Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire 1) - Page 62

So rather than answering him, rather than having to make a decision about her future—about their future— she focused on the fire. On her duties. And his.

“I need to call my boss and tell him everything that's happened.”

Logan searched her eyes and she dropped her gaze. She didn't want him to see her fear. Her uncertainty.

He stroked her arms. “I know you're not ready yet, Maya, but I'm going to tell you again anyway. I love you.”

She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. He was so gentle. So wonderful. And still she was afraid.

“Will you still be in Tahoe when I'm done putting out the fire?”

She swallowed hard. “I don't know.”

He didn't pressure her into making a decision or a declaration. She was paralyzed by her fear of losing him, was still convinced that it would be better to give him up now.

They moved down the trail in silence. She gasped when they got to Joseph's cabin. It was a massive fireball in the middle of a forest.

“She made me do it,” she confessed in a shaky voice.

Logan squeezed her hand. “Joseph understands. He'd never blame you for doing what you needed to do to stay alive.”

She held her stomach with both hands, willing herself not to hurl. “But everything you have is gone. Your memories from his cabin, and your house too.”

“Joseph's going to move in with me. Or Dennis. So he doesn't need the cabin anymore.” Logan pulled her against him, kissing her hard, stealing the breath from her lungs. “You're here, Maya. I don't need a house. I only need you.”

Her heart broke into a million pieces at the thought of going back to San Francisco. Alone.

Suddenly, one of the cabin's windows blew out and he dragged her behind him as he ran. They didn't let up their pace until they saw the fire trucks roaring onto Joseph's driveway.

Sam MacKenzie jumped out of the lead truck. “You guys all right?”

Chief Stevens was right behind him. “Maya, thank God.” His face was deeply lined with worry as he hugged her. “I could barely hear you—we had to access our recorded telephone logs to replay what you said. I wish to God we'd gotten here sooner.”

“I'm fine,” she said weakly. “Thank you for coming.”

She felt herself weave on her feet and Logan was instantly at her side again, holding her steady. “Can you walk down the driveway?”

She blinked hard, forced the black spots away from her vision. “Yes. Of course I can,” she insisted, even though it was more pride than truth.

“We'll go slow,” he said as they started walking.

But he had a job to do. Which was why she was going to force herself to walk out of his arms even though she never ever wanted to let him go.

“You have to go now to see if you can salvage anything from Joseph's cabin. I'll be fine.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment before he said, “Joseph's waiting for you out on the road. He'll get you a ride back to your motel.”

She nodded, her heart stuck in her throat. He held her hand fast, not letting her go. “Don't worry,” he said, “I'll come back to you. I promise.”

And then she made herself walk down the driveway, away from the man she loved as he raced straight into the fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JOSEPH WAITED for her at the end of the drive. “Welcome back from hell.”

Her throat grew tight as she stood before the kind man who'd given Logan so much. “I'm so sorry, Joseph. I should have fought harder. Then maybe you'd still have your house.”

He put his arms around her, his solid warmth comforting. Logan had been lucky to find a father like this.

“You did exactly the right thing. All that matters is getting out alive.”

“But she got away.”

Joseph's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Don't worry. I'm sure she'll end up paying big-time for what she's done. You'll see.” He helped her into a waiting minivan. “Go back to your motel. Take a shower. Eat something. And get some sleep. We'll all still be here when you wake up.”

The drive back to her motel was a total blur. The man behind the wheel kept telling her she looked bad, kept saying he wanted to take her to the hospital, but she couldn't stand to have a bunch of strangers poking and prodding her. She needed to be alone, to regain her bearings and process everything that had happened.

The blonde girl was sitting at the motel's front desk watching TV when Maya walked in to get a key. “What happened to you? You look like shit.”

Three days blurred together in a strange and murky cloud in her brain. “I lost my key” was all Maya could manage. She was too tired to say anything else.

The girl snapped her gum. “Name?”

“Maya Jackson.”

Her name was the same, but she was a completely different person.

The girl handed her the key and Maya was surprised to see her hands shaking as she took it. Funny how you could fool yourself—and everyone else—into thinking you were holding everything together when you weren't.

Maya headed for her room, surprised that taking the stairs to the second floor felt like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. She was so fried she could barely stand, yet at this exact moment she knew Logan was knee-deep in ashes, wielding heavy equipment and hoses to save what was left of Joseph's cabin.

Once she got inside her room, she stripped down, barely acknowledging the bruises, scrapes, and welts that covered her arms, legs, and torso. She walked into the shower and leaned her weight against the tiled wall. When she looked down, the white floor tiles were black beneath her feet. She watched ash and dirt wind down the drain until the water ran cold.

Shivering, she wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the bedroom. Heavy weights hung from her eyelids, and she used up her last burst of energy crawling under the covers. There were a hundred things she should be doing. But all of them required strength and energy she didn't have.

Additional hotshot crews and smoke jumpers from all across the West were on their way to fight the forest fire in Desolation Wilderness. By late Sunday afternoon, Logan had to make the difficult decision to bring his crew in again. With forty-mile-an-hour winds, the usual method of digging fire lines wasn't going to cut it. And while he reassessed the situation, his men could get some much-needed rest.

ther than answering him, rather than having to make a decision about her future—about their future— she focused on the fire. On her duties. And his.

“I need to call my boss and tell him everything that's happened.”

Logan searched her eyes and she dropped her gaze. She didn't want him to see her fear. Her uncertainty.

He stroked her arms. “I know you're not ready yet, Maya, but I'm going to tell you again anyway. I love you.”

She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. He was so gentle. So wonderful. And still she was afraid.

“Will you still be in Tahoe when I'm done putting out the fire?”

She swallowed hard. “I don't know.”

He didn't pressure her into making a decision or a declaration. She was paralyzed by her fear of losing him, was still convinced that it would be better to give him up now.

They moved down the trail in silence. She gasped when they got to Joseph's cabin. It was a massive fireball in the middle of a forest.

“She made me do it,” she confessed in a shaky voice.

Logan squeezed her hand. “Joseph understands. He'd never blame you for doing what you needed to do to stay alive.”

She held her stomach with both hands, willing herself not to hurl. “But everything you have is gone. Your memories from his cabin, and your house too.”

“Joseph's going to move in with me. Or Dennis. So he doesn't need the cabin anymore.” Logan pulled her against him, kissing her hard, stealing the breath from her lungs. “You're here, Maya. I don't need a house. I only need you.”

Her heart broke into a million pieces at the thought of going back to San Francisco. Alone.

Suddenly, one of the cabin's windows blew out and he dragged her behind him as he ran. They didn't let up their pace until they saw the fire trucks roaring onto Joseph's driveway.

Sam MacKenzie jumped out of the lead truck. “You guys all right?”

Chief Stevens was right behind him. “Maya, thank God.” His face was deeply lined with worry as he hugged her. “I could barely hear you—we had to access our recorded telephone logs to replay what you said. I wish to God we'd gotten here sooner.”

“I'm fine,” she said weakly. “Thank you for coming.”

She felt herself weave on her feet and Logan was instantly at her side again, holding her steady. “Can you walk down the driveway?”

She blinked hard, forced the black spots away from her vision. “Yes. Of course I can,” she insisted, even though it was more pride than truth.

“We'll go slow,” he said as they started walking.

But he had a job to do. Which was why she was going to force herself to walk out of his arms even though she never ever wanted to let him go.

“You have to go now to see if you can salvage anything from Joseph's cabin. I'll be fine.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment before he said, “Joseph's waiting for you out on the road. He'll get you a ride back to your motel.”

She nodded, her heart stuck in her throat. He held her hand fast, not letting her go. “Don't worry,” he said, “I'll come back to you. I promise.”

And then she made herself walk down the driveway, away from the man she loved as he raced straight into the fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JOSEPH WAITED for her at the end of the drive. “Welcome back from hell.”

Her throat grew tight as she stood before the kind man who'd given Logan so much. “I'm so sorry, Joseph. I should have fought harder. Then maybe you'd still have your house.”

He put his arms around her, his solid warmth comforting. Logan had been lucky to find a father like this.

“You did exactly the right thing. All that matters is getting out alive.”

“But she got away.”

Joseph's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Don't worry. I'm sure she'll end up paying big-time for what she's done. You'll see.” He helped her into a waiting minivan. “Go back to your motel. Take a shower. Eat something. And get some sleep. We'll all still be here when you wake up.”

The drive back to her motel was a total blur. The man behind the wheel kept telling her she looked bad, kept saying he wanted to take her to the hospital, but she couldn't stand to have a bunch of strangers poking and prodding her. She needed to be alone, to regain her bearings and process everything that had happened.

The blonde girl was sitting at the motel's front desk watching TV when Maya walked in to get a key. “What happened to you? You look like shit.”

Three days blurred together in a strange and murky cloud in her brain. “I lost my key” was all Maya could manage. She was too tired to say anything else.

The girl snapped her gum. “Name?”

“Maya Jackson.”

Her name was the same, but she was a completely different person.

The girl handed her the key and Maya was surprised to see her hands shaking as she took it. Funny how you could fool yourself—and everyone else—into thinking you were holding everything together when you weren't.

Maya headed for her room, surprised that taking the stairs to the second floor felt like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. She was so fried she could barely stand, yet at this exact moment she knew Logan was knee-deep in ashes, wielding heavy equipment and hoses to save what was left of Joseph's cabin.

Once she got inside her room, she stripped down, barely acknowledging the bruises, scrapes, and welts that covered her arms, legs, and torso. She walked into the shower and leaned her weight against the tiled wall. When she looked down, the white floor tiles were black beneath her feet. She watched ash and dirt wind down the drain until the water ran cold.

Shivering, she wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the bedroom. Heavy weights hung from her eyelids, and she used up her last burst of energy crawling under the covers. There were a hundred things she should be doing. But all of them required strength and energy she didn't have.

Additional hotshot crews and smoke jumpers from all across the West were on their way to fight the forest fire in Desolation Wilderness. By late Sunday afternoon, Logan had to make the difficult decision to bring his crew in again. With forty-mile-an-hour winds, the usual method of digging fire lines wasn't going to cut it. And while he reassessed the situation, his men could get some much-needed rest.


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