Page 15 of The Heat is On

About to be burned alive.

Yeah, Rio could do something.

Rio raced down the hill, hooked Tucker by the waist, and hauled him up to the ridge. Tucker gulped ragged breaths, his body working hard. They reached the top, and Rio armed them into the rutted, rocky area filled with scree and boulders and other inflammable debris.

“Get down!” Tucker had shouted and hunkered behind a wash of boulders.

And right then, the flames whooshed over the ridge, smoking, churning down around them. Rio ducked, his heart fat in his throat.

Wow, that was close.

Now, Rio looked over at Tucker. “You okay?”

Tucker stared at him, his face black, eyes reddened. “What—how—?”

“I was on this end of the burn and saw you go over the ridge.” Rio was still watching the fire, how it flickered red, orange, yellow, tongues consuming everything to black. “That was close.”

“Mmmhmm,” Tucker said as if he did this every day.

Huh. Rio looked down at him. “I think it’s working—your plan.” He offered a small, one-sided smile.See, I’m not a criminal.

“Yeah,” Tucker said. “The fires should collide, collapse in on themselves as all the fuel is consumed, and if we can hold this right flank, we’ll get to spend tomorrow mopping up.” He turned around, putting his back to the boulder and rubbed his knee. “Thanks.”

Rio turned too, his gaze on Tucker’s movements. So that’s what happened—he’d twisted his knee.

He looked back at the fire, at the smoke coughing in the meadow, the fight to survive. “Feels good.”

“What?” Tucker frowned.

“To win. I haven’t gotten a win for a long time.” And he didn’t know why he said that, but it just…well, yeah. Weirdly, he wanted this guy to like him. See beyond the prison garb, the obvious. Or maybe Rio simply wanted to be seen for the guy he was. Not who he pretended to be.

Who he was starting to feel like. Until this moment.

“I know you’re up there, and I just want you to know that if you try anything, I’m a federal marshal.”

Rio stilled.

What—?

But old habits—or maybe instincts—made him put his hands up.

A woman ran up the scree toward them, a revolver in her grip, something fierce and protective in her eyes. Her sable hair tied back in a pony tail, she wore a blue jacket that rippled in the wind.

“Stevie?” Tucker said. “What are you doing here?”

Oh good, so she wasn’t here to shoot him. Yet. Because she locked eyes with Rio and he held his breath.No danger here, ma’am. A heartbeat, then two.

Thankfully, Tucker confirmed it with, “He’s not a threat.”

She seemed to consider those words. Then, finally, “You can put your hands down. I’m not going to shoot you.”

“I appreciate that.” Rio’s jaw tightened.

Beside him, Tucker grunted as he got to his feet. “I don’t understand—what’s going on?”

She tucked her gun away in her belt and closed the distance up the hill. “You have a murderer among your fire crew recruits. I’m here to bring him back.”

And then, in what felt like an actual fist to the gut, Tucker glanced at Rio.