Page 22 of Some Like It Hot
Riley sat on a boulder, his arm drawn up tight to himself, a little high on pain meds, trying to sort it out.
About five this morning they’d awoken to the disappearance of the prisoners. Tucker had nearly lost his head.
It only got worse when Seth discovered that someone had stolen his bear gun.
Tucker had dispatched him to find Skye.
Riley could admit a little anger at the fact that Thorne had dashed too. But just because he knew his father’s poetry didn’t make him a man of honor.
Then things got very quiet, very dire, and very broken when three of the prisoners—the three youngsters—returned, found by Seth, with the news that the rest had taken Skye as a hostage.
Amend that. A serial killer-slash-rapist-slash-someone very, very bad had taken Skye.
No one protested when Tucker announced he was going after her. With the brunette, aka US Marshal Stevie Mills.
Tucker left Riley with easy instructions.
Call the authorities.
Put out the fire.
Get out.
And yet, the hits kept coming.
“Watchout—Seth. How’s it looking?” The big blond sawyer’s voice came over the radio. He’d taken the helm when…
Shoot. Riley knew better than to walk under a snag. Probably should be grateful it had only grazed him. Left his arm dangling from its socket. Yeah, that had been pretty—him writhing on the ground, trying not to scream as Romeo shoved the scorched tree limb off him.
Even now, the pain could curl Riley into himself. He sat, the arm secured to his body like a straitjacket, and no matter how many painkillers he downed, the pain shot fire through his body, straight into his skull.
He lifted the radio to his mouth. “Seth, Watchout. No sign of the chopper. Smoke is turning, though. We’ll need a flyover.”
It almost hurt more to see his team mopping up without him. Armed with Pulaskis and shovels, they worked the blackened forest, turning over the hot spots, putting out simmering cinders that could ignite with a stiff wind.
However, in the three hours since they’d been burying coals, the wind had stirred off Denali, awakening the blaze that had died down to flickers in the night.
Riley stood up, finding his feet on the scree of rocks where Tucker had run to safety yesterday, and now calculated the thickening smoke, the occasional flash of flame. He toggled his radio again. “Seth, Watchout. I’m seeing some activity on the eastern flank.”
Riley could barely make out Seth’s yellow shirt through the skeletal remains of the forest. “Let’s have Barry give us a report when he drops off the feds.” And picked him up.
Riley hated to admit it, but yes, he probably needed medical attention.
Then he was coming back. Because it wasn’t the first time he’d popped out a shoulder.
He didn’t know why someone didn’t just pop it back in. But Romeo had freaked out the minute he’d opened Riley’s shirt, and okay, there was something protruding from his collarbone.
Honestly, Riley was trying not to freak out, too.
So, yeah, they were so far beyond their three strikes it was getting ridiculous. All that remained was for the fire to kick back up and turn into an inferno, maybe head south and take out that Boy Scout camp.
A couple homes.
Sky King ranch.
No, it wouldn’t get that far.
Riley sat again on the boulder and raised his glasses to scan the fire. Black smoke started to embed the gray, not a good sign. The air smelled of green trees being consumed.