Sweet Burn (18 page)

Two days later, Mack had himself a ring, but still no bride. He
’
d barely driven back from Sacramento (and reunited Lily with Jack), when the call went out. Jack had put the entire team on standby that afternoon. California
’
s weather was unseasonably hot and January and February had been almost bone dry. The reservoirs were tapping out and still thirsting for a refill, the hills browning when they should be green. It would be a shit summer. That was certain.

The hotshot teams had been recalled weeks ago, packing out to beat down the grassfires that had popped up wherever hikers and hunters got too careless. The southern part of the state waited with bated breath—and ready hoses—for the Santa Ana winds to kick in. Then, all it would take would be one more careless cigarette, a hunter who didn
’
t check his fire circle… hell, even a spark from a weed whacker. Everything would go up in flames.

Mack backed his truck in next to Jack
’
s beat-up Ford, parking face out toward the road, because sometimes seconds counted. He recognized most of the other vehicles already there—in addition to a few beat-up SUVs and Jeeps, there were a pair of trucks he knew by heart. Joey
’
s ride was jacked up high, the wheel wells muddy from some off-road fun. The man had never met a road he didn
’
t race down. Thank God he wasn
’
t allowed to get his hands on the chopper
’
s controls.

Mack didn
’
t know what was going on with Joey and the good sheriff, but since Joey was flying and jumping, the two of them must have worked it out. As far as he knew, Mimi was the only one who had gotten her butt arrested after that wild night ride.

He swung down, grabbed his gear bag from the truck bed, and headed inside. The heads-up page had said takeoff was in thirty minutes and the inside of the hangar was a bevy of loud activity. Jack and Rio were doing a final gear sort, while Joey and Kade shuttled packs out to the waiting DC-3 on the runway. He did a quick headcount—Donovan Brothers had six jumpers in the house, plus Kade. The man had come back from Afghanistan the past summer, but he
’
d been banged up bad. He hadn
’
t been up yet and Mack doubted his leg would take the impact, even if Kade
’
s jumpsuit and steel-toes said the man might think differently. It wasn
’
t his business, though, if Jack had cleared the man.

“Jumping?” he asked, slapping Kade on the shoulder and silently checking in.

Kade shook his head. “I
’
m spotting today.”

That was a better deal for everyone. Kade was a big, broad-shouldered ex-SEAL who still wore his hair buzzed short. He had a scar on the edge of his jaw, like he
’
d face-planted in jagged metal. The mark wasn
’
t all that bad, but it was grim enough to make most of Strong back up just a step or two. Kade also walked stiff-legged and there was no missing his limp and lurch. As far as Mack could tell, the leg was getting better. It was just that Kade had had a long way to go from where he
’
d started.

Spotting was a good way to get his head back in the game since the spotter was responsible for picking the LZ and timing the jumps. Kade wouldn
’
t get out of the plane, but it was a valuable job. Mack was glad that Kade was headed up with them, but even gladder the man wasn
’
t going to push things. He
’
d seen perfectly healthy guys snap a leg when they came down wrong, and none of the terrain they
’
d jumped into this last year had been easy.

“Good deal,” Joey added, butting in. “Kade
’
s got eagle eyes. He
’
ll pick the right LZ.”

The radio crackled and the hangar fell silent. Park rangers had been looking for a pair of hunters since early yesterday. Recreational hunters, the two men were supposed to have checked in with their wives, but had instead failed to do so. Not surprisingly, since there was little in the way of cell phone towers and reception out in the park, the wives also hadn
’
t been able to raise their guys on their phones.

From what the Incident Commander had to say on the radio, though, the rangers just might have found the missing hunters though. Or, more accurately, they
’
d spotted the smoke signal the two men had set up.
Fuck
. That was stupid. It was too easy to lose control of a fire—and that appeared to be exactly what had happened. Fortunately, the fire hadn
’
t grown too big yet. The flames had devoured twenty acres, but now the fire
’
s head was pointed downhill and making for a dry-as-tinder patch. If the winds shifted, the fire would likely change course and head south. That put far more people than trees in the fire
’
s path, including a couple of subdivisions and one of those Indian casinos. Since they were headed into the weekend, that casino would be bustling.

Before he put his helmet on, he stepped outside the hangar and dialed Mimi. “I
’
m headed up,” he said when she answered. “I
’
ll probably be out in the field for the next forty-eight.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket (and, yeah, he had it tucked into a buttoned-up pant pocket because he wasn
’
t hiding the thing in his damned house). He wished he could see her face.

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said brightly.

He could only imagine what she
’
d get up to while he was gone.

“Be careful?” He made it a question, not a warning or a demand. He knew how Mimi reacted to ultimatums. She
’
d go right out and do the opposite, just to prove her point.

“Yeah,” she grumbled, sounding slightly winded.

“You okay?”

“You mean right this moment? Or is that a general concern?”

“You sound—” He was going to put his foot in it.

“Out of breath?” This time, there was no mistaking her wry tone, half-amused, half something else.

“Yeah,” he settled for saying.

“I was doing my yoga.”

And…wow. The mental image of her doing the yoga thing was hot.

“No,” she said.

“No, what?” He hadn
’
t asked anything.

“I
’
m not doing yoga for you naked, even if I do an awesome downward dog pose.”

“Did I ask?”

“You were thinking it.” She sounded certain.

The image of her in those clingy workout pants and a bra top was hot. “You going to tell me what this downward dog thing is? Just so I can get the fantasy right?”

There was another pause. Then she told him and.,.holy Jesus. Yeah. He could image her bent over at the waist, butt up and hands down. Naked would just be the icing on that particular cake.

“If I crash land out there today, it
’
s all your fault.”

“Glad to help.”

Then he hung up, looked up
… and he had himself a peanut gallery. Shit. Maybe he should have stepped outside.

“Yoga, huh?” Joey slapped him on the back.

Kade didn
’
t smile, but his face lightened up some. “The girls have a Saturday morning class out near the river.”

“You go?” Joey sounded horrified. And intrigued.

Kade shrugged. “It
’
s good for my knee. And the scenery
’
s good.
”

As soon as the plane was loaded up, they taxied down the runway. There
’
d be a five-mile pack out to the road, but if they got in there now, there might be a chance. Still, when he was finally spiraling down towards the LZ, wind tearing at his face and smoke stinging his eyes, Mack knew.

This was going to be a bad one.

***

After two days on the ground, the jump team packed out. Their pickup point had been located on one of the main roads, a twelve-hour hike from the landing zone. They
’
d done what they could and cut the fire off at one point. Two housing sub-divisions were a little singed, but nothing some Sherwin-Williams couldn
’
t fix. The homeowners wouldn
’
t even need to call in the insurance adjusters.

Heading home was a relief, until Mack actually got there. Mimi was conspicuously missing. His front door was unlocked, but there was no sign of her when he stepped inside. Not that he
’
d been expecting to holler
honey, I
’
m home
and have her come out to greet him buck naked with a beer, but fantasies were sometimes all that got him through a really bad fire. Since there was no sign of a forced entry or violent struggle, however, he was probably looking at yet another instance of Mimi being Mimi. He
’
d asked her to stay; she
’
d insisted on going. He
’
d have to get used to that if he wanted a future with her.

Still, he couldn
’
t help looking around for some sign that she
’
d spent the last two nights sleeping in his bed and living in his house. The place looked more or less unchanged. She
’
d created her own stack of books on the floor next to his, cowboy novels spilling haphazardly onto his stack of nonfiction. He grabbed a book—for research purposes only—and reconned the rest of his place. The bedroom was as empty as the living room, the coverlet twitched up into a semblance of order and all the pillows redeployed on the right-hand side of the bed. Six of his plastic hangars decorated the shower rod in the bathroom, displaying a fantastic collection of drip-drying bras and panties. He suspected intentionality on that one. He wandered back out and into the kitchen.

She
had
left a note propped up against the lone bottle of beer in his fridge (since there had been four beers when he left, she
’
d clearly spent some time at his place). “Honey, I went out.”

Like they were in some kind of bad sitcom.

He reminded himself that he loved her and, for no particular reason that he could think of at the present moment, that he wanted a future with her. He had to work with what he had. He sat down at the table, popped the top on the beer, and texted her.

I
’
m drinking the last beer.

Her response came less than a minute later:
Ha ha
.

Maybe she was waiting for him in her own way. The burst of hope probably qualified him as first-class pathetic but, again, he was working with what he had. He sent another message.

You coming home soon?

He
’
d like to see her, to hold her some. Plus, he had her ring burning a hole in his pocket. He took it out and played with it while he waited for her response. The ring was a ridiculous scrap of platinum and diamonds. There was nothing practical about it—it was just pure pretty and all special. He hadn
’
t even bought a new one, picking out an antique instead. He liked the thought of some other woman wearing it in sickness and health, the good times and the bad. He
’
d bet there
’
d been more good than bad, too, based on the worn but loving inscription inside the wedding band.

Her text, when it came, made him smile.
I went out to play, honey.

Anywhere close?
He could hope.

Her answer came too fast.
Nope. I’ve got ninety miles on you.

Is your location a national secret?

To his surprise, she gave up the information. Last Chance Casino.

He knew the place. It was a smaller casino, a good two-hour drive from Strong if one was particular about speed limits and lethal S-curves in the road. It was most definitely
not
where he
’
d have expected her to end up.
Why?

For one long minute, he thought she wouldn
’
t respond, then
I went for a ride and this is where I ended up.

Just once, he
’
d like her to stay put, and yet the image of her tackling the road at seventy miles an hour on her bike was compelling. She was a wild thing.

You up for company?
he typed.

She sent him a winky face instead of any actual words. Damned if he had any idea what that meant.

My turn to deal.

He waited, but she didn
’
t respond.
Dealing
, apparently.

He looked at his untouched beer. Her words weren
’
t a
yes
. Of course, they weren
’
t a
no
, either, so he had room to work. He sent a quick text to Jack, letting the other man know that he
’
d be leaving town for the night and unavailable for any first-crack-of-dawn jump that might materialize overnight. Then he stood up, grabbed his keys, and headed out. Her words sure sounded like a date to him.