Flaming Desire - Part 4 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (5 page)

There was no telling what a person is capable of doing until they found themselves in a life or death situation. The adrenaline surging through the firefighter had given his muscles the energy he needed to stay just ahead of the licking flames. But I knew that adrenaline only lasted so long. Adrenaline took a great deal of energy from the muscles, and after that, you had nothing left. In seconds, you could go from running to a dead stop because your muscles, your lungs, or your heart just had nothing else to give.

I shook my head, not wanting to think about it. Matt and I would do our best and that’s all we could do. I had to accept that.

To my surprise, Matt reached for my hand, clasped it, and gave it a gentle squeeze. The gesture warmed my heart and I looked up at him with a smile. No matter what happened between us on the personal front, I knew that Matt had my back. And I had his as well.

*

The crew truck finally reached its destination, which was the point where it literally couldn’t go any further. It disgorged its passengers. Matt and I brought up the rear, offering a wave to those we left behind. He and I slowly made our way to the trailhead that would lead down into Aspen Valley. It was a beautiful location, I had to admit. Aptly named, the slopes on the eastern side of the valley were dotted with Aspen and several varieties of pine, some box elder, spruce and more. The scent of the Rocky Mountain Juniper I paused beside was barely discernable over the smell of smoke in the air. At the moment, the aspen leaves ranged from a lime green to shimmering gold. The west side of the mountain was mostly pine. Dry pine.

Looking straight up, I could see the glow of flames striving to make their way up the slope and over the mountaintop. The Hotshot crew scrambling up the slope behind us was going to give it their best to create a fire line. Still, if the fire started bumping the line, especially in this location, there would be little chance of containing it or preventing it from hopping over the narrow valley to the other side. Those gorgeous aspen trees would disappear beneath the ravages of a wildfire that had no intentions of slowing down, or at least that’s how it appeared to me.

“There it is,” Matt said, pointing. He held the map in his hand, oriented properly. I glanced at it, and then in the direction he was pointing.

I saw the notch. I glanced down, realizing that the trail would be steep and treacherous. We would have to step carefully. A broken ankle out here would be no picnic. I knew there was no way I could carry Matt out of there so I looked at him and gave him my most stern expression.

“You better watch your step, Matt,” I told him. “The plain truth of the matter is if you go down, I’m not going to be able to carry you all the way through to the end.”

He nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Then, as we reached the trailhead and I noted the faint deer trail that made its winding way down the slope and rounded a bend at nearly a thirty-degree angle, he looked at me.

“Good luck, Jesse,” he said somberly.

“Good luck, Matt,” I replied.

It might have sounded cheesy to anyone else, but it was something that Hotshots always said to one another before they entered a potentially life-threatening situation. I knew this was an important task, and it was rife with danger although we were, at least now, a relatively safe distance from the fire.

Nevertheless, I knew that with a couple strong gusts of wind, or if the wind steadily picked up during the next couple of hours, this entire ridgeline, the valley, and the mountainside directly across could be completely engulfed in flames. It compelled within me a sense of urgency. With a nod, I watched as Matt began to make his way down.

He took the slope sideways, much like a crab crawl. If he did happen to lose his footing, he would slide down on his side rather than topple face first or over backward. I did the same, and although I couldn’t place my feet exactly where he had placed his, I followed the path he made. When the slope grew less steep, we walked face forward quickly, but then as we reached another downward incline, we once again crab walked. I don’t know how many times we switched off, sometimes even changing sides and using our opposite legs as the lead leg, to preserve our strength and energy.

The brush grew thick and lush around us. I wasn’t an expert on plants, but I did recognize quite a few that grew along the steep slopes and down closer to the bottom of the trail. Black elderberry and Buffalo berry seemed plentiful along here. Plenty of Rocky Mountain maple and spiny, thorny Caragana. I spotted clumps of sagebrush, though I couldn’t smell it thanks to the smoke in the air. Rabbitbrush that normally sheltered small animals was scattered along the hillsides as well.

Overhead, the smoke continued to roil in the air. The stench of smoke had embedded itself into every cell and fiber of my being, so I had to keep looking up to gauge where the fire was, the direction of the wind, and of course, its speed. By the time we reached the bottom of the valley, which look more like a gorgeous one from my perspective now, I pulled out the brochure from my side pocket.

Standing next to Matt, feeling his warmth, appreciating his… how should I say it? Shelter? His strength? There was something about Matt gave me a sense of security. I knew he was only a man, made of flesh and bone, but when I stood next to him, I felt as if he were invincible. That no forces of nature could overwhelm him. As far as I was concerned, he was indestructible. Standing next to him, I felt indestructible as well, although I knew that was foolish thinking.

The kind of thinking that could get me into serious trouble.

“Let’s go.”

So off we went. Following the landmarks on the brochure, we came to the first campsite. Abandoned. No tents, no signs of a recent campfire, nothing. Of course, this campsite was on the far north end of the valley, and from my experience, most campers, unless they were hunters or really wanted to get away from society, rarely chose the furthest campsite from other human beings or buildings that offered supplies, showers, or restrooms.

A narrow, shallow stream ran through the bottom of the valley. We were deep in the woods now, but even through the canopy of the tree line, I saw the dark, black, roiling clouds of the fire. I couldn’t tell if it was getting closer because we were too far down now and my sense of smell didn’t help.

I was tired, but that was from days of backbreaking labor, not so much the trek we had made on the way down. We came to the second campsite about twenty minutes later. We did see signs of campers; a few empty soup cans that hadn’t yet rusted over, the remains of a campfire. A tin bucket still half filled with sand sat beside the fire ring. I nodded in approval. These campers had known the dangers of forest fires. Doused their campfire with sand. There were no signs of a tent, sleeping bags, or any scrambling rush to escape, so it looked like no one had been here at least in the past couple of weeks.

Onward we went, winding our way through the bottom of the valley, following the stream. Despite the fire raging not far away, it seemed peaceful here. The gurgling of the stream, bubbling water over rocks, a gentle breeze. And yet, I saw no signs of animals. I heard not one bird. They were smart. When they smelled danger in the air, they would travel downstream, away from the fire that threatened.

“Maybe the captain was right and the authorities did manage to get everyone to leave,” Matt commented.

We made our way to the third designated campsite. I nodded, certainly hoping that was true. We had made good time. I was anxious to get back up to the fire line and join the other Hotshots. Then, to my surprise, a gust of whirlwind blew a flurry of dust into my eyes. I paused, ducked my head, and swiped at them. Not dust. Embers.

At the same time, Matt and I looked up through the trees. Black, roiling smoke. In the distance, I heard the crackle of flames. My pulse began to race. “Oh my God, the fire has topped the ridge!”

We picked up our pace, jogging now as we headed toward the third campsite noted on the brochure. My heart sank when I saw a cluster of tents.

“Hello!” Matt called out.

Six tents had been erected in a half circle around a cold campfire. All of the tents were zipped up. I ran from one to the other, unzipping the doorways and peeking inside. “Empty!” I called after I checked each one.

Were campers still in the area or had they simply abandoned their campsite? We didn’t know. Matt and I stared at one another. We were thinking the same thing. I turned toward the west and he turned toward the east and we began calling out.

“Hello! Anyone here?”

We paused in between each shout, pausing to listen to any reply. Matt headed into the tree line toward the stream side of the campsite while I headed slightly upslope toward the aspens.

“Hello! Anyone here?”

Matt and I each called out, not at the same time. We paused before the other called out so that we wouldn’t drown out the cries of anyone responding. Soon, Matt joined me and shook his head.

“I’m not hearing a damn thing,” he commented. “He glanced over his shoulder toward the eastern slope.

I followed his gaze. Up there, in the tree line, I thought I saw snatches of flames. “Shit,” I muttered. I glanced up at Matt. “It looks a couple of miles away, but what do you want to do? Do you think there’s anybody here or do you think they just simply up and left everything?”

He shook his head. “They had ample warning to leave, according to the authorities, so I don’t see why they would have left everything behind.” He glanced up toward the slope of aspens. “Maybe they’re up there in the trees somewhere, taking pictures or something.”

“Wouldn’t they have heard us by now?”

Matt shook his head, frowning. He pulled the map from his pocket, studied it carefully for a moment. “There’s a waterfall up there, about halfway up the slope and over there by those rocks.” He pointed. “See over there?”

I followed his pointing finger and nodded. If they were near a waterfall or anything larger than the stream we followed down here, chances were they wouldn’t hear us calling. Still, the time it would take to venture up the slope toward the waterfall would eat up precious time. We still had several more campsites to search before we reached the far side of the valley below.

“We can’t take the chance,” I said what we were both thinking. “We’re going to have to get up there as quickly as we can, make sure that there’s no one there.”

He nodded. Without saying another word, he quickly headed upslope. I paused long enough to attach the pieces of my multi-tool together, giving myself support, much like the walking stick I had at home. Then I quickly followed him up the steep, shale-sided mountainside. In a matter of moments, he was nearly fifty yards ahead of me. I tried to pick up my pace, but it was like he was possessed.

He turned around once, glanced over his shoulder, and impatiently waved at me, as if urging me to hurry up. I nodded, forced my legs to move faster. They burned. My thighs bunched, my calf muscles protested, but I moved faster, gritting my teeth as I forced myself upward one foot at a time.

I don’t know how far we ventured upward, but the angle was incredible. I was in really good shape, Matt even better, and yet we were both breathing hard, hunched over from the physical exertion. Taking this hike at a leisurely rate wouldn’t be a problem, but we were in a hurry. We couldn’t waste any time lollygagging our way up the slope.

Finally, we reached a small plateau. Gasping for breath, resting my hands on my knees, I stared upward. Up ahead I saw a gorgeous waterfall. Nothing too big, maybe twenty-five feet tall. There, in a small meadow off to the side, I saw a cluster of people.

The minute Matt saw them, he rushed toward them. I followed, ignoring my screaming muscles as I forced air into my burning lungs. It looked to be about half a dozen young teenagers and two adults. They stood near a cluster of rocks, eyeing the fire with alarm. When they saw us, they all began to start calling and yelling at the same time.

“Is this your entire group?” Matt asked one of the adults, making no introductions.

A middle-aged man, slightly portly man with a balding head, nodded. “We’re here on a church retreat. We came to look at the colors—”

“We have to get out of here, now.”

Matt’s voice was firm. Urgent.

Two of the young teenage girls stared at Matt, then me, eyes wide with fear. They gazed up at the fire, which could now be plainly seen near the top of the opposite mountain as it made its way over the rim. Three younger boys stood behind them, one of them trying to show a display of bravado, although the other two students shifted nervously from foot to foot, glancing between us and the adults.

“Dad, I think we’d better—”

The other man in the group, who looked pale, tall, and thin, turned to Matt and shook his head. “I think we’ll be safer here, near the water. We can get into the water, hang onto the side—”

“Mister, that fire is moving fast, and we’ve got to get you all out of here. If we move quickly, follow the stream down slope, we can get you to safety. Up here, you’re taking your chances.”

“But the water—”

“Dammit!” Matt’s swore, pointing at the water roiling at the base of the waterfall and then heading sharply downward. “You see how fast that water is moving? There’s no way you can hang onto anything to keep you from being swept downstream. You have just as much chance of drowning as you do of being burned if you don’t move. Now let’s go!”