Page 24 of The Firefighter's Angel
Her mother shifts uneasily. Lenny clears his throat but doesn’t speak.
Good. Let them squirm.
I turn back to Cindy. Her eyes are soft now, a little shiny. But she nods. “Be careful,” she whispers.
“I always am.” I brush a kiss to her forehead and grip her jaw gently, tilting her face up. “You have my number—call me the second anything feels wrong. Understand?”
She nods again, and I let my hand slide down her back before finally pulling away. Every step I take toward my truck feels like tearing off my own damn skin. But I force myself behind the wheel, start the engine, and drive away.
***
The moment I hit the ridge, the heat hits harder.
The fire’s burning hot and fast, chewing up dry pine and underbrush like it’s got a personal vendetta. My team’s scattered, smoke jumpers diving out of the chopper a few ridges over, and I’m taking the edge of the slope, running support where we’re thin.
The roar of the flames, the whump of collapsing timber, the dry crackle of the wind…it all hits like white noise. Usually, that focus zones me in. Zips everything else into the background.
But not today.
Today, every second I’m out here, she’s all I can think about.
I picture her walking into that cabin, sitting at that table with people who are supposed to love her but clearly don’t understand what love means. I picture her faking a smile while they tiptoe around what happened like it’s something she imagined. Like she’s the problem.
Fuck.
I slam the butt of my Pulaski into a smoldering log, sending a spray of ash into the air.
This isn’t done. I know it. I feel it in my damn bones.
Lyle’s gone for now. But not far enough. Notgone-gone. And I don’t like the way her mother tried to minimize what happened. The way Lenny parroted Lyle’s bullshit excuse without a second thought. No remorse. No real concern.
That’s not a safe place for her.
Not even close.
The fire jumps a line, and I bark into the radio for more foam coverage from the chopper above. I start clearing space with controlled swings, carving out breaks between brush pockets. Sweat pours down my back, but my thoughts keep circling.
She was pale as hell when Lenny said it was a “misunderstanding.” Her whole body tensed up, and her eyes dimmed. I saw it. The shutdown. Like she knew this was going to happen. Like she expected them not to believe her and she still went back.
Because she’s brave.
And I let her go. I shouldn’t have—I should have protected her.
Goddammit.
I grunt as I hack down a stubborn branch, muscles working on autopilot. I’ve been trained to assess a threat and neutralize it, to protect people in the middle of chaos. That’s the whole reason I do this job. But I left her in the middle of the fire. And it’s eating me alive.
When this mission’s done, when we’ve beat this fire back and the team’s safe…I’m not going to waste a second. First stop? Bozeman.
I’m finding Lyle.
And when I do…he’ll understand exactly why it’s a mistake to mess with someone I care about.
Chapter Nine
Cindy
The second Daniel’s truck disappears down the hill, something in me wilts. It’s like he took the oxygen with him, and now I’m standing here gasping for breath in a place that suddenly feels too small, too quiet, too wrong.
