Page 19 of Fireline

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.

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