Page 28 of Burning Secrets

“There’s a road. It looks like it might be the one.” She pointed to an indent in the woods, a bare, two-wheel track that looked suitable for an ATV but maybe not his truck. Still. “Let’s try it.”

He eased the truck onto the road, fir brushing the windows as he drove down the grassy path. The tree branches squealed against the truck, and JoJo braced her feet and hands on the dash and floorboard.

He laughed. “We’ll make it.”

“I know. It’s a reflex. Sort of like right before I jump out of a plane. I brace myself.”

“What made you want to be a smokejumper?”

They rounded a bend, and ahead, he spotted a clearing.

“My uncle was a smokejumper. And my cousin, Hannah. My mom would send me to visit them during the summers, a little town called Ember, where the entire town fights fire. I got fire fever, joined the local hotshot team when I was eighteen, and have been a little addicted ever since.”

Yes, a cabin, the roof sprouting grass and even a little tree. He pulled into the yard.

“So why don’t you just go full-time firefighter instead of chasing wolves?”

She reached for the handle. “My dad, I guess. And of course, there’s the fear that someday I’ll end up face down in a shake-and-bake, being burned to death.” She got out.

He sat there. What?

But his gaze fixed on a Quonset hut in a clearing on the property. A trail led to it, evidence of at least recent activity.

He got out and followed her. She had already opened the door.

Inside, the place sweated with humidity, water sprayers misting on the plants, sunlight drab but filtering in upon row after row of flowering nightshade.

“This is…”

“Lethal,” she said. Looked at him, her mouth tight.

“Let’s get out of here. Because if the SOR runs this place, there is probably security. The last thing we need is to get caught poking around.”

He shut the door.

She put a hand on his arm. “Too late, I think.” She pointed to a nearby tree.

And in that tree, a camera.

Perfect. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’re running out of time.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have made Crew stop to look for the pups.

Maybe JoJo should have heeded the look in his eyes, the one that’d flashed fear a second before he’d gotten into the truck, turned around in the yard, and floored it—well, as fast he could given the narrow drive—to the dirt road.

He’d clenched his jaw so tight she thought he might break molars. Drove in silence all the way until they reached the dirt road.

And then, instead of turning south to Copper Mountain, he’d headed north.

To the place where she’d supposed the pups’ den might be.

Because apparently, Crew, who harbored secrets, was also a promise keeper.

Now, they stood on a bluff overlooking the tributary—more of a creek that tore through the rock and valley, curling around a hillside and gaining froth and speed as it hit the main river. But here, it seemed to meander, the area secluded and possibly perfect for a wolf’s den.

Please, God.

And maybe her words from last night had found her, wrapped around her heart, because she’d woken with her mother’s voice in her head.

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