White Heat (13 page)

He himself had been scraping dead and extremely flammable growth for hours now, and his stomach was still bouncing around. At the moment they had the fire at their backs and were working on setting the flames back on themselves, hoping to trap the hot monster.

A hot, hard gust of wind hit him, and then another, which made his heart sink. The weather report Tom had brought had been for a steady barometer and low winds.

And yet that’s not what it felt like. If they weren’t careful, the fire was going to jump this latest firebreak as well, and head south, right into town, never mind what the northward climb up the mountain would do.

Griffin lifted his head from his work, immediately searching out and finding Lyndie, only about ten yards away, digging hard.

She still wore the bandana around her mouth. It was filthy.
She
was filthy, sticky, damp with perspiration, and looked every bit as exhausted as he felt, and yet her arms never slowed as she worked as hard as any man out there. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And then suddenly, vibrantly, the wind shifted and the fire reacted accordingly; jumping, writhing, and just like that, he was hit.

Not by the heat, which was intense.

Not by the flames themselves, which were hot enough to make him feel sunburned.

No, what doubled him over was a sudden, menacing, unstoppable panic.

H
e couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Unreasonable and insidious, twisting inside him, Griffin actually grabbed at his throat as if that could help him drag air into his lungs.

He was back in Idaho. Staring helplessly at the crew that hadn’t made it to the other side of the firebreak as the flames flew through the air on the current from hot, harsh winds. The heavy winds without moisture had been like gasoline on a lit match.

Too late for fire shelters, too late for anything, in a blink of an eye, he’d watched, horrified, as they’d all perished.

“Griffin.” Suddenly, Lyndie stood right in front of him. She’d tossed aside her shovel, she’d tossed aside his, and held his arms in her hands, standing on tiptoe to look right into his face.

“The wind shifted,” he said hoarsely.

“Yes.” Her fingers dug into his arms, the only sign of her distress. “The wind shifted. What do we do?”

The best safety lies in fear.
Who’d said that, he wondered inanely, Shakespeare? Because nothing had ever been truer.

“Griffin, tell me what to tell them.”

He looked into her face, which was cool and calm, only her eyes filled with worry and apprehension, and hell if he was going to screw up now and lose her, too. “We retreat.” As he knew all too painfully, a change of even the smallest magnitude meant the difference between escape and entrapment.

He didn’t intend for anyone to get trapped. He took her arm, needing to hold on to something, someone, oddly relieved that it was her. Behind them, he felt the heat wall that always ran just ahead of the fire, and his heart kicked into an even higher gear. “Come. Hurry.”

Lyndie nodded and yelled over her shoulder,
“Ven por aca, apurarse,”
and the men did exactly that, running with them eastward.

“Faster,” he said to Lyndie, still holding her arm. He thrust his radio at her. “Tell them all to move now.”

She translated into the radio, and they scrambled up the path that only yesterday they’d used to map the perimeters, the fire now nipping at their heals.

At higher ground, safe for the moment, they began all over again, digging, clearing, more digging.

Several hours later, Griffin climbed a little higher to see what was happening. And when he did, he had to admit, despite the unpredictable wind, things were steady.

A hand settled on his shoulder. “We’ve made excellent progress, right?”

Lyndie’s soft voice penetrated the protective shell he’d donned like the rest of his gear, the one to protect him emotionally, but her touch slayed both it and him. He didn’t know how it was she could do that—make him feel, make him ache, but she did. She made him want to be a whole man again, she made him want so many things, and his throat was so tight when he turned to her that he didn’t trust his voice so he simply nodded.

Shockingly enough, they
had
made excellent progress. They’d nearly made back the time they’d lost this morning. East and west movement were covered, fully contained. Northbound, the fire had made little headway, appearing to be trapped by the rocks, and southward, toward town, they were frantically working ahead of the flames and, unbelievably, were actually close there as well.

They stood together like that for a long moment. Lyndie sighed and pushed her hair out of her face, her fingers leaving a long streak of dirt across her cheek and jaw, which joined several streaks already there. Looking at her, he couldn’t believe how badly he’d lost it, and how she’d managed to break through with just her voice and a touch.

“I really think we’re good,” she said.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t look away from her. “We’re good.”

But she frowned, and grabbed his hand, which was bloody. “Where the hell are your gloves?” Pulling them out of his own back pocket, she waved them in front of his face. “Hello, earth to Griffin, come in Griffin.”

A grim smile touched his lips. How was it that this rough and tumble woman drew him? “You’re quite the cuddler, aren’t you.”

Lyndie resisted the urge to smile. “If you want a cuddle, go find your mom.” But because she couldn’t help it, she lifted his palm to her cheek, something inside her reacting to that simple connection. She wondered if he felt it, too. Or was he drowning in all the emotion he faced? “I know today is hard for you,” she said softly. “And that you’re upset and sick with it—”

His thumb skimmed over her jaw. “I’m not sick.”

“Griffin.”

“Do I look sick to you right now, Lyndie?”

She looked him over. Now his eyes were glittering, but not with fear or panic. Before she could mention that, he’d put his free hand on her hip, backing her to a tree. Blocking her from view with his broad shoulders, he looked down at her with an expression that took her breath.

“Maybe you should take my temperature,” he suggested.

Oh, my.

“Here, let me help you.” He covered her mouth with his. He kissed her hard, sucking her tongue into his mouth, and only when she was breathless and letting out pathetically needy little whimpers did he pull back.

Breathing as hard as she was, he held on to her. “Do I feel sick to you?” he asked again.

She put her hand to her pounding heart. “You feel…hot.” My God, she thought, did he feel hot.

“Hot.” He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

At her hip, the radio squawked, and never taking his eyes off her, he removed it from its clip and lifted it to her lips.

“Si,”
she said, then listened. Sergio spoke, saying they had a group of about twenty men at the southwestern tip of the fire, the closest point to town, and they’d managed to contain that end. Hugging her radio, she looked up at Griffin and felt her eyes go moist. “We’ve got it.”

After nearly six hundred acres and vicious winds fighting them every step of the way, they were finally one-hundred-percent fully contained.

He stared at her. “Sure?”

Gripping his shirt, she tugged him close. “Sure.” And then she did as he’d done…she kissed him, hard and hot as the fire around them.

At the end of the day, with dusk approaching faster than their exhaustion, another crew came to relieve them. They’d traveled from Mexico City and were going to patrol and mop up, making sure the contained fire didn’t jump any more lines while it burned itself out, an event they figured would take another three days at least.

The mood was light and relieved. Griffin drove back, and Lyndie let him because she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. Down the hill they went as darkness fell, the shadows and bumpy road hypnotizing as she fought to stay awake.

“Close ’em,” Griffin said over the roar of the engine and the wind. “I’ll be on coyote watch.”

She relaxed back against the seat, drifting along on thoughts of a hot shower and a soft bed—only to jerk awake, holding on for dear life when they hit a rut. But she couldn’t have flown out of the Jeep, she was hooked in by the seat belt, and also by Griffin’s arm, which he held out in front of her over every bump they hit.

“Relax,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

She closed her eyes, tried to picture herself flying home tonight, which was their plan. By tomorrow morning she’d be wherever she wanted, doing whatever she wanted, when she wanted. Which meant she’d be alone.

I’ve got you.

Funny thing, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn’t get past those three little words and what they meant. Why was it that with this man, she could let her guard down? For once, she didn’t have to have everything covered at all times…

She awoke with a start when someone touched her hip. Sitting straight up, she bashed her head into—

Griffin’s.

“Ouch,” he said, and unhooked her seat belt before rubbing his head.

She could see him in the dark now—they were parked. The lights of the inn twinkled in the background, as did the scents of Rosa’s delicious dinner. Lyndie’s body’s clock was all screwed up but she knew she could have only been out a few minutes.

Rubbing her head where she’d bumped it into Griffin’s, she looked into his face. “I can’t believe I fell that hard.”

“A fifteen-hour day like the one we just had would get to anyone.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the Jeep, slipping an arm around her.

“I’m not that tired,” she said, but didn’t smack his hands away like she might have anyone else. Instead, she leaned into him, surprising them both when she set her head on his shoulder. Just for a moment, she told herself, letting out a little sigh of pleasure when he pulled her closer. Just for a moment…

“Hey.” This was accompanied by a gentle shake. “Let’s get you some food.”

“Right.” She blinked, startled to find herself at the front door, still in his arms. And strong nice arms they were.

Inside Tallulah barked with sheer happiness at the sight of them until their ears felt like they were going to pop off, and Rosa yelled at her to be quiet. Rosa kept hugging her “heroes,” tsking and clucking over them, stuffing them with food until Lynide couldn’t move. She glanced over at Griffin, who was smiling and making small talk, but the tension was still there around his mouth and in his eyes, and she knew he wanted to be home. Pushing away from the table, she smiled. “Okay, let’s hit it.”

“No, no you should stay until tomorrow,” Rosa protested. “Rest.”

“I got a catnap on the way back here. That’s all I needed.”

Rosa rolled her eyes. “How you do that, sleep in pieces, I will never understand. Fine, go. Go wherever the wind blows you, eventually you will come back.”

“I think I’m on the schedule for a fly-in next week.”

“We’ll take what we can get until you admit this is your home.”

“My home is the sky. I’ve told you that.”

“And I’ve told you,” Rosa said calmly, taking their plates away, “That your heart can have more than one home.”

“My heart doesn’t need a home.”

“Of course your heart needs a home.” Rosa made a soft sound of disgust. “Every heart needs a home.”

Uncomfortable, Lyndie glanced at Griffin. He sat watching her, eyes inscrutable.

What was he thinking? And why did she care? Throwing up her arms, she stood. “I’m out of here, Ace. If you want a ride, it’s now or never.”

Striding down the hall, she headed out the front door and ran smack into Nina.

The young woman crossed her arms and held her ground. “I suppose you’re sneaking out of here without me.”

“We already discussed this,” Lyndie said, trying to go around her but she wouldn’t move. “Don’t be mad.”

“I
am
mad,” she said in her heavily accented English. “You could take me. It would be no skin off your ear.”

“You mean nose. It’d be no skin off my nose.”

“Whatever.”

Lyndie sighed. “I told you why I can’t take you to the States.”

“Yes. You care more about my father than me. And after five years of being friends.”

“Nina—”

“If your next sentence does not start and end with ‘yes, I will take you’ then don’t bother.”

Lyndie closed her mouth.

And Nina turned away.

“Nina—”

Nina lifted her hand, shook her head. Fine. Lyndie stepped out into the night, then got behind the steering wheel of Tom’s Jeep. She
was
driving tonight. She
was
flying tonight. Alone, except for her one passenger, and she could ignore him if she had to.

And she wouldn’t feel guilty for needing to get away from Rosa’s knowing eyes. For leaving Nina. She wouldn’t.

She was in charge of her own destiny, and no one else’s. The freedom of that had always been thrilling, driving her. She understood Nina’s wish to be as free, but that was for her to work out with Tom.

Where the hell was Griffin?

She started the engine. Revved it a few times. “Come on, Ace,” she muttered, and wished the Jeep had a horn that worked so she could blare it.

Finally the front door opened, and he sauntered out. “You’d think you were late for a date,” he said, when he finally got close enough.

“Maybe I am.”

He tossed his two bags in the back and eyed her. “You’re too ornery to have a date waiting for you.”

“Just get in.”

“You really up to flying home?”

“You’d rather stick around here until morning?”

As an answer, he slid his long body into the passenger seat. She put the Jeep into gear but he settled a hand on hers. “Lyndie.”

She let out another sigh. “I’m fine.”

He just looked at her.

“I am. I really can sleep in little increments, it’s a gift from my grandfather.” She softened her voice as he held eye contact. “I just want out, too, you know?”

“Yeah.” His gaze traveled over her face, settled on her lips. “I know.”