Page 23 of The Heat is On
An affirmative slid across March’s face. “How’d you know?”
“I told you—I lived around here. You sure you know how to get there? Lots of forest between here and there.”
What was Archer’s game? Because either Rio was a lousy judge of character or Archer had something up his sleeve. Of all of them, Archer was the one guy who might help Rio apprehend March.
And then, just when Rio thought it couldn’t get worse, the three stooges arrived—the drunk and disorderlies. They looked like brothers, all with the same dark hair, lanky build.
Right behind them strode the quiet, stealthy form of the prisoner named Thorne.
Something like dismay flickered in Archer’s eyes as they ran up. “Don’t leave without us,” said one of the men.
Thorne looked like he’d rather join a pack of hungry wolves, his eyes wary. Rio could care less if the man bolted—his worry was Darryl.
“Did you wake up everyone in camp?” March snarled at Darryl.
“This isn’t my fault. I didn’t invite them. Or him—” Archer. “Or—him.” He pointed at Rio.
“We should all go back to camp before someone gets hurt,” Rio said. “Because you know they’ll send marshals after us. And we’ll be fugitives, so guess what—they’llshootus.”
“Maybe I should shoot you first,” March snapped.
“Hey!” Rio snapped back. “I’m just trying to keep you from getting killed.”
“Maybe I just go back to camp and kill everybody there. Then no one will know we’re missing.”
And that shut down the group. Rio’s pulse jacked to high, and he swallowed back the image of a group of dead smokejumpers. Ho-kay, maybe letting March run was the best option. Get him away from the unarmed, unsuspecting firefighters, let him wear himself out on the run, and then…then Rio would figure out a way to apprehend him.
Maybe even get Archer on his side.
“Okay, we already have a head start. Let’s just go.” Rio glanced at Archer. “You know how to get to the road, or this campground, right?”
Archer met his eyes, nodded. “Yep.”
“Nope,” March said in a quiet, lethal tone. “Not with you. Get on your knees.”
Rio swallowed. “C’mon, man—”
“Did you see the way he took down Boneyard? We might need him, man.” This from one of the D & Ds who clearly didn’t see the look in March’s eyes.
Yeah, Rio would bet that every one of those rape and murder charges were true, and then some.
“One crazy move, and you’re dead.” March uncocked the hammer and stuck the gun in his belt. He turned to Archer. “Which way?”
“We gotta go west.” Archer pointed back the way they came. “We can go up around the ridge, cut around, and head south. That way we avoid the camp.”
March’s gaze hung on Rio a long heartbeat before, “Let’s go.”
They took off in a silent run through the far edge of the forest, up along a rocky ridge, and tracing the back side of the fire. Smoke hung in the woods like a phantom, the fire an eerie, distant crackle as the group doglegged down along the opposite flank of the fire. Rio got a good glimpse of the ridge where he’d saved Tucker’s life, the black and white moonscape of forest, the line they’d dug that stopped the fire cold.
That had been a cool bit of strategy—fighting fire with fire.
Rio had worked up a sweat by the time they clambered down the ridge, cutting away from the fire line toward the western horizon.
He was head down, looking at his footing when he heard the shout.
“Hey!”
Rio looked up and froze. Oh, no…no—