Chapter 3

THREE

Great, his worst fear. Being trapped in a house fire. At least out in the wilderness he had options. He could run.

No running now. He'd spent the better part of five minutes driving the pins out of the hinges only to go from the frying pan into the fire.

Smoke filled the hallway as he fought upstream through a pit of swirling gray haze, searching for Jan and Nova.

Crackling and popping sounds came from every direction. The walls beside him. The floor beneath him. The ceiling over him.

Yep, worse than any wildfire.

"Nova! Where are you?" Booth shouted into the smoke-filled hallway. "Help is coming. Finn's trying to find a safe way in." A way that wouldn't send the whole building crashing in on them.

He slammed into the ladies' room. Nothing here.

"Nova!"

He continued down the hall and tried a side exit. No dice. Someone had jammed all the doors on purpose.

Whoever had done this had set fires at every exit and doused the place with gasoline. The local fire department was en route —he'd called them the second he'd escaped—but they were miles away. Jump base had tools and equipment for wildfires, not buildings.

Booth radioed Finn. "I can't find them anywhere. They have to be in the museum. It's the only place I haven't checked."

"Ten-four," Finn said. "Can you get in there?"

"Hang on." Booth ran through the smoke-filled lobby to the history room and paused at the entrance. "It's fully engulfed, but yes."

"Good. I'll grab my saw and cut an exit hole in the southwest corner. I don't see any fire or smoke there…yet," Finn added. "It'll be a miracle if my blade can cut through the metal siding without breaking a chain, but just get there."

"I'll make it happen." He'd find Nova and Jan, get them to the spot, and let God handle the miracle.

Booth pressed a sleeve over his nose and jumped through the pile of burning rubble. He scanned the room.

Where are you, Wildfire Girl?…C'mon, give me a sign.

There! Through curtains of black smoke, he spotted her red hair. She was crouched beside a lump on the floor, kicking at a log three times the diameter of a telephone pole.

And was she…? Yeah, she was wearing one of those old bug-eyed gas masks from the early days of firefighting. He'd laugh if the situation weren't dire.

He closed the expanse, crushing charred remnants of museum artifacts underfoot. "Nova!"

Her head twitched an acknowledgment, but Nova didn't stop driving her boot into the wood. "Give me a hand!"

One of the logs used to mimic the trees smokejumpers and hotshots felled had come loose from the wall anchors and fallen, pinning Jan's legs.

Blood trickled from a small cut on the older woman's cheek.

She wasn't moving.

For one heart-stopping instant, he feared the worst. Then the slow rise and fall of Jan's ribcage eased his clenching gut.

Not dead. Unconscious.

Was kicking the thing really the right way to help Jan?

He gripped Nova's shoulder and gave her a firm shake. She wrenched to look at him. "Hey, take a breath real quick. We'll get her free."

She gave one sharp shake of her head. "No. I can't…I can't…Just help. We've gotta get this off her now!"

Nova was right. Bulging pipes skewered the flaming walls on every side, destabilized further by each crashing ceiling section bringing down the building overhead. They were living on borrowed time. Minutes at best.

"I know. We can do this. We'll lift it together. Here, take my gloves." He pulled one off.

"No, you'll need them."

"One is better than none. Take it!"

She snatched the glove and tugged it over her hand. "Just help me, will you!"

He joined Nova on the floor and added his strength to hers. Together, they heaved. His muscles quivered as they fought for every ounce of power he possessed.

The blasted thing refused to budge.

Time for a new plan.

"This won't work. We need a pry bar." Booth scanned the wreckage.

Biting back coughs, he picked his way across the room and grabbed a sturdy piece of wood. "I'll lever it up, you grab Jan."

Nova hesitated a beat, brow furrowed. Then she nodded. "Got it. Good idea."

Booth drove the board under the log and looked to Nova. "Easy does it. We need to lift just enough for you to do your thing."

"On three." Nova stood over Jan and gripped the woman under the arms. "One, two, three!"

Booth applied pressure. The wood he used as a lever creaked and groaned. The log lifted an inch.

"Little more…c'mon," Nova rasped.

He gritted his teeth and drove his weight harder against the lever.

"Al…most…" Nova slid Jan a few inches and repositioned to wrap her hands around Jan's waist.

Booth groaned and put all his muscle into adding pressure. A long split zigzagged across the lever. "Hurry! It won't hold much longer!"

"I've…got…her." With one last pull, Nova shimmied Jan free.

The board snapped under Booth's hands, and the log crashed to the floor, sending flaming sparks crackling upward.

Panting, they stared at each other for a beat. Nova's big eyes blinked behind the goggles.

"We're not—" Coughs wracked Booth's body, and he leaned over to spit ash out of his mouth. "—out of the woods yet."

A resounding boom announced another section of ceiling caving in. Tornadoes of scalding embers swirled around Booth's head. He coughed again, swallowing a lungful of soot.

"Booth…? You still…in one piece…?" Nova choked out the words.

"I'm…fine." He scrambled over to lift Jan. The woman's head lolled as he lifted her over his shoulder, careful of her legs.

"Here." Nova tossed the turnout coat that had fallen back over Jan.

"Follow me." He carried Jan deeper into the museum to a far corner, tromping over burning debris.

Daylight peeked through the outline of a small rectangle where Finn had cut a makeshift door in the wall. Booth drove his boot into the plaster. It buckled.

Nova touched his shoulder. "I got it." She kicked the remaining Sheetrock out from between the studs.

From the other side, Booth heard shouting.

"Stand back and I'll cut the studs," Finn yelled. The chainsaw growled to life and chewed through the wood. Two cuts at the top and two at the bottom. Hands reached in and yanked out the section of boards. "Okay, you're clear!"

Nova helped Booth pass Jan through the small opening.

"Watch her legs," Nova said.

Booth stepped back. "Your turn."

Nova shook her head and took a step to the side. "You first."

This was no time for arguing, and it wouldn't do any good anyway. Nova was too headstrong. "See you on the other side."

He crawled through the hole and felt hands grabbing him under the arms, helping him up. Booth sucked in clean air and coughed.

Then Nova was by his side, coughing right along with him. She ripped off her mask and dropped it to the ground.

Local firefighters had arrived and were dousing the building with water. An ambulance screamed to a stop on the asphalt, and two men jumped out. One ran to get his gear. The other headed for where Finn had laid Jan on the ground.

Still coughing, Nova gave the paramedic a rundown. "Her name is Jan. She was unconscious when I found her in the fire. One of those big tree logs in the museum fell on her legs. Last I checked, she was breathing. Pulse steady. Both slow."

"Thanks, we've got her." The paramedic knelt and went to work. "Do you know this woman's medical history?"

Booth searched the crowd. The fire captain was with Miles, shouting over the roar of water now streaming out of hoses. A few other faces he didn't recognize stood around, arms folded. Hotshots probably. He spotted Myron shuffling toward them. "That's her husband right there."

The second paramedic said, "We can take it from here."

Behind Myron, a burly man with a shaved head and bushy beard stood alone near the airplane hangar. He wore baggy jeans, a concert T-shirt, and a black leather vest. Black wraparound sunglasses obscured his eyes. Smoke drifted from the tip of the cigarette between his first two fingers.

Definitely not meant to be here.

They made eye contact. The man stuck the cigarette between his lips. Inhaled a long drag, then flicked the still burning stub into the grass.

Booth's throat tightened. He wasn't just out here on a smoke break. There was nothing innocent about the man or the cigarette.

I know you.

A familiarity tugged at Booth's memory, like an invisible string stretching to connect the dots. If the guy would take off those shades, let Booth see his eyes, maybe he could figure it out.

Shades fished in his pocket and pulled out something small and red. A lighter. He leaned against the hangar and worked his thumb over it, lighting a small flame and letting it die. Again and again, with a big stupid grin on his face.

Clearly Shades knew something Booth didn't. Why not go ask what was so funny?

He strode across the parking lot on a mission. Shades pushed off the aluminum building and disappeared around the corner.

Booth picked up his pace and jogged the last few yards. The stink of cigarettes lingered along with another distinctive odor. Gasoline.

This guy had set the fire.

The fire that'd almost killed Jan. And Nova.

Booth clenched his fists and rounded the corner in time to catch a blur coming.

He ducked.

The object sailed inches above his head. He bounced up to see Shades holding a tire iron. The big stupid grin had transformed into a sinister smirk.

Booth rocked back on his heels, fists up. "Who sent you?"

"Don't matter. Money's money." Shades turned the tire iron over in his hand.

All the saliva in Booth's mouth dried up.

Shades was some sort of assassin. One who didn't care about collateral damage.

Nova rounded the corner and gasped.

In the split second Booth took to steal a glance, Shades made his move.

He swung the bar like a baseball bat aimed at Booth's head.

Nova's brain took its sweet time comprehending what her eyes were seeing.

A fire had threatened her life not ten minutes ago, and now Booth was facing off with this…this tank swinging a tire iron. "Booth! Watch out!"

Booth sidestepped at the last second.

Iron clanged against the hangar. A shower of sparks burst from metal against metal.

A blow that could have cracked his skull. Was he crazy? Why was Booth fighting with this maniac? He should just stand down.

"Wait!" Booth held up a hand. "Wait. Tell me who paid you."

"Ain't nobody payin' till you're dead." The tank of a man lunged forward, bar raised to strike again.

Booth dodged. "I can pay more."

Tank swung the bar up again. Tossed it to his left hand, then back to his right. "So can they."

"Booth? What's he talking about?" She glanced at Tank. "Did someone pay you to start that fire?"

"Stay out of this, Nova." Booth took a step toward Tank. "Go. Grab the sheriff. This guy's the arsonist."

Stay out of it? This was absurd. "C'mon, break it up! Booth, just walk away."

"Nova, just get out?—"

Tank took another swing.

Booth did some sort of fancy maneuver where he leaned back and twisted his shoulders away. The blow breezed over his head. He came back up and drove his fist into the paunch of Tank's stomach.

Those were some pretty good fighting moves for a smokejumper.

"I'm telling you for the last time, go!"

Nova flinched at his tone and stepped a few feet back. She needed a plan. One that didn't include Booth getting killed or her leaving him.

She looked all around. They were two hundred yards away from the parking lot, where first responders worked to save the jump base. She wasn't sure anyone would hear her shouting for help over the blast of fire hoses and equipment.

Nova felt her right pocket for her phone. Then her left. Found it and unlocked the screen. "Hey, you. Big guy. Smile." She snapped a photo of Tank. "This is all the sheriff needs?—"

Tank charged forward and hooked a hard strike. The phone flew out of her hand and exploded with a crunch of glass and metal. Nova yelped. Pain bloomed in her empty hand.

Tank rounded the iron over his head for another go.

Booth dove in front of her. The bar connected with his upper arm with a soft thud.

Nova sucked air between her teeth, but Booth didn't seem fazed by the blow. He whirled and threw a hard punch to Tank's temple. The sunglasses covering his eyes flew off and landed in the grass.

Tank roared and came at Booth wild. Fists flailing. Feet kicking.

Booth deflected his strikes and jabbed the biker in the stomach. Nova silently cheered when Booth landed another blow, this time to the biker's ribs, but the guy countered with an elbow to Booth's face.

Both men circled each other, panting hard. A bit of blood trickled from the corner of Booth's mouth before he wiped it with the back of his hand.

Tank was turning out to be just as dangerous as the nickname she'd given him. And what good was she? An unarmed smokejumper, currently thinking about running.

In fact, she backed up. Two steps. Three. Her heel caught on something hard and she tripped. Fell flat on her rear, hands splayed out behind her. She blinked.

Booth took half a step toward her. "Are you?—"

Tank charged.

Booth turned sideways. Slapped a hand on the man's neck while the other hand grabbed the back of his pants. Booth heaved him forward.

Tank stumbled but planted a hand on the grass and pushed himself off.

His bald head came up, and he spun to face Booth. Sniffed. Spat on the ground. "You're a dead man." He pointed the tire iron at Nova. "You and your little girlfriend too."

"Girlfriend? I'm not his girlfriend." Apparently that was the thing to snap her out of her paralysis. Although, she might've been focusing on the wrong thing. "What do you want with us anyway? We're just smokejumpers."

Her eyes darted back to Tank. He could've killed Jan. Maybe he had. And what if the crew had been in the building? "There were people inside, and you set the building on fire?"

Tank sneered. "That's right, sweetie pie."

"Don't talk to her." Booth's head twitched to look at her. "Please. Go."

She caught the pleading in his eyes but couldn't walk away. He hadn't left her in the fire, and she wasn't about to leave him either.

Tank roared and lunged. He hit Booth in a hard tackle.

Nova gasped.

The men fell to the ground with Tank's massive form covering Booth. Tank had the tire iron in both hands and under Booth's chin. They grunted and growled, each trying to get the upper hand.

Booth grasped the bar and pushed back, his face turning red.

"Booth!" Nova sucked in a breath. Got a running start. Hauled her right leg back and kicked. Her boot connected with Tank's ribs.

Air exploded from Tank, and he rolled over onto the grass, gasping for breath.

Booth pushed Tank off his legs and struggled to his feet. The iron dangled from his hand. Booth coughed and rubbed the red spot at his throat.

Behind her, Tank called her a few choice names, one of which she found pretty insulting. She turned to say so, but Booth stepped in front of her.

Tank was on his feet, shoulders hunched. There was a metallic click. Nova saw the silver blade jump out of the knife handle clutched in his meaty hand.

"I'm going to cut your pretty little face up for that, missy."

Nova's stomach dropped to the floor. This was serious.

Booth took two steps toward him. "You touch her and it's the last thing you'll do."

"Watch out!" she yelled.

Tank dove at Booth, but Booth was a step ahead. He caught Tank's wrists in his palms and drove the man's hands up. "Get outta here, Nova!"

Booth had his hands wrapped around the knife. Tank swore and brought his knee up fast and hard. Booth folded in half and released his hold on the weapon.

"That's what I thought." Tank strode toward Nova and pointed the knife at her. "Your turn."

Nova froze. Her mouth fell open. Every self-defense situation she'd ever trained for fell out of her head.

Tank took another step. Booth hit him from behind. This time, Tank didn't go down. He pivoted and swung the knife in a wide arc. Booth jumped back and hit Tank's wrist using both palms in a fast X motion that Nova finally remembered learning. The knife flew out of Tank's hand. Booth hit him with a surprise uppercut followed by a left to the nose.

Tank staggered. He spat a wad of blood at Booth's feet. "This ain't over, kozel !" He turned and ran.

Booth started to go after him, but Nova grabbed his arm. "Come on, we need to tell the police about this guy so they can catch him."

He pulled his arm away and shook his head. "That's what I've been telling you to do this whole time!"

"Well, excuse me. I didn't want to leave you fighting some crazy dude—who had a knife by the way."

"Yes. He had a knife . A knife, Nova. You could've been hurt."

"So could you!" Her voice was ratcheting up, but she didn't do anything to stop it. "That's why I said to walk away. You're not a cop, Booth. Catching that guy is not your job. You should've told the police and let them do their jobs."

Booth's jaw tightened. "I told you to get the police."

She took a step closer. "And I told you I wanted to stay. That's my right. You're not the boss of me."

"Yeah, I'm well aware. But can't you just listen to someone, even if they're not the boss?" His eyes stabbed her with an angry glare. "I really don't get you sometimes."

Booth turned and sprinted in the direction of Tank.

And she just stood there with the sting of his words hot on her face.

After he'd disappeared around the corner, Nova searched for her phone in the grass.

She was having trouble wrapping her head around why Booth felt like it was his responsibility to go after that guy. From what little she'd heard, Tank wasn't a random arsonist playing with fire. He'd come to jump base looking for Booth.

He'd set his sights on killing him.

Leaving her with one big question.

Who was Booth really?