Page 17 of Some Like It Hot

Except, hehadn’tbeen escaping. But why was the brunette here and—oh. She wore a blue jacket with a US Marshal emblem on the breast.

Well, well, it was about time.

“Let’s start mopping up!” Tucker yelled. “Turn over the soil along the line and make sure the fire’s out.”

As if,Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

Skye blew by Riley so fast he had a little windburn. “Tucker! I’m so glad you’re okay!” She launched herself at Tucker, her arms around his neck, as if—

No. Certainly there wasn’t anything—

Tucker hesitated a moment, then put her away from him, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

Huh.

He said something to Skye, then left her there, stalking over to Riley, glancing at him, then at Skye. But Riley didn’t have time to chase down Tucker’s weird glance. Not with the smoke billowing off the meadow, now turning black, and the need to keep anything from reigniting. Riley dove in with the rest of the crew, turning over soil, chopping up hot spots.

For his part, Gangland acted like he belonged there, digging in like he’d fought fires all his life.

It wasn’t until they broke for dinner hours later, with the sun sinking behind the snow-laced mountains—which probably meant it was close to midnight—that Riley learned the man’s name.

Rio. As introduced to him by Skye, who’d discovered his name from Tucker. They were camped beyond the fire line in a safety area, eating MREs and power bars. The Department of Corrections had shipped in supplies along with the hand crew, and they each had their own canteen, MREs, and a space blanket.

Rio sat against the tree, glancing at Skye, who had tried to talk to him.

Riley could probably blame himself for that. He’d told the rest of the crew the story of seeing the guy save Tucker. Skye had filled in a few details from her vantage point on lookout. Like the fact that Tucker had fallen off the ridge right into the path of the fire and if it hadn’t been for Rio seeing him and running straight into the flames with no gear, Tucker might have been burned. Alive.

So maybe Riley had misjudged the guy a little.

The team had also spent a little time wondering about the sudden appearance of the brunette US marshal.

“She’s the one from the bar last night,” Skye had said. “The one Tucker was fighting over.”

They clearly weren’t fighting now. The woman sat next to Tucker, practically cozy as she eyed the assembly of prisoners like they might stage an uprising any moment.

It hadn’t exactly left Riley’s mind, either.

“I thought she looked familiar,” said Seth. He’d eaten the same cold dinner of beef stroganoff like Riley had and was finishing it off with coffee stirred into his sierra cup of water. “Didn’t figure on her being a cop.”

“She’s probably here to make sure no one escapes,” Riley said. “I was wondering why they sent the team in without a guard.”

“I think he’s in charge of the prisoners.” Romeo gestured to the middle-aged man who’d stopped one of the youngsters from running.

Yeah, maybe.

“Archer,” Skye said. “He keeps looking at the marshal, though, so I’m not sure he’s not thinking about making a dash for it.”

“To where?” Riley said. He had finished his dinner and now rolled the trash up and shoved it into a plastic storage bag. Pulled out a protein bar. “There’s nothing but wilderness in every direction.”

Somehow his rationale didn’t make him feel any better. Riley stripped off his shirt, filthy that it was, and grabbed his sleeping bag, shaking it out. He was going to set it next to Skye’s, but Seth beat him to it.

So he wasn’t the only one staying alert.

And not only the guys on the team, either. Because the tall, quiet man whom Riley had pegged as former military—maybe—sat farthest away from the crew, arms folded, eyes not missing a thing.

It was a little creepy, really.

Riley noticed he hadn’t eaten, his MRE unopened. He debated a second and then, he didn’t exactly know why, he picked up the protein bar, got up, and walked over to the man.

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