Facing the Fire

She looked at his unyielding face and just then, it struck her. The deep bitterness he felt, the resentment. The fierce anger he’d fostered for years.

He blamed the collapse of their marriage on her.

But that was crazy! He was the one who had left. He’d chosen his job over her.

But he didn’t see it that way. A sick feeling spiraled through her stomach. Oh, God. “Cade, I…” Her voice shook, and her heart battered hard against her rib cage. “Back there, when we were catching the dog, you said, you thought I’d…that I’d abandoned you.”

He stilled, and the muscles along his jaw tensed. “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t?”

“Yes. I mean no, I didn’t, I never…”

“Right.” Bitterness seeped through his voice. “Well, you sure as hell fooled me.” He made a sound of disgust and turned away.

And her heart balled even tighter. She never would have abandoned Cade. She’d loved him back then, truly loved him, with a passion bordering on desperation. He’d been the center of her world, the hero of her childhood dreams—or so she’d thought.

But even when he’d crushed those dreams, she’d never intended to hurt him. She’d just been too wrapped up in her own misery to do anything more than flee.

She gazed at his rigid back and her heart wrenched. She had to tell him that. Even if it didn’t change how he felt, he needed to know the truth. He probably wouldn’t listen to her now, and with the fire at their backs, this wasn’t the time. But somehow, before they reached Missoula, she would explain.

He lifted a plastic fuel container with his left hand, shook it, and handed it back. Then he pulled the chain saw from the shelf. “When was the last time you used this?”

“I never have.”

“Hell. The damn thing probably won’t run.” He set it on the ground outside the shed, turned back and grabbed an ax. He set that down next to the chain saw.

“That’s it,” he said, still sounding angry. “Let’s go.”

Her heart weighted, she tucked the clothesline under her arm, picked up the chain saw, and headed toward the Jeep. She heard Cade close the shed door behind her.

He helped load the tools through the rear window, and every jerk of his arm, every twist of his head tightened her nerves, reminding her of the unfinished business between them. Still, she was thankful for his silence. With her emotions so raw, she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“The trail starts just past that boulder,” he said when they’d climbed back into the Jeep.

“I remember,” she managed. She pulled back onto the road and drove slowly toward the large rock, then stopped when she spotted the trail. Ferns sprawled over deep ruts and potholes. Branches poked through the clusters of weeds.

Her apprehension rose. “It looks pretty rough. Do you think the Jeep will make it?”

“It had better.”

“You’re right.” No matter how primitive, this road was their only way out. She tentatively stepped on the gas.

The Jeep bumped over a branch. The grooves around Cade’s mouth deepened and he cradled his arm to his chest. She hit the brakes, concerned. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” His skin had paled and new creases lined his forehead.

He flicked his hard gaze to her. “Well, looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”

A swift jab of hurt lanced her chest. “You think I deceived you?”

He raised a brow but didn’t answer, and she yanked her gaze to the trail. So he thought she had deceived him, that she’d lied to him when she left. In a way, she didn’t blame him. But he was wrong, and she had to explain that. She owed him that much after everything they’d shared.

But this wasn’t the time. Her throat aching with guilt and apprehension, she pressed on the gas. Fortunately, dodging branches demanded concentration and she pushed the past to the back of her mind.

But that left her to deal with the present. And no matter how difficult the trail was, her senses locked on the man stretched beside her. His long, muscled legs and sturdy boots filled the periphery of her vision. Every time she inhaled, his low, smoky scent scored her lungs. Even the rasp of his breath stroked her nerves into heightened awareness.

But then, he’d always had that effect on her. From the moment they’d met, he’d taken command of her senses. The attraction had been instant, overwhelming, sparking a passion they couldn’t contain. But even a fire that hot couldn’t sustain a marriage, especially when Cade wouldn’t stay home.

She glanced at him again and stifled a sigh. Unfortunately for her, the man still rattled her senses. Ten long years hadn’t dimmed that attraction one bit.

Which was going to make this one uncomfortable drive.

About a mile past the cabin, the road started climbing. Thankful for the distraction, she stopped and shifted to all-wheel drive. The sun slid behind the mountain as she powered uphill, sending long shadows over their path. The pines turned a darker shade of green, and the warm air gradually cooled.

Suddenly, she spotted the old meadow and her heart jammed in her throat. And despite her intentions, sensations clawed through her nerves, memories of rolling in that fragrant grass, alive and in love with Cade. When need had surged, and laughter had turned to breathtaking hunger.

Desperate to banish the memories, she stomped on the gas. The Jeep lurched forward, the meadow disappeared behind them, and she slowly released her breath.

She braved a glance at Cade. He stared straight ahead, the muscles along his jaw taut. Whether from pain or seeing the meadow, she didn’t know. And no way was she going to ask.

A moment later, he cleared his throat. “Have you used this Liberty much off-road?”

She inched out her breath. “It’s not mine. I rented it at the airport. I thought I might need an SUV if the roads were bad, and the Liberty was all they had.”

His eyes met hers. “So you don’t live around here?”

“No, I work in Virginia. I just came here on my vacation.”

“To stay in the cabin?”

“No, to sell it.” She pulled her gaze to the road. Frankly, she didn’t know why he’d ever given her the place. She hadn’t asked for it. And although she loved to hike, he was more the outdoorsman.

Maybe it had reminded him too much of her.

“So you don’t come here much?” he persisted.

“No.” Her gaze met his again. “This is my first trip back.”

His blue eyes narrowed on hers. She waited for him to ask why she still owned a cabin she never used. Why she hadn’t severed that tie to him years ago. Questions she’d refused to ask herself and certainly couldn’t answer.

His eyes searched hers, and her pulse drummed in her throat. “Looks like you picked a bad time,” he finally said.

“Yes.” She dragged her gaze away. Her timing stank, all right, especially since she’d come back to get over him. And the irony of that struck her hard. Instead of being able to forget the man, she now had to spend hours trapped in this Jeep beside him, conscious of every movement he made.

Moments later, the trees on the side of the road thinned, and Cade straightened in his seat. “Stop for a minute, will you?”

“Sure.” Anxious to put some distance between them, she braked and turned off the engine. Cool air blew through the open windows, along with the distant roar of the fire.

Cade grabbed his radio and climbed out. Jordan glanced back at the dog curled behind his seat and wondered if he needed a break. But what if she couldn’t catch him?

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said. “We’ll let you out later, when we’re farther away from the fire.” She stroked his head, smiling when he looked up and whined. He really was a sweet dog. Thank goodness she’d found him in time.

She got out of the Jeep, closed the door and stretched to ease the tension from her shoulders. Then she joined Cade at the edge of the road.

She looked down at the forest and the air locked in her throat. A sea of fire shimmered below them, rolling and seething like something alive. Brilliant orange flames streamed over the livid mass and whipped high into the sky.

“Looks like it jumped the road,” Cade said. “It’s a good thing we turned around.”

She searched for signs of the road they’d traveled, but the fire had swallowed it up. She shivered, suddenly very glad Cade was with her. What would she have done on her own?

The cool wind gusted and blew her long hair forward. She gathered the thick mass and held it over her shoulder to keep it out of her eyes. “It’s windy up here.”

“It’s that front pushing through.” He lifted his radio and pushed a button. A small red light came on. “Campbell, this is McKenzie.”

“McKenzie,” Trey radioed back seconds later. “What the hell are you still doing out here? I thought you’d be soaking in a hot tub with some naked blonde by now.”

Cade chuckled, and a swift pain cramped Jordan’s chest. Caught off guard, she sucked in her breath. She couldn’t be jealous. That was ridiculous. She and Cade were divorced!

She glanced at him, and her lungs closed up. He stood with his long legs braced apart, his wide shoulders framing his muscled body. Of course the women flocked to him. And when he looked at them with those eyes…

“Listen,” he said into the radio. “We couldn’t get through on the road, so we turned around. We’re up on the ridge behind the cabin.” He paused, and Trey said something she didn’t catch. “It’s pushing west,” Cade said, “but the perimeter’s erratic.”

Her stomach still churning, she turned away. Below her, a tree exploded, launching deep-orange flames toward the sky. She tried to imagine people down there fighting that fire—smokejumpers like Trey and Cade. How on earth did they find the courage?

“You’re probably going to need that tanker,” Cade said. “The mud should help you get close. Just make damned sure you’ve got an escape route.”

An escape route. She swallowed hard.

“Probably back inside the burned-out area,” he added. “And heads up on this one. I don’t like the way it looks.”

Fear lodged deep in her throat, and she took a long look at the fire. She’d never understood that aspect of Cade—how he could stand the danger. It had seemed reckless to her, even selfish, that he’d risk his life for this job. Every time he’d left, she’d been terrified he wouldn’t return.

And now that she could see the sheer enormity of the fire, the risk seemed even worse.

“Yeah, I’ll keep you posted.” He turned off the radio and his gaze met hers. And without warning, her world tilted even more. He was good at this, she realized, an expert. A leader who took charge and got the job done.

Not the thrill-seeker she’d once thought.

And he cared about his men. Enough to radio and help them, even when finding his own way out.

She cleared the sudden tightness from her throat. “Can they really put out this fire? It’s so huge.”

“It’s getting there.” He gazed down at the blaze. “They’ll have to get a tanker in here in the morning, probably bring in a hotshot crew and get more saws on the line.”

“Why didn’t they do that to begin with?”

“Because the fire wasn’t big enough then.” His gaze met hers. “Smokejumpers are the initial attack team. They drop us in while the fire’s still small, and we put it out before it goes big.” He smiled wryly. “At least that’s the idea. If we can contain it, we save them a lot of money.”

She looked out at the fire again. “You save more than money.” That fire devoured trees and killed animals. And if it reached a populated area, they could lose homes and people, too.

She frowned. “I guess I never appreciated that before. I mean, I knew what you did, but I never really thought about the lives you save.” She’d focused on the danger, the glamour, the excitement of leaping from planes.

The time he’d spent apart from her.

“You’re a hero,” she admitted.

“Hardly. I just do my job.”

“You do far more than that. You’re amazing.” Their gazes locked. The seconds stretched. And she wondered if she’d really known him back then, ever seen beyond her own needs to the essence of this man.

And that bothered her. She’d come here to let go of the past, not to see Cade in a better light.

Or to find out she’d been wrong.

“We’d better go,” he said.

“All right.” Still unsettled, she followed him back to the Jeep and started the engine. He slid in the passenger side and closed the door.

“How far until we meet up with that Forest Service road?” she asked.

“Hold on. I’ll check the map.” He turned on the dome light and reached toward the backseat, then stopped.

The pallor of his face caught her attention. “I’ve got it.” She grabbed the map and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He spread it awkwardly over his lap. After a moment, he lifted his head. “We should get to a river pretty quick. Once we cross that, we’ve got about twenty miles to go.”

“Twenty miles? Just to reach a dirt road?” Her jaw sagged. This trip could take all night. And she couldn’t imagine driving this trail in full darkness. “But what about your shoulder?”

“It’s fine. I’m guessing my collarbone’s cracked, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” She gaped at him. “Are you joking? You must be in terrible pain.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Right.” She didn’t believe that for a second. “Is there something we can do?”

“We can rig a sling up later, when we’re farther away from the fire. I don’t want to take the time right now.”

“All right,” she said, still stunned. She knew they didn’t have the luxury of stopping, at least not yet. “But let me know when you want to do it.” She put the Jeep into gear and released the brake.

A quarter mile later, they crossed the ridge top and started down the opposite side. They descended slowly, working their way haltingly down the rutted road, every sway and jostle of the Jeep bringing their shoulders dangerously closer. Jordan focused on the path the headlights cut through the dusk, determined to ignore her nearness to Cade.

The smell of the fire finally faded, replaced by the strong smell of pine. She braved a glance at Cade. He’d fallen asleep, thank God. At least now he could escape the pain that injury must cause. And she could stop pretending he didn’t affect her.

She let her gaze linger on his handsome face, on the hard, familiar planes of his cheekbones, the stubbled line of his jaw. The dim light emphasized the shadows under his eyes, his fatigue. He seemed vulnerable suddenly, exhausted, and she felt a reluctant surge of sympathy.

He’d always come home from fires worn out. He’d shower, wolf down more food than she’d thought possible and promptly crash into bed. And leave her feeling even lonelier than when he’d been gone.

She forced her gaze back to the road. After seeing that fire, she had to admit he had a right to be tired. She could only imagine the strength his job demanded.

Pensive now, she continued picking her way down the mountain. Soon she heard a low rushing sound over the noise of the motor. It grew steadily louder, and her hopes rose. They’d made it to the river. Now just twenty more miles until they reached a normal dirt road.

But then the headlights flashed on a barrier blocking their path and she quickly slammed on the brakes.

“What’s wrong?” Cade asked, his voice rough with sleep.

She peered through the windshield at the metal pole. What on earth? “The road’s closed.”

He dragged a hand over his eyes and straightened. “I’ll check it out.”

“I’ll come with you.” Her anxiety rising, she pushed open her door. Why would anyone block off this old trail? Unless…

She hurried around the front of the Jeep. The sound of rushing water filled her ears. The Jeep’s headlights shone past the barrier to the dark, swirling water below, and her breath jammed in her throat.

Someone had put up that pole for good reason. The bridge was gone.

Chapter 4

Cade strode around the roadblock and peered down at the river snaking through the rock-strewn valley. Months of drought had shrunk it back from its broad banks, exposing rocks and stranded deadfall. But even now, in this weakened state, it wouldn’t be easy to cross.

“I can’t believe this,” Jordan said from beside him. “Why would anyone take out the bridge?”

Her voice floated to him in the dim light, and the low, throaty sound tightened his nerves. He forced himself to ignore that temptation and concentrate on the problem at hand. “The mining company probably built it. They wouldn’t want to maintain it after they shut down. And nobody uses this road.”

“Except for us.”

“Yeah.” Which was their bad luck, but he hadn’t expected the trail to be problem-free. In fact, he was surprised they’d made it this far.

Jordan crossed her arms. “So now what? Should we turn around?”

He started to shake his head, but the stabbing pain stopped him cold. “Too dangerous. We need to keep going in case the fire turns.”

“You think there’s another bridge?”

“No, we’ll just have to cross without one. The bank isn’t steep,” he added. “The Jeep can make it down.”

Her eyes widened, and even in the low light he could see her alarm. “But what about the water? How do we get through that?”

He kept his gaze steady on hers, hoping she wouldn’t panic. “I’m guessing it’s pretty shallow with the drought we’ve had. But we won’t know for sure until we’re in it.”

Her hand rose to her throat. He wished he could spare her this. He worked with danger and risked his life every day. But she’d always been more vulnerable, in need of protection. Or so he’d thought.

“If you want, we can leave the Jeep here and wade across,” he said slowly. “I can come back later and pick it up.”

“But then we’d have to hike to that road. And what if the fire turns? Wouldn’t it be better if we had the Jeep?”

“Maybe.” Depending on the path the fire took.

She turned toward the river again. The Jeep’s high beams reflected off the thrashing water. The scent of moisture permeated the air. “I guess we’d better drive it across,” she finally said. “But shouldn’t we wait until morning?”

“More light won’t help that much.” The real danger lay under the water, with river rocks and mud. “And the way that front is moving, I’d rather cross tonight, at least get a firebreak between us and the fire.” Even then, sparks could blow across, but he didn’t mention that. She already looked anxious enough.

Her long sigh cut through the dusk. “All right, but you’d better drive. This is totally out of my league.”

If only he could. He tried to lift his right arm, but sharp pain blazed through his shoulder, a deep, dizzying spasm that burned from his neck to his ribs. Hell. His damned arm was practically useless.

He clenched his jaw and sucked in his breath, willing the ache to subside. He’d always been the strong one, the man who took all the risks. Sure, he relied on his smokejumping bros, but that was part of the job.

But this weakness, this damned dependency…

His stomach balled, and something close to panic rocked his nerves. It was only temporary, for God’s sake. He wasn’t a permanent ground-pounder. He’d be back on the jump list in no time.

But it was still damned hard to admit. He forced his fist to uncurl. “You’ll have to do it. I can’t shift with my shoulder this bad.”

The rushing water filled the stark silence. He felt Jordan’s gaze on him, and his pulse slugged hard through his head, as if he’d just run the PT test. God, he hated being weak.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll try.”

He flicked his gaze to hers, but didn’t see condemnation. The knot slowly eased in his gut.

But then, she’d always had that effect on him. She’d been his oasis, his refuge, offering him the comfort and solace he’d craved.

“Do you want to make that sling now?” she asked.

“Later, after we cross the river. We can take a break on the other side.”

Her eyes searched his. Her delicate brows wrinkled with worry, not for her own safety, but for his. His resentment slipped another notch.

And suddenly, he wanted to move closer, to feel that gentle warmth. To bask in her approval, her acceptance. Her love.

And that was as dangerous as the fire. He couldn’t let down his defenses. This woman had the power to destroy him, just as she’d done before.

He’d barely survived it the first time. He’d spent months enraged, so bitter he could barely sleep. Always doubting, forever questioning, wondering what on earth he’d done wrong. And he’d be damned if he’d suffer through that hell again.

He yanked his mind to the river and stepped back. “We’d better go.” Without waiting for her to answer, he circled the roadblock and strode to the back of the Jeep. Once there, he popped the rear window, picked up the nylon rope and tossed it on top of his PG bag.

A few seconds later, Jordan joined him. And despite his resolve, her soft, feminine scent invaded his space and heightened his senses. Annoyed by his reaction, he stepped away. “You’d better put a bag together,” he told her. “In case we have to bail out midstream.”

He heard her suck in her breath. He didn’t want to scare her, but they had to prepare. “I doubt you’ll need it,” he added.

“I know.” But her hands trembled as she dumped out an athletic bag full of toiletries. She pulled a blanket and clothes from various bags, along with food from the cooler and a plastic bowl. “For the dog,” she explained.

She zipped the bag closed and dropped it on the backseat. The dog raised his head and whined.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “We’re not going to leave you here.”

She meant that, Cade knew. She would risk her own life before she abandoned that dog. Of course, he’d once thought she was that committed to him.

Shoving aside a rush of resentment, he closed the rear window, walked back to the passenger door and climbed in. Pain bolted down his shoulder with the movement. He panted quietly, sucking in fast, shallow breaths until the spasm passed, knowing this wasn’t the time to be weak.

Jordan slid into the driver’s seat and closed her door. She latched her seat belt, and her uncertain gaze met his.

“Ready?” he managed as the pain edged back to an ache.

“I guess so.” Her gaze moved over his chest. “Do you want me to help with your seat belt?”

“No.” He’d rather suffer than have her that close.

“This could get bumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just go.”

“If you say so.” Looking doubtful, she shoved the Jeep into gear, tightened her grip on the wheel and backed up.

“Try going down by that tree.” He pointed to an alder tree still visible on the bank downstream.

“All right.”

He gritted his teeth as the Jeep bumped over the rocky ground to the bank, which sloped gradually down to the river. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the headlights cut through the mounting darkness. The water gleamed as it floated past.

Jordan stopped and adjusted her hands on the wheel. Her knuckles shone in the dashboard’s light and she inhaled sharply. “Here goes.”

The Jeep tipped, and she quickly slammed on the brakes, throwing him forward. “I’m sorry!” she gasped as he hit the dashboard.

Pain stabbed his shoulder, and nausea flooded his gut. Stifling a groan, he shoved himself back in his seat. “Keep going.”

She edged up her foot and they rushed ahead, bumped over a rock, then stopped. Feeling dazed, he sucked in his breath. “You’re doing great,” he ground out.

She slanted him a skeptical glance. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind getting whiplash.”

They sped forward again, dropped into a pothole, tipped to the side and jolted out. Struggling for balance, Cade braced his boot against the dashboard.

The Jeep lurched over another rock and stopped abruptly, ramming his knee to his chest. A spasm racked his shoulder and he fought down another groan. Forget whiplash. If she kept this up, he’d pass out before they reached the bottom.