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S tone’s eyelids shot open, but training had him lying still. Quickly, he cataloged his surroundings. Juliana lay beside him, her back pressed to his side, her knees curled. Sherman was softly huffing in his crate on the other side of the room.

All was as it should be, but what had woken him?

His phone chimed quietly, softer than it should.

Reaching for the device on his bedside table, he came up short. Pushing up for a better look, he confirmed his phone wasn’t where he’d left it.

It chimed again.

He recognized that sound—his security system alerting him to a breach or an attempted breach.

He wasn’t that worried. That particular chime was from one of the cameras on the outer perimeter of his property. If someone was trying to get to his house, they weren’t close. He’d like to keep it that way, though.

Shifting to his side, he peered over the edge of the bed. He didn’t recall hitting the bedside table, but he’d been known to in the past. It was possible he’d knocked the device off.

His extra pillow lay on the floor. Pushing it aside, he spied his phone lying underneath. It chimed again.

Swiping the device up, he opened the security app and identified the location of the issue. His heart stopped when he brought up the cameras in the area.

Without hesitation, he tossed the blankets off as he dialed 911.

“911 dispatch, what’s the nature of your call?” a man said.

“Someone started a fire on the edge of my property,” he replied before providing an address while also pulling on his jeans. Juliana sat up in bed as he looked for his boots. “I have a small tender and am heading out,” he said to the dispatch. “But the sooner the fire department gets here the better. It’s nothing but dry woods out there.”

“They’re on their way already, sir. Please stay away from the scene.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Mystery Lake Fire Department was damn good—they had to be given where they lived—but it would still take them close to ten minutes to reach him.

He hung up without answering. “Stay here,” he said to Juliana when he realized she, too, was pulling on a pair of pants.

She ignored him and dragged on one of his sweatshirts while tucking her feet into a pair of flats. “If it’s the tender I think it is, I can drive and you can manage the hose,” she said.

He didn’t question how she knew what kind of water truck he owned. There weren’t that many designed for nonprofessionals and no doubt she’d done the research—fires were a big topic of conversation and concern where they lived.

“It will be more efficient,” she said, already walking out the door.

Sherman, having woken as they’d dressed and talked, stood in his crate, his head cocked. He wasn’t quite whining, but he was thinking about it. For a hot second, Stone debated whether to bring the dog. Understandably, Sherman had attachment issues, and leaving him in the dead of night wouldn’t be good. But he also didn’t want to get in the habit of bringing him everywhere all the time.

“This is an unusual situation,” Juliana said, obviously thinking the same thing. “He’ll stay in the cab with me,” she added as she unlatched the door and let him out.

Stone didn’t bother to argue. Instead, he led them downstairs and out through the garage, resetting the alarm on the way. After checking the main fire suppression system, he directed them toward one of the outbuildings.

Juliana had snapped a leash on Sherman and, thankfully, the dog seemed happier to be with them than concerned about hopping out of bed in the middle of the night.

“I’ll drive there, then you can take over,” he said, climbing into the cab of the three-thousand-gallon tender he kept ready from spring until the first snowfall.

“Arson?” Juliana asked, lifting Sherman in before settling into the passenger seat.

He nodded as he pulled out of the large barn.

“I guess this means they figured out who you are,” she said, running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

He reached over and grabbed her hand, the truck bouncing across the field as they headed to a narrow path that would lead them closer to the fire than using the driveway.

“Not your fault these guys are first-rate assholes. The good news is, they have no idea how many cameras I have all over the place. I have a clear picture of the man who set it.” That comment had him pulling his phone out. No other alarms had been triggered, but it couldn’t hurt to monitor them. “Here, keep an eye on the app,” he said, unlocking the phone and handing the device over.

Neither of them spoke about how bad a fire could get this time of year. Knowing who set it and holding them accountable was all well and good, but if it flared out of control, prosecuting the man responsible wouldn’t undo all the damage. Not something they needed to be thinking about right now, though. Right now, they needed to put everything they had into making sure it didn’t reach that point.

A dim, eerie glow of flames filtered through the brush ahead of them, casting shadows that flickered and danced, then disappeared. He wouldn’t be able to get the truck as close as he’d like, but he’d be able to hit the edges of the fire and hopefully keep it from growing until the professionals arrived.

Unless, of course, it took to the trees.

He glanced up. So far, the flames seemed to be finding enough fuel on the ground, but it would only be a matter of time before the trunks grew hot enough, dry enough, to catch fire.

“It will take me thirty seconds to get the hose in position,” he said, putting the tender in Park and reaching for the comms systems. “Slide over here and take over. When I need you to move, I’ll let you know.” He handed her the over-ear system, then before he hopped out, he pulled her in for a kiss. They weren’t going into battle per se, but fires were unpredictable, and in some ways, it felt like it.

Sliding from his seat, he strode to the back of the tender where the hose attached to the tank. With a glance over his shoulder, he confirmed Juliana had moved to the driver’s seat. Her movements were tense but sure as she adjusted it for her shorter height. This woman who’d come crashing into his life in a flurry of books and research was damn cool under pressure. Hysterics weren’t really her thing.

Given the situation, he shouldn’t be grinning, but as he unrolled the hose and started the system to pressurize the water, he couldn’t help it. Juliana was a woman of many colors, and he loved every one of them.

The hose grew taut in his hands, and he directed the nozzle toward the fire line thirty feet away, bracing himself for the force of the stream. Rather than aim for the flames, he pointed his precious ammo a few feet in front of the line, dousing the foliage and grasses. The fire department could focus on putting the fire out; he’d keep it from spreading.

A branch in one of the trees cracked and tumbled down. But between the dark sky and bright flames, he couldn’t tell where. Not wasting his attention by focusing on it, he began walking parallel to the fire line, soaking as much of the area as he could.

“Juliana, can you maneuver the back of the truck about twenty feet west?”

“On it,” she replied.

A few minutes later, he was in a new position, one that let him protect a wider area, although not the entire line. Thankfully, he heard the sirens in the distance. They were still a couple of minutes out, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel better.

A breeze kicked up, sending a hot wind over his face and bare arms. He made a mental note to buy fire gear. Hopefully, he’d never have to use it, but better to have it than not.

The fire continued crawling along the forest floor, although it seemed to burn hotter and hotter with each passing minute. Heat licked his skin as the fire crackled and flared through the undergrowth, the acrid smell burning his nostrils. He needed to move back. “Move forward twenty feet,” he directed Juliana.

He backed up as Juliana maneuvered the truck. Another branch cracked and fell; this time he saw the burst of sparks as it landed. Another wave of heat passed over him, and he noticed that the crackles and pops of the fire, which had mostly been drowned out by the rumble of his tender’s engine and the spray of the water, had grown louder.

Thankfully, so had the sirens.

“Can you give the fire trucks our location?” he called to Juliana before telling her how to turn the radio on and which channel to switch to.

The conversation distracted him, and he jumped when a not-so-small ember landed on his arm. He hissed at the burning sting and quickly swiped it off, snuffing it out completely with his booted toe when it hit the ground. Aside from the pain, the ember wasn’t a good sign. It meant the wind was carrying sparks. Sparks that could start fires anywhere they landed.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“You okay?” Juliana asked over the comms.

“Fine,” he replied, hoping it stayed that way. He wasn’t overly concerned about his life—if worse came to worst, he’d jump in the tender and zip away. But if the breeze turned into a wind, it would fuel the fire. And this time of year, it only took a minute for a small blaze to grow into a catastrophic one.

An unusual light to his right caught his attention—white rather than the hot, threatening, glowing orange. Another joined it. A team of firefighters was cutting a small firebreak. Stone breathed a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a cough.

“We have two trucks on the north side working from the road,” one said, stopping in front of him while the others continued on. The firefighter didn’t seem surprised—or pleased—to find him. “They’ll push into the woods when they can. You’re lucky you caught it early,” he added.

Stone nodded and continued his sweep with the hose, swinging it in an arc. “I have a good security system,” he said, then coughed. He’d noticed the heat but not so much the smoke and couldn’t tell if the lack of awareness was from the adrenaline or something else.

“You catch how it started?” the firefighter asked, reaching for the hose.

Stone debated handing it over, then decided his hesitation was more ego than anything. The man was a professional; he’d be more efficient. “And who started it,” he said, shifting the hose into the man’s grip.

The firefighter paused. “Arson?” Stone nodded. “And you caught the guy?”

“I don’t have his name, but yeah, I have it all recorded.”

The man nodded, and Stone thought he caught a glimpse of a grin behind his mask. “Can you leave the tender and walk back? The fire is growing hotter, but we should have it under control in the next thirty minutes. Unless we get a sudden windstorm, which isn’t predicted,” he added.

Firefighters, like doctors, didn’t make comments like that if they weren’t confident that they were true. Stone didn’t know how he’d reached that conclusion, but he nodded. “I’ve been here about five minutes. It’s a three-thousand-gallon tender, and it’s running on full power.” That would give the man enough to calculate about how much water was left.

“Keep an eye on that cough,” the firefighter said, his radio crackling with an update. Stone didn’t understand all the jargon, but got the impression that the teams on the north side of the blaze were bringing it under control. “Smoke inhalation is tricky. So is heat. Take it easy for a couple of days, but if you’re still having trouble tomorrow, go see a doctor.”

Stone nodded and started walking away, wanting to make his escape before the man suggested he see an EMT who, no doubt, was stationed on the road.

Halfway to the tender, another loud crack, this time followed by a pop, shot through the forest. His instincts kicked in and he ducked to better protect his body. His heart rate leaped as shouts from several men echoed around him. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the unmistakable tension had him turning.

His attention snagged on the firefighter he’d been speaking with. The man was waving to him, dramatically motioning him to the side. Stone didn’t hesitate. Three lunging strides carried him from his original path. Then his foot caught on a root and he went down.

Still, his body hadn’t forgotten his years of training. He tucked into himself, hitting the ground with his shoulder. Using the momentum, he rolled as far as he could, rocks and branches digging into his body through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. When he came to a stop, he looked up to see a forty-foot-tall pine crashing through the trees, spreading sparks and chaos as it fell. As if in slow motion, it toppled, the echoing sound of snapping branches filling the air as it bounced, then settled against the dry ground. The top resting where he’d been walking seconds before.

“Simon!” Juliana’s frantic voice sounded in his ear. Miraculously, his comms system had stayed in place.

“I’m okay,” he answered, rising as he spoke. “I’m well out of the way,” he added, looking for the firefighter who’d warned him. The man was already dousing the fallen tree. Thankfully, much of the old pine appeared untouched by the fire. Maybe its trunk had given out under the stress. Whatever the reason, Stone was grateful it hadn’t been aflame when it fell.

While the firefighter seemed confident they’d get the flames under control, the tree was a reminder of how unpredictable fires could be. Not wasting another second, he jogged to the tender and pulled the driver’s door open.

Juliana tumbled into his arms. He held her tight, allowing himself the comfort of her presence, then he reached into the cab, grabbed the leash, and gestured Sherman out.

The dog hesitated when he caught sight of the flames. Sliding his hand into Juliana’s, Stone picked Sherman up, hefted him over his shoulder like a baby, and started toward home, kicking the tender door shut as they left.

They quickly made their way toward the house. Halfway there, when the fire was little more than a dim glow filtering through the trees, he stopped and set Sherman down. Then proceeded to fall into a coughing fit.

“You need to see a doctor,” Juliana said.

He shook his head and kept walking. She didn’t press him on the issue, although he suspected he’d hear more on the matter when they arrived home.

She didn’t disappoint.

The moment they walked into the house, she snagged his truck keys off the hook and announced she was taking him to the hospital. His protest lost its vigor when he couldn’t even finish a sentence without coughing.

He paused, racking his mind for a reason not to go. Juliana stood, keys in hand, patiently waiting—not pressing him but not giving an inch either.

He opened his mouth to argue, then drew up short. Her eyes glistened with worry she was trying to hide. He’d made her worry. She cared about him enough to worry. He knew she cared. Of course he did. But this felt…different. Juliana did not needlessly fuss. If she was anxious about him, he needed to pay attention—and it was in his power to ease her concern.

Without a word, he locked Sherman in the laundry room, where he had both a bed and water, then followed her out to his truck.