Page 5 of Light My Fire

Of course. Because no matter how he tried to hold it all together, to keep everyone safe—

A shot. Fierce. Piercing. The sound ricocheted off the ceiling.

For a second, everyone stopped. Found the source.

Stevie. She stood like a gunslinger from the days of the gold rush, a Glock in her grip, raised. Her voice emerged dark and even. “Stop it!”

Breathing. Then Vic released a loud, vibrant string of adjectives that had the bracing effect of Stevie’s gunshot.

“Every one of you, get out!” Vic hauled up one of Tucker’s guys from the floor. He bled from the nose. “Unless you’re willing to behave yourself.”

Tucker looked at Nate, who deliberately looked away, angry and defeated.

Tucker took that as a yes and eased off the man. Found his feet. His team, including Skye Doyle, who had gotten out of her booth, stood breathing hard, at the ready.

“Let it go, guys,” Tucker said, trying to douse the fury that still simmered in the room.

Nate scrambled up as fast as Tucker and, shooting a glare at Stevie, picked up his hat and marched out.

A few flannels followed, a couple more returned to their booth.

The team picked up the chairs, mumbled apologies to Vic.

Riley headed back to the blonde still sitting on the bar stool. Tucker saw her face clearly now—Larke Kingston, their hostess out at Sky King ranch. Clearly Riley had just achieved hero status by the way she reached for a napkin and touched it to the corner of his mouth.

Tucker picked up a chair and slid it back in place, then returned to the bar. Vic had grabbed a broom, heading for a broken glass.

“You okay?” he said to Stevie, who just stood there and watched.

Slowly, she turned to him. Pale green eyes, a petite mouth, her sable hair down and framing her face. She stood maybe five foot three, and some Shakespearean quote rose and filled his mind.And though she be but little, she is fierce.Her gaze settled on him, took him in, dragging up his body and landing on his eyes.

She was silent as she considered her answer.

Then, “This isn’t your fight, hotshot.”

He just stared at her as she turned and walked out of the bar.

See, his instincts always got him in trouble.

* * *

Stevie hadn’t come backto town to stir up old fires.

She shoved her gun back into the shoulder holster, her hands shaking. That hadn’t gone at all how she’d hoped.

And now she’d probably have to sleep in her truck. Because Vic certainly wouldn’t rent her one of her rooms over the Midnight Sun Saloon. Which happened to be the only no-reservation hotel in town. And she hadn’t a hope of finding a place at one of the local resorts in mid-July, the height of tourist season.

As Stevie pushed her way out of the bar, sweat slicked down her back despite the sixty-five-degree semi-warmth of the early evening. The sun still hung above the mountains to the north and would for the next four hours, sinking just enough to shroud the valley in gray for three-plus hours, then rising with a fury around 4:00 a.m. The massive amounts of vitamin D acted like a shot of adrenaline, lighting a fire under the inhabitants of the town of Copper Mountain. As if they were sixteen again, fueled on what-ifs and I-cans.

She loved the summer of the burning sky in Alaska. It made up for six months of darkness, cold, and despair.

Except, well, she hadn’t been able to climb out of that darkness for the better part of three years now.

She shouldn’t have gone in…and probably deserved Nate’s words in her ear.If you’re looking for forgiveness, just keep driving.

Maybe. Because tonight’s fiasco seemed plenty enough trouble for one night.

Stevie leaned against her truck, arms folded, staring at the faraway Denali mountain. Smoke still hung low, bearding the white-capped peaks. She’d seen the remnants of the fire all the way from Wasilla as she trekked up the George Parks Highway.

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