Lighting Fire Page 7

  Why had she let things escalate with Chase? Was it because he was arrogant and dead sexy and everything her heart warned her to stay away from—and everything her traitorous body wanted at the end of the night? Did her shitty relationship with Hank factor into the equation at all? She couldn't deny that Chase's appeal had increased the moment she learned he was a member of her brother's squad—but that was also admitting the appeal had been there to begin with.

  She liked Chase. A lot. That was a big problem. That's why rules were so important. A part of her suspected that she needed them more than he did, but she also couldn't shake the impression that he had his own wounds.

  Rules, then, would help them pretend otherwise.

  Chase grinned down at her in the dark. "Just a fling, then?"

  Sookie nodded. "Absolutely. No strings attached, whatsoever."

  "Because usually when I make this arrangement with a girl, things don't turn out the way we both agreed they would.”

  "I told you, Hotshot," she said testily. "I'm not like any girl you've ever met before."

  "You could say that again," Chase growled. His lips were on her neck again in the next instant, and Sookie sighed with pleasure.

  She threaded her fingers through his short-cropped hair and let her head fall back. She gazed up at the Cedar Springs stars swimming above and lost herself in the moment. Chase's mouth was more than competent; it was well-versed in everything it did to her. It made her blood sing beneath the skin he nipped and sucked.

  Please let this be a fling, she prayed to the smoke-obscured heavens above. I've tried for years to fly above it all. Please don't let me fall now.

  Chapter 9

  Chase

  Later that week, Chase was on trench duty. He stabbed, shoved, and shoveled his way down toward the earth's core, but the dirt never seemed to rearrange permanently, not unless you stepped back to really look at it . . . but that involved less digging.

  The sooner this assignment ended, the better, so far as he was concerned. The sooner the ditch got dug, the sooner he could take a real crack at that bitch of a fire.

  His muscles burned. He had discarded his shirt hours ago and couldn't remember anymore where he’d set it. Sweat boiled off him under the oppressive California sun, but he'd rather be sweating due to a different and more dangerous heat exposure. He itched to take the blaze on, to channel all that he had learned and turn it against a real force of nature.

  There was no other way of knowing what he was made of.

  Wish I was in the air with Sookie right now.

  His own thoughts surprised him, and he stopped digging. He was pretty sure there had to be a rule against wishing, and if not, he decided to instate one now. Thinking about the sexy little pilot when they weren't screwing in a back alley—or anywhere else that might strike their fancy—was a definite step in the wrong direction. This was a fling. This was fun.

  It couldn't be anything more than that.

  "Hey, bud, pass me the water?" he asked the guy working beside him. Chase swiped a forearm across his brow, and then reached out to receive the canteen. The Alaskan squad was paired with some of the local fighters today . . . only it wasn't a local standing beside him now, shovel in hand. At least, it wasn't the local he’d expected to find.

  His chief's hand was attached to the offered canteen. Hank nodded grim acknowledgement, and Chase accepted. He wasn't about to die of thirst out of fear Hank had changed his mind about laying him out.

  "All this sun getting to you yet, Kingston?" Hank asked as he turned back to the trench.

  Chase guzzled water before dumping some of it over his scalp. He shook his head like a dog shedding a sudden rain from its fur.

  Hank took it for his response. "It'll catch up with you if you're not careful," he warned.

  Chase grinned roguishly. "Careful's my middle name, Chief."

  Hank snorted. "Not fucking likely."

  "That why you won't let me get a crack at that fire?" Chase tried to keep his tone conversational as he resumed digging. "You don't think I know how to be careful?"

  "I won't let you near it because it's still something you think you can take a crack at," Hank said. "You know what kind of man takes a fire like this lightly?"

  "A dead one?"

  Chase had heard it all before. Hank neither confirmed nor denied the morbid punchline, just turned away to continue his dig. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the sound of metallic scooping and the flinty spark of an occasionally struck rock.

  "You slept with my sister yet?" Hank asked him.

  Chase's heel slipped on the shovel blade. He nearly fell on his ass in surprise, but regained his balance at the last instant. He didn't know if Hank had noticed, but he needed to answer the question, and quick, to keep the conversation flowing naturally.

  "No." The lie was out of his mouth before he could weigh if it was ill-advised.

  "Huh." Hank made a noncommittal sound and kept digging.

  Chase resumed his own work, but he could barely concentrate on the task at hand. He risked a follow-up. "Why'd you ask? She acting like she's seeing somebody?"

  "She's acting like a goddamn pain in my ass," Hank replied. "Business as usual. I avoid talking to her, and she hates me. I try to talk to her, and she hates me worse."

  "Tough break," Chase noted. He was trying for politeness. If he got Hank going down this track, maybe the chief would forget all about his first line of questioning.

  No such luck. "That girl's been hurt before. She's got horrible taste in men. No offense."

  "I doubt she has any real taste for me, so no offense taken," Chase said.

  "Whether she has a taste for you or not, I want you to stay away," Hank warned. "I overreacted when I confronted you the other night, but she's my sister, Chase. We may be estranged, but that doesn't mean I love her any less. And you have a reputation, kid."

  "Do I?" Chase jammed the shovel down and ignored the similar stab he felt in his chest. He knew he had a reputation—he had built it deliberately after Sheila, his ex, took off. If the implosion of their relationship had taught him anything, it was the value in being perceived as a player. If his reputation preceded him, then every hookup that followed came without strings attached.

  "I know Sook acts tough, but she's more fragile than she lets on," Hank continued. "Always has been. I just don't want to see her get hurt."

  "Seems to me like she can take care of herself," Chase said, a little too quickly.

  Hank laughed. "Yeah. She's good at looking that way, isn't she?"

  This latest conversation with Hank bothered Chase even more than the first. After the day's labors, he was exhausted, and the chief's relentless hounding was starting to take a toll on him as well. He didn't like lying to Hank about the man’s sister, but what was the alternative? Admitting to the man he respected above all others that he and Sookie were shacking up together? He'd be dead before he could offer anything even resembling an excuse.

  Didn't put him off wanting to see Sookie, though. Not in the fucking slightest.

  "There you are!" Sookie waved to him from the bar at Dyna's. The bell hadn't even chimed; Chase hadn't yet shouldered his way fully through the front door. She must have been watching the entrance for him. Something about that tickled his ego—or at least, he thought it must be his ego. It made him feel damn good, at any rate, and he hadn't felt really good all day. He pulled his cap off as he joined her at the bar.

  "Rough day?" Sookie butted her shoulder against his affectionately.

  "With that bastard brother of yours around trumpeting orders? Always."

  "You were complaining just yesterday in the Hawk that he wasn't working you hard enough." Sookie toyed with the straw of her drink, then bent her head and made a show of wrapping her lips around it. Chase's mouth went dry, but it had nothing to do with his envy regarding a drink. He could all too easily imagine what it would be like to have that voluptuous mouth wrapped around his dick and sucking him dry. "T
hat's too bad," Sookie said finally, as she concluded her little show and drew back. "I was hoping you had a bit of stamina left in you."

  Chase's cock twitched at the veiled offer. "Yeah?" He glanced toward the kitchen, but Dyna was busy filling orders with her back turned to them.

  "I'm going to powder my nose," Sookie said. She extricated herself from her stool and disappeared around the corner to the bathroom. Sookie didn't wear a dab of makeup, as far as Chase knew.

  He waited a minute, then shoved off from the bar and followed her into the restroom. The moment the door latched, her mouth closed over his. He shot the lock behind them.

  Ten minutes later, he walked out first. He glanced around casually, smoothed his hair, and took a seat. When Sookie rejoined him, her hair wasn't as disheveled as he’d left it back in the bathroom . . . but her pretty face was still flushed from exertion.

  "Fucking hell," he muttered. "I didn't know how bad I needed that."

  "See?" she said perkily as she dropped back down beside him. "I told you this arrangement would work. When you fight fires for a living, you gotta find other ways to blow off steam."

  Dyna dinged the bell on the kitchen counter to notify the wait staff the next order was up. She raised an eyebrow at the two of them sitting together. Sookie caught the look, but played it off as if she hadn't. "We'll have two of the specials, please, Dyna, when you have a moment."

  "Two specials coming right up." Dyna bustled off without resolving the question in her eyes.

  "What's the special?" Chase asked belatedly, after Dyna had already gone.

  Sookie smiled mysteriously. "I guess you'll find out." She went around the counter to refill her coffee and filled up a mug for Chase as well. She passed it to him. She already knew from their pre-flight briefings at the station that he took it black.

  They lapsed into a companionable silence. It said something about a woman when her silences were as interesting as her conversation. Chase watched Sookie play with the short, dark fringes of her hair. She did it often, unconsciously. It was obvious she had cut it recently and was still getting used to it. "Your brother's worried about you, you know," he mentioned.

  Sookie pulled a face. "As far as I'm concerned, Hank can go . . ."

  But what Hank could go do with himself was to remain a mystery. Sookie cut herself off and turned, smiling beatifically as Dyna personally delivered their orders. Chase's mouth watered at the sight of steak and mashed potatoes filling the plate in front of him. A quick screw followed by a sizzling steak. What more could a man ask for after a long day's work?

  "I don't want to think about Hank," Sookie concluded as she dived into her own steak. "He had his chance years ago, and he blew it. He has absolutely no right to worry about me. I can handle myself. And anyway, I want our time together to be ours."

  "Some would call that a date," Chase joked.

  Sookie laughed along with him. "Some would," she agreed.

  "But at least one of us reminds me at every opportunity that she's not like other people," Chase pointed out.

  Sookie swallowed a mouthful and grinned. "See? You're catching on." She stabbed at her potatoes happily. "And anyway, you're not so normal yourself, Hotshot."

  "No?"

  "No. You flew all the way down here from Alaska to personally battle, in your words, a real bitch of a fire. I'd say that definitely doesn't constitute as normal."

  "Aren't you glad I did?" Chase queried, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.

  Sookie just snorted . . . which wasn't a no, Chase thought to himself.

  They finished their meal without any more mention of Hank, which was fine by him. He had regretted it the moment he’d brought the other man up, but he had been surprised when Sookie didn't immediately bite his head off. A part of him suspected he was the only real link she had to her brother, considering she refused to forge one herself.

  The joke about their 'date' continued when Chase offered to buy her meal, and Sookie accepted. He caught Dyna's sharp look of warning as they exited together. He put his cap back on just so he could tip it to the woman in acknowledgement. He didn't need her cautioning him about what he was getting into with the Logans by taking Sookie out. The thought preoccupied his mind almost more than the fire these days.

  Outside, they lingered on the front step. A warm evening wind gusted between them, rifling their civilian clothes. Sookie seemed to be avoiding his eyes in an attempt to play it cool, but when she finally did meet his gaze, Chase felt a tiny shockwave ripple through him. She looked half-amused, half-expectant.

  "Want to go for another . . . walk?" he suggested.

  "If we go for any more 'walks', I'm afraid I won't be able to walk straight before the week is out!" Sookie laughed, but her hand slipped into his back pocket companionably.

  "Are you really afraid?" he asked.

  "Fuck, no."

  Her answer was immediate, and it made Chase wonder what he’d meant by his question. He thought he had been playing along with their usual banter, but maybe he had been asking something else. Don't overthink it, he warned himself. Overthinking usually led him into more trouble than he was prepared to deal with. Hank might accuse him of being young and reckless, of improvising without a thought or plan for the future, but Chase privately considered this a strength. If you didn't adhere to anyone's expectations from the start, then you never wound up disappointing them. It was something he had picked up along the way.

  It was something he wished he had learned sooner.

  Chase blinked and realized Sookie was looking at him expectantly. They still stood together on the steps. "I'm not afraid," she reiterated suddenly. "To do this. Whatever it is."

  "Neither am I," he told her. When he held out his hand for her, she surprised him by taking it. He stepped down to the street, and Sookie slipped in beside him. "Just a fling," he added.

  "Just a fling."

  Chapter 10

  Sookie

  The fire blazed out of control.

  In her recent nightmares, Sookie had awakened in a cold sweat—a hard thing to accomplish most California nights at the height of summer—haunted by images of the wildfire raging all around her. She wasn't alone; the Hawk was grounded there with her, but no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did or the desperate tricks she pulled, she couldn't get her beloved bird into the air. She was trapped in the cockpit, strapped in . . . she had retreated as far as she could go, and the inferno was bearing down on her on all sides. The glass cracked, and the sweat vaporized off her skin, and then . . .

  It was over. She woke up.

  This time, the fire wasn't a dream.

  "Look at that!" Raj gave a low whistle into his mic, one that Sookie wasn't sure the copilot even realized he’d vented, but she had to agree with his sentiment.

  At least I'm the air, she thought as she circled the burning blaze in her Hawk. She had always felt powerful beneath the spinning propellers, like she could slice the atmosphere to pieces if she had to, but no amount of fanciful thinking on her part could change the reality unfolding below her. The fire had more than crept, it had jumped—across a river, to be exact—and now raged beyond what any of them had expected or predicted. Must have been the wind, she thought, carrying a spray of embers across the water to ignite the trees on the other side . . .

  "Sook? You there?" Hank's voice crackled over her headset.

  "Hank!" she breathed. "Thank God. We lost communication when you went into that last patch."

  "Don't thank God for me yet," her brother advised, and it was only then that Sookie realized she had said it out loud. She wondered what her brother would think of that . . . if they had had time to think at all in this situation.

  She quickly filled him in on what she was seeing and heard in return the immediate cold acceptance in her brother's voice. "We had guessed it might jump," he said. "Listen, Sook, I can't stay on this line for long. Just wanted to tell you the squad's en route and coming to back you up."

  The squad
? Sookie's pulse beat in her ears louder than the wind—almost louder than Hank's voice. Chase.

  Of course he would be there. What did she think he was in town for? Hadn't they bragged to each other these past weeks about their individual progress on this fire, almost as much as they’d wrestled between the sheets?

  "Sook? You read me?"

  "Loud and clear," Sookie affirmed as soon as she could be sure her voice sounded the same on both counts. "Be safe out there."

  "See you back at the base. Over and out."

  Several hours later, she touched down in the Black Hawk, and then she did something totally inadvisable: She launched herself out of the cockpit almost before the wheels touched the pad, leaving Raj and Frank to deal with the mop-up. She didn't have to search long. Hank, Garrett, and Chase were talking just inside the shade of the hangar, their expressions sober. Only Hank had taken his helmet off. They looked almost as if they were about to head right back out.

  "Chase!" Sookie shouted his name, louder than she intended, but no sound came out. She realized belatedly that she still wore her noise-cancelling headphones and wrenched them off her head. Chase turned, and when he saw her, he started toward her—only Sookie got to him before he could take a half-dozen steps.

  She stopped just short of barreling into him. Hank gave them both a long, irritated look, but then he left without a word. It was progress . . . in as much as Sookie thought Hank was capable of progress.

  For a wild moment, she caught herself wanting to leap into Chase's arms. She knew from the look on his face that he'd be ready for it, too. Maybe he wanted it even more than she did. Instead, Sookie breathed in deeply and tried to focus on slowing her racing heart. "Everything all right?" she asked him.

  "It's fine," Chase said. "Hank's just . . . probably trying to ignore the fact that we're screwing. He has to know by now."

  Sookie shook her head, amusement tugging at the edges of her lips. "I meant you. Are you all right?"