Chapter 2

TWO

Booth's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright, blankets pooling around his waist. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he tried to get his bearings.

No roaring flames. No pop of gunfire. No screams.

He wasn't working a wildfire, and he wasn't in the explosion with Crispin. He was in his bunk at jump base.

Booth scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the bristle of beard stubble on his jaw. He'd slept like the dead after working the wind-whipped forest fire all night. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced. Five hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough to recover from the bone-deep exhaustion that came from countless days battling wilderness infernos.

He longed to burrow back under his blanket and catch a few more hours of oblivion, but the sunlight slanting through the room's only window told him it was after noon already. He needed to get a move on. There were things to do in town today—important things. Like trying to find Crispin.

That thirty-second argument under a canoe during the firestorm wasn't going to cut it.

"Go back to your life. I got this," Crispin had said, shouting over the storm's fury.

Like Booth could walk away now.

He'd slapped the water. "Hey, talk to me! We used to be partners. What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about!" Crispin's face was stony as he whispered.

The canoe thrashed in the water. They clung to it while the wind pushed the fire over the lake.

Booth persisted. "If you're in trouble, I can help?—"

"I'm trying to keep you out of this," Crispin said.

Booth gritted his teeth and pressed closer to Crispin. "I don't want to stay out of this. Henry sent me here to live this lie, and I've been keeping my head down, thinking Henry must be hiding here." He lowered his voice even more. "But it's been three years, man. I'm losing hope. This is my chance. My one chance to get my life back."

Crispin considered his words. "Listen, Earl has a brother. Floyd. He's dangerous, and he's at the center of this whole thing."

"What whole thing?"

"Just…keep your head on a swivel. If I need you, I'll let you know."

Then the fire had fled and so had Crispin. Vanished after the firestorm without a trace.

Booth couldn't sit idle while his friend faced danger alone. But Crispin had left a thread—Earl's brother Floyd at the center of…what?

If Booth found Crispin first, maybe he could wring some answers from the man. Resolution beckoned—perhaps a chance to finally end this choking lie he lived.

Crispin was out there playing lone wolf. But he was only lying to himself that he didn't need backup. Well, Booth refused to quit now—not when a reckoning approached, promising long-awaited freedom from this fake life he was living.

He'd track down his stubborn friend and watch his six whether Crispin agreed or not.

Earl Blackwell was dead, but the war wasn't over.

With a resigned sigh, Booth levered himself out of bed.

Finn's bunk, opposite his, was already neatly made. The rest of the long, open room was empty, the other jumpers on the fire threatening to overrun a town.

After making his bed with military precision, Booth headed for the restroom. Down the hall near the back stairwell, the shared bathroom smelled of menthol shaving cream. He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror.

Three years ago, Booth Wilder hadn't existed.

He'd been born under a different name. Born to fight crime, not fires.

Yet here he was. Biding his time until he could fix everything that had gone wrong and finally get back to his real life.

But he was done playing the waiting game.

He was going to find Crispin and find answers.

Booth ran through his hygiene routine and made his way downstairs. Nova's voice echoed down the hallway.

"And this is the manufacturing room, where our smokejumpers use a variety of materials and sewing machines to create the gear we all use." Nova swept her arm toward a doorway. She'd showered and changed into a fresh uniform of green pants, khaki Nomex shirt, and thick boots.

An elderly couple craned their necks to see into the room.

Great. A facility tour.

At least it wasn't his turn. Peopling wasn't his thing.

Nova, on the other hand, was the perfect person to lead informational tours. Born and raised right here in Jude County, she knew all the locals and the best places for tourists to visit. And okay, even he could be drawn in by the natural charisma she didn't seem to know she had.

"Because our equipment and gear are specialized to what we do, every smokejumper, man or woman, learns how to sew. Right, Booth?" She turned and flashed a smile, showing her teeth.

His heart did a little double beat before he realized that smile wasn't for him. Probably, she was putting on a show for the visitors.

Come to think of it, he was pretty sure Nova didn't even like him.

He must have rubbed her the wrong way, because she seemed to always be angry with him for making suggestions out in the field and trying to help her.

Two could play the nice game. He plastered on a wide grin for their guests and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Yup. I hadn't seen a sewing machine in person before I began my career as a smokejumper. Now I'm an expert."

Finally, she gestured to the elderly couple holding hands. "This is Myron and Jan."

Booth nodded a greeting to the couple. Myron wore loose jeans and a blue flannel. Curly hair bushed out from the sides of his Korean War Veteran ball cap. Jan was a wisp of a woman dressed for running, but he doubted her spindly legs would carry her far. Other than their obvious age, the couple seemed the perfect picture of growing old together.

Too bad Booth would never know what that was like. His love life had fallen apart around the same time his faith had. His ex had ditched him for the nerdy real estate agent that'd sold her a condo. Sure, she'd done the whole it's not you, it's me thing. Truth was, she'd gotten close enough to see he was unworthy.

"Myron and Jan are retired. Sold everything to tour America in their RV. They've been all over the country together." Nova's red ponytail bobbed as she spoke.

"I see." Why was she telling him this? He'd probably never see these people again.

Nova rocked back on her heels. "Anyway, show these folks something you've made."

So, what, now she was dragging him into the tour?

"Yeah. Sure, boss." He ducked inside the room and grabbed a pair of yellow pants. "These are our jump pants. They're puncture resistant so if we land in a tree, a stick won't poke through."

Jan gasped. "You land in trees?"

"Not on purpose. Sometimes the terrain is more dangerous than a fire. Trees can fall on us while we're working. Jumps go off course. Branches can catch our parachute canopy and collapse it as we're coming down. Then we're free-falling twenty, thirty, forty feet or more with limbs tearing at our suits. We need all the protection we can get."

He shot a glance at Nova.

Besides their little hang-up yesterday, they'd jumped in dangerous high winds last week to help a camp of teens during what'd turned into a firestorm.

Their boss, Tucker Newman, had been whipped into the tree line and made a hard landing on a roof. Thanks to his suit, instead of being impaled on a branch, the jump boss had broken his leg. He was out the rest of the season, though, which left leadership high and dry.

With a fire on the edge of out of control.

"What're those?" Myron pointed to the supply table that ran down the middle of the room.

Booth left the pants on his sewing table and picked up a yellow-and-red striped bag. He handed it to Myron for inspection. "These bags are for our reserve chutes on the plane. We finished assembling them, and later today, they'll get loaded up with the new chutes."

Jan touched the sagging skin around her neck. "You mean you make your own parachutes too?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's important that we have the skills to manufacture all our own gear, because it's extremely specific to our job. We can't rely on someone else understanding what we do and what we need." Really, he was practically running this tour now.

"Fascinating." Myron studied the bag and handed it to his wife.

"Sewing is a tradition we hand down from year to year." Nova took the bag from Jan and chucked it to Booth. "All the men around here learn to sew. Isn't that right?"

The bag hit him in the chest, but he caught it. "Yeah. That's right."

"Thanks for the info, Booth." Nova strode across the room to the opposite door, talking to the couple over her shoulder.

He watched, struck by how a woman like Nova could cause his mind to wander to areas he'd rather not explore. Areas that included telling her how sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, he didn't see the fireball that he'd thought had killed his partner. Instead, he saw Nova's fire-red ponytail bouncing as she worked the fire line by his side.

The last person he should be thinking about was a woman who couldn't stand him. She'd been so cold to him, but he had a whole new level of respect for her. If she hadn't thought to leave the crew and go check on the homesteads, that couple would've faced a far different ending.

She cast one last look at him as she disappeared through the doorway. "And that concludes our tour…" Her speech faded out of earshot.

"What are you doing? Keep your head in the game, man," he muttered to himself.

He scratched his ear where dry skin covered a fresh burn. When had that happened? This job. Sheesh. So many mysterious cuts and bruises.

May as well take care of the new reserve chute bags before he headed out. He gathered them into his arms and carried them to the loft upstairs to be packed by someone with way more experience than he had.

Back downstairs, he cut through the ready room, where the open bay door helped air out the lockers and all their smoke-drenched gear waiting for deployment.

He paused when he saw Finn loading the helicopter. His black hair clung to his head in slick strands, glistening with wetness from either his fresh shower or exertion.

Great. While Booth slept, Finn and Nova had been working. "I'm such a jerk," he muttered.

"You didn't hear it from me," Nova said, stopping to stand beside him. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Funny." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't mean to sleep so long and leave you guys with all the work."

"It's fine. I can handle things." She nodded to the old couple holding hands, walking to a fifth wheel. "Next time you get to do the tour."

"Me? You're the veteran smokie. If you stuck them with me, I'd probably end up asking them how they manage that gooseneck at their age."

"Seriously? You're a smokejumper and all you can think about is how well they drive their rig?"

No, he'd been thinking about how his cover had been blown by Crispin showing up in Ember. How it might not matter now, because the man who'd died in the fire at Wildlands Academy had been Earl Blackwell. A man willing to kill to get his hands on the missing nuke.

Booth glanced at Nova. He couldn't tell her any of that. She wouldn't believe him if he did. Not after all the Crazy Henry stories he'd been telling around the campfire. "I was thinking how sometimes people aren't what they seem."

There.

He'd left it open to her interpretation.

Nova folded her arms and squared her stance to match his. "Deep. Anyone in particular?"

He cocked his head. "You, for starters. One look at you and some might assume you were too delicate to withstand the types of firestorms we've been through. But they'd be wrong. You're so not fragile. I've seen the real fire blaze in your eyes working the fire line, shoulder to shoulder with men twice your size."

Nova removed her long-sleeved Nomex shirt and tied it around her waist. The worn blue undershirt had a faded Jude County Smokejumpers logo on it. "What can I say? This job is in my blood."

He watched Myron open the passenger door for Jan. Before she got in, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed her husband.

Real life.

Booth looked at his dirty boots. Rubbed the toe in the gravel. Someone else's real life—not his.

"So, what about you?" Nova asked. "Where'd you come from?"

"That's…a story for another time." He lifted his chin to Jan, headed right for them. "Forget to buy your Jude County Smokejumpers sweatshirt in the gift shop?"

The old woman smiled. "No, honey. Thought I better use the ladies' room before we get back on the road."

"Let me show you. I know a shortcut." Nova waved for Jan to follow, then paused. "Booth, could you grab a few first aid kits and run them to Finn?"

Oh, she was asking now? "Happy to."

Before he left, maybe he could make a few calls. See if anyone working down at the Hotline had seen a man matching Crispin's description.

His phone was dead. Great. He'd crashed so hard last night he hadn't charged it. There was a charger in his pickup, and he'd have to plug it in on his way to Ember.

Right after he did the first aid kits.

In the supply room, Booth found the kits, but they hadn't been packed with supplies. He filled each one with all the supplies and marked them on the inventory sheet, noting they needed more gauze and antibacterial ointment—which he should probably put on the small burns he'd received yesterday.

He stacked all three tool-kit-sized boxes and rested his chin on the top one. He grabbed the doorknob.

Locked.

Weird. This door locked from the inside.

Booth peered around the kits and tried the handle. Jerked harder.

The door wasn't locked, but it was stuck.

And now he was trapped.

Now was as good a time as any to march next door to Miles's office and have the conversation. The one where she stepped up and offered to lead the team in Tucker's stead.

But first, she had to do her job. The part where she provided hospitality to locals and visitors alike.

She led Jan through the halls and cut through the back, where they didn't take the tour groups. This area had their lounge. Their personal space.

The supply room door creaked, and Nova stole a glance at Booth ambling in.

Man, there had to be more going on in his head than make-believe stories about spies and stolen nukes. Right?

No matter how hard Nova tried, she couldn't figure out Booth Wilder. There was a secret hidden behind his kind eyes. A secret she couldn't penetrate.

Maybe he'd ditched a wife and kids. Or was on the run from the law.

Nah. Booth might be hiding something, but it was no secret he was a good man. Had trouble listening to her orders without question, but then, she hadn't been named crew chief yet either. But on and off the fire, nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers, and Nova found herself calmer just being near him.

Maddening.

"Sure is quiet around here. Where is everyone?" Jan's words interrupted Nova's whirlwind thoughts.

"We've got a pretty big fire burning, so we have teams out trying to control it. There's six of us here. You met Booth, but the other four are out in the airplane hangar, repacking cargo for the next deployment."

Jan paused and studied the photos mounted on plaques lining the hall. "Are these the rest of your crew?"

"This is the memorial wall." Nova's eyes drifted down the line of photos to the one she knew best. "Smokejumpers killed in the line of duty."

"Wow. So many." Jan stopped and looked at Nova with soft eyes. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what makes a pretty, young girl like you decide to do such a dangerous job?"

Nova took a few steps, stopping in front of a photo. She slid her fingers over the gold nameplate. "This is my uncle Jock." She gestured to the line of photos extending past him. "These guys were all killed when they were overrun by a fire. Good people die in wildfires. I lost my own parents in one." She paused. Swallowed. Shrugged. "The way I see it, I didn't have a choice. It's my legacy. I'll never find peace in this world as long as fires are raging."

"I bet your uncle and your parents would be proud of you."

"Thanks. I'm determined to live up to my uncle Jock's legacy and one day be crew chief." And that day would come soon if she played her cards right.

Nova pointed out the main exit doors and left Jan in the ladies' room.

Back in the memorial hallway, she paused at Jock's picture. Touched her fingers to her lips and pressed them to the photo.

It was time to talk to Miles.

She retraced her steps to the ready room and twisted the doorknob. It worked, but the door wouldn't budge. She bumped it with her shoulder. Stuck.

Why was the door even shut? They always kept it open for callouts.

She turned on her heel and strode to the supply room. Her right hand grabbed the knob. "Booth, why'd you lock the?—"

The door wouldn't budge. She slid her phone from her pocket and dialed Booth. Straight to voicemail.

"You can't lock the doors around here." She knocked her knuckles on the metal frame. "Open up."

"What are you talking about? I wasn't the one who locked the door." The knob rattled and turned from the other side. "Let me out."

"Just unlock it."

"I'm telling you, it's not locked. It's stuck."

"I tried the ready room door and it was stuck too." Nova's pulse kicked up. "This is too weird."

A loud thud came from the other side, followed by a low grunt. Nova flinched. Booth wasn't messing around.

"Nope, won't budge. I'm locked in tight," he said through the door. "Look around the casing out there. Do you see anything stuck?"

Nova ran her eyes around the edge. "Yeah. It looks like something's wedged in there and broken off. A piece of wood maybe."

"Listen to me." Booth's voice had the firmness of an officer giving an order. "Get out! You need to find a way out of the building! Now!"

Goosebumps raced up Nova's arms. She could picture the blackened face and smell the woodsy char from the fire that had taken Earl's life. She inhaled a deep breath.

Wait.

Why could she smell it right now?

This wasn't a nostalgic moment. Nova whirled. Smoke wafted down the hall. "Booth, I see smoke. There's a fire. The building is on fire."

"Get out of the building right now!"

Booth couldn't see her, but she was already shaking her head. "No. No way. I'm not leaving you trapped in there."

A smoke detector let loose an ear-piercing shriek. Nova flinched. A second alarm blared. One after another, the daisy-chained smoke detectors triggered. The entire building had one screaming from every room.

"Nova? Can you hear me?"

She covered her other ear. "Barely."

"I can knock the pins out of the hinges on this side. I've got gear in here. Go! I'll be right behind you."

"Okay! I'm leaving, but you better meet me outside in two minutes, and that's an order." One she prayed he'd take for once.

Somewhere in the building, there was a loud crash. A woman screamed.

Nova sucked in a breath. "Jan! She must still be in the restroom."

"Go! Help her!"

Nova pulled her Nomex shirt on over her T-shirt. Thick black smoke filled the hallway. She yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall and raced for the ladies' room.

"Jan! It's Nova. I'm coming to you! Stay where you are if you can!"

Nova shouldered through the bathroom door, heart pounding. She wasn't a city firefighter. She fought blazes in forests, not bathrooms.

Smoke plumed through the vents, but there wasn't an active fire.

"Jan are you in here?" The stall doors were open, but Nova checked them anyway.

"Help! Help me!" Jan coughed. "I'm trapped!"

Okay, not in the bathroom. In the lobby?

Nova dashed out of the restroom and ran to the expansive lobby. A wall of heat pressed into her face. Flames made a hot run up the walls, headed for the ceiling. Fiery tendrils spread along the baseboards, searching for more oxygen and fuel to feed itself.

"Jan, it's Nova! I'm in the lobby. Where are you?"

She listened for the woman, but all she heard was the popping and crackling roar of destruction. Great clouds of thick smoke boiled up and stung her eyes.

Zero visibility.

She shrugged the fire extinguisher up on one hip and used her free arm to pat her pockets for a flashlight. Blast. She'd left it in her personal gear bag at her locker.

Okay, think.

She used the flashlight app on her phone to look around. Straight ahead, a red exit sign hung over the glass doors that she could barely see through the smoky haze. To the left was the reception desk no one ever used. The big wooden unit had nearly been consumed by flames at this point.

The wide doorway of the visitors' center led into the smokejumper museum, where the fire stayed minor. For now.

"Jan! Tell me where you are so I can—" Ash thickened her tongue and she coughed.

Distant voices shouted commands from somewhere outside. Help was coming, but if she didn't stop the fire from spreading, it would come too late.

Nova pocketed her phone and pulled the safety pin on the extinguisher. She squinted against the swirling smoke and backed into the exhibit room. White foam hissed from the fire extinguisher's nozzle as she doused the flames around the museum doorway in a sweeping arc. She covered the floor, wall, ceiling. The expanding cloud of fire retardant smothered the blaze, buying them precious seconds.

There was a loud splintering sound over her head.

The ceiling caved.

Nova scrambled back a second before debris and fire rained down on her head. A flashover had started. The fire in the ceiling ate its way through to the second floor of the building. Any minute now, everything could collapse on top of her. Help wouldn't be able to get to them in time.

Nova emptied the fire extinguisher on the pile of rubble and tossed the spent canister aside. She turned. Faced the darkened room.

Coils of smoke snaked around the Z-shaped museum walls. Years of memorabilia, artifacts, and firefighting collectibles. Jock's old uniform. All massacred now by the same element they'd valiantly fought for years.

She spotted a hard lump on the floor in front of the display. Unmoving.

Images of Jan up on her tiptoes and kissing her husband beside their rig rolled through her mind.

No. No. No.

Not another beautiful marriage destroyed by fire.

Nova rushed to the figure and dropped to her knees. At least Jan had been smart enough to cover herself with an old fire coat.

Nova grabbed her by the shoulders. Rigid shoulders.

Oh no. She rolled the body over and gasped. Gave herself a little jump scare and choked. Coughed.

Her eyes stung with tears. Not Jan. Not Jan! A stupid mannequin! A dummy dressed like a smokejumper from the forties.

So much for being a hero.

Jan had to be here somewhere. She tugged the fire jacket off the fiberglass figure and tossed it around her shoulders.

Now, stay low. Limit smoke inhalation. Find Jan. Get the heck outta here.

Smoldering museum relics crumbled under her boots as she crept through the sweltering air. A few feet away, she saw another lump. Familiar puffs of gray hair peeked out.

"Jan! Jan, are you okay?" Hot smoke burned her raw throat.

Nova fell to her knees beside the unconscious older woman and assessed her condition. Thready pulse. Shallow breaths. Legs pinned by a ten-foot-long birch log used in a display. The thing had to weigh close to seven hundred pounds.

The ceiling splintered with a thunderous crack.

She threw herself over Jan as a desk from the second-floor offices crashed down beside them, barely missing them. The desk teetered on two legs, then fell against the wall.

They had to get out of here before the whole death trap collapsed.

She pulled the ancient turnout coat off her shoulders and draped it over Jan. Crawled a few feet away and grabbed an old leather oxygen mask and slipped it over her head.

Lord, let this antiquated thing work. She breathed in stale, leathery air. If nothing else, the dusty goggles would keep the smoke out of her eyes.

"Hang on. I'll get this thing off you."

She squatted and tried to lift the massive log. It was too hot and too heavy. Ugh, she needed her gloves.

Give me a lever long enough and I'll move the world…

The quote her father had often used rolled through her mind.

Yes, she needed a lever! She scanned the room for something, anything that would work, but came up short.

It didn't matter.

She could do this.

She could prevent Jan from burning. Give the EMTs the best chance to save her.

She braced her hands on the burning floorboards and her boots against the smoldering log. With all her leg strength, she heaved. It didn't move.

Red hot embers and ash fell on Jan.

New plan. She scurried around the woman, grabbed her under both arms, and pulled. Debris rained down and pelted her. Small stabs of pain pricked her skin where the fire burned holes through her shirt as she worked to free the woman.

The shouts outside grew louder. There was a booming thud. Another. Another.

Sounds of wood splintering. Shards of wood flying.

She turned. Tried to see through the goggles clouded by age.

A hulking shadow stormed through the fire, heading right toward them, marching over broken two-by-fours and blazing maps of the same Kootenai National Forest where she battled wildfires.

A hero coming through the flames to save her.

The very last hero that she wanted. But the one she probably needed.

This time.