White Heat (19 page)

“The wind is moving ahead of the thunderstorm.”

Whipped by the wind, the smoke thickened.

Griffin disappeared near where the glint of hard hats had been only a moment ago, though now none of them were visible. Coughing, wheezing with the asthma that had never been worse, Lyndie blinked furiously but she could see nothing but flames and smoke, which seemed to blow up right before her very eyes and head northward with shocking speed.

Heading right for where Griffin and the others had disappeared.

“Oh, my God.” She ran to one of the men, grabbed his radio and lifted the radio to her mouth. “Griffin! The fire just blew up, it’s coming at you! Griffin, can you hear me?
Ven por aca, apurarse,
” she shouted, hoping if he couldn’t hear her, the men could, and that they would indeed come this way, and hurry.

No answer, just static and the sound of the fire licking at them, crackling, which she imagined was the sound of them all dying. God, she was listening to them die, and with a helpless glance at Tom, she hooked the radio on her belt and began running.

Griffin heard Lyndie’s frantic warning through the radio, just as he jumped down a ten-foot drop to the crew of about fifteen guys, getting ready to work on turning the fire back on itself across the most northern front.

But they hadn’t heard the weather change. They didn’t know that if the wind started at the bottom of the canyon beneath them, it would whip the fire into a frenzy, creating a vacuum up the ravine, sucking the flames right up and out the cliff rock above them.

Annihilating every one of them in the process.

Just one little mistake, he told himself grimly, his heart pounding hard, he’d known that’s all it would take here. In this case, that would be lack of swift communication from the fire central to the last man out in the field, a critical error that would rest on the incident commander’s head.

His.

It wouldn’t be the first time. In Idaho, the conditions hadn’t been that different, despite the fact that fire had been three times the size, their equipment the latest available, the crew all trained.

That fire had stretched out for three weeks, until every last one of them had been exhausted, made worse by the remote conditions. With no neighboring town nearby, they’d all been camping at their base. The food situation had been army rations for the most part. Then there’d been the long hot hours. Everyone’s attention span had been low, they’d been sluggish.

A nightmare waiting to happen, and it had.

He wouldn’t let history repeat itself. When he leapt down, the crew all looked up in unison, surprised, just as Griffin remembered one important little fact.

He didn’t speak Spanish.
“Vamanos ahora,”
he shouted.
Let’s go, now
thankfully being some of the only Spanish he knew, and pointed eastward, where they could go parallel across the mountain if they climbed up and over the rock cliff. They stood at the low point in the canyon, with the fire beneath them, looking at the deep gorges and dizzying heights, some of the most scenic views in the world. With one single burst of cold, moistureless wind, the fire would whip right up this point like a funnel.

They’d all perish.

He’d seen it happen. Hell, he’d lived it. “Move!” he shouted, pointing them in the right direction, showing them where he wanted them to go, then jumping back down to make sure every last one of them moved.

Despite the panic and fear, they began the climb out, helping each other, scrambling as fast as they could.

But the fire did exactly as he knew it would, he could feel it, hear it, roaring up the canyon wall in an unbelievable explosion of heat and wicked flame, moving in on them.

There were two men left to climb out, then one. Paco was a rancher, not a firefighter, and doing the best he could to scramble along, but he was clearly exhausted and terrified, and upon closer look, not older than sixteen. His fingers kept slipping on the rock, and Griffin, feeling the wall of fire at his back, hearing Lyndie’s frantic cry for him over the radio, saw his life flash before his eyes.

Not his early life, which had been full and happy and good, but the last year, which he’d completely let slip him by. He’d wasted an entire year, and now there were no second chances.

He gave the kid a shove and scrambled along after him, just as the hair on the back of his neck began to singe. At the top, the men waited for direction from Griffin, who felt paralyzed. The incredibly intense heat and wall of fire was coming at them, the smoke so thick and choking, they were all coughing and gasping.

But the only place to go was eastward, where there lay another ravine, this one a twenty-foot drop down.

God damn it, not now,
Griffin thought. He wasn’t going to die now. Hell, he’d gone through so much, suffered so much, but he’d never planned on dying.

And he didn’t plan on it now.

T
he ravine might be a twenty-foot drop but it had one thing going for it—it’d already been ravished by the fire and was down to black. Because he couldn’t make himself understood to the men, and because the flames were going to be licking at them in seconds again, he simply showed the men what he expected, and ran.

He came to a stop at the drop-off and pointed. Some went easier than others, but they all went, sliding down the face of the mountain. Griffin waited until each of them had gone before he jumped. It seemed he fell forever before he hit, hard.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of the scorching wall of heat from the fire.

Slowly he raised his head. They were now in an area that had already burned, and while the ground was black and still quite warm, the area couldn’t burn twice. Amazingly enough, they were safe.

And alive. “Okay?” he asked the men all around him, all looking as dirty and frightened as he probably did.

“Si,”
a few said. Others nodded. They got up and looked around in the same slow motion, jerky movements he’d seen and recognized so well.

Shock. Relief. Overwhelming relief. Above them and to the east and south the fire ravaged, but they were safe.

“Griffin.
Griffin!
” From the west side, the safe side, Lyndie appeared, chest heaving, skin damp, face white with fright. She stopped short of him and gasped for air. “You’re okay.” Turning, she took them all in and sagged. “You’re all okay.”

For some reason, an idiotic grin spread across Griffin’s face. “Yeah.”

She stared at him; his non-cuddler, kick-ass pilot, wavering slightly on legs that seemed unsteady. And then her eyes filled with tears.

His heart broke in two. “Ah, Lyndie, no. Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Angrily, she swiped at the one tear that fell and shot him a scathing look as she dragged air into her poor, tortured lungs. “I just have smoke in my eyes.”

God, she was magnificent. He took the step that separated them and cupped her jaw. “What, no hug? No sobbing, weeping woman throwing herself at me—”

“Bite me.” But she lifted her arms and threw them around his neck and squeezed so hard he couldn’t breathe. In that moment, breathing was highly overrated anyway.

This, though…this holding a bundle of solid, curvy, teary, sexy-as-hell woman in his arms, this was not overrated at all.

In fact, he dropped his hard hat and held on for a good long time, burying his face in the crook of her neck, which smelled like smoke and Lyndie. Her skin felt soft and cool against his and he figured he could stand here forever, but her breathing was so erratic and raspy, he couldn’t stand it. “Lyndie, your medicine—”

“I thought you were—”

“I know. Get out your inhaler, baby.”

She just squeezed him even tighter, pressing so close he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. “I couldn’t get here fast enough—”

“It’s okay—I’m all in one piece, everyone is.”

“I’m not falling apart.” But neither did she let go.

And neither did he.

By nightfall, Griffin and two others had indeed managed to get above the fire to verify it had reached the rock cliffs and had nowhere else to go.

It had turned back on itself, and all in all, they’d not lost too much more acreage. The south end of the fire, the one that had come so close to town, had begun to burn out as well, leaving only the higher elevations still hot. With or without cooperating weather now, it’d only be a day or so more before it ran out of fuel entirely.

Lyndie had never felt more satisfaction or relief. She’d had enough of danger and adrenaline and horrifying fear to last her a lifetime. The ride back to the inn was once again a crowded affair. She sat in the Jeep with her inhaler out—she’d needed it too much today—practically in Griffin’s lap in the front passenger seat, with everyone around them talking, chattering, excited.

Griffin smiled at something Brody said in the backseat, and she found herself staring into his dirty, exhausted face.

His smile slowly faded, but his eyes warmed.

So did her body. God, she’d died a thousand deaths today when he’d vanished on that mountain. She had no idea how he could have come to mean so much to her in such a short time, she a woman who never took any time at all to know anyone, but she couldn’t deny what she felt when she looked at him.

Around them chaos reigned; the engine and the Jeep, the roar of the wind, the laughter of the others…but Griffin reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek, and at the simple touch, everything else faded away. The dark night and its sounds, the roar of the Jeep, the conversation around them, everything, until it was just the two of them.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Was she okay…This past week had seemed an eternity, a blink of an eye. She’d met this incredible man, this amazing, strong, intelligent man. She’d watched him face his own living nightmare head-on and come through it. She’d laughed with him, cried with him.

Slept with him.

And tonight they’d all eat together, they’d probably talk and laugh some more. She might even sleep with him again—she really hoped she slept with him again—and then, first thing in the morning, she’d fly him back to his world, and then take herself off to hers.

The end of yet another little episode in her life. She had a bunch of episodes, all unconnected, all floating around in her memories now, always coming back to just her.

Just her.

It was what she’d always wanted. Freedom. Independence.

“Lyndie?”

“I’m okay.” She managed a smile. “I always am.”

At the inn, Rosa waited with more mountains of food. She didn’t have to bully anyone to eat tonight, they were all starving, Lyndie included. She ate, and afterward, before she could vanish to her room, Brody spun her around the courtyard to the Spanish music blaring from the small boom box on the brick wall.

The night was warm and still. Maybe she was hallucinating, or maybe she just wanted it so badly, but the night seemed clearer, more stunningly beautiful than she could remember. The moon cast a glow on the hills around them, and on the beautiful gardens in the courtyard that Rosa loved to slave over.

Unused to such frivolity, she tried to pull away because he was making her dizzy twirling her around. “I’ll step on your feet,” she warned.

“That’s why I wore steel-toed boots, darlin’.” Brody grinned. “Step on me all you want.”

She looked into a face so like Griffin’s with its quiet strength and see-all eyes, and yet so different. Brody’s smile came far easier, with deeper laugh lines, and Lyndie had a feeling the women found this Moore brother much easier to approach. “Why are you dancing with me anyway?”

“What, I can’t dance with a beautiful woman?”

“The beautiful woman who wants to dance with you is standing on the edge of the dance floor, dressed to the hilt to grab your attention, shooting me daggers with her flashing eyes.”

“Ah.
Nina,
” he said on a very masculine sigh.

“You know her father is armed, right?”

Brody grinned. “He wouldn’t really shoot me.”

“If you believe that, I’ve got some swampland up the street for sale.” She looked into his eyes and saw something behind the laughter. “Seriously. I wouldn’t play with her, fair warning.”

Brody’s smile faded. “I’m not playing.”

That’s what she’d been afraid of. “Rumor is you’ve been playing two nights running.”

“Rumor?”

Ooh, the baby brother did have a temper, suddenly it showed in every line of his body. She took pity. “Nina told me herself,” she said, and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, no one is ruining the princess’s reputation but the princess herself.”

“I care about her,” he said, his voice low. “I know that sounds crazy, but I do. Maybe as much as you care about my brother.”

She stared at him, unexpected emotion clogging her throat. “Well, then we’re both crazy.” With that, she tried to turn away from him, but he held her back.

“Lyndie, this is none of my business, but about Griffin—”

“That’s right, it isn’t any of your business.”

“I lost him for an entire year.”

She let out her breath. “I know. But he’s back now, and he’s—”

“Falling for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just trying to get back to the living, he’s—”

“Falling for you,” he repeated quietly. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Are you falling back?”

She stared at him. “He’s not over what happened to him last year. He’s not ready to fall for anyone.”

“Probably not, no.”

Each word felt like a stab to her heart, which didn’t make any sense.

“But they’re gone,” he said softly. “They’re gone and he isn’t. He’s learning he’s not dead. That his heart can love again—”

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “Listen, you’re way off base here. We’re not in love, we’re just…”
Jumping each other’s bones.

Brody laughed. “Yeah. You’re just.” He twirled her around again. “You know you’re really different from anyone he’s ever been with.”

She scowled. “So?”

“So…” He looked amused now, damn him. “That’s a good thing. You’re strong, independent. Tough as hell. I think that’s exactly what he needs. Someone to challenge him.”

“I’m going to challenge
you
here in a minute. To a nice dunking in the creek.”

Brody laughed again. “Hey, I’m not trying to pry. I want him happy again, that’s all.”

“He’s going to be plenty happy once I fly you both back in the morning.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be happy, too.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Brody stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “All right.” He lifted his hands in surrender. The song ended and he stepped back, a sad smile on his face. “Don’t hurt him, Lyndie.”

And then she was standing on the dance floor by herself, suddenly and desperately in need of quiet.

Whirling to find a door, she plowed right into Tom.

“Hey,” he said. “I was just looking for a pretty dancing partner.”

“No way, I—”

He spun her until she was cursing at him and laughing. “That’s better,” he said. “That’s way better. I know there haven’t been many reasons to smile down here for the past few weekends—”

“We’ve almost got it all behind us now.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a relieved smile. “But in any case, I believe things happen for a reason.”

“The fire? You think something good can come out of all that damage and destruction?”

For a moment he didn’t say anything, just continued to spin her around the room to the wild, loud music. “Yes,” he finally said. “I do. I think the ranchers learned a valuable lesson, one that the U.S. government has been trying to teach them for a long time. Their slash-and-burn methods have to change. I think the town realized how much of a team they are, and how important every single person is. I think Nina learned the world doesn’t always revolve around her.”

“Did you learn something, too?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know. Life is short, Lyndie. Too damn short. Things happen. Bad things.” He clipped her lightly on the chin. “So make the most of it. Make the most of every single second.” He smiled. “Though given what
you
learned, I probably don’t even have to say it.”

“Oh, really? And just what is it you think I learned?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Griffin enter the courtyard. Immediately he sought her out, and when he found her, she felt her heart stutter just a bit.

Tom touched her nose, his smile widening. “You just smiled genuinely for the first time all evening, did you know that?”

Startled, she looked back at Tom. “I did not.”

“You did. And you know what else? It suits you. Do you know yet what you learned down here, Lyndie?”

“What is it about tonight that makes you all think I want or need to hear about my life? I don’t need advice, I don’t need any lessons attached to what’s happened down here. Bottom line, you needed help, and getting you that help is my job. End of story.” And if she’d gotten a little action on the side, well then, that was no one’s business but her own. “But if you need it spelled out…I learned what a nosy bunch you all are. Now get out of my way, big guy, I need out of here. Badly.”

Tom laughed. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“Cut him off,” she said to Rosa, who was coming by with a tray of beers.

If Rosa did, Lyndie couldn’t have said, because she went out of the inn and into the night, drawing a deep breath of it into her lungs, holding it for a long moment before letting it go slowly.

She should be up in that air right now, flying her ass off, without an important thought in her head.

She shouldn’t be standing here by the creek, wondering if Griffin was going to give her another mind-blowing orgasm tonight. She shouldn’t be wondering if he was wondering about her.

And she sure as hell shouldn’t be wondering if he was going to miss her, even a little. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that here was her peace and calm whenever she needed it, a place that had stolen a chunk of her heart.

It would be enough.

“You needed out, too.”

She took her gaze off the sky and eyed the man most on her mind, who stood there, hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched as he stared off into the night.

“Yeah.” She pushed away from the wall, came toward him. “Everyone in there seems to feel so comfortable telling me how to run my life, so I felt comfortable getting the hell out.”

“It’s funny what people do in the name of love.” Griffin lifted a brow when she stopped midstride. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t like that L-word. It must really overwhelm you to come down here then, with Tom and Nina and Rosa all so crazy about you that they’d do anything for you. Including each of them threatening me with bodily harm if I hurt you.”

“What?” She sputtered over that for a moment, then growled, but Griffin cocked his head, studying her with an interest she wasn’t sure was a good thing. “Look,” she said. “No one hurts me. I make sure of that.”