Chapter 10

TEN

Booth leaned the shovel against a tree and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He'd taken about fifteen minutes to dig a six-inch-wide fire line in an arc.

He grabbed the red gas can he'd taken from the truck. The reek of gasoline permeated his nostrils as he splashed the line of vegetation bordering the cabin. He trailed back into the woods, soaking the blanket of pine needles and desiccated brush. The perfect fuse.

Next, he took a burning stick from the campfire ring and knelt in the woods. Watching. Waiting.

It seemed like forever before Floyd exited the cabin, coffee mug in hand. "Where is he?" He held a cell phone up to the sky. "Dern spotty cell coverage."

Booth held his breath and touched the flaming stick to the gasoline-soaked trail.

The line ignited with a soft whump.

Flames chewed through the fuel. Smoke boiled up in noxious plumes as the fire found more vegetation to consume.

"What the—" Floyd jumped back. His mug shattered on the ground, spilling his drink. He bolted inside under a stream of expletives.

Booth was already on the move, circling wide along the blaze toward the truck parked in front.

Floyd exploded from the cabin with a rifle in his hand. "Hey! Who's out there!" He stumbled off the porch, coughing. "If that's you, Wilder, your friend is going to die. Same way my brother did!"

Booth burst from cover, his pistol aimed at Floyd's chest. "Drop it, Floyd! Hands up or you'll never take another breath!"

Floyd's face twisted into a snarl. His hand twitched to raise his rifle.

"Don't even think about it." Booth took a step toward Floyd.

Ten feet separated them.

"I knew you'd come running. Always gotta be the hero. You and that friend of yours. Casper."

"Crispin." Booth took another step.

Eight feet.

Floyd snorted. "Casper's a better name. Especially after I'm through with him."

"Last chance. Put your gun down. I don't want to shoot you." He closed another step.

Six feet.

"Go ahead! Shoot me! Do it! What are you waiting for!" Floyd sneered.

Booth took a step closer.

Five feet.

Apparently, that hadn't been coffee in Floyd's cup, because Booth could smell alcohol on his breath. "I'm warning you, Floyd. Put the rifle down."

"You ain't an agent no more. You're a smokejumper who don't have the guts to shoot."

Little did he know, Booth did have the guts to shoot. In fact, his finger clenched tighter around the trigger, ready to squeeze. "Put. Down. Your. Weapon."

Floyd lunged. With a garbled shout, he swung the rifle at Booth's head.

Booth dodged. Wasn't fast enough. Agonizing stars exploded as the stock cracked against his shoulder. Shooting pain screamed up his arm. He stumbled but held the gun steady on Floyd's chest, trigger finger itching to fire.

Floyd's rifle went up fast.

A deafening crack split the chaos.

Booth flinched but the shot went wild.

He charged Floyd. Together they crashed backward. The rifle hit the ground, and Booth kicked it away. Floyd scrambled to his feet and ran for his truck, fumbling for the gun in his waistband.

Two shots rang out.

Booth dove behind a tree as bullets bit into the bark.

A gust of wind blew burning debris onto the porch. Embers found the liquid from Floyd's coffee cup and burst into flames. The wooden planks caught. In seconds, the narrow porch was engulfed in flames.

No, no, no. Crispin was in there!

Booth popped up and returned fire.

The first went wide, but his second shot exploded the rear window of Floyd's truck.

"You'll pay for this!" Floyd bellowed. He squeezed off another wild shot and hopped onto the ATV.

The engine growled and Floyd gunned it. He drove straight through the fire, headed for the woods behind the cabin.

Booth squeezed off a couple more shots after him but only managed to pepper the ground as Floyd disappeared into the woods.

His prime suspect. Gone.

But his partner could still be alive.

Booth jumped over the burning porch and burst through the cabin door. He braced for an attack. Only silence greeted him. Inside the dingy interior, he smelled the metallic tang of blood.

From the mattress in the corner, Crispin lifted his head. "What took you so long?" The words came out cracked and hoarse.

Even from across the room, Booth could see he was in rough shape. Crispin's arms and face were mottled black and blue with contusions. "You should've stayed in the hospital. Anyone else here?"

Crispin winced. "Don't think so, but that greasy dude who shot me was here earlier."

Booth hadn't seen anyone in the cabin with Floyd, but he swept the two cramped rooms with his gun leading the way. Empty.

"Now that you've had the tour, think you can uncuff me?" Crispin rattled the handcuffs.

Holstering his weapon, Booth went to Crispin. "I don't suppose you have the key?"

"Nope."

"I'm guessing a bobby pin is too much to ask for."

"Best I can offer is that pair of sunglasses over there." Crispin tipped his head toward the table, where a pair of aviators sat.

"That'll work." Booth broke off the metal earpiece and used it to pick the lock on the cuff around Crispin's wrist. After about fifteen seconds, it disengaged with a click. "We need to move fast. You okay to walk?"

Crispin nodded and eased into a sitting position. "Why do we have to move fast?"

"I sorta set the cabin on fire." His eyes landed on a set of keys tossed atop a nearby crate. Floyd's ride, no doubt. God seemed to be on their side for once.

"You what?" Crispin shouted. "Are you nuts? You coulda killed me!"

Booth snatched the keys. "In my defense, I only set the grass on fire. The wind blew the fire onto the porch." Aware Floyd could return at any moment, Booth headed for the door. "We can discuss it later. Let's go."

Crispin tried to get to his feet. He groaned and fell back on the mattress.

"I got you, buddy." With as much care as he could muster, Booth lifted Crispin to his feet. He pulled Crispin's good arm around his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his friend's waist.

Somehow, Booth managed to stay upright and stagger through the fire without scoring major burns for either of them. He half carried Crispin to the battered pickup just outside.

At the sight of Floyd's vehicle, Booth breathed a sigh.

They might just make it out of here alive after all.

Nova's heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the growing crackle of advancing flames. Biting back a scream, she staggered deeper into the woods, clutching her broken ribs with one arm. She'd survived that horrific midair collision with Finn, but the fire had her trapped on the mountainside with no way out.

If she was going down, she wouldn't go easy. Not Nova Burns.

Her ankle screamed with each step, but she limped onward. Smoke stung her eyes, making it impossible to orient herself or judge the fire's proximity. There had to be something she could do. Some way out.

All she'd wanted was to follow in her uncle Jock's footsteps. It had been her driving purpose since before she could carry a Pulaski. Oh, she was following in his footsteps all right. Facing an excruciating end by being overrun by a fire.

What good was that lifelong dream if she died alone?

Booth's face flashed in her mind. His floppy hair and wide grin stirred an ache in her heart. If only they'd had more time to explore the spark igniting between them. But it was too late for regrets.

A high-pitched mewl stopped Nova in her tracks.

She squinted into the haze. Wide eyes peered out of the brush near the base of a tree. Nova recognized the round ears and mottled coat.

A mountain lion cub.

And where there was a cub, its ferociously protective mother wouldn't be far behind.

As if on cue, a blood-chilling growl rumbled behind her.

Adrenaline spiked through Nova's battered body. She made a slow, awkward turn on her twisted ankle.

A sleek and powerful female mountain lion stared at Nova. Her ears were pinned back. Body crouched low to the ground. Hindquarters raised. Tail twitching.

"Okay, mama. I'm a human, not dinner." She kept eye contact and spoke in a loud, assertive voice. "You stay there. I'll leave you and your baby alone."

Too bad she didn't have a frozen steak in her leg pocket today. Or maybe it was a good thing.

She began backing up. Slow and easy. She didn't dare turn her back.

The cub's cries sharpened.

"Go! Go take care of your baby! Go on!" Nova waved her arms. "Get outta here before the fire?—"

The soil dissolved beneath her boots, and she was swallowed up by darkness.

A scream lodged in her throat.

Arms windmilling, she grappled for something to stop her fall.

Nova landed hard on crumbling shafts of wood. The planks under her back gave way, and she careened down a rough slope. Jagged splinters pierced her skin and snagged her uniform. She tumbled over a staggered wooden barrier and slid to a stop.

Nova planted her hands and pushed off the ground, forcing herself to sit. She spat rotted sawdust into the dirt beside her. Every breath sent shards of stabbing pain through her ribs. She had to suck air between her teeth just to get her mind to quit spinning.

Nova looked around, but all she saw was darkness and the faint shadows of the pile of rubble that had collapsed in.

She was trapped.

Buried alive.

She fumbled for the tiny flashlight in her pocket. Her hands shook but she managed to drag it out. A flick of the switch yielded no light. She banged it on her palm. Really? Nothing?

"Blast!" She threw the useless thing against the wall, and the clattering sound echoed into the darkness.

Breathe, just breathe…

Wait. Didn't miners die breathing toxic gasses in caves?

Stop. Just…stop.

There were tunnels and caves all over these mountains. Surely she could find her way out of here.

She scanned the shadowy outlines of rocky debris blocking the way back. No way could she dig through that barricade with her injuries. Even if she had the strength, those unstable mine workings could collapse and crush her.

Which left her with only one choice.

Face the unknown darkness—pray for another exit.

Nova crawled to the nearest wall and dragged herself upright. Her head swam, and she had to brace a hand to stay upright on unsteady legs while she fought the encroaching unconsciousness.

"Easy…easy does it."

She put one boot in front of the other. Forced herself to keep going. One crumbling passage then another. More than once she freaked herself out, thinking she'd heard scratching or boots splashing in water.

"Hey! Who goes there?" A man's voice echoed through the tunnel.

Nova jumped, sending pain tearing through her body. White stars cluster-bombed her vision.

She had to be hallucinating.

A beam of light swept the floor in front of her. Less than twenty feet away stood the outline of a hulking figure.

Her instinct was to curl up in a little ball and hide. She'd faced down a mountain lion, but she didn't have any more fight in her.

"I…I'm sorry—" Her voice came out hoarse.

"Speak up!" the figure bellowed. "Who are you, and what'n blazes are you doing in my cave?"

Nova swallowed. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. "I—I fell through a shaft and I'm hurt—" The lump in her throat made it hard to speak "My name is Nova. I didn't mean to intrude. There was a fire and a mountain lion…"

"Sounds like you've been through a lot." The man walked closer, his face illuminated by the flashlight. Bearded, with wild tufts of white hair, the old man looked downright grandfatherly. "Nice to finally meet you, Nova. Name's Henry."

Nova's heart skipped a beat. No…okay…yes. She was definitely hallucinating. "Figures. I did hit my head. You're not real." She sagged against the wall. "Of course I think of you now. Probably because of Booth."

"Who's that?"

"This guy on my team. He was a Homeland Security agent and tells all these stories about a man named Crazy Henry that he says are all true." Hope trembled in that single cracked word.

The old man straightened, then chuckled. "My reputation precedes me. Can't say I get many visitors." His brow furrowed. "In fact, I discourage it."

"Crazy Henry! Booth was right." She rasped an incredulous laugh that morphed to coughing. "You see, there was a fire. At the smokejumper base. I had to save this woman, but then Booth had to save me. And then he saw the guy who set the fire, and they fought, but he escaped. Then Booth went to meet his friend Crispin, and some other guy had beat him up then shot him. So we got a helicopter to take Crispin to the hospital so we could fight a wildfire. And before we go, Booth tells me he's not really even a smokejumper. He's a Homeland agent."

Nova realized the words were pouring out, but she couldn't stop herself. "Then we tried to save this mining camp, and I saw someone in a cabin. But the cabin collapsed and we almost died. And Crispin walked right out of the hospital. But some man called Booth saying he had Crispin, and Booth left saying he wanted his old life back, and I haven't seen him. Not that I would out here…"

Nova rolled her eyes. Nausea churned in her stomach. She pushed on with her story while she still could.

"I did my routine skydive with my jump buddy, but his chute failed. He crashed into me. Thank God, because it kept him from…well, we finally got untangled, and he got his reserve out but…I don't know if he made it because the wind dragged me through the fire and right over a cliff." She paused.

Her breaths came in shallow pants that burned her broken ribs.

Henry cocked his head. "I'm assuming this is where the mountain lion comes in?"

She didn't have it in her to do anything but nod.

"Now, that's quite a tale." Henry scratched his chin. "So this smokejumper Homeland agent…Booth, you said. He's taking care of Crispin?"

"I…I guess." Her head swam with dizziness. Whatever adrenaline had kept her going was waning. She couldn't?—

Nova's legs folded under her.

Henry caught her. "Okay, girlie. We best get you someplace where you can get some water and rest."

She didn't protest when Henry scooped her up, but her body did. Her breath caught, which sent lightning bolts of pain screaming through every muscle. She heard Henry grunt and then nothing at all.