was a hell of a fighter.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m…fine.”
“Want some water?”
Still wheezing, she shook her head, sending dark curls wisping around her flushed face. “No, I’m…all right.”
He doubted that, but they couldn’t afford to rest yet. They were still miles away from that clearing. Worse yet, sheltered in this valley between the mountains, he couldn’t tell where the fire was heading.
And that made him damned nervous.
“Hold on.” He dropped his PG bag to the ground and pulled his radio from the outside pocket. Ignoring the sharp pain lancing his shoulder, he straightened and keyed the mike.
Nothing happened.
He blinked, checked the switch, and tried again. Still nothing. Dread slinked through his gut. Hell, this was all they needed.
“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked, her voice high.
“Looks like the batteries died.” His jaw rigid, he jammed the radio back in his bag and pulled out his compass.
Jordan raised her hand to her throat.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. He kept his voice even so she wouldn’t worry. “They already know where to meet us.”
“But how are we doing on time?”
“Great.” As long as they flew the rest of the way. He checked the compass, relieved that they hadn’t veered off course, then shoved it into his pocket.
“Look,” he continued calmly. “There’s a lookout ridge just after we get out of this valley. It’s probably another hundred yards. If you think you can make it that far, we’ll wait and take a rest then.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Good.” He swung the bag back over his shoulder and, once he was sure she was ready, headed off at a steady pace. He’d spotted the ridge earlier that morning, back on the opposite peak. He hoped they could survey the fire from there, especially now that they’d lost radio contact.
Because he sure as hell didn’t want to walk into a trap.
And these were perfect blowup conditions. The steep slopes and high winds would increase the speed of the fire. And if that blaze switched paths, tunneling through the valley and igniting below them, they could never escape.
His throat clenched tight, and a cold chill snaked up his spine. He’d seen the videos, completed the training. Knew all about Mann Gulch and Storm King Mountain, when smokejumpers in conditions just like these had found themselves entrapped. They’d streamed up the mountain, dazed and panicked, trying desperately to outrun the flames, sprinting frantically for their lives. A race they were destined to lose.
And the same thing could happen to them here.
His nerves tighter than a parachute’s shroud lines, he rammed his worries to the back of his mind, where they wouldn’t distract him from the task at hand. Instead, he focused on slugging up the steep slope toward the ridge so he could find the best way to safety.
But his body protested with every step. His skull banged beneath his hard hat. The dull ache pulsing his shoulder now racked him with piercing pain. And if he felt this lousy, he couldn’t imagine how Jordan kept up.
He glanced back, and regret surged through his chest. He wished he could help her more. If his damn shoulder would cooperate, he’d carry her over the mountain. She didn’t weigh much more than a loaded pack.
Too bad she didn’t have crutches. He frowned, wondering why that hadn’t occurred to him before. This deep in the forest, he could easily find a walking stick.
He kept an eye out for likely branches as he continued hiking. He had plenty to choose from. It had been decades since a fire had burned through, leaving the area choked with deadfall and brush. Which made the forest ripe for a massive fire, especially in these drought conditions. One good spark, either from lightning or a drifting ember, would ignite the entire peak.
Which didn’t help their chances of escape.
He finally spotted a downed branch that looked the right width. He swung the bags off his shoulder, used his foot as leverage to break off the smaller side shoots, then hefted it in his hand. “This should work.”
“For what?”
“A walking stick.” He turned and handed it back. “Maybe you can take some weight off that ankle.”
“Oh.” A slow smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes to a golden brown. “I should have thought of that myself. Thank you.”
Their eyes held, and for a moment, his world careened to a halt. His breath backed up in his chest, and every nerve seemed to stretch.
He forced himself to inhale. It was only a stick, for God’s sake. He hadn’t done anything special. But that smile of hers had the most amazing effect on him, making him feel as if he’d conquered the world.
Still feeling off balance, he picked up the bags and resumed hiking. She’d always had that effect on him. She’d made him feel whole, valued, as if he were really worthwhile.
Just like smokejumping did. It was the only place he’d found validation, where he could do everything right.
And he’d do this right, too. He’d get them safely off this mountain.
Focusing back on that goal, he angled steadily across the steep slope, skirting jagged stobs and bushes. A small animal dove into a stand of huckleberry as he passed, rustling through the dense brush and shaking the leaves. Yards later, the trees thinned out, and he turned again to check her progress.
“This is great,” she told him as she hobbled up. “Just what I-”
The dog abruptly stopped. The leash went taut and she stumbled, staggering to regain her balance. She thrust out the stick to break her fall just as Cade leaped back and grabbed her.
“Thanks.” Wincing, she steadied herself against him.
The contact jolted along his nerves, and he tightened his grip on her waist. She felt soft and warm, and way too good in his arms.
“Are you all right?” he murmured.
“I’m fine. He just caught me by surprise.” Her lips curved into a grimace. “But I’m glad I had the stick. I would have fallen without it.”
“Yeah.” His gaze met hers. The air seemed suddenly thick, and he could barely pull it into his lungs.
She stepped away, her cheeks flushed, and he reluctantly released her. Then she looked at the dog, tugged on the leash, and huffed. “What’s wrong? What are you doing, silly? Come on.”
She pulled again, but the dog sat down and lifted his nose.
She planted her hands on her hips. “He won’t budge. I guess he must be tired.”
“Maybe.” He watched the dog scent the air. And maybe he smelled something they didn’t.
Unease chilled his gut. Even with his better nose, that dog shouldn’t smell the smoke yet. Unless the fire had jumped the river and pushed the front over that mountain. Or the wind had shifted early and the fire was heading their way.
Which meant they had to get out of here fast.
“Come on,” he said to the dog, his tone brusque. “Let’s go.”
With a little whine, Dusty rose and trotted forward.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Jordan said. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”
Cade grunted, more concerned about the fire than the dog’s behavior. He moved quickly back into the lead, staying alert for signs of the blaze. He heard an air tanker rumble in the distance. Dropping more mud, he hoped.
Then the pine branches creaked overhead, and a warm breeze fanned his face. Relieved, he glanced up at the swaying treetops. That wind meant they’d made it out of the valley. They couldn’t be far from the ridge.
But then another gust blew past, trailing the faint smell of smoke, and his pulse slammed to a halt. The dog
