White Heat Read online

  Unwavering, direct.

  He was so not prepared for that. For her.

  “The rio,” she said. “It’s low right now—”

  “It’s still music to my ears.” He scrambled through the bush, with her right behind him, until they came to it. It was definitely a river, low-running, yes, but falling north to south from the peak above, running parallel to where they stood, then eventually falling again, down another rocky cliff, to the ranches and town below. “My God…”

  “What?”

  “A natural firebreak.” He let out a rare smile before adding some of the coordinates on his GPS. “So. We’ve got a river bisecting a canyon, and a hard rock hill above us, both of which are good, very good.” He slipped his unit back into his pocket and wriggled his fingers. “We’re going to cross. Give me your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can help you.”

  She laughed. “I can manage.”

  No doubt she could, so he lifted his hands in surrender and let her pick her way unaided over the rocks and branches through the water.

  He’d known what he was going to be doing today, and he’d dressed appropriately in boots. Lyndie hadn’t. She’d counted on flying him in, and then leaving again, hence the tennis shoes, which hadn’t been too much of a problem until now, as they began some serious climbing. Another concern he’d had all along…her blouse, the sleeves of which she’d shoved up past her elbows. He’d asked her twice to pull down her sleeves, but she hadn’t. He stopped. “We’re not going on until you pull down your sleeves and put on the gloves Sergio gave you. I have an extra shirt, too—”

  She shot him one of her patented quelling looks, one he was quite sure sent everyone in her path shaking in their boots. But he had far too many other things going on to allow her to scare him.

  Hell, his very life at the moment was terrifying enough. “Just do it, Lyndie.”

  She tipped her head up to the sky, sighed, then looked at him again. “You always so bossy?”

  He thought about that. “Yes.”

  She studied him for a long time, then lowered her sleeves. “I am, too.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. So watch it.”

  He would. He watched it and her as they continued to hike along the perimeter of the fire, with him occasionally making notes, sometimes coming close enough to the flames to feel the heat of it on their exposed skin, sometimes able to stay so far back it was hard to believe the mountainside was burning at all. They had no trail to speak of through the bush for another half of a mile.

  Then suddenly they came to a rock cliff—miraculously, the northern tip of the fire. Griffin eyed the rock. Not so high, maybe forty feet, it had a jutting point, and he figured he could get an excellent view from up there. The burning was behind them now, to the south and west. “I’ll be able to see everything from up there.”

  Lyndie craned her neck, too. “Right.” She glanced behind her at the bush. They couldn’t see the flames, but they could hear them, crackling and popping, accompanied by the whistling wind coming through so eerily and the faux darkness of the day.

  Uneasiness flickered over her face, the first sign maybe she wasn’t quite as tough as she wanted him to believe. “Stick with me,” he said, and pulled her by the hand close to his side.

  “Yeah.” With her free hand, she rubbed her chest as if her lungs ached. His certainly did. “I’ll be so close you’ll be wondering if I’m attached.”

  They began their climb. She scrambled up the rock beside him, their shoulders brushing, their legs brushing. He had the inane thought that she smelled…soft. A bundle of contradictions, this woman who was hustling up the rock cliff as if she did it every day, stumbling here and there but still meeting him inch for inch.

  The climb wasn’t novice. Rocks interspaced with dry, rough, scratchy vegetation that clung to their arms and legs and exposed faces as they went up.

  And up.

  “Here.” He pointed out her toe hold when she kept slipping. He reached down for her ankle to put her foot in the right place.

  Her gaze flew to his, surprise there, as if she wasn’t used to being helped.

  He took his hand off her ankle and put it around her wrist. “Reach here—”

  “I’ve got it.” She turned her head away to survey the climb, tickling his nose with her hair.

  “Hold here—”

  “Really,” she said tightly. “I’ve got it.”

  He looked into her face as they hung there, some thirty feet above ground. “You’ve got some trust issues, don’t you.”

  Hanging there by her own sheer will, she frowned at him, her chest rising and falling. “I don’t need to trust you. I’m just here to translate.”

  “Yeah.” He sidled even closer on the rock they clung to. Beneath them and to the west were the flames. Above them, more rock. She was at his right, and at her right the cliff jutted out in a peak, though they couldn’t see the other side. “So you’ve mentioned a hundred times or so,” he said, thinking they needed to stay away from that jutting edge, where the rock and sand would be uneven, and therefore dangerous to be hanging from.

  She squinted at him. “What does that mean, so I’ve mentioned?”

  “It means you want me to think you’re only here because you have to be. Well, I don’t buy it.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Griffin. Should we examine your head now?”

  “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall, Lyndie.”

  “I won’t.”

  Not if sheer will counted for anything. But this wasn’t about sheer will, it was about the elements, and the exhaustion on her face. He was responsible for her out here, and hell if he’d lose another single person on his watch. Ever.

  She shifted sideways, away from him, and around the jutting edge.

  Just where they shouldn’t go. “Lyndie—”

  “Hey,” she called back. “There’s better rocks over here on this side, and softer—”

  “No—wait.” He reached out to grab her but she scooted out of his way, and around the corner faster than he expected.

  “Shit,” he muttered, going after her. “Slow down, damn it—”

  But she wasn’t listening, and had gone completely around the jutting edge so that he couldn’t see her until he followed.

  Right onto the unstable hill. Christ. “Lyndie, stop. It’s unstable, you’re going to—”

  Her body slipped a little, and she gasped.

  Fall. Heart in his throat, he scrambled farther along the slippery hillside to catch her, and felt the difference in the hold immediately.

  From their weight and movement, several rocks loosened, both above and behind him, and hundreds of little pebbles pelted them, falling to the ground below.

  Lyndie took a hit on her shoulder and winced, just as he took a heavy hit on his chest. “Lyndie—” He reached for her, but before he connected, she let out a little off, and lost her hold.

  He snagged her by the wrist, barely. “Don’t move.” His other hand clung to a rock he could feel was about to give way, and his heart slammed against his ribs. “Lyndie, listen to me,” he said urgently, eyeing the more gradual slope beneath them on this side of the rock. Thank God. “I’m going to let go of you.”

  She choked out a response that he didn’t catch.

  Probably a good thing.

  “It’s okay,” he said as calmly as he could. “There’s more sand here, and more of a slope than a sheer drop. You’ll slide,” he said into her wide eyes.

  At the last fire he’d fought, in that hellish event that he relived every night, he’d looked into Greg’s eyes and yelled “run.” Griffin had, and it hadn’t been until it’d been far too late that he’d realized Greg had momentarily frozen in shock. A terminal mistake.

  No freezing, and no hysterics for this woman, she simply braced herself and let out a tight nod.

  But he couldn’t let go, he just couldn’t do it. He looked into her amazing green e