Page 2 of Light My Fire

Jed glanced over at the congregation of smokejumpers—heroes with eager, formerly smoke-smudged faces, many with beards, bearing scrapes and sunburns and a cockiness that came from winning this round of the war on fire.

“We’re attracting attention,” Tucker said. He nodded to a few flannel-clad locals.

“Let them eat, then head back to the ranch. Make sure they get a good night’s sleep.”

Tucker had never respected someone more than Jed Ransom, seasoned smokejumper, his trainer, boss, and frankly, a guy he would follow anywhere. However, the three weeks on the line had stripped some of the vim from Jed’s expression, added whiskers and length to his dark brown hair, turning it nearly unruly. He’d showered back at the ranch where the team bunked and now wore a black Jude County Smokejumpers T-shirt and a jean jacket, a pair of hiking boots.

“Here you go,” Vic said, and Tucker turned as she set down a basket of wings, a plastic cup of blue cheese, and some celery. His glass of ginger ale sweated on a napkin.

“Thanks.”

Jed reached for one of his wings. “Skye okay?”

Tucker took a sip of his drink. “Seems like it. Wish I could get the shot of her standing in the middle of that fire out of my head.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“I don’t know—one second she’s lighting the burn with the drip torch, the next she’s completely frozen, letting it drip fire around her. She said it wouldn’t turn off—she could have burned alive.” He blew out a breath, wanting to shake from his brain the image of Riley grabbing her, throwing the torch, tackling her out of the flames.

“Riley has—” Jed started.

“Crazy. Riley is crazy,” Tucker said, picking up a wing. “He could have gotten both of them killed.”

Jed raised an eyebrow, set down the bones of his wing on a napkin, and grabbed another. “Riley acted fast. She could have been seriously hurt.”

Yeah, maybe Jed was right. While Tucker had been shouting instructions at her as to how to turn it off, Riley reacted.

Tucker used to be the guy who reacted.

Jed’s mouth tightened, but he gave a shallow nod. And had the grace not to suggest that Riley had probably saved Skye’s life.

Truth was, wildland firefighting was one of the world’s most dangerous occupations. Add in leaping from a plane from 3,000 feet into the mouth of a dragon, well…yeah, if they all made it home alive, it wouldn’t be without divine intervention. So maybe he should cut them all a little grace.

Tucker well remembered his own rookie year as a smokejumper. Worse, that year someone had been trying to kill their team. Had nearly succeeded, at least twice.

“Skye’s smart,” Jed said. “But we all hit the wall at some point. Keep an eye on her while I’m gone.”

Tucker looked over at him. “While you’re—where’re you going?”

“So, bad news.” Jed set his cell phone on the counter. “That was Kate. She’s…well, she’s still a month out from her due date, but she thinks she might be in labor. She’s going into the hospital and wants me to come home.”

Tucker used one of the many packets of wet wipes piled next to his basket to clean his fingers. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I think… I don’t know.” Jed ran a scarred hand around the back of his neck, kneaded a muscle there.

“Good thing we’re headed out tomorrow.”

“That’s the thing. The Bureau of Land Management wants us to stick around for another forty-eight hours at least. The Alaskan jump team had to deploy to another start north of Fairbanks, so we’re the only ones holding the line down here if the Chelatna Lake fire wants to wake up.”

“We put it to bed pretty well—”

“I’m leaving you in charge, Tuck.”

Tucker blinked at him. Couldn’t help but glance past him to Gilly and Reuben, now rising from their corner booth. “What about—?”

“Yeah, I know, but Reuben hates leading—always has. And Riley, well—” Jed shot a glance over his shoulder, and Tucker could guess to what he referred.

Riley was probably using his brown eyes and charming prep-school smile to hone in on the poor blonde, probably wooing her with a story of peril, suggesting this night might be his last. The Chicago boy had littered the small town of Ember with heartbreak and apparently was attempting a small debris field here too.

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