Page 53 of Fireline

The engine growled and Floyd gunned it. He drove straight through the fire, headed for the woods behind the cabin.

Booth squeezed off a couple more shots after him but only managed to pepper the ground as Floyd disappeared into the woods.

His prime suspect. Gone.

But his partner could still be alive.

Booth jumped over the burning porch and burst through the cabin door. He braced for an attack. Only silence greeted him. Inside the dingy interior, he smelled the metallic tang of blood.

From the mattress in the corner, Crispin lifted his head. “What took you so long?” The words came out cracked and hoarse.

Even from across the room, Booth could see he was in rough shape. Crispin’s arms and face were mottled black and blue with contusions. “You should’ve stayed in the hospital. Anyone else here?”

Crispin winced. “Don’t think so, but that greasy dude who shot me was here earlier.”

Booth hadn’t seen anyone in the cabin with Floyd, but he swept the two cramped rooms with his gun leading the way. Empty.

“Now that you’ve had the tour, think you can uncuff me?” Crispin rattled the handcuffs.

Holstering his weapon, Booth went to Crispin. “I don’t suppose you have the key?”

“Nope.”

“I’m guessing a bobby pin is too much to ask for.”

“Best I can offer is that pair of sunglasses over there.” Crispin tipped his head toward the table, where a pair of aviators sat.

“That’ll work.” Booth broke off the metal earpiece and used it to pick the lock on the cuff around Crispin’s wrist. After about fifteen seconds, it disengaged with a click. “We need to move fast. You okay to walk?”

Crispin nodded and eased into a sitting position. “Why do we have to move fast?”

“I sorta set the cabin on fire.” His eyes landed on a set of keys tossed atop a nearby crate. Floyd’s ride, no doubt. God seemed to be on their side for once.

“You what?” Crispin shouted. “Are you nuts? You coulda killed me!”

Booth snatched the keys. “In my defense, I only set the grass on fire. The wind blew the fire onto the porch.” Aware Floyd could return at any moment, Booth headed for the door. “We can discuss it later. Let’s go.”

Crispin tried to get to his feet. He groaned and fell back on the mattress.

“I got you, buddy.” With as much care as he could muster, Booth lifted Crispin to his feet. He pulled Crispin’s good arm around his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his friend’s waist.

Somehow, Booth managed to stay upright and stagger through the fire without scoring major burns for either of them. He half carried Crispin to the battered pickup just outside.

At the sight of Floyd’s vehicle, Booth breathed a sigh.

They might just make it out of here alive after all.

Nova’s heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the growing crackle of advancing flames. Biting back a scream, she staggered deeper into the woods, clutching her broken ribs with one arm. She’d survived that horrific midair collision with Finn, but the fire had her trapped on the mountainside with no way out.

If she was going down, she wouldn’t go easy. Not Nova Burns.

Her ankle screamed with each step, but she limped onward. Smoke stung her eyes, making it impossible to orient herself or judge the fire’s proximity. There had to be something she could do. Some way out.

All she’d wanted was to follow in her uncle Jock’s footsteps. It had been her driving purpose since before she could carry a Pulaski. Oh, she was following in his footsteps all right. Facing an excruciating end by being overrun by a fire.

What good was that lifelong dream if she died alone?

Booth’s face flashed in her mind. His floppy hair and wide grin stirred an ache in her heart. If only they’d had more time to explore the spark igniting between them. But it was too late for regrets.

---