simply stopped, everything coming to a standstill—his heart, his breath, his thoughts.

All except one.

Finally,
finally,
Liza Beaumont had called him back. After countless messages, a few letters, and even one moment when someone actually picked up the phone and listened in silence.

He felt pretty sure that had been her on the other end of the line.

And while he’d tried, for at least the last six months, to shove her into the dark, hopefully forgotten places in his heart...

Oh,
Thank You
, she’d finally called him back.

And he knew how pitiful he sounded when he said, “I’m so glad you called.”

Then he heard her breath, hiccupping over the line, as if she might be...crying?

And that put a different spin on the call. “Liza—where, what—are you okay?”

“Oh...Yeah, no...I don’t know. I didn’t know who else to call.”

So, she’d called him. He tried not to sing a song of hallelujah, but if she were dating anyone else, then certainly
he
would be on her speed dial.

“You can call me anytime—”

And yes, that sounded even more pitiful, but—

“Are you still in Ember?”

What?

“Not out on a fire?”

“No—I’m in town,” Conner said. He had a crazy urge to look around, wondering if he might suddenly see her—what, running through the herd of buffalo?

Wild, crazy hopes, taking him by the throat.

But what was he supposed to do with the relief, the, “Oh, thank you, God,” on the other end of the line?

His thought exactly.

“I think I outran it, but—I’m...”

And now an inhale of quick breath, her voice low, nearly unintelligible.

Outran? The word wrapped a fist around his chest. “Liza, are you in danger?”

“Yes—No—I—”

He couldn’t help it. “Breathe, baby. Just, breathe.” He simply would ignore the impulsive term of endearment.

“I—there’s a...grizzly.”

Conner froze.

“I think he’s eating my backpack, but I found a tree—”

“What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“I’m here. I mean I’m in Montana and—”

In Montana. And now he did sit up in the stirrups, look around.

Reuben regarded him with one eyebrow up.

What are you doing in Montana?
Conner wanted to ask it, but his brain wound back, caught her earlier words.

Grizzly. Tree.

She was trying not to cry—he could tell that much from her soft huffs of breath. He cut his voice low, trying to unravel anything of the last minute of conversation that made sense.

She was here, in Montana. She’d outrun a grizzly.

She’d called
him
to save her.

His brain caught up, took charge. “Liza. Breathe. You’re up a tree? You know grizzlies can climb trees, right?”

“They can?”

“Yes, they can!” Now
he
needed to breathe. “Where exactly are you, and can you see the bear?”

“I’m...no, I can’t see him. I—yeah, I think I outran him—”

“You didn’t outrun him, honey. He just wasn’t interested.”

Please, let it not be interested.

Reuben shifted on his horse, pushing his hat up with one finger

“Can you tell me exactly where you are? We need to get help to you—”

“That’s why I’m calling you! I didn’t know what else to do.”

And wow, with that, his poor heart just exploded in a sort of painful joy.

So much for relegating her exit in his life to a casual shrug.

He blew out a breath, lowered his voice, keeping it even. “And I want to help you. Where are you, exactly?”

“I’m at Camp Blue Sky, just south of Ember—it’s on the Bull River.”

Camp Blue Sky.

Yeah, he knew exactly where it was, especially since the Ember Community Church was having its annual family camp up there this week.

What were the odds that she’d come to Montana for
him
?

More explosions inside him—but he schooled his voice to be calm, not eager. “I know where it is. Are you in camp?”

“I hiked up to the overlook to Snowshoe Peak. That’s where I saw the bear. I think I ran about half a mile, maybe less. I can probably get to camp—”

“Stay there!” Oops, now his voice added a tremble. He cleared it. “Just...stay put. At least until you know the bear is gone. He could still be rooting around—”

“But—”

“Liza, listen to me. I’m coming for you, okay? I’ll be there.” He stopped just short of
I promise
, but there it was, aching to emerge. “Just wait for me.”

Yes, clearly he was out of his ever-lovin’ mind.

“I will, Conner, it’s just—”

“Liza—”

“I think the bear—I think he attacked a camper. Or...” And her breaths came over each other again, quick, successive.

“Shh... Just tell me.” He hardly heard himself over the voice screaming in his head to hang up and call the rangers.

“She snuck out of camp this morning—and I thought she came up here to watch the sunrise.”

He refused to stop and linger on a memory.

“And when I got here, I found her jacket over the side of the cliff. And then the bear was just
there
. I don’t know if she went over the cliff, or—” Her voice started to shake again. “I gotta get back to camp.”

“Liza—please let me come for you. Stay—”

“I’m going back to camp. I’m just going to—yeah, I think it’s okay. I don’t see him.”

He heard branches snapping, her breath heavy in the phone.

“You have to help me find her, Conner. We have to find her.”

“Of course we do—and we will. I gotta call the rangers. But keep calm. I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Yeah—Conner.
Hurry
.”

The phone clicked off.

Conner stared at it, his hands shaking, tasting his pulse. Trying to untangle his panic to get to the one thought thrumming through him. Liza crying. Liza needing him., turning to him. Trusting him. Liza, perhaps ending up in his arms.

Liza, back in his life.

God, please keep her alive.

Conner hit the number for dispatch.

Reuben leaned on his saddle horn. “Baby? Honey?”

Conner looked at him, not sure where to start. “Cliff—get me the Bull River Ranger Station on the line. We have a grizzly incident up near Snowshoe Peak.”

#

No crashing behind her, no grunts, no heated breath.

Maybe she’d outrun the danger. Liza flew down the path, arms pumping, her chest burning as she cut toward camp, her feet stirring up gravel and needles. She tore past the zip line, the horse corral, the art pavilion, the climbing wall, the cabins tucked into the forested grounds, the chapel pit with the giant cross looming in the center. She nearly grabbed the rope in the bell tower but skipped it and headed straight for the mess hall.

“Beck!”

She slammed open the screen door, screaming the name of the camp director.

A hundred heads swiveled her direction, the reverence for Beck’s breakfast prayer a quiet palate for her panic.

Wiry, former military chaplain, current pastor of the Ember Community Church, John Priest put his gimme cap back over his salted, dark hair and advanced toward her from where he stood near the ledge stone fireplace. Dressed in his Gore-Tex camp pants, Keens, and a signature Camp Blue Sky T-shirt, he caught her arms with his wide grip as she collapsed onto the gleaming wood-planked floor.

Gasping and unable to speak, she grabbed his arms, held on as one of the campers came over. “I’m a doctor—what’s going on?”

“Is Esther Rogers here? Has anyone seen her?”

Every eye in the room pinned to her, all the diners at the ten-plus picnic tables sat without moving.

Oh, no, this could turn dark, fast. She grabbed Beck’s arm, cut her voice low. “Esther Rogers wasn’t in her cabin this morning.”

Beck’s expression creased into concern.

“I thought she might be at the overlook—you know, Snowshoe Peak?”

John nodded. “Why?”

“It’s a long story, but we were going to hike up together—and then she wasn’t in her bed this morning.”

She’d raised her voice just loud enough to ignite a murmur. She stared at Beck, cut her voice low again. “Have you seen her?”

John scanned the room. Then, in his I-am-a-chaplain-don’t-worry voice, he said, “Anyone seen Esther Rogers this morning?”

Not a word of response. And Liza’s breath unhinged from where she’d held it.

John wore the look she felt as he turned back to her. “Did you check the cabin again? Maybe she went out to the bathhouse—”

“I don’t know—yeah, maybe. I will but—”

John gestured to Skye Doyle, one of the nature guides. “Could you check the cabins and the bathhouse?”

Skye nodded and took off, passing Liza with a squeeze to her shoulder.

Yeah. Maybe she was simply—overreacting. Just seeing trouble that wasn’t there.

“I think maybe you should sit down,” John said, directing her over to his table.

“No, but...I think—” She let him push her down into the seat, clasped her trembling hands together. “No. Beck. You don’t understand.” She blew out a long breath. “I went up there and...” Her voice started to tremble. “There was a grizzly.”

John stilled. A beat passed between them as he appeared to weigh her words. “Where?”

“Snowshoe Peak. And I—I ran. I ran and ran and then I climbed a tree—”

“Grizzlies can climb—”

“I know. But I didn’t know what else to do, and I thought, what kind of idiot sticks around to play dead, right? Except maybe, I don’t know, but maybe that’s what Esther did because—”

She pressed her hands over her face. “Oh, Beck.” Her breaths tumbled over each other, her voice rising. “I found her jacket. Or what I think was her jacket—I don’t know. It was definitely a Blue Sky jacket.”

“Where?” This from the doctor. Doctor Billings. Shep’s father.

As in Shep Billings, the boy who had broken Esther’s heart.

Liza looked up, met his gaze, saw in his features the same handsome, solid chin, dark-blue eyes, a gleam of authority that he’d probably passed along to his arrogant, charming son.

She’d like to get her hands around Shep’s prom-king neck right about now. “Over the edge of the cliff,” she said quietly. “The jacket was caught in a bush below the lookout.”

The doctor’s jaw tightened, and he turned to Beck. “A word?”

John stood up.

The door slammed behind them, and Skye ran back in, breathing hard. “She’s not in the cabin or the bathhouse. I ran into the chapel but she’s not there either.”

Something about the way the doctor was leaning toward Beck... The worry that creased Dr. Billings’s face, then Beck’s, the quick glance at Liza—

“Shep isn’t here,” Dr. Billings said quietly.

“Oh. My. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Liza stepped up to their huddle, didn’t bother to keep her voice down.

It was the way the doc swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping in his throat, his face whitening. “He wasn’t in the cabin this morning.”

Liza had a retort cued up and ready when the doc’s breath shuddered out, shunted it. “He took his jacket.”

The jacket. Liza couldn’t move, her brain suddenly fixed on the grizzly, the realization that two might have gone over that cliff.

“Blake, what’s going on?” The question came from a petite blonde.

The man who now glanced at the woman, then took aim, and fired at Liza.

“Shep sneaked out with some girl, and they’ve disappeared. And apparently,
she
told them to.”

Huh?

“I—no, I—”

Another woman arrived, with cropped brown hair, wearing an ill-fitting T-shirt, shorts, and crocks. “I’m Esther’s mom. What’s going on?”

“Liza here told my son and your daughter to sneak off—”

“No,” Liza said. “Actually—no. I told Esther to meet me, and we’d go—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter—they’re missing. And there’s a...” She cut her voice down. “A grizzly out there.”