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“He seems like a wonderful man. I'm sorry about his illness.”
“All I want is to find some pill or doctor who can operate on his brain to keep him from getting worse.”
She had to ask. “Have you talked to Logan about this?”
He almost looked embarrassed. “I know this sounds stupid, but I wanted to be the hero this time. Just once. When it really counted. Instead, everything's f**ked up and you think I lit the fire. I didn't do it. I swear to you.”
She couldn't help but believe him, not when he was so upset, so genuinely concerned about his father's well-being, but she still needed to confirm his story before crossing him off her list. “I'd appreciate it if you'd give me the names and phone numbers of some of the doctors you've visited, so I can verify your whereabouts.”
He didn't argue with her this time, and ten minutes later she'd confirmed his story.
She'd crashed into another dead end.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAYA DROVE away from Dennis's house and headed toward the fire. Maybe if she watched it burn long enough, she'd figure out what the hell to do next. Something was niggling at her, had been digging into her gut for the past few hours, a voice that told her she already knew more than she thought she did. If only she could figure out what it was.
Pulling off the lakeside freeway at a state park, she wound past a Smoky the Bear sign that said “Extreme Fire Danger” and continued up the packed-dirt road until she got to the peak. Taking off her helmet, she shook her tangled hair out before looking down at the smoke and flames.
Had Joseph lit the first fire that started this enormous firestorm? she wondered. Possibly.
But even as she took in the newly charred hillsides where tall pines had stood only days before, the truly important question remained: Who was responsible for everything that had happened since the Desolation Wilderness fire began?
The only thing she knew for sure was that the attacks were personal. Someone wanted to hurt her and Logan, maybe even kill them.
The obvious plan was also the most dangerous. The best way to smoke out the arsonist would be to become an open target, to put herself out in clear sight, someplace the arsonist would feel safe coming after her.
I have to do it, Logan, she thought silently. It's the only way. I'm sorry.
She could still feel his touch on her skin, his lips in the hollow of her neck. And she could see his beautiful face in her mind's eye, could imagine him fighting her tooth and nail over her plan to catch the serial arsonist. But she couldn't let the arsonist hurt anyone else. Not if there was a way she could stop the attacks. Even if it meant putting her own life on the line.
And yet, even though it had been a rough twenty-four hours and danger was following her through Lake Tahoe, she couldn't help but relive those sweet moments in Logan's arms over and over again. Being with him, in his bed, wrapped up in his strength, had been some of the most powerful, most wonderful moments of her life. Just as she'd known it would be from their first kiss.
High in the hills, with black smoke swirling all around her, it was impossible to keeping hiding from the truth: She'd allowed herself to get in too deep. Way too deep. Especially since Logan was as stubborn, as bullheaded as she was. She strongly suspected that he wasn't going to let her just walk out of his life.
He was going to fight for her every step of the way.
And even though she'd been honest with him and told him why she couldn't let him get any closer, the truth was that they were just words. What she felt way down deep inside was exactly the opposite.
Every cell, every nerve, every part of her wanted to be with Logan … and he was a man who could die at any moment, who could be dying right now, for all she knew.
Staring into the raging fire, she couldn't stop seeing Logan running as flames chased at his back. Yesterday it had been horrible to watch him run from death, but he'd been a stranger. If she had to watch the same scene again now, it would destroy her.
She'd never be able to protect herself with a false sense of security like so many firefighters' wives and girl friends did. One day there'd be a fire he couldn't run from and he'd leave a wife and kids behind.
Maya didn't want that wife, that mother, to be her.
The cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she was glad for the interruption, for any opportunity to stop thinking about her pointless feelings for Logan.
“Maya, it's Patrick Stevens.”
“Have you learned anything new?” Her stomach churned as she waited for the fire chief's reply. He knew there had been a man knocking on her door, waiting outside her room before it was set on fire.
He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal. “Before I reveal the man's identity, I want you to know that I'm absolutely certain he had a good reason for wanting to speak with you. And that he did not light the fire that burned your room.”
Alarm hit her squarely in the chest. Please, she prayed, don't say Logan's name. Don't tell me someone saw him on the premises that afternoon. She couldn't be wrong about him. She couldn't be. Not when she'd willingly—desperately— taken him inside her body.
Not when she'd practically admitted to herself that she was in love with him.
Her heart raced as she made her lips form the words “Who was it?”
“A hotshot.”
No.
“His name is Sam MacKenzie. He's one of the best.”
It took a long moment for relief to register. Chief Stevens hadn't said Logan's name. Thank God.
“Wasn't Sam MacKenzie one of the other hotshots who was out on the mountain during the blowup with Logan yesterday afternoon? Wasn't his brother badly burned?” Patrick confirmed this, and she said, “I was there at the anchor point. I saw Logan and Sam save him. They almost died.”
“Sam's a good guy and everyone respects him,” Patrick said, before clearing his throat again.
Uh-oh. “There's more, isn't there?”
“I'm afraid there is. A couple of witnesses said he slipped something under your door. It must have burned up before we got there. I've called the station several times today, but he's been out on the fire and I haven't been able to discuss the situation with him yet.”
She thanked Chief Stevens for his help and was about to hang up, but he kept her on the line a moment longer. “I want you to know that I've been asking around about your brother.”
o;He seems like a wonderful man. I'm sorry about his illness.”
“All I want is to find some pill or doctor who can operate on his brain to keep him from getting worse.”
She had to ask. “Have you talked to Logan about this?”
He almost looked embarrassed. “I know this sounds stupid, but I wanted to be the hero this time. Just once. When it really counted. Instead, everything's f**ked up and you think I lit the fire. I didn't do it. I swear to you.”
She couldn't help but believe him, not when he was so upset, so genuinely concerned about his father's well-being, but she still needed to confirm his story before crossing him off her list. “I'd appreciate it if you'd give me the names and phone numbers of some of the doctors you've visited, so I can verify your whereabouts.”
He didn't argue with her this time, and ten minutes later she'd confirmed his story.
She'd crashed into another dead end.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAYA DROVE away from Dennis's house and headed toward the fire. Maybe if she watched it burn long enough, she'd figure out what the hell to do next. Something was niggling at her, had been digging into her gut for the past few hours, a voice that told her she already knew more than she thought she did. If only she could figure out what it was.
Pulling off the lakeside freeway at a state park, she wound past a Smoky the Bear sign that said “Extreme Fire Danger” and continued up the packed-dirt road until she got to the peak. Taking off her helmet, she shook her tangled hair out before looking down at the smoke and flames.
Had Joseph lit the first fire that started this enormous firestorm? she wondered. Possibly.
But even as she took in the newly charred hillsides where tall pines had stood only days before, the truly important question remained: Who was responsible for everything that had happened since the Desolation Wilderness fire began?
The only thing she knew for sure was that the attacks were personal. Someone wanted to hurt her and Logan, maybe even kill them.
The obvious plan was also the most dangerous. The best way to smoke out the arsonist would be to become an open target, to put herself out in clear sight, someplace the arsonist would feel safe coming after her.
I have to do it, Logan, she thought silently. It's the only way. I'm sorry.
She could still feel his touch on her skin, his lips in the hollow of her neck. And she could see his beautiful face in her mind's eye, could imagine him fighting her tooth and nail over her plan to catch the serial arsonist. But she couldn't let the arsonist hurt anyone else. Not if there was a way she could stop the attacks. Even if it meant putting her own life on the line.
And yet, even though it had been a rough twenty-four hours and danger was following her through Lake Tahoe, she couldn't help but relive those sweet moments in Logan's arms over and over again. Being with him, in his bed, wrapped up in his strength, had been some of the most powerful, most wonderful moments of her life. Just as she'd known it would be from their first kiss.
High in the hills, with black smoke swirling all around her, it was impossible to keeping hiding from the truth: She'd allowed herself to get in too deep. Way too deep. Especially since Logan was as stubborn, as bullheaded as she was. She strongly suspected that he wasn't going to let her just walk out of his life.
He was going to fight for her every step of the way.
And even though she'd been honest with him and told him why she couldn't let him get any closer, the truth was that they were just words. What she felt way down deep inside was exactly the opposite.
Every cell, every nerve, every part of her wanted to be with Logan … and he was a man who could die at any moment, who could be dying right now, for all she knew.
Staring into the raging fire, she couldn't stop seeing Logan running as flames chased at his back. Yesterday it had been horrible to watch him run from death, but he'd been a stranger. If she had to watch the same scene again now, it would destroy her.
She'd never be able to protect herself with a false sense of security like so many firefighters' wives and girl friends did. One day there'd be a fire he couldn't run from and he'd leave a wife and kids behind.
Maya didn't want that wife, that mother, to be her.
The cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she was glad for the interruption, for any opportunity to stop thinking about her pointless feelings for Logan.
“Maya, it's Patrick Stevens.”
“Have you learned anything new?” Her stomach churned as she waited for the fire chief's reply. He knew there had been a man knocking on her door, waiting outside her room before it was set on fire.
He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal. “Before I reveal the man's identity, I want you to know that I'm absolutely certain he had a good reason for wanting to speak with you. And that he did not light the fire that burned your room.”
Alarm hit her squarely in the chest. Please, she prayed, don't say Logan's name. Don't tell me someone saw him on the premises that afternoon. She couldn't be wrong about him. She couldn't be. Not when she'd willingly—desperately— taken him inside her body.
Not when she'd practically admitted to herself that she was in love with him.
Her heart raced as she made her lips form the words “Who was it?”
“A hotshot.”
No.
“His name is Sam MacKenzie. He's one of the best.”
It took a long moment for relief to register. Chief Stevens hadn't said Logan's name. Thank God.
“Wasn't Sam MacKenzie one of the other hotshots who was out on the mountain during the blowup with Logan yesterday afternoon? Wasn't his brother badly burned?” Patrick confirmed this, and she said, “I was there at the anchor point. I saw Logan and Sam save him. They almost died.”
“Sam's a good guy and everyone respects him,” Patrick said, before clearing his throat again.
Uh-oh. “There's more, isn't there?”
“I'm afraid there is. A couple of witnesses said he slipped something under your door. It must have burned up before we got there. I've called the station several times today, but he's been out on the fire and I haven't been able to discuss the situation with him yet.”
She thanked Chief Stevens for his help and was about to hang up, but he kept her on the line a moment longer. “I want you to know that I've been asking around about your brother.”
