Chapter 6

SIX

All at once, Nova stiffened in his arms. He loosened his grip, and she extracted herself from his embrace. Made a beeline for the house, mumbling something about macaroni and cheese.

A gust of wind blew stray locks that she swiped as if swatting insects. She stumbled on a rock, caught herself and muttered again.

Booth pressed his lips tight. He didn't want to laugh, but he sure was getting a kick out of her fluster.

He was in so much trouble here.

Oh, how badly he wanted a chance. Wanted her. Not just the kiss he was sure they'd been about to have, but waking up beside her smile. Exploring life's adventures together. Building something lasting from the ashes they'd risen from.

Regret rose under his ribs. The weight of his own past pressed down. That life was nothing but a dream when you had enemies trained to use loved ones as leverage.

Whatever burned between them, he had to let it simmer. Keep things professional. For both their sakes.

The horses whinnied and trotted to one corner of the corral. He followed their gazes to see Sophie standing there.

Booth straightened from the rail he'd slumped against. "You were coming to tell me something?"

Sophie smiled and paused to pet the muzzles tracking her along the fence. "I just wanted to let you know a package came for you. I left it on the porch."

"Package? That's some forwarding service. I just got here."

"Maybe one of the guys brought it from jump base?" She turned her palms up and shrugged.

"Thanks, and if you need any help with the apple crisp leftovers"—he patted his stomach—"I'm your man."

"You'll have to fight Houston for it!" she called over her shoulder.

Booth jogged to the porch and found a small box with his name written in block letters. No return address. Inside was an ancient looking phone wrapped in a plastic grocery sack. He turned it on. A red icon on the Messages app indicated one new text.

Must talk. Meet at film set jail. Respond with C to confirm.

Booth stared at the phone.

Respond with C? Was this Crispin's desperate attempt to meet away from Sophie and the rest of the smokejumper crew? Or was it someone else altogether?

After a few seconds of mental gymnastics, he slipped the phone into his back pocket. He needed to figure out what was going on before he responded. If it was Crispin, this could be a chance for Booth to get his life back.

He saw Houston opening the door to his truck and jogged over. "Hey, you heading into town?"

Houston paused. "Yeah. Need a ride?"

"If you don't mind. I'm meeting a friend near the movie set. That too far out of your way?"

"Nah, it's on the way. Hop in."

"Just a sec." Booth jogged over to where JoJo was oiling the chain saws before packing them in fire boxes.

"JoJo, I'm running into town with Houston. I should be back before my shift starts."

JoJo scrunched her face. "Okay, but why are you telling me?"

"Cell coverage is spotty up there. I was going to tell Nova in case a call came in, but…" He trailed off, not wanting to tell JoJo how their near kiss had sent Nova scurrying to get away.

JoJo's eyebrows arched.

"Never mind. I'll text her."

JoJo shrugged. "Good idea since I guess she's sorta in charge for now."

Of course Nova would step up like that with Tucker out. That was her style. "Well, if she asks you…" Booth didn't finish. He turned and pulled the burner phone from his front pocket.

He typed one letter and hit Send.

With his own phone, he sent a text to Nova updating her on where he'd be for the next few hours. His thumb hovered over the smile emoji. Better not press his luck.

A few minutes later, Booth was rumbling down the road in Houston's green-and-tan behemoth from the nineties. Cool wind rushed through their open windows. Booth rested his elbow outside and watched the sun streaking through the boughs of towering pines. A cloud of brown dust swirled behind them and never seemed to settle.

Houston mirrored Booth, elbow propped on the windowsill, hand draped over the steering wheel. "I thought the movie was all wrapped and that old town was deserted again."

"Thought I'd go take a look now that all the fuss has died down and security isn't so tight." Booth didn't want to answer a lot of questions and decided to change the subject. "Man…without Tucker, our crew feels like a ship without a rudder."

"We run pretty smooth on our own. Besides, Nova's stepped up to the helm."

"Only because she's so headstrong. Logan has more experience leading. I don't know why he's letting her overshadow him. I thought he wanted to be crew chief."

Houston flattened his lips, thinking. "Pushing himself into the slot won't make it happen."

"Someone should tell Nova that. She's pushing herself too hard. Some of the risks she takes…" He shook his head. "She's gonna get herself killed."

"And you think it's your job to keep that from happening?"

Booth already had a job. Two if he counted smokejumping. "I can't always be there to protect her. I know that."

"You see those trees?" Houston pointed.

Booth watched the trees passing by, their trunks blackened by the recent wildfire. "Yeah?"

"On the outside, all you see is charred bark. They've been through the fire, and they look dead. But take a pocketknife and peel back that burnt outer bark. There's life underneath. Now, we could run around stripping every tree, revealing the raw heartwood, but that would expose it to the elements too soon. The first frost, the next fire—either would kill it. The tree needs that protective layer a while longer."

The blaze that'd killed Nova's family had reshaped her the same way wildfires reshaped the landscape. "Are you saying Nova was burned and she needs more time to heal?"

Houston laughed. "No, brother. I'm saying we're all like those trees."

"I get that. But what if she's killed before she ever finds healing?"

"What if you are?" Houston shot him a look. "We all come out here to find something. If Nova's named crew chief, God already knew it. If I'm killed in the next fire, it's no surprise to Him. We get our true identity from God, not our jobs. It's why we've got to make the most of the time we have."

Easy for Houston to say. God had taken Booth's identity away and left him stranded in Jude County living a lie. "I don't know. Lately I've been feeling like I've lost everything that defined me. Some days I don't know who I am."

"I know how you feel." Houston shifted in his seat. "When I got fired from my job as a youth pastor in Last Chance County, I lost who I was. I'd put my job on a pedestal and made it my everything. But God showed me that's not what He wanted from me. Now my identity is wrapped up in God, not my job."

But maybe Houston was right. Maybe there was something more God was doing here, and Booth had to open his eyes to see it.

They rode in silence but for the rattle of the pickup bouncing over the rutted road. Houston came to an intersection and slowed to a stop.

"This is good," Booth said. "Drop me here."

Houston's brow furrowed. "You sure? It's probably another mile down that road."

Booth hopped out and slammed the door. He leaned through the open window. He had no idea what he was walking into, and he wasn't about to drag Houston into danger. "Nah, it'll be a breeze without my pack-out." Honestly, packing out over a hundred pounds of tools and gear was the hardest part of his job.

"Shoot me a text if you need a lift back."

Booth patted the roof. "Will do. Thanks for the lift. And for the chat. It helped."

Houston waved and turned the corner, heading toward Ember.

Booth waited until the truck topped the hill and disappeared before he took off down the road to the abandoned Western town that had been rebuilt and redressed for the movie this summer.

The walk was good. Fresh air. Summer sun. Jagged tops of the Kootenai mountains as the perfect backdrop for the little town.

He kicked a rock and sent it skittering across the wooden sidewalk.

Booth heard a noise. He stopped midstep and listened.

Grunting. A hard knock. The sound of a fist hitting flesh. A moan.

He raced down the sidewalk. His boots thudded a steady beat on the worn wooden planks. The jail's small window allowed Booth to peek inside.

A battered Crispin came into focus. He'd been tied to a metal chair. Bound by his hands and feet. Beaten, his face swollen and purple.

"Where is it!" A man with greasy brown hair wore tattered jeans and a threadbare shirt. He stood about six feet away with a gun pointed at Booth's former partner.

This wasn't Walsh the arsonist, and it wasn't Floyd. It was someone Booth didn't recognize.

"I'm not afraid to end this right here!" The way the man's hand vibrated as he thrust the gun out toward Crispin said otherwise.

Crispin flicked his gaze to Booth, eyes flashing with anger.

Booth's muscles coiled.

Decision time.

He crouched and duckwalked toward the doorway. Pressed his back to the wall. No time for second-guessing. He had to save Crispin.

Booth burst into the room. Ran flat-out and sacked the gunman from behind.

A grunt erupted as, together, they slammed into the floor in a tangled mess of limbs. Booth roared and wrestled the attacker, trying to pin him down. The gun went flying. It clattered across the wood planks and slipped between the bars of the jail. The attacker scrambled for it, but Booth grabbed his ankle and dragged him backward.

The gunman rolled over and smashed his other boot into Booth's stomach. A low growl escaped Booth's throat.

From his chair, Crispin strained against his bindings, rocking his chair back. Booth tossed the small pocketknife he always carried into Crispin's lap. He put himself between the gunman and Crispin.

The attacker backed up. "Who are you?"

That was the question Booth had been wrestling with for months. But not the response this guy was looking for. "I'm the guy who's taking you to jail."

The man sneered. "I don't think so." He charged Booth.

Booth caught him by the shoulders and spun him into the wall. The attacker cried out as his nose smashed against solid wood. Blood bubbled out of his nostrils.

Crispin rocked the metal chair forward, sending it crashing into the gunman's legs. The attacker cursed and stumbled into the jail bars. He dropped and stuck his hand through the slats.

"No!" Booth ran for the man, jumping over Crispin, who'd just freed himself.

He was too slow.

The attacker grabbed the gun, rolled over, and aimed it at Crispin.

A gunshot blasted.

Nova stomped on the brakes and slammed her Bronco into Park at the abandoned one-horse ghost town slash movie set. She'd been around guns her entire life. There was no mistaking it.

That sound had been a gunshot.

She reached under her seat and pulled her Glock 21 out of the holster. With the bears that roamed the woods, she usually carried the .45 ACP hand cannon on her jumps. She'd shoved it into her car to lock it up after the last fire.

Booth hadn't been responding to her calls and texts. Of course, she hadn't responded to his at first. That moment with Booth had her rattled, and she couldn't trust herself with words. But work took precedence, and they'd been called out on an emergency deployment minutes after Booth's text saying he'd hitched a ride here.

But why? What was he doing here anyway?

It didn't matter. If someone was shooting at him, maybe it would be helpful to have someone shooting back, at least to lay down some cover for him to get away and give authorities time to get here.

A man crashed out of the movie-set jail covered in blood.

"Hey! Stop!" Nova shouted before her brain comprehended the danger.

What was she doing? The man could shoot her dead on the spot. She didn't see a gun, but that didn't mean he wasn't armed.

The man cast a quick glance over his shoulder, still running. Their eyes locked for a fleeting second before he disappeared around the corner.

Oh no…Booth!

Nova sprinted across the gravel road and slid to a stop in the doorway of the darkened jail.

Booth was on his knees, hands pressed into the shoulder of a man on the floor. "Crispin! C'mon, man. Stay with me."

She gaped at the man on the floor. "Is that…is that Sophie's brother?"

Booth looked up, eyes wide, hair falling into his face. He shook it back. "Nova? What are you doing here?"

"I—"

"Never mind. Do you have your phone? I think mine fell out in Houston's truck."

"Yeah, I tried to call you but kept getting voicemail." She crossed the room and crouched beside Booth.

Crispin looked bad. Real bad. One eye was closed, and she doubted he could open it, even if he tried. He had a split lip. Cuts and scrapes on his face. A gash along his hair line. Someone had worked him over.

Booth had taken his flannel off and wadded it up as a makeshift bandage. He held pressure on Crispin's shoulder. "It's a through and through. Don't think it hit anything vital. It's the rest of it I'm worried about."

"What can I do?"

Booth shot her a worried glance. "Call an ambulance."

Crispin groaned. "No…no hospital."

"Sorry, pal. You've been shot. Need to get you patched up and back to work." Booth flicked his eyes to Nova and mouthed, Call .

Nova nodded and tucked her weapon into her waistband. She shuffled to the doorway and scanned the area for signs of the gunman. He was probably long gone by now. Whoever he was.

There were so many questions running through her head, but first, she made the call and requested an air ambulance.

Once she confirmed their location, dispatch said, "The medevac chopper will be on the ground in thirty minutes. Can you package the patient?"

"I have a medical kit. Best I can do is first aid and cover him with a blanket."

"That'll do. Keep him stationary. Let the EMTs move him." Dispatch wanted Nova to stay on the line, but her battery was low. "I'll keep my phone close. Call when they're a few minutes out."

She ran to her SUV and grabbed the supplies. Returned to Booth and knelt across from him. "Medevac will be here soon. Let me bandage his wound." She popped the latch on her kit and found the gauze pads.

Crispin opened one eye. "Where'd he go?"

"You scared him off." Booth continued to hold pressure on the wound. "But you look like you went a few rounds with Conor McGregor. What happened here?"

Crispin's eye rolled to look at her, then back to Booth.

"That's my friend Nova. She's gonna clean you up. You can speak freely with her here." Booth looked at her and arched a brow.

She nodded. He wanted to trust her with the parts he'd kept secret all this time. She wasn't about to break his trust. "We need to get his shirt off, but hold pressure until I tell you."

"I remember. Under the canoes." Crispin licked his bloodied lip. "It's Floyd. Wants revenge…Blames us for Earl's death. Hired…men. Wants…wants to find…" He trailed off.

"Don't worry about that now. Save your energy." Nova pulled gloves on and cut up the middle of Crispin's shirt and along the shoulder seam.

Booth lifted his hands long enough for Nova to peel the shirt back. The bullet wound was a small hole about the size of her index finger. Booth was right. The shot had gone through Crispin's shoulder muscle and exited. It looked clean, but doctors would need to verify with an X-ray.

She covered the front wound with a stack of gauze pads and taped it down. "Roll him so I can do the back."

Nova waited until Booth was by her side. "Roll on three. One…two…three."

Booth rolled Crispin enough for Nova to get the bandage in place.

Crispin grunted.

She taped it down fast, and they lowered Crispin. She covered him with a blanket up to his chin and handed Booth a wet wipe for the blood on his hands.

Instead of using it himself, Booth wiped Crispin's chin. "Why'd you come here, buddy?"

"I…I had to tell you…" Crispin's eye fought to stay open, lost.

"Tell me? Tell me what?" Booth looked to her.

Nova put her fingers to Crispin's neck. "Pulse is good."

Her cell phone rang. She pulled off the bloody gloves and answered. "Burns."

"We're landing in two minutes. Clear the area," Medevac said.

"Copy." She disconnected and slid her phone into her back pocket. "Medevac is incoming. I'll go meet them."

Booth nodded and continued to watch Crispin. She stood and squeezed Booth's shoulder. He placed his hand over hers. "Thanks."

Nova swallowed and went outside into the afternoon sun.

The thump-thump-thump of the helicopter's rotors grew louder on approach.

She was all kinds of twisted up inside seeing Booth so worried about Crispin. This was why she avoided relationships. Pain.

The helicopter made a sharp turn before setting down in the clearing. In a matter of seconds, the EMTs unloaded with their gear and ran to Crispin.

The small one-room jail was too crowded, so Nova waited outside with Booth. They stood in silence as the EMTs loaded Crispin onto a gurney and hurried him to the air ambulance.

Almost as quickly as it had arrived, the chopper ascended.

Booth turned and walked off.

"Wait." She trotted after him. "Where are you going?"

He kept walking. "To find whoever did this."

"We don't have time for that right now." She grabbed him by the bicep.

Booth spun around. The muscles in his jaw flinched. "We can't just let this guy get away. That's already happened once."

"I agree. But that's what the police are for." She released his arm. "They sent a plane up with a six-man crew this morning, but the fire is dangerously close to Snowhaven. We have to go. Aria has the plane ready."

Booth stared at her for an uncomfortable moment. "Look, there's something going on here that's bigger than you and me. Bigger than wildfires and arsonists. And I have to stop it."

"Is this another one of your ultrafantastical stories about rogue CIA operatives and terrorists?"

Booth turned and marched down the sidewalk.

"Wait. I'm sorry." Nova followed him. "Where are you going?"

"What's it look like? I'm going after him."

"Please…tell me the truth. What's this all about?"

Booth spun to face her. "Look, whoever is behind this set fire to jump base. Nearly killed you and a civilian. Now Crispin?" He shook his head. "I can't just walk away."

Being in this old Western town turned movie set had him talking like he was a Texas Ranger or something. There was no sense in reminding him he wasn't a cop, because she'd already done that. "Come on, we need to get back to the ranch. We've got to stop this fire before it reaches the town."

"Not this time." The planks creaked as Booth strode across the wooden sidewalk.

She quickened her pace and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Booth, the team needs you. I need you. You're one of the best smokejumpers?—"

"I'm not a smokejumper!"

Nova blinked.

He raked a hand through his hair. Stray locks fell back into eyes. "I'm a special agent with the Department of Homeland Security."

She stared at him for almost a full ten seconds. Then, "I think all these Crazy Henry stories have you mixing up reality with fantasy." She almost laughed, but the intensity of his gaze said he was serious.

"You don't get it." He pushed his hair back and held it with both hands, palms covering his eyes. "Ugh!"

Wait. The secrets. The closed-up conversations. "Is this the secret you've been hiding?"

He dropped his hands. Closed the distance between them. Took her hand and clasped it in his. Fixed his ocean-blue eyes on her. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm a smokejumper, but only because it's my cover. I'm in WITSEC."

"Witness protection? As a smokejumper? Isn't the whole point of the program to keep someone alive? This job isn't exactly safe."

"It is remote."

He was serious, wasn't he?

"All these attacks?" She lifted her chin in the direction of the jail. "They're because of you?" She laced her fingers through his.

"I—I think so." He looked down. "I'm still trying to work this out."

She looked at their hands clasped in one big tangle of fingers and warmth. If what he said was true, he had an impossible choice. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything. I'm sorry about all this, but that gunman is long gone, and Crispin is safe. I'm not going to tell you what to do?—"

"That's a first."

"Yeah. Okay. I deserve that."

He'd finally given her a piece of his past, and while she wanted to keep digging, they had to leave this behind and get to work.

"All I know is the fire is bad, and if we don't go, the whole town could be destroyed. There're more lives at stake. The crew needs you." She reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I need you out there, just until I have reinforcements."

"Okay, yeah. You're right." He pushed out a long breath. "I won't have anything to go on until I can get to the hospital and talk to Crispin. Besides, I want to be there for you. Always."

Nova tucked her lips together and nodded. She hadn't been asking him to make some sort of life-altering commitment to her. Just to do his job by her side.

But their talk earlier had pulled down a few of her walls, and she was starting to open her heart to this man.

Whoever he was.