Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (22 page)

Fingers snapped in front of his face. “Earth to Kyle.”

He looked up and met her worried gaze.

“You all right?” she asked. “Need any help?”

He gave himself a mental shake. “No, I’m fine. You go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay, but don’t be long. We’ve got less than thirty minutes now.”

Then she leaned down, her mouth settling over his in a kiss that was in no way gentle. In fact, it was close to bruising, definitely demanding, and hot enough to scramble his brains. It was also too damn short. She pulled back and stepped away just as he reached for her. At least her breathing sounded as ragged as his. Small comfort.

Kyle stretched his arm in her direction, fingers brushing her bare skin. “Come back here, woman.”

She skipped away another step, shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Call it incentive to hurry and come back to camp.” Then she spun around and was gone.

Kyle swore. Incentive, was it? He’d show her incentive.

****

The camp was in an uproar by the time Kyle made it back to the clearing. Ordered chaos, the Hawks would call it. One of the young mechanics who’d been helping him the last two days already had Kyle’s toolbox packed and closed up. It only took a minute to wheel it around and lift it into the back of Kyle’s truck. He thanked the guy and waved away further help. Climbing into the bed was a little awkward, but not, he realized, as bad as it would have been a few weeks ago. He was learning to compensate, and so was his body. He guided the toolbox to the front of the truck’s bed, then leaned down and locked the wheels. A thick bungee tie secured it in place for good measure. No telling how rough the drive down the mountain was going to get.

Kyle sat on the side of the truck and paused, glancing over at the medical tent. Things were busy there as well. Two men exited, carrying a heavy-looking crate between them. Thinking he might give Farrah and her ladies a hand, he flung his other leg over the side and slid to the ground, surprising himself when he stuck the landing on his good leg without even thinking about it. Damn if the doctor at the VA hospital might be right. Maybe with time he’d learn to get around without feeling like half a man.

He wasn’t quite at the tent when he caught the familiar thump of a helicopter.

“Kyle!”

He turned to see one of the coordinators looking his way, hands cupped around his mouth. “Hey,” he yelled. “Let the doc know we got an injury coming in, will ya? Tell her to hurry it up.”

Kyle raised a hand to signal he’d heard, then headed for the tent again. Inside was even more chaos, though again, chaos with purpose. Each woman had a plastic box clearly labeled, and was filling it as fast as hands could fly.

“Farrah.”

She looked up from clearing a shelf, frowning when she saw him. “Kyle, is something wrong?”

“You got incoming.”

“Now?” Crissy squeaked, jerking her head up to look at him, her eyes wide.

Everyone looked past him to the helicopter just setting down. Farrah tossed her box on the ground. “Dig out the usual supplies, ladies. I’ll go see what we have.”

Kyle moved back to let her pass him. He waited by the tent opening, pulling back the flap as the injured man was brought in. From the look on Farrah’s face, he knew it was bad.

“Crissy, I need a unit of plasma and a surgery tray, stat. Rose, unpack the anesthesia. You,” she pointed at one of the men leaving the tent. “Let command know we’re not going anywhere for a while. This man needs surgery now, or he’ll bleed out.”

The man glanced outside the tent then turned back, wiping his soot covered face on his sleeve. “I’ll tell command, but you realize that fire’s coming over the ridge in less than two hours.”

“I hear you,” she said with a wave of a hand, her attention already on the man on the table. Kyle watched her. The tender, almost shy lover of a few minutes ago was gone, replaced by a competent doctor sure of her skills. He would have been content to stay in his corner of the tent observing her work, but she glanced up and pinned him with her sharp gaze.

“Don’t you need to go pack up your stuff?”

“No, I’m done.”

“Good.” She lifted her chin in the direction of some half-packed boxes. “Do you mind finishing up those boxes so the girls can help me? That way, we’ll be ready to move when we’re done here.”

“Sure.”

****

Farrah worked as fast as her fingers could find something to fix. Twice, someone stuck their head into the tent, asking for an update. She let the others answer for her, too caught up in what she was doing to pause even for a second. The branch that had impaled the man had torn a ragged path through muscle and soft tissue, including a bad gash to the liver. She had only one shot at saving the damaged organ and the man’s life.

Images of another man, dead from a liver shredded by a bullet meant for her, worked their way into her thoughts. Fighting back a shudder, she called for more suction and continued setting stitches. After Cairo, she’d read everything she could get her hands on about artery and liver repairs, from minor nicks to major reconstruction. She’d assisted with numerous surgeries, observed many others, and gone to several conferences on both subjects. Arterial work was still tricky. She wasn’t comfortable with that level of difficulty even now. But liver repair? Never again would someone bleed out right in front of her from a damaged liver. Not if she could help it.

“Dr. Hastings!”

“Farrah!”

“What?” She was almost finished. If they’d just leave her alone for a couple more minutes…

“Farrah, we have to go,” Kyle insisted.

“Give me a second.” She whipped the thread around and pulled, setting the last knot.

“Farrah, tie it off. The chopper’s here. We have to go, now!”

She snipped the thread, held up her hands, and stepped back. “All right, I’m done. Pack the wound, Crissy. Let’s get him ready to move. Rose, what’re his vitals looking like?”

“He’s stable.”

“Good enough.” She pulled off her bloody gloves and tugged down her mask. Only then, did she glance around, surprised to see the nearly empty tent was hazy with smoke. Surprised, too, to see Kyle, bare-handed, helping Crissy pack the wound.

“Wait, that’s not—”

“No time to wait, Farrah, that fire is almost on top of us. Let’s move it, ladies.”

Rose and Crissy quickly piled anesthesia and IV equipment on the stretcher with the unconscious patient. The wheels were unlocked and they were moving. Farrah gave the few items left behind one glance, then ran after them. Outside, she paused and looked to the west. Dense smoke blanketed the sky, boiling up in angry-looking layers. So close.

“Farrah!”

She turned back around to see Kyle standing by the helicopter, waving to her. Reaching him, she grabbed his arm, suddenly afraid of letting go. She let him help her up inside, but still didn’t release him. The copter was small, the space inside cramped. In addition to the stretcher-bound patient and the two nurses, two EMTs were aboard. There was barely enough room for her. Kyle’s bulk was going to make it a tight fit. She felt him try to pull away.

“Let go, Farrah,”

Turning to him, she pushed hair out of her face so she could meet his gaze. Kyle, her Kyle. Strong and stubborn, and full of so much love. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

“Come on,” she said trying to pull him inside. “Kyle, come on, climb in.”

****

“I’m not coming.”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Farrah yelled at him. “There’s room. We’ll make room.”

Kyle shook his head. “No need, the road should still be clear. I’ll drive my truck down.”

He tried to pull out of her hold again, but she held on like a leach, just staring at him. Then, in a move that both amazed and annoyed the hell out of him, she climbed out of the helicopter. “What do you think you’re doing? Damn it, Farrah, get back in the damn chopper.”

“No, I’m not leaving you to drive down off this mountain alone. You might need help.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“No! I’m staying. We’ll drive down together.” She released him then, darting around him before he could stop her, her head lowered against the wind from the spinning blades overhead. Kyle swore.

“Fagan!” The chopper’s pilot called, clearly anxious to be in the air.

Knowing he didn’t have time to wrestle her back on board, Kyle waved a hand at the man. “Go,” he yelled. He took several steps back. “Just go. I’ve got her.”

He turned his back on the easy way out of what was soon to be a hell hole, finding Farrah waiting a dozen yards away. Kyle didn’t bother watching the helicopter she should have been on rise into the air. He marched up to Farrah and took possession of her arm. Then he began dragging her in the direction of his truck. “Damn fool, stubborn woman. One-day-be-the-death-of-me woman!”

Her arm jerked in his hold. “Stop man-handling me. You know I don’t like it. And I don’t need you swearing at me, either. Cuss words don’t solve anything.”

“They make me feel better.”

“No, they don’t. Yelling makes you feel better. It releases endorphins—”

“Farrah, really, I don’t need a damn science lesson right now. I just need you to come along with me quietly. If you don’t like that, too bad. Hell, woman, you made the asinine decision not to get on the chopper, now you have to live with it.”

She tried to jerk out of his hold again, this time digging in her heels. “I know that, you idiot, stop pulling on me. I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

Kyle stopped all right. He planted the tip of his cane in the ground and spun Farrah around in his arms. Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her until they were nose to nose. “Yes, you’re capable. You are, without doubt, the most capable woman I know. Hell, you’re as clever as a raccoon and twice as devious. But did it never occur to you that the
smart
thing to do would have been to get on that helicopter? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re about to be over-run by a damn forest fire!”

More smoke wafted into the clearing, driven by the ever-changing winds. The acrid smell burned his nose and Kyle’s eyes watered. He blinked, but didn’t look away from Farrah’s determined stare. Even as he damned her stubbornness, he couldn’t help but admire her strength. The woman simply didn’t know how to back down.

To prove his point, she said, “No, it didn’t. Not for an instant. Not without you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Her hand suddenly cupped his cheek. Kyle froze. A forest fire was bearing down on them and he couldn’t seem to move a damn muscle.

“I know you can,” she said. “You’re a strong man, Kyle Fagan, just like I’m a strong woman. But together, we’re more than just strong. We’re unbeatable.”

Kyle pulled her into his arms. He couldn’t speak for the emotion choking him. Never, not in all the years of his life, had he dared to dream that Farrah would say those words to him. He felt blessed and scared shitless both at the same time. How the hell could a man hope to live up to something like that?

Another cloud of smoke swirled around them, thicker, darker, hotter. A stab of fear shot through him. He had to get her to safety.

“Come on.” He set her back and took her hand in his. “Let’s get off this mountain.”

“Let me drive,” Farrah said, holding out her hand for the keys. “You can navigate.” When he hesitated, she heaved a sigh. “Come on, we’re a team, remember? You can save your leg for walking.”

He reluctantly handed her the keys. A whooshing and crackling sound came from behind them. Kyle turned to see the tops of some pine trees, about fifty yards away, burst into full blaze.

“Time to go.” He gave her a push toward the truck. They both dived into the cab. Farrah cranked it up and had them out of the clearing in five seconds flat.

The road down was clear of everything but smoke, and thankfully, that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. They could still see the road. Kyle estimated they’d traveled only about a mile when Farrah brought them smoothly around the first of several tight curves. She braked. Ahead of them, the road was blocked by a large tree limb. To the left, the thickly brushed hillside rose steep enough that the truck wouldn’t make it. To the right, the narrow shoulder of the road dropped off sharply into another steep hillside. No way could they go around the makeshift barrier.

Farrah put the truck into park. For a few seconds, neither of them said a word. Things fell into the roads that thread through the mountains all the time. Rocks and boulders were common, as were trees and old limbs. He’d seen enough fallen branches to know when one had been dragged into place.

He opened his door. “Stay here.”

“Kyle—”

“I know.” He met her gaze. “It didn’t get there by itself. But turning around isn’t an option. We have to get past this. Just keep your eyes open.”

Farrah bit her bottom lip and nodded. Kyle closed his door and approached the dead limb someone had pulled into the road. He stopped and looked around. Nothing moved. No one jumped out to take credit for the poorly planned prank—if that’s what it was. Maybe the fire service thought everyone had evacuated and had the limb put there to discourage anyone from driving up to see the fire? Yeah, maybe, but he didn’t think so.

Kyle gripped the limb with one hand and lifted. Using the other end as a pivot, he limped around until at least half of the road was clear. As soon as he dropped the limb, he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

“Kyle,” Farrah called, no doubt trying to warn him about the threat limping out of the brush. The man was bedraggled, his shirt and jeans filthy, his bushy hair tangled. The look in his dark-eyed gaze was wild. He swung the gun he was holding in Farrah’s direction, then back at Kyle. Good, he’d rather that danger was aimed at him instead of her. Kyle shifted forward a little. He needed to get a lot closer.

“Don’t move.” The man pointed the gun back at Farrah, but kept his eyes on Kyle. “You move and she’s dead.”

Damn it!
Kyle wanted to yell out his frustration. This was Craddoc. He recognized him from the picture on the flyers Penwell was handing out all over the valley. What was he doing up here? He was supposed to be long gone, wasn’t he? Yet here he was on foot, and apparently well-armed. Instead of the .38 revolver Penwell had said Craddoc had taken from the deputy, he carried a stainless .45. And it was pointed back at Farrah. The man was jumpy and desperate, not a good combination. He had to get the man’s attention.