“Jesus Christ. You had us all worried there for a while, buddy.”

Garcia removed the ice pack from his forehead, wincing as he tried to stand. The two firefighters stood shaking their heads. The men were from his old engine company. He shifted forward only a few inches and had to grab onto the door of the ambulance as pain shifted against his bruised hip. “I’m fine. You know I’m tough.” Even his usual banter had no inflection. The fire had been more than just draining. He’d been lucky Stoker was able to get him out just before the barn collapsed.

“Whoa. Why don’t you stay put?” Stoker asked as he grabbed Garcia by the arm, keeping him steady. “You know he’s stubborn, Markus.”

Markus snorted and wiped his face. “Yeah, always has been. Good thing you guys were out riding. The old man wouldn’t have survived.”

“Let alone the horses,” the second firefighter chimed in.

Garcia glanced over at what was left of the barn. Both the house and the outlying structures were mere rubble, reduced to embers and ash. “Damn hot fire. Too much so if you ask me.”

“Offering up a conspiracy theory now?” Markus laughed then lost his smile seeing the serious look on Garcia’s face. “Old buildings. You know the timber goes up fast. We’re going to check everything but at this point, there’s nothing to suggest a suspicious fire. Looks like the kerosene heater was the culprit. That’s why the house exploded.”

“Shouldn’t have occurred that way,” Garcia mumbled and took two more steps closer to the field.

“What are you thinking?” Stoker asked as he flanked Garcia’s side.

“I don’t know, but something’s off. Granted, I know you saw the kerosene heater in the other room.” He glanced into Stoker’s eyes.

Stoker raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. That’s at least what I thought I saw.”

“You’re never wrong about details, Stoker. That’s not you.”

“Hey, we need to finish, but glad you’re both okay. Let’s grab a beer over the weekend,” Markus suggested as he gave a curt wave.

Garcia nodded, trying his best to offer a smile. “Sure. Sounds good.” He limped forward and closer to the second ambulance.

“Where are you going?” Stoker asked.

“Just want to check to see if Mr. Hatcher is all right.”

“He’s going to live. We got to him in time. Cuts and bruises, and he may have suffered a mild heart attack.”

“What if this was arson?” Garcia asked absently.

Stoker moved in front, slowing him down. “Whoa. That’s a serious accusation.”

“You and I both know the kerosene heater had nothing to do with this fire.”

“At this point, we don’t know anything for certain. If you have some suspicion, then mention your concerns to the captain. After you go to the hospital to get checked out.”

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Don’t be a martyr.”

Issuing a stern look, he moved past Stoker and toward the ambulance. Mr. Hatcher remained on a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his face and mouth. He held out his shaking arm when Garcia approached.

Grasping Mr. Hatcher’s hand, he peered down, smiling when he saw the man’s imploring eyes. “Easy, Mr. Hatcher. You’re going to be just fine. Sorry about your house, but the livestock are all alive and well.”

Coughing, Mr. Hatcher slapped at the mask.

“Don’t fight it. They’re going to take you to the hospital.”

He continued to grab at his mask, his entire body now tugging against the restraints.

“Hold on.” Garcia eased the thin plastic down from the rancher’s face. “Everything is okay.”

“No.” The single word was strangled. He shook his head twice then lifted his arm, beckoning with a single finger.

Leaning down, he was surprised at the vehemence in which the old man grabbed his shirt. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Mr. Hatcher sputtered, coughing and wheezing the moment he tried to speak.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need to get this man to the hospital,” the young EMT stated as she rushed over. “Mr. Hatcher, you need to keep your mask on. It’s helping you breathe.”

Garcia eyed the young woman and held out his arm. “Just a minute. He’s trying to tell me something.”

“The… the…” A series of choking sounds pushed past his lips. He clawed at Garcia, his hands slapping out.

“Hey. Take your time. I can certainly come to the hospital later.” Garcia glanced over his shoulder, sick sensations running down his spine.

“Listen… to… me.”

“Please, we have to get this man to the hospital. His vitals are weak,” the EMT continued.

“We understand. We’re smokejumpers and realize what needs to be done. This could be a crime scene investigation and as such, time is of the essence. Just one moment, please,” Stoker chimed in.

She huffed but nodded. “One minute.”

“Mr. Hatcher, I’m listening.” Garcia kept his tone even.

Mr. Hatcher nodded, his lower lip trembling. He continued to grab at Garcia’s shirt until he managed to tug him down. “They… got to… me.”

“They?” Garcia had no idea what the rancher was insinuating.

Wheezing, Mr. Hatcher gulped for air.

“That’s it. Out. We have to get him to the hospital.” The EMT rushed into action, pulling the oxygen mask back over Mr. Hatcher’s face and motioning for her partner.

Garcia took a step back, every hair on the back of his neck standing on end. “Jesus.”

Stoker inched beside him and they both watched as the man was loaded into the back of the rig, the doors slammed shut. Within thirty seconds the lights were flashing, the sirens on and the ambulance was moving quickly out of the field. “What the hell was that about?”

“He said they got to him.”

“What does that mean?”

Shrugging, Garcia had a foreboding feeling. “I don’t know, but we need to find out.”

* * *

“Well, well. The cowboy smokejumper heroes have arrived,” Boone shouted as Garcia and Stoker walked out of the hanger.

Sawyer whistled and trotted in their direction. “Better late than never.”

“They’re heroes now so they’re on Superman time,” Landen chided, a grin on his face.

“Very funny.” Garcia flashed his usual grin as he stretched his back. The heating pad had done little to ease the ache in his hip, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he was missing training. He eyed his fellow jumpers, men who ate danger for breakfast. Landen Weaver was new, but damn the man was intense. Riker Sheffield reacted to everything with a vengeance while he kept a huge boulder on his shoulder. Boone Martin was the solid one of the bunch and Sawyer Lincoln more knowledgeable than most. Only Antonio Giovanni remained reserved, hiding a ghost no one had been able to discover. Yeah, they were a bunch of misfits.

Stoker gave them all the finger as he jogged in place. “Just doing our jobs.”

“And such modesty, too,” Riker added as he slapped Stoker on the back. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Old man Hatcher’s place went up.” Garcia heard the way he said the words, a question remaining buried in them. He’d spent a better part of the evening trying to find out if Mr. Hatcher had any relatives. There was little information on the poor man, other than he’d been married for almost forty years, his wife dying of cancer five years before. Other than that, he’d run into a dead end.

“Met the guy once. Nice enough old man.” Antonio joined the group. He gazed down at Garcia’s hip then shook his head. “You sure you’re ready for duty?”

“Just a scratch, boss man,” Garcia teased.

Stoker popped him on the arm. “Since when are you so brave?”

“Them’s fighting words,” Boone said then laughed.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Garcia rubbed his hipbone and winked at Antonio. Given their fellow smokejumper was in charge of the outdoor training, they couldn’t help but call him a drill sergeant.

“Listen up, boys. Standard practice today, but given that the fire season is all but over, we will finally be working with our sister smokejumping team beginning tomorrow. The new parachutes are in,” Antonio stated.

“New plane. New parachutes. You’d think the mayor actually changed her negative tune about us with all our special gifts,” Riker’s voice boomed.

“Not happening!” Sawyer joined in.

“All right, gentlemen. Five miles on the track and Puevos, if your hip bothers you then you can sit this one out.”

Garcia pointed his finger at Antonio. “I know this game. The one who sits out buys the beer at Ziggy’s. Right?”

“Shucks, he figured it all out.”

Shaking his head, he jogged backward and away from the building, a smile on his face.

“All right, boys. Let’s get this done!” Antonio directed and took off running.

“What did you find out?” Garcia knew Stoker was right behind him and also had no doubt his buddy had the same curiosity as he did about the fire.

“How do you know I wasn’t planning a wedding with my lovely fiancée?” Stoker asked then laughed as he jogged alongside.

He hung his head, pretending to gag. “I’m going to pass out.”

“Very funny. I’ll remind you of this the day you start planning your wedding.”

Garcia placed both hands around his neck and stuck out his tongue. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s what I said.” Stoker rushed forward, the competition alive.

“Shit. Slow down. Injured man here.”

“I see several free beers in my future.”

Sprinting forward, Garcia managed to go a couple hundred yards before slowing down to little more than a walk. His breathing was heavier than normal and the pain in his hip almost excruciating.

“Learn to pace yourself. Moderation is the key.” Stoker huffed and jogged around Garcia in a circle.

“You know that poor man doesn’t have anybody?”

“Mr. Hatcher?”

Garcia nodded and picked up his pace.

“Captain Banyon said he’s going to be just fine. Smoke inhalation and he had an anxiety attack, not a heart attack.”

“Thank God. Glad our old fire engine company responded so fast, the captain knows almost everyone in town.” Garcia envisioned the fire, the interior of the house. His gut reaction telling him arson was involved. “I wonder who has it in for him?”

“From what Captain Banyon said, there was no evidence found to corroborate any arson or even a suspicious fire. The kerosene heater was charred, and the wiring fried. I was wrong about the position in the house. The smoke must have been confusing.”

“Answer me this.” Garcia nodded to his best friend. “When have you ever been wrong?”

Stoker’s grin was wide. “Never, and don’t you forget that.”

They ran for several minutes, keeping pace. Finally, Garcia stopped and leaned over. “I’ll catch up.” He planted his hands on his hips and kicked out both legs, trying to work out the kinks. His mind was racing with thoughts, none of which he could make any sense out of. Who would want to hurt a sweet old man?

“The captain did say one thing.”

He heard Stoker’s voice, the tenseness in his buddy’s tone. “What?”

Stoker exhaled and walked in his direction. “He said this was the second fire of a similar nature. Unfortunately, the first victim died, but Banyon indicated that the single owner had said words similar to Mr. Hatcher’s.” He threw out his hand before Garcia had a chance to say anything. “Don’t go down that road.”

“What road are we talking about?”

“The road where you’re determined to figure out what’s wrong. You’re not an investigator. Remember?”

Garcia snorted. “As if that kept you from investigating Cooper.” He could tell the words hit Stoker hard. Cooper had been Stoker’s friend from years ago, estranged during a horrific incident in the war. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I know how much that took out of you.”

Looking up at the sky, Stoker shrugged. “Just be careful. Let the police and the fire investigator do their jobs. We have enough to deal with.”

“Yeah, I hear you. I have a really bad feeling right now.”

“We did all we could do. We put out the fire.”

“What if we weren’t supposed to?” Garcia asked quietly. “What if Mr. Hatcher should have died in that fire?”

Stoker exhaled and looked his friend directly in the eyes. “Then my guess is there will be another attempt on Mr. Hatcher’s life.”

The understanding shared, Garcia nodded several times. “Come on. Let’s get going. I’ll race you.”

“Damn. Don’t you ever stop?”

“Keeps me young. You, on the other hand…”

“That’s it. Your ass is mine.”

* * *

“Puevos. Can I see you for a couple of minutes?” Captain Phillips stood in the doorway of the weight room.

Garcia eased down the free weights, exhaling as Riker remained standing over him, spotting the excessive amount. He remained on the bench, trying to catch his breath. “What’s up, Cap’n?” The upper arm workout had been just what he needed. Very slowly he stood, shaking both arms.

“Uh-oh. Looks like you’re in trouble,” Stoker chortled and slapped Garcia on the back.

“Just need a favor. Nothing too dramatic, boys.” The captain shook his head before walking away.

“A favor. I have a bad feeling.” Garcia realized he was muttering under his breath. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Markus and Captain Banyon knew more than they were letting on. The fire had rattled the hell out of him. Still, at this point there was nothing he could do but aggravate the police department and he doubted they were even investigating at this point. Smirking, he grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from his face and arms.

Stoker slapped him on the back. “The captain is having a rough time right now, fighting with the mayor.”

“Budget shit again?” Landen asked, overhearing the conversation.

Nodding, Stoker leaned his head back, eyeing the doorway. “Yeah. You know he’s been trying to get the line item increased for new recruits.”

Boone walked toward them. “I’ve heard a lot of shit, nasty rumors. Got a buddy who works at the administration building. He told me that they’re thinking of cutting our department out completely.”

“What?” Riker hissed and dropped a weight, the sound echoing in the room.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Antonio stated, his expression full of scorn.

“We have a right to be worried about our jobs, dude,” Sawyer muttered then shook his head.

“I get what you’re saying, but we’re only in January. We have a couple months to worry about whether we’re getting fresh meat.” Antonio tossed his towel and headed for the door.

Stoker cleared his throat. “The budget has been approved since early December. Have you noticed it hasn’t been made public yet?”

The words hung in the room. Antonio looked over his shoulder and sighed.

“Fucking fantastic. I don’t want to have to move over to structure fires,” Boone hissed.

“Yeah, not sure there’s a place for me back at Engine 12,” Garcia added.

Tension remained in the room.

“Guess that means I’m retiring. There isn’t another company that would want an old fart like me,” Sawyer said then laughed.

“Shit. Old? You outrun and out hike every one of us. Shut the fuck up!” Riker teased.

The jumpers laughed but darted looks between themselves.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow we’re training with the big boys, gentlemen. Be on your best behavior, if you can.” Antonio peeled off his shirt.

“Fucking awesome. The Rattlesnakes think they’re somethin’ special,” Boone spit out.

“That’s because they are, but so are we. Don’t forget that.” Antonio’s voice echoed as he left the room.

“Shit just gets better and better,” Landen said then laughed.

“Aren’t you glad you came here?” Riker grabbed him around the neck, choking playfully.

Garcia rolled his eyes. He was thankful both he and Stoker landed here. Serving alongside the other men of the Jackal team meant more to him than he could have understood only six months before. They were his family. Losing this would be devastating. The Rattlesnakes were one of the oldest smokejumping teams in the country and they were tight.

“Hey, beer at Ziggy’s tonight? I need to ask you something,” Stoker muttered under his breath.

“Can it wait? I have a date.” Garcia was snapped back into reality. Turning in a circle, he issued a whooping noise as he did a little dance number. When his hip almost gave out, he burst into laughter.

“An actual date, like with a girl?” Stoker teased.

“Bring her by. We’ll show her a taste of a Michael Jackson wannabe,” Riker quipped as he walked by.

“Funny man. Such a funny man,” Garcia huffed and gave him the finger. “Yeah, second time seeing her.”

“Then she’s something special.” Stoker winked.

“Look, the boy’s blushing!” Sawyer teased.

“Our little boy is growing up!” Boone punched his arm.

Garcia took a fighting stance, grinning as they all tossed towels in his face. “You’re not touching this one.”

“Chicken.” Landen squawked and flapped his arms.

“Yeah, it can wait. For a little while anyway.” Stoker shrugged. “Do what you gotta do. Besides, a second date is a step in the right direction if you ask me.”

“Another funny guy. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Garcia growled before heading for the captain’s office. Yeah, he went out on a hell of a lot of first dates. Dating was a prelude to sex, at least some of the time. He chuckled to himself. As if he was some ladies’ man. Hell, he’d almost forgotten about the date. Tonight, he was ready for some company. Time spent would take his mind away from life in general. “You want to see me, Captain?”

“Need your help with something.” Captain Phillips looked up from his computer screen.

“Sure thing.” Inching closer to the man’s desk, he studied the various commendations on the wall. He realized he’d never paid much attention before. “I didn’t really know the full story about your background. You were a trainer.”

The captain followed his gaze then raised an eyebrow. “I’ve handled every position and then some during my career. Taking an interest in boosting your career, Puevos? You’ve mentioned to me more than once you’d like to consider training.”

“I don’t know what I want, Captain. I guess I’m trying to figure that out.” He walked closer until he was at the edge of the captain’s desk. He noticed several black and white photos, but the man holding the various plaques was Scully Phillips. They never used his first name given his position, but the man would and had jumped into any dangerous situation right beside them. The captain was just as qualified for field work as the rest of them. Still, the respect for the man as well as his position was solid. “You’ve had a lot of awards over the years.”

“A few, yes. I’ll tell you about them sometime.”

Garcia nodded and glanced down at the captain’s desk. He’d been around the team long enough to notice official county memos. “I’d like that.”

Shoving the memo under a pile of papers, he eyed Garcia up and down. “You did good yesterday, even though you could have gotten yourself and Stoker killed in the process.”

“We had to react.”

“You could have waited for the fire department to do their jobs.”

Surprised at the captain’s reaction, he narrowed his eyes. “Then a man would have died. Animals would have perished.”

“Sometimes that happens, son.”

“Then what would you have done?” Garcia heard the distinct edge in his voice.

Captain Phillips rose to his feet. “Same damn thing. But you already knew that before you asked. You’re challenging not only yourself but your beliefs as of late. Is there anything I should know about?”

“Is that why you called me in here, to chastise my behavior?”

Holding up his hands, he remained unblinking. “I called you in here because I checked what training you’ve handled in the past. You have certain qualifications.”

“Not in smokejumping.”

“Safety. About fires. The basics, which are vital in any arena.” The captain rubbed his eyes.

“Yes, that’s true but it was a very limited course and for novices.” Where was this going? “But yeah, I used to love to teach, which is why I asked you questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Cooper had an event scheduled for tomorrow, but he’s booked as the lead trainer regarding the new parachutes and some other operational issues that he needs to be on point with. So, I need you to step in.”

“Step in?” Garcia asked.

“Don’t worry. You won’t miss more than an hour of the required training schedule.”

His eyes opening wide, Garcia nodded. Now, the training was required, but by whom? “Can I ask you a question, sir?”

“Sure. Why the hell not?” Folding his arms, he sat on the edge of his desk.

“Are we in trouble?”

“Meaning what?”

Garcia noticed several of the team walking past, their faces solemn. “We don’t have enough men on the team and from what I understand, there’s no money in the city’s budget to get any additional help. That has to concern somebody on the city council.”

Captain Phillips sucked in his breath. “What are you trying to insinuate, Puevos?”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m asking if the Jackals are done.” He could tell immediately the question disturbed his captain. The truth was hiding just below the surface.

He waited for a full minute before answering. “I started my career in Oregon when I was barely seventeen. No one knows this, but I lied to get the opportunity to try out as a trainee. Barely made it, but I did, and I was so proud. At that time, being accepted as a member of an elite team was a big deal for a colored boy.”

“I can imagine, sir.”

“Not entirely certain you can. Times were different, but I was a kid with an attitude. I worked my ass off and I was lucky. Not a single member of my team gave a shit about color. They saw orange and red.” Captain Phillips smiled, his look faraway. “I’ve been damn lucky over the years and coming here, to this majestic place and working with the Jackals I consider a culmination of my career. There is nothing and no one that is going to break up this team while I’m here. However, our work is being evaluated by those who have no understanding of what it takes to be a smokejumper or a member of this team. I need your help with tomorrow. You’re the only one I can ask. Is that understood?”

Garcia could read between the lines. “Absolutely, sir. I’d be honored.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Here’s the file with the directions. You’ll need to arrive by seven-thirty tomorrow morning and don’t be late. I hear the audience is very particular.”

Garcia grabbed the file and took a step back. He’d been looking for additional direction. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. When he opened the file, he blinked several times. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“Kids? You want me to teach children?”

The captain shrugged. “With all the fires started by teenagers we had to deal with in the summer, the entire City Council thought this would be a good idea. If all goes well, our course will become a regular part of every school in the county’s curriculum.”

“You have to be kidding me. Why can’t…” He allowed the words to die off.

“As you can imagine, this just might be a prized program developed by our illustrious mayor. I’m certain you’ll make our team proud.” Captain Phillips gave him a long look before moving back behind his desk. “And Garcia?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t fuel the flames. I need all of you on top of your game.”

“Understood, sir, and I’m happy to be a part of this.” He waited to see if the captain would elaborate or give any additional information, but he knew there would be nothing else offered. This was a political game and one he prayed to God the good guys would win.

If there were any of those left.

* * *

Laney kept her head down as she walked out to the parking lot. She was in no mood to stand through happy chats with the parents, pretending that all was right with the world. This time, her assistant could take care of the basic schmoozing. Even the thought of running into Troy didn’t calm her nerves. She’d been a damn mess all day, unable to think clearly.

She’d run through every option regarding the flowers, but at this point, only one thing made any sense. The answer was too damaging to think about. The roses were already in the trash, waiting for the garbage man. Tonight, she’d lock her doors and plan for the future. Whatever that meant.

After tossing her things into the backseat, she headed out, ignoring everyone who’d turned to wave. As she made the turn out of the parking lot, tears slipped past her lashes. She’d made a solid promise to herself that she would never cry again, at least not over her past, but she could barely contain her emotions.

Missoula was home and the best place she’d ever lived. The city was gorgeous, the mountains providing an incredible backdrop. The people were so friendly, and the job was perfect. She was happy. Then why? Why? Didn’t she deserve a damn life?

Her grip on the steering wheel white knuckled, she ran through the steps she’d done twice before, but it had been so long ago. Years. Fucking years. Stop. Think clearly. You can do this. The warning was clear, which meant she had maybe a few days. She’d call her contact. Could she even remember who the hell her contact was? A laugh bubbled to the surface. She really had turned into another person, believing all the bullshit.

First things first. She’d forgotten dogfood. The best thing to do was purchase enough food for a few days so she didn’t have to go out. That would allow her time to plan. Then she could figure out the next course of action after talking to the only person who could walk her through this. Everything would be okay as long as she took the reins, planning out every detail. She’d been through this before, knew every aspect of how the situation would be played out. God, what a crock of shit.

No one was ever going to get to her. Period. The tears abated, leaving her angry and bitter, the cold persona she’d adopted almost five years before now back in full control. This was how her life had to be if she even wanted the opportunity at moving forward. She had no friends, no family and no one would miss her. Except for your students. The thought sent a rush of pain straight into her heart. She adored the kids, loved every aspect of being responsible for them. They were her pride and joy, the children she would never have and…

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” The harsh words reverberated in the small space. Sniffing, she wiped her nose and turned on the radio, making certain the volume was as loud as she could stand it. One thing was for certain. Topper would be going with her.

She floored the accelerator, moving around the curves easily. Her heart continued to race as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She’d change where she went to the grocery store. No pattern. Albertson’s. She’d never been there. Making a swift turn, she heard a small clicking sound. Or maybe she’d just run over a rock. Fear gripped every cell, causing her to suck in her breath.

Tathump. Tathump.

“Oh God!” Laney snapped off the radio and while her mind told her exactly what she was hearing, she couldn’t stop. Not here on a two-lane road, a very deserted road and one with snow on the ground. So, she pressed on the gas, praying she could stay on the road. Within two minutes, she had difficulty steering and suddenly sparks flew out, the arc wide enough she could see them in her side mirror. Swerving, she noticed an oncoming vehicle and let out a blood curdling scream just as she was forced off the road. Rocks flew up as she skidded, twisting. Turning. Her car was moving toward the drop off. She was going to die!

“No!”

Whoosh! Slump!

When her front right tire squealed then dipped, jerking her body forward, she panted and blinked, trying to focus. She was okay, managing by the luck of God to drive into a ditch. She eased back and blew out, trying to control her heartrate. When she looked in the rearview mirror, she almost panicked.

A lone man was walking toward her, his big Dodge Ram truck parked less than fifty feet from her. She had to get out. Now. Fumbling, she tried to unlock the door as stars floated in front of her eyes. Oh God. Please. Please. Her hands were sweaty and just as she managed to swing open the door, the man was standing not three feet from her. “Get away!”

“Whoa, girl. Hold on, now. You were the one who nearly ran me off the road.”

She looked up and down at the man dressed in sweats and wrung her hands. “You were coming right for me.”

“I was on the right side of the road. Perhaps the fact your tire blew is the reason.” Huffing, he hunkered down, touching her back tire.

“Get away from my car!”

He held up his hands and laughed. “I’m just trying to help. You ran on the rim. Hopefully, you didn’t bend it or there’s no way you can drive out of here.” When he stood he backed away, moving around the rear of her car. “That is if I can pull you out of the ditch.”

She held her arms, trying to figure out what to do. There was no weapon of any kind in her car, except for the tire iron that he’d no doubt want to use. She was trembling, and light headed. Swallowing hard, she backed up, almost tripping over a fallen limb. “Shit.”

“Careful. This is a pretty dangerous stretch of road. Open the trunk and let me see what I can do.”

Laney glanced down at the other side. The car was firmly planted in the ditch. “I… I can get this.”

“You can change this tire and somehow get yourself out of the ditch? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m trying to help.” He walked closer, holding out his hand.

A single yelp escaped her mouth as she crowded closer to the front of the car.

“I’m Garcia Puevos. I’m a smokejumper here in town. I’m pretty good with cars. I promise. Scouts honor.” Grinning, he kept his hand out, his eyes twinkling. When she hesitated, he shook his head. “I promise, I’m not some serial killer. Honest Injun.” He laughed, as if to ease the tension.

She could see truth in his eyes and what were the odds that some jerk off would be coming from the other direction? “Okay.”

“Okay then.” He waited then smiled again. “The trunk?”

“Yeah. I’m getting there.” Her eyes never leaving him, she inched back toward the driver’s door, reaching in and popping the trunk.

“This will take a little while so relax. Then, I have some rope and I think I can pull you out.”

Nodding, she closed her driver’s door and looked up and down the road. Very few people used this section. Her choice today? Stupid.

“What’s your name? I mean if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Mrs. Cavanaugh. Yes, Mrs.” While she knew the words were said with far too much exaggeration, she stood her ground, glaring defiantly at the stranger.

“Would you prefer to call your husband? I’ll wait with you,” Garcia said as he placed his hand on top of the trunk.

“No! Um, no, he’s very busy. Thank you. Do you have any credentials?”

“Wow. To be able to change a tire or because I’m a smokejumper?”

“Both. Either.”

“Sure. In my truck. Do you have a first name? You know mine.”

Laney stared at him.

“All is fair,” he said, giving her a wink.

“Debbie.”

“Okay then, Debbie. I’ll be right back.”

Lying wasn’t going to get her anywhere, but she couldn’t take the chance. She watched as he sauntered back to his truck. The man was whistling, which completely unnerved her. He was also incredibly handsome, boyish and she could buy the smokejumper story. Maybe he was just a good Samaritan after all.

“Here you go. This is my badge from being on the fire department and my jacket, which has the smokejumper label.”

“What about ID for being a smokejumper?” she asked after darting a look at both items.

“Goddamn. You don’t trust anyone, do you?” he asked then snorted.

“I have my reasons.”

“We aren’t issued actual ID’s, but the badge you can’t get on the internet. Will that do?” Now, he was getting exasperated.

Laney contemplated then nodded. “Okay.” She could hear him mumbling under his breath as he walked back to his truck. She didn’t care. Even if he was Garcia Puevos, smokejumper, that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“All right. Let’s see what we can do.” He pulled various items from her trunk and crouched down by the flat tire.

She watched him work, could tell he was skilled and had to admit, she was attracted to him. His dark hair and eyes, the olive complexion and his chiseled face were very attractive. Even in the wrinkled sweats, she could tell he had a nice body. She bit her lip to keep from laughing and moved back toward the ditch. The drop off was just through the trees. She could have easily been killed. The area was still beautiful, serene and one of the most peaceful locations she’d ever been to. Leaving would be difficult.

Shivering, she eased back toward her car. He’d all but disappeared. Another round of fear settled in. This could have been a ploy. Gain her trust then kidnap her or worse. Noticing the tire iron on the ground, she bent down, wrapping her hand around the cool metal. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Okay. Let’s see if we can get you out of the ditch.”

She swung around, holding the implement behind her head.

“Shit! Okay, then. Let’s not get aggressive, Mrs. Cavanaugh.” Garcia backed away, his eyes locked on the tire iron. “Relax. The tire is fixed. See.”

Darting a quick glance at the wheel, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Let me take that. Okay?” He held out his hand.

She eased the implement down, allowing him to take it. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“I get it. You can never be too careful. I’m going to put everything back then tie a rope under your car, around the frame. Let’s cross our fingers.”

Although three attempts were made, he finally managed to pull her car back onto the road. He kept the truck idling as he came back, the same grin as before. “There you go. You’re good as new. Well, you need to get a real tire, but you’ll be safe enough for a couple days. I’m sure that’s something your husband can do.”

She wanted to tell him she was single, but what did it matter? She wouldn’t be here this time next week. “What do I owe you?”

“How about a smile? Someone as beautiful as you has to smile.”

Taken aback, she smiled before she caught herself.

“That’s much better. You’re very welcome. I’ll wait until you drive away just to make certain nothing else is wrong. Okay?”

“Thank you very much.” They both looked at each other and this time, there was more than a casual moment. They were searching, each for different reasons. She held out her hand, risking contact. The moment he grasped, electric current shot through every cell, sending aching pulses into her muscles as well as her pussy. She opened her mouth and tensed, fighting to keep from panting.

Garcia blew out a long breath and rubbed his thumb across her hand then pulled back, wiping both hands on his sweatpants. “Nice to meet you finally, Debbie Cavanaugh.”

She remained standing by the door until he backed away, all the while shaking his head. Yeah, she was an absolute nutcase. The connection had been the most intense of her life. “Wow.” Giggling, she pressed her fist against her mouth. This was insane.

She started her car and eased the gear into drive. When nothing clanged on the road or blew up, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least there were sexy men ready to jump in. The thought actually gave her another smile.

* * *

“Two times in two days. What are the odds?”

Troy. Laney tried not to act startled when she turned around. “How are you?”

“I’m great. How are you? A different store. I like shopping in several in truth. Better prices and choices,” Troy said as he laughed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t. I was just deep in thought.”

He nodded and looked into her basket. “You have a dog.”

“Yes, Topper. My Golden.” Dear God, his eyes were dreamy. Two good looking men in one day. She pressed her hand to her lips, praying to God her face wasn’t red.

“I love dogs. Jamie wants a dog so badly. I’m thinking about his birthday.”

“He’d do so well with one.” More relaxed, she allowed her tenacious grip on the cart handle to loosen.

“I know. I just worry he won’t take good enough care of the pup, especially since I spend so much time at work.”

“I can give you some pointers if you’d like.”

Troy smiled. “I would absolutely love that.” He squinted then exhaled. “I have to ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

He hesitated, a blush creeping up from his neck. “Did you get my roses?”

Laney blinked and tried to take in what he was asking. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I hope you don’t think that too forward. I just wanted to thank you. Jamie has never been this excited about school.”

Tears rushed to her eyes and she had to turn away. To think she’d almost blown everything because of the flowers. Troy sent them. The sexy attorney who… A red flag went up. “I have to admit, since the card wasn’t signed, I called the flower shop. They said they were ordered from out of town.”

“Ugh! You caught me. I admit it. Damn, you women are good.” Laughing, he inched closer. “I asked my secretary to call in the flowers. I can’t lie. I didn’t want to miss making certain they got to you. She has a cellphone from Texas or Alabama. I can never keep it straight and called on her lunch hour. I apologize if that takes away from them.”

She processed the information and broke into a huge grin. “You have no idea how much they mean to me. Thank you.” Her entire body was quivering, only this time from joy as well as relief.

“Since we’re into confessing. I have one more to make.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Jamie’s birthday is less than two weeks away. Would you, I mean if you’re not too busy, maybe just have a drink with me tonight? There’s a little place across the street. One glass of wine and… Shit, I’m babbling. So much for my dating skills.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” The words tumbled from her mouth.

Troy chuckled. “I think maybe. Yes? Why don’t we start with one drink and we can talk about dogs? Then after that?”

“What about Jamie?”

“Oh, my sister is in town. Right about now she’s no doubt deep in flour making too many chocolate chip cookies.”

They both laughed, and she felt so free, so very alive. “I’d love to have a glass of wine. I just need to pay for my dog food. The rest can wait.”

“Deal. I think you’ll like the place. I’ll even help you load the dog food into the car.”

At that moment, she kind of liked having a man around. The thought riveting, she allowed herself to blush. “Such a gentleman.”

“I do try.”

They were safely sitting at a lovely little table in front of a roaring fire barely ten minutes later. She inhaled the intense scent of cinnamon and vanilla, smiling as he told war stories about his work, cases that he could mention and life as a single parent. The wine was perfect, and she never wanted the evening to end.

“So, I’ve been doing all the talking. What about you? Teaching. Have you always wanted to be a teacher?”

“No, I grew up wanting to be an architect. Just had some issues in my life and teaching seemed to come naturally,” Laney said as she tried not to stare into his eyes.

“Teaching is such an honorable profession. My wife taught at the college before she…” When his voice trailed off, his eyes became misted. “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about Mary much.”

“I noticed. Jamie can’t remember her. If you don’t mind me asking. How did she die?”

“Cancer,” Troy whispered. “She was dead two months after the diagnosis. Jamie was three. He couldn’t really remember her.”

“Only three? Wow.” She took a sip of wine. “You should talk about her. He wants to know.”

“You’re right. I just… I have a very hard time facing the memories myself.” Troy swirled his glass and glanced around the room. “But you’re right.”

“All in good time. Little bit. Maybe one picture he can keep with him at night.”

His smile returning, he leaned over, placing his hand on top of hers. “I love the idea. That I can handle. I know just the one.”

She wanted the electricity, roaring heat shared between them. Instead, there was a coldness, almost clammy and she couldn’t breathe for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps she was just exhausted. Yes, sleep deprivation did funny things. “What kind of dog are you thinking about?”

“Maybe you can help me with that.” Leaning over, Troy’s eyes roamed down to the swell of her breasts.

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic. I’m so glad we did this.”

“Me too,” Laney whispered.

When she finally sat back in her car, she held her breath then rubbed her hand. The coldness remained as well as an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

“Damn it!”

* * *

Laney sat by the empty fireplace, staring at the black hole, her mind reeling. Topper was snoozing, curled at her feet and she should feel content. Instead, too many questions remained in her mind, ugly thoughts and concerns she couldn’t get a handle on. Sighing, she closed her eyes, forcing her mind to think about anything else.

Garcia…

She shifted as her nipples tingled. Surprised, she pressed her hand over her mouth to pinch back a moan. He was so masculine, sexy and more beguiling than Troy. There wasn’t a comparison. Troy was all business, a conservative man with a need for control. Garcia seemed to be a quiet force, as if there were so many layers. How she’d enjoy peeling away those layers. When a laugh bubbled to the surface, she nuzzled further into the pillows, envisioning Garcia’s chiseled face, his intense but sensual eyes and the way he’d looked at her. At least twice. Yes, he’d weaseled past her armor, until he reached the girl inside.

Maybe she spent far too much time fantasizing. Maybe she needed a wild and kinky fuck. No, a hard spanking. Images rolled in the back of her mind, delicious and very sinful visions of being taken over his knees, her naked ass spanked for her lascivious thoughts, salacious desires. Her pussy clenched, reminding her just how long it had been since she’d had a lover. Why was she thinking about Garcia this way? She didn’t know the man. That was the incredible reason to have fantasies. Right?

Opening her eyes, she glanced over at her diary, the well-worn leather had been her best friend for the last few months. She grabbed the thick book and flipped through the pages. No one kept a diary any longer. Maybe she was just old fashioned, even for her young age. She laughed again as she rubbed her finger over the cursive writing, words spilling out on lonely nights. Tonight, was no exception.

She bit her lower lip and wondered if Garcia could be a dominating force, a man who took charge in all aspects of life, including his relationship. What if he enjoyed a more submissive woman, a girl who craved being taken in hand? No, few men could understand. But what if? She clenched her pussy muscles several times as she thought about the woman buried deep inside. Yes, she’d always gravitated toward a commanding man. Even as a teenager, she’d longed for the top dog, the boy who took no shit. Too bad so many were abusive and not just controlling. Her diary told no lies. She wanted to find the kind of relationship where she could let go, allow her boyfriend or husband to lay down rules that she was required to follow.

And discipline? Yes, she’d craved hard spankings since she’d left her father’s home. She had no doubt her father gave her mother spankings. Everything made sense. The closed doors, the loud music coming from their bedroom, the wooden brushes she’d found hidden in her mother’s dresser drawer. Her parents seemed so happy, loving and very connected. She wanted to have that more than anything.

After a few seconds, she grabbed her pen, debating before she began to write, the words coming easily.

Garcia. I met him today. He helped and didn’t truly understand how much he did. Whew. He’s handsome and sexy, a man I could see being more than just a friend. A smokejumper and while I hate the concept of fires, he oozed control, domination. I can just imagine being taken care of, loved and honored, even cherished. I can imagine him as being very demanding, requiring certain rules to be followed without question.

Laney hesitated and took a gulp of her wine. For some reason, her hand was shaking as if admitting on paper what she craved was somehow wrong. She refused to allow her fears to shadow her desires any longer.

I want more than anything to submit to a man in all ways. I want him to be powerful in our home, in the relationship. I long to feel his strong hands holding me, kissing me and requiring me to do anything he asks. When I’m bad, I want to pay the penance for being a bad girl. I want to do the right thing, face my punishment, no matter how severe. I want to be stripped naked, told to stand in a corner to think about my sins. I crave having him take me by the hands, whispering softly that he’s disappointed in my behavior and that he expects more, so much more.

I long to be told that I can do much better and for my infractions, I will be punished. I can see him easing his belt from his pants, making me watch as he rubs his fingers over the taut leather then telling me to go into the bedroom, prepare the pillows. I can only imagine how I’ll feel when I walk into the room, the way my heart would be racing, my mind reeling with the understanding that I will be whipped. Then after placing the pillows on the middle of the bed, I’ll crawl over, spreading my legs wide just as he requires.

Exhaling, she wiped a bead of perspiration from her forehead. Could she do this? Could she actually enjoy a relationship of this nature? Her thumping heart gave her the answer. Yes. Oh, yes.

As I wait, I think about how horrible my actions have been, remembering his intense look and saddened eyes. He wants the best for me, for us. I bury my face into the bed, waiting, wondering how long he’ll be. When I hear his footsteps coming into the room, the strangled sigh as he looks down, I feel so disgraced. When he speaks, telling me he won’t go easy on me on this night, I whimper. The pain will be intense.

Crack!

As the first strike hits my ass, I jump, clenching the comforter, yet I keep my place, the position that’s required.

Crack! Pop!

He continues, stopping after several hard whips to soothe and caress.

Smack! Crack!

The spanking continues until I start to cry. Then, I know how much I’m loved.

Laney eased the pen into the diary and closed the book. Garcia. Dear God, what was she thinking?