Нора Робертс - Chasing Fire

He glanced over. Rowan leaned on the jamb.

“It’s open now.”

She left the door ajar as she stepped in, and angled to see the laptop screen. “You’re boning up on arson?”

“Specific to wildfire. It seemed relevant at the moment. How’d the mop-up go?”

“You left a hell of a mess.” She shifted her gaze from the screen to his face. “I heard things got hairy up there.”

“There were moments.” He smiled. “Missed you.”

“Because I’m so good or so good-looking?”

“All of the above.” He shut down the computer. “Why don’t we take a walk, catch the sunset.”

“Yeah, all right.”

When they went out, she pulled her sunglasses out of her pocket. “The fact that I’m surprised and not happy that my father’s involved with a woman I don’t know and he didn’t tell me about doesn’t make me jealous.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? Surprised and not happy. I’d’ve defined it as outraged and incensed.”

“Due to the surprise.” She clipped the words off.

“I’ll give you that,” Gull decided, “since you’ve apparently gone your entire life without witnessing a lip-lock.”

“I don’t think I overreacted. Very much.”

“Why quibble about degrees?”

“I’m not apologizing for telling you to butt the hell out.”

“Then I don’t have to be gracious and accept a nonexistent apology. I’m not apologizing for expressing my opinion over your not very much of an overreaction.”

“Then I guess we’re even.”

“Close enough. It’s a hell of a sunset.”

She stood with him, watching the sun sink toward the western peaks, watched it drown in the sea of red and gold and delicate lavender it spawned.

“I don’t have to like her, and I sure as hell don’t have to trust her.”

“You’re like a dog with a bone, Rowan.”

“Maybe. But it’s my bone.”

Silence, Gull thought, could express an opinion as succinctly as words. “So. I heard about Dolly’s father coming down on you.”

“Over and done.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you butting in again, Gull?”

“If you want to call it that. You’ve got to have sympathy for a man dealing with what he’s dealing with, so maybe he gets a pass this time. But that’s what’s over and done. Nobody lays into my girl.”

“Your girl? I’m not your girl.”

“Are we or are we not together here and watching the sunset? And isn’t it most likely you and I will end up naked in bed together tonight?”

“Regardless—”

“Regardless, my ass.” He grabbed her chin, pulled her in for a kiss. “That makes you my girl.”

“Holy hell, Gull, you’re making my back itch.”

Amused, he scratched it, then hooked an arm around her shoulders and kept walking. “So, later. Your place or mine?”

With the light softening, she pulled her sunglasses off, then swung them by the earpiece. “Some people are intimidated or put off by a certain level of confidence.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I’m not. Fortunately for you, I like it. Let’s—” She jerked back at the sharp crack in the air. “Jesus, was that—”

The breath whooshed out of her lungs when Gull knocked her to the ground and landed on top of her.

“Stay down,” he ordered, and saw a bullet dig into the ground six feet away. “Hold on to me. We’re going to roll.” The minute her arms clamped around him, he pushed his body over, felt her do the same, so they covered the ground in a fast, ungainly roll to shield themselves behind one of the jeeps parked outside a hangar.

A third report snapped, pinging metal overhead.

“Where’s it coming from? Can you tell?”

Gull shook his head, keeping his body over hers while he waited for the next shot. But silence held as seconds ticked by, then shattered with the shouts and rushing feet.

“For Christ’s sake, get down, get cover,” he called out. “There’s a sniper.”

Dobie bolted for the jeep, dived. “Are you hit? Are you—Goddamn, Gull, you’re bleeding.”

Rowan bucked under him. “Get off, get off. Let me see.”

“Just scraped up from the asphalt. I’m not shot. Stay down.”

“Rifle.” Dobie shifted to a crouch. “I know a rifle shot when I hear one. From over there in the trees, I think. Damn good thing he’s a shitty shot ’cause the two of you were sitting ducks. Standing ducks.”

“Hey!” Trigger called from the far side of the hangar. “Is anybody hurt?”

“We’re okay,” Rowan answered. “Don’t come out here. He may be waiting for somebody to step into the clear.”

“L.B.’s got the cops coming. Just stay where you are for now.”

“Copy that. Get off me, Gull.”

“He tackled you good,” Dobie commented when Gull pushed off. “You know he played football in high school. Quarterback.”

“Isn’t that interesting?” Rowan muttered it as she turned Gull’s arm over to examine the bloody scrapes on his elbows and forearms. “You got grit in these.”

“I liked basketball better,” Gull said conversationally. “But I didn’t have the height to compete. Had the speed, but I’d topped out at six feet until senior year when I had a spurt and added two more. Baseball, now, I like that better than either. Had a pretty good arm back in the day.”

Maybe talking kept his mind off the scrapes, she decided, because they had to sting like hell.

“I thought you were the track star.”

“My best thing, but I like sports, so I dabbled. Anyway, I liked collecting letters. I graduated a four-letter man.”

Rowan studied him in the fading light. “We’re sitting behind this jeep, hiding from some nutcase with a rifle, and you’re actually bragging about your high-school glory days?”

“It passes the time. Plus I had very impressive glory days.” He brushed dirt off her cheek. “We’re okay.”

“If you two are going to get sloppy, I’m not looking the other way.” Dobie leaned back against the tire. “Wish I had a beer.”

“Once this little interlude’s over,” Gull told him, “the first round’s on me.”

“I was thinking about going to the lounge, kicking back with some screen and a beer. Just stepped outside for a minute, and bam! bam! ”

“So you ran out, in the open, instead of back in?” Rowan demanded.

“I wasn’t sure if either of you were hit or not, the way you both went down.”

Rowan leaned over Gull, kissed Dobie on the mouth. “Thanks.”

“I’m not kissing you. He’s gone,” Gull added. “He took off after the third shot.”

“I expect so,” Dobie agreed. “It’s full dusk now. He can’t see squat, unless he’s got infrared.”

“Let’s go.” Rowan pushed up to her haunches. “If he wants to shoot us, he could circle around in the dark and get us while we’re sitting here.”

“She’s got a point. Don’t run in a straight line. That’s what they say in the movies,” Gull pointed out. “Barracks?”

“Barracks,” Dobie agreed.

Before either man could react, Rowan sprang up, a runner off the blocks, and revved straight into a sprint.

“Goddamn it.”

Gull raced after her—could have caught her, passed her, they both knew. But he stayed at her back, zigging when she zigged, zagging when she zagged.

“We’re coming in!” Rowan called out, then hit the door.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Gull grabbed her, spun her around. “Taking off like that?”

“I was thinking you weren’t going to be my human shield twice in one day. I appreciate the first, I’m not stupid.”

“You don’t get to decide for me.”

“Right back at you.”

They shouted at each other while people shouted around them. Libby let out a piercing whistle. “Shut up! Shut the hell up. Everybody!” She shoved her hands through the hair dripping from the shower she’d leaped out of. “Gull, you’re bleeding on the floor. Somebody get a first-aid kit and clean him up. The cops are on their way. Okay, the cops are here,” she amended when the sirens sounded. “L.B. wants everybody inside until... until we know something.”