Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire 1)

She nearly lost her balance on the motorcycle. “Thank you. But you and I haven't even sat down and talked yet.”

“Logan called me an hour ago. He asked me to look into the case for you, to call in some favors. From everything I've read it looks like an accident, not arson, but I lost a brother too. I know how hard it is. I won't let the case drop until we're absolutely certain that there are no further leads.”

“I don't know how to thank you, Patrick.”

Or how to thank Logan for spearheading the renewed effort on her behalf. He was such an amazing man. Even when his head was on the chopping block, even when he was about to walk into an out-of-control fire, he was thinking about her. Helping her.

“After reading the note that the arsonist left you yesterday,” Patrick continued, “I can't help but wonder if the motel fire had something to do with Tony.”

She'd been wondering the very same thing, but she'd been trying to keep her focus on the current case. Yet it was an incredible feeling to know that other people were out there supporting her quest.

“I'll let you know if anything turns up,” he said, then disconnected.

Two beeps sounded in her ear. A call had gone to voice mail while she was talking to Patrick. It was David, and she braced herself for bad news as she dialed his number. She turned away from the fire to look out at the lake, and the setting sun nearly blinded her as she waited for him to pick up.

“It's Maya.” She got right to the point. “Have you tested the new samples?”

“Where did you get these?”

“Logan's garage.” The lump in her throat grew bigger. “They match the evidence from the explosion, don't they?”

David was silent for a long moment. “They do, but there's no way Logan did this. This is a small town. Anyone could have a match in their garage. Just to check the theory, I grabbed samples from my garage; they were a match too.”

Her hands shook on the receiver. “You shouldn't have done that,” she said in a low voice, even though she was glad that he had. With David's help she hoped to show that the evidence against Logan wasn't remotely strong enough to even charge him with the crime, let alone convict him.

“Logan is not only my friend, he's one of the best men I know. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Hell, I'll test samples from every garage on this side of the lake if I have to.”

A bright orange, red, and yellow ball of fire slowly disappeared into bright blue water as she thanked David and hung up. It had to be one of the most spectacular sunsets she'd ever witnessed. But the beauty was entirely wasted on her.

Logan's radio crackled with voices as he suited up and jumped into one of the station trucks to head out to the anchor point. He quickly learned that the suburban subdivision next to that morning's explosion was engulfed in flames. Shit. It hadn't taken long for the fire to jump out of the mountains and onto rooftops. Just hours ago, he and Maya had been up on one of those rooftops.

A knife lodged in the pit of his stomach.

Maya.

Ever since joining the Tahoe Pines Hotshot Crew fifteen years earlier, his decisions had been clear-cut. He put out fires. He supported his men. No woman had ever come between him and what he knew to be the right course of action.

Until now.

Until Maya.

Everything in him wanted to keep her safe. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her.

But the same was true for his crew. He already felt responsible for what had happened to Connor and Robbie. He couldn't let another one of his men end up in the burn ward.

No matter what he did, no matter which choice he made, he was screwed.

But years of dealing with that split second between life and death had taught him to make the hard decisions, and to make them fast, before indecision compounded the problem. And the fact was, no matter how compelled he was to protect Maya, she was tough. And smart. She understood the danger she was in, that conducting this investigation put her life at risk. Whereas, his men were trying to stay one step ahead of a complex and deadly fire. Logan couldn't let them continue that battle without his support.

Late-afternoon tourist traffic crawled on the lone highway that ringed the lake. Large sunburned families were crowded into cars after a happy day at the beach, intent on their fun even though the sky was hazy and the air quality was terrible. Logan wove through lanes as safely as he could manage, to speed up his trip into the housing development. He was running behind a ticking clock, one he was afraid he might never catch up with.

He parked in front of a manicured front lawn and moved quickly past the fire trucks, toward his squad boss.

Gary's expression was grim. “Tell me you've found the asswipe who did all this.”

“Not yet,” Logan said, “but as of fifteen minutes ago I've been taken off suspension.”

“Thank God for that,” Gary said.

Logan scanned the scene. The few men the hotshots could spare to work on saving the houses had been joined by the urban teams. From where he was standing, the fire looked to be raging completely out of control.

Gary confirmed his assessment, saying “Zero percent containment. We're f**ked.”

Gary's cell phone rang and Logan watched his squad boss's face go ash gray as he listened to the caller.

He clicked his phone shut. “That was the hospital.”

Logan braced himself. “Connor?”

Gary shook his head. “No. He's fine. In pain, but he'll heal. It's Robbie.”

All day he'd thought about Robbie, pictured him unconscious in the hospital bed, every inch of his skin covered in bandages.

“He's not doing well. His blood pressure is low. His heart rate is all over the place. They're not sure he's going to make it.”

“Jesus,” Logan said in a low voice. “He's all alone.”

“I'll keep holding down the fort. You go help Robbie fight like hell for his life. And whatever you do, Logan, bring him back alive.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE MOON hung low over the hotshot station when Maya walked in and saw that it was nearly empty, except for a lone, dark-haired man sitting at the dining table, his head bent down over maps and charts. With a fire like this, hotshot crews worked as long and hard as was humanly possible, only taking short breaks to refuel and snatch an hour or two of sleep to recharge.

early lost her balance on the motorcycle. “Thank you. But you and I haven't even sat down and talked yet.”

“Logan called me an hour ago. He asked me to look into the case for you, to call in some favors. From everything I've read it looks like an accident, not arson, but I lost a brother too. I know how hard it is. I won't let the case drop until we're absolutely certain that there are no further leads.”

“I don't know how to thank you, Patrick.”

Or how to thank Logan for spearheading the renewed effort on her behalf. He was such an amazing man. Even when his head was on the chopping block, even when he was about to walk into an out-of-control fire, he was thinking about her. Helping her.

“After reading the note that the arsonist left you yesterday,” Patrick continued, “I can't help but wonder if the motel fire had something to do with Tony.”

She'd been wondering the very same thing, but she'd been trying to keep her focus on the current case. Yet it was an incredible feeling to know that other people were out there supporting her quest.

“I'll let you know if anything turns up,” he said, then disconnected.

Two beeps sounded in her ear. A call had gone to voice mail while she was talking to Patrick. It was David, and she braced herself for bad news as she dialed his number. She turned away from the fire to look out at the lake, and the setting sun nearly blinded her as she waited for him to pick up.

“It's Maya.” She got right to the point. “Have you tested the new samples?”

“Where did you get these?”

“Logan's garage.” The lump in her throat grew bigger. “They match the evidence from the explosion, don't they?”

David was silent for a long moment. “They do, but there's no way Logan did this. This is a small town. Anyone could have a match in their garage. Just to check the theory, I grabbed samples from my garage; they were a match too.”

Her hands shook on the receiver. “You shouldn't have done that,” she said in a low voice, even though she was glad that he had. With David's help she hoped to show that the evidence against Logan wasn't remotely strong enough to even charge him with the crime, let alone convict him.

“Logan is not only my friend, he's one of the best men I know. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Hell, I'll test samples from every garage on this side of the lake if I have to.”

A bright orange, red, and yellow ball of fire slowly disappeared into bright blue water as she thanked David and hung up. It had to be one of the most spectacular sunsets she'd ever witnessed. But the beauty was entirely wasted on her.

Logan's radio crackled with voices as he suited up and jumped into one of the station trucks to head out to the anchor point. He quickly learned that the suburban subdivision next to that morning's explosion was engulfed in flames. Shit. It hadn't taken long for the fire to jump out of the mountains and onto rooftops. Just hours ago, he and Maya had been up on one of those rooftops.

A knife lodged in the pit of his stomach.

Maya.

Ever since joining the Tahoe Pines Hotshot Crew fifteen years earlier, his decisions had been clear-cut. He put out fires. He supported his men. No woman had ever come between him and what he knew to be the right course of action.

Until now.

Until Maya.

Everything in him wanted to keep her safe. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her.

But the same was true for his crew. He already felt responsible for what had happened to Connor and Robbie. He couldn't let another one of his men end up in the burn ward.

No matter what he did, no matter which choice he made, he was screwed.

But years of dealing with that split second between life and death had taught him to make the hard decisions, and to make them fast, before indecision compounded the problem. And the fact was, no matter how compelled he was to protect Maya, she was tough. And smart. She understood the danger she was in, that conducting this investigation put her life at risk. Whereas, his men were trying to stay one step ahead of a complex and deadly fire. Logan couldn't let them continue that battle without his support.

Late-afternoon tourist traffic crawled on the lone highway that ringed the lake. Large sunburned families were crowded into cars after a happy day at the beach, intent on their fun even though the sky was hazy and the air quality was terrible. Logan wove through lanes as safely as he could manage, to speed up his trip into the housing development. He was running behind a ticking clock, one he was afraid he might never catch up with.

He parked in front of a manicured front lawn and moved quickly past the fire trucks, toward his squad boss.

Gary's expression was grim. “Tell me you've found the asswipe who did all this.”

“Not yet,” Logan said, “but as of fifteen minutes ago I've been taken off suspension.”

“Thank God for that,” Gary said.

Logan scanned the scene. The few men the hotshots could spare to work on saving the houses had been joined by the urban teams. From where he was standing, the fire looked to be raging completely out of control.

Gary confirmed his assessment, saying “Zero percent containment. We're f**ked.”

Gary's cell phone rang and Logan watched his squad boss's face go ash gray as he listened to the caller.

He clicked his phone shut. “That was the hospital.”

Logan braced himself. “Connor?”

Gary shook his head. “No. He's fine. In pain, but he'll heal. It's Robbie.”

All day he'd thought about Robbie, pictured him unconscious in the hospital bed, every inch of his skin covered in bandages.

“He's not doing well. His blood pressure is low. His heart rate is all over the place. They're not sure he's going to make it.”

“Jesus,” Logan said in a low voice. “He's all alone.”

“I'll keep holding down the fort. You go help Robbie fight like hell for his life. And whatever you do, Logan, bring him back alive.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE MOON hung low over the hotshot station when Maya walked in and saw that it was nearly empty, except for a lone, dark-haired man sitting at the dining table, his head bent down over maps and charts. With a fire like this, hotshot crews worked as long and hard as was humanly possible, only taking short breaks to refuel and snatch an hour or two of sleep to recharge.