Page 50 of Protecting the Flame

“No. It’s not safe. I’ll be all right.” She added in another burst of illogic, “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. Both of us can’t stay up all night. Only one of us is allowed to be a wreck.” And tag, she was it. She hoped she hadn’t awakened Mattie. Scott, she couldn’t care less about.

“Sleep?” He let out a soft chuckle. “With you out there blasting away at errant wolves? Who could sleep through racket like that?”

She gave a watery laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Save that for when you’ve got something to be sorry about. Where are you now?”

“Looking at Be…” She caught herself before Ben slipped out. Odd, that. There really was no comparison. Burke was in pieces, cuts of meat and gnawed bone. Ben had been totally different. As she considered this, an image from memory flashed of Bubbe Sarah, kneeling by a buck she’d shot, hunting knife in hand. This is how you do it so you don’t spoil the meat. And then, with a barely suppressed smirk: Of course, it won’t be strictly kosher because I’m not a shochet, but nu? What can you do? I’m sure God can take a joke. For a woman who’d not spent a single year of her life in New York, Sarah could really lay on the schmaltz when she wanted.

“Looking at Burke,” she said.

“Well, stop looking. You can’t stand there all night. Earl and Hunter need you. You’ve done what you can. Now, go on. Walk. Get back to the fire. Get warm.”

She started back to the fire on legs that felt like pegs. As she drew closer, she heard Hunter shouting and called back to let him know she was all right and would be in to check on him in a second. She told him not to worry, as if squeezing off a couple two, three rounds was par for the course, normal, no big deal. Once she was within sight of the fire, she brought the walkie-talkie back to her mouth. “Okay, I’m back. Please, Will, go to sleep.”

“You’re sure? We’ve got extra batteries. I can stay on. We can talk. I can read The Times.”

That made her laugh. “That’ll put me right to sleep. Really, I’m positive. You get some rest. See you in the morning.”

“All right.” Another crackling silence. “Please stay safe, Emma.”

“On my to-do,” she managed around a sudden lump in her throat. “Will, I…I’m…” She wanted to say…what? For a split second, she saw the two of them in that one sleeping bag, with nothing between them but air, could almost feel the glide of his hand over her hip, the warmth of his palms cupping her breasts, and…

“Yes?” He waited a moment, and when his voice came back again, only a fool could miss that gentle note. “I know. Me, too.” Another pause. “We’re all scared.”

And she was insane. He was married. His wife would be waiting when they stepped off that rescue chopper. She was nothing but baggage and unfinished business.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky. “Out.”