Reburn (5 page)

He pointed towards the rocky upslope. “We’ll go there. I want to get us upslope where it’s going to be harder for the fire to catch us. You see those rocks? That means less fuel for the fire riding our asses.”

“You think it’s safe?”

“You blow things up.” His steady gaze met hers. “I pick up the pieces.”

He increased the pace, taking them uphill. Her breath caught and burned in her lungs, reminding her it was time to add another mile to her morning run. Sam, of course, kept right on eating up the ground with his long-legged stride. He didn’t look bothered by the steep incline or the weight he was packing. She wanted to protest when he slowed his pace to match hers, but she was too out of breath. Who knew speaking could be a luxury?

His hand cupped her ass, boosting her as her boots slipped on loose rock.

“Hey,” she protested. “Is that a park-sanctioned safety move?”

“What?” His innocent look. “It’s a long way down, honey. I’m simply lending you a hand.”

“Bet you’ve seen plenty. Out here in the park,” she clarified when he snorted. Sure enough, when she turned her head back, he had that small masculine quirk of his lips going on. He found her amusing all right.

“You get everything out here. Pot growers. Survivalists. Kids on a weekend bender gone bad. Two consenting adults banging to glory on top of a picnic table.”

“You get all the fun calls.”

He acknowledged her words with a tip of his head and was right-back-at-you. “And you don’t?”

“Point taken.” Her lips curved up in a smile.

“We do what has to be done, that’s for sure.”

Moments later, she got her first good look at Sam’s safety zone. Steep, rocky walls lined both sides of the gorge with razor-sharp formations. A dirt trail meandered along the bottom, following a thin ribbon of river.

“We’re aiming for the crest.” Sam pointed to the top of the canyon. Already, the bottom was dark. The lower areas of the canyon walls were thickly forested, with trees rapidly thinning out nearer the crest line. There was not too much smoke due to the up-canyon breeze clearing out the air.

The sunset was spectacular, the sun an angry red ball surrounded by a halo of bright light. Black and red and not much in-between. Not a romantic pink-and-gold, but boldly dramatic. She liked it.

“We’re camping at the bottom?”

He shook his head. “We stay up top. You get the right winds sweeping through a gorge like that, and you’ve got a fire tunnel. If we have to, we can duck down inside, but for now we stay put right here. This is our home sweet home for the night.”

 

The U.S. Forest Service had been in his things. Holm didn’t like that. He’d bet the ranger hadn’t been careful, either. When he eventually visited the bunker, he’d find one hell of a mess. The ranger shifted the makeshift bundle on his back and, from his hidey-hole upslope, Holm clearly heard cans bang against each other.
Fuck
. Bastard had probably taken the good stuff, too. It was damned hard to find canned goods that packed some taste, and living on Chef Boyardee wasn’t Holm’s plan.

Way to raid my pantry
. He wanted to go Goldilocks and the three bears on the ranger, shouting
Who’s been eating my porridge
.

Instead, he pushed back the red rage. He needed to stay in control. Staying in control was how he kept one step ahead of the teams hunting him, which was critical as his work wasn’t done yet. So, for now, he melted back into the sagebrush. The forest ranger knew his stuff. The gorge he’d picked out was mostly right angles, with a nice stone face. If, by some miracle, the original fire made it uphill, the pair would be able to wait out the firestorm and then hike out through the burnout.

In theory.

Because there was no way Holm would let them do that.

Even though he was working independently right now, he was plugged into a larger network. He wasn’t the only man in this great country who knew the government was on the wrong track. End times were coming fast, and someone had to serve a wakeup call to the people trundling along, doing the same-old, same-old. Holm was first in line for that, and he had plans. Big, explosive plans. Civilian casualties were unfortunate, but that was war for you. Sometimes, the civvies got hurt. That pain was the price tag on getting the message across.

So they hurt and they learned, and everyone ended up better off.

The FBI lady wasn’t onboard with that plan, though, so she’d be kicking off his casualty list, followed by her right-hand man, the park ranger. Once the pair got comfortable, Holm would make his move. He got a quick visual on the fire’s progress. She was still burning steady. As long as the wind didn’t shift again, his first fire was right where she needed to be.

Right on track.

S
am’s canyon served up a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding forest and a smoky slice of access road. The Humvee had to be right around the corner so, despite their hiking and climbing, they’d come full circle. After a dinner of MREs and canned peaches from Holm’s stash, she hiked up behind Sam. He stood, legs apart, right on the edge, where the stone lip turned into a thousand foot free fall. He didn’t seem to mind that empty air or the lack of handholds, but no way she’d get that close on her own. Plus, now they were here, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Or if he even wanted anything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d taken her to some off-the-map place, as far from civilization as his hiking boots could carry him. She’d been a suburban kid, despite a childhood stint in the Girl Scouts. Sam, however, had shown her the joys of hiking out to a primitive campsite with just a sleeping bag and some food. There she’d spend the night on her back, staring up at the stars. He’d never pushed her. The first few nights they’d hiked out together, they’d laid out the bags side-by-side, done a little hand holding, but nothing else. Not until they’d both been ready.

She was in trouble now, because she was ready for something to happen tonight. She just wasn’t sure how to make it happen.

“That’s the last drop for tonight,” Sam said, pointing towards the air tanker doing slurry drops in the near-dark. The pilot hit the release and three thousand gallons of red went into targeted free fall, coating the vegetation below with protective moisture. “It’s too dangerous to fly at night, so they’ll head back to base, grab some sleep, and be ready to go again at dawn.”

She didn’t want to discuss wildland firefighting techniques, but at least he was talking to her, so she volleyed the question back at him. “The fire doesn’t get out of control if everyone packs it in for the night?”

Sam shrugged, like the chaotic flames made perfect sense to him and he could see exactly how this was going to play out. “Fire lies down at night. The wind’s already dropping, and the temp’s going to follow. Humidity goes up and”—he smiled wryly—“there’s your evening coffee break. As soon as the sun rises, the fire heats up, too, so the guys will sleep while they can.”

“You don’t want to go down?” The stream below was starting to look like a fine option to her.

He shook his head. “You don’t want to go in there if the fire’s coming. That’s a death trap. We stay up here on the crest.”

“Safety zone?” She said the words lightly.

“You bet.” He folded his arms across his chest, watching the fire with single-minded intensity.

“That’s my hotshot.” She leaned into him tentatively. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he tucked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her farther into his side. The gesture was a familiar one. They’d stood like this a hundred times before during that summer they’d shared. Maybe he’d done some remembering of his own, or maybe the gesture was simply habit.

“Hell.” Sam closed his eyes briefly when something flared up over in the vicinity of the access road. “I hope your boys know how to drive. The pickup’s not going to notice a few more scratches and dents, but I’d hate like hell to find the remnants in a ditch. Particularly if the military’s finest are still strapped inside.”

She seconded that feeling.

But she also knew her team. They’d worked side-by-side for over a year, hunting Holm. “They’ll be fine.”

His concern was sweet. Mayne would probably chew off his own arm if he ever caught wind of Sam’s concern, but Olivia liked it. Did Sam ever worry about himself? Granted, he wasn’t a big one for talking, but he didn’t seem concerned about the fire breathing down their necks. Maybe it was simply his boundless confidence in his ability to get himself out of whatever mess landed in his lap, or maybe he was willing to go down, knowing he’d given the job his all.

She, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck.

“Should be,” he said finally, turning away from the mouth of the canyon. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”

The possibility that there wouldn’t be a tomorrow had her focusing on the definite of
tonight
. Okay, so her body was onboard with that plan. It had been a long time since she’d had sex and she was lonely. She’d also had an unpleasant brush with mortality—which certainly explained the adrenaline pumping through her now—and she was having flashbacks to the hottest summer of her life.

All on their own, her fingers found the buttons on his Nomex. One button slipped free, followed by the next. How that happened, she had no idea. Her fingers appeared to be hardwired into her libido, and neither was talking to her brain. Because touching Sam was definitely a bad idea. He was six-plus feet of sex on a stick—and pure trouble.

He didn’t stop her, though. She couldn’t help but notice that.

His hand cupped her shoulder, his thumb rubbing a small, sure circle against her skin. “You feel it, too. The heat.”

She tried to push away, but he wasn’t letting go.

“No,” he said patiently. “You want to listen to me for a minute? I need to explain something here, Livy.”

“So start talking.”

He didn’t immediately speak, though. Instead, he pulled her in close, her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her middle. Like that, Sam was toasty warm, a solid, reassuring presence. His cheek rested against top of her head. The moment was sweet, but she was still teetering between confused and needy.

“I’ve always waited for you,” he said.

She tilted her head back to get a better look at him. “I’ve been gone for ten years, Sam.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “And maybe part of me’s always hoped you’d come back when you were ready.”

“I came back to do a job,” she pointed out. “This isn’t a romantic rendezvous.”

“I know,” he said comfortably, “but I think we’ve still got something between us. There’s a spark.”

Spark
was an understatement. Still, letting Sam get close would be a mistake if she wanted to keep her single-minded focus on her career. She’d dated a few guys in those ten years he’d mentioned, and those nights out had been fun for the most part, but there hadn’t been any chemistry either. She didn’t know what made her body go up in flames when Sam Clayton touched her, but facts were facts.

He made her melt.

“We’re not picking up where we left off.” Hell. She could hear the little note of desperation in her voice and she didn’t like it. And, yeah, she was wet. So wet and sensitive that each step she took rubbed the sensitive folds of her pussy against her panties. This need she had for Sam Clayton was maddening. He’d driven her crazy all those summers ago, and she wasn’t giving him another chance now.

Problem was? That step she’d taken was towards him.

“All right.” The slow rumble of his voice as he agreed with her was more fuel for her fire. She’d always loved his voice.

“I mean it.” There. She sounded firm. Mature. Never mind that her inner hussy was howling to throw the man to the ground and climb on top of him.
Wasn’t happening
.

“If we have to camp out here tonight”—and, if her choices were an overnight camping trip with the man she’d lusted over for years or self-immolation, the choice was perfectly clear—“you stick to your side of the campfire.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on building a campfire, honey. You want to hold me to an imaginary line?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. She shouldn’t find his literalness so endearing.

“Ten years.” She didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in her voice. “You really want me to believe you spent that time waiting for me?”

“Job-like patience,” he agreed cheerfully. “You going to make it up to me now?”

“Probably not.” There was no point in not being honest. “I work with bombs for a living. You put out fires. There couldn’t be two people more different.”

“I like different. Hell, I’ve never been the kind of guy who owns matching towels or even matching socks. The differences between us don’t scare me. I like our differences just fine.”

He’d been warned and she told him as much. “This doesn’t mean we’re starting over.”

“Whatever you want, honey.”

“This is just tonight. We’ll figure tomorrow out tomorrow, okay?” She was selfish. She wanted
this
moment. No regrets. No worrying about later.

“I’m holding you to that, honey.”

So she took what she wanted.

She reached up and slid a hand around the back of his neck. When she tugged, he came and she didn’t fool herself. There was no moving Sam once he’d made up his mind to stay put. Stubborn. Strong. The line blurred between the two with him. His familiar face came closer and she had just enough time to wonder if he’d still taste as good as he had ten years ago before he was
there
and there was no more guessing.

Just knowing.

His mouth landed on hers with a soft, amused chuckle. She didn’t want him laughing. She wanted him needing. Impatient. So she brushed her mouth against his, a firm-soft touch of her lips against his.
So good
. She repeated the caress again. No rush, right? They had all night.

“Livy,” he growled, drawing back a little, and
there
. There was that rough, needy sound. Yeah. He was remembering.

“Uh-huh.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Shut up and kiss me, hotshot.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” The laughter was back in his voice, but he was maneuvering her closer, his thigh pressing between hers, kicking her arousal up a notch.

“In your dreams,” she replied.

“Good.” That smile belonged to a man who had more than a few fantasies in his mind. “I’ve had some damn fine dreams since you left me.”

His mouth covered hers again and the chemistry was back between them. Sam’s mouth was wild and hot, devouring hers like the best of fires. Their tongues tangled, his stroking deeply into her mouth. Hungrily, she pushed him back against the canyon wall, her hands pinning his against the stone. Taking him. And he let her, right up until he took charge.

Heat swept through her.
God, god, god
.

She was doing this, really doing this. Kissing Sam Clayton again. He kissed even better than he had that summer. That answered one question, and right before her body went up in flames and her brain flipped on the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign, she admitted to herself that she’d been curious. She’d missed this man. Sure she’d run hard and fast from him, and she should do so again. But this might be her last chance—her only chance—at holding Sam Clayton again. And, on the off chance that the world was ending tonight and they weren’t getting out of here, she wouldn’t go with regrets.

Somewhere, in the back of her head, she’d always wondered. She’d come back to Big Bear Lake, knowing the job might bring her right to Sam Clayton’s doorstep. She just hadn’t been able to resist the lure of possibly seeing him once more. These feelings she had for him were like the sleeper fires he fought, one quick, bright lightning bolt and then a slow simmer in fallen trees until finally, one day, the fire exploded out of its woody cocoon and burned and burned and burned. She was burning. She’d waited, telling herself year after year that this was an old flame. That she was over him.

She wasn’t.

He let her go when she pulled back from their kiss, her back bumping against his hands.

Sam just watched her. He’d always been observant—that hadn’t changed.

“Ten years,” he said, but he didn’t take his hands off her right away, not even when she turned and started walking the short distance back to their campsite. He just walked beside her, not saying anything, one big hand cupping her elbow in case she tripped in the dark and needed another rescue. Her big, silent hero.

He’d never been full of words. No, that had been her, right up until it came time to answer his letter. It had broken her heart, but there was no future for their fiery summer romance. Sam Clayton had been her last high school sweetheart and, when she’d left for college, he’d stayed behind. She’d felt it was better to end it there. He never wrote again, or maybe the post office had given his letter to the wrong person. A hundred maybes were followed by relief mixed with disappointment. No letters meant she’d been free.

What had she missed?

And what would happen now she was back? Had it really just been work that prompted her to return to Sequoia?

“You really missed me?” The question came out before she could bite back the words. Her feet stopped moving and she just stood there, waiting for his answer.

He didn’t move, legs apart, arms braced across his chest. “I’m not the one who left,” he pointed out.

“That’s true.” She listened, but she didn’t hear any extravagant declarations in that deep voice. And it was silly to wish for them.

She was tired of regrets, she reminded herself, and it was time for new memories anyhow. That summer had been fantastic—but it was over. Tonight wasn’t. Not yet. Deliberately, she leaned back against the rocky wall of the canyon.
Adventurous,
she reminded herself. Tonight was fantasy night and she certainly had plenty of those.

“Here you are,” he said, but his eyes were watching her legs.

He’d loved her legs.

Deliberately, she moved her thighs apart. Just a few inches because she wanted to know whether it was too late for them. God, that felt good.

She pressed them together again.

 

Livy was the hottest sight he’d ever set eyes on. From the pretty pink flush painting her cheeks to the sexy little way she was rubbing her thighs together, she had him on fire for her. Keeping his hands to himself now would just about kill him.

Everything about her said
yes, please
.