The fire kicked up with an ominous crackling. Olivia didn’t need Smokey the Bear to deliver the bad news. She needed to beat feet. Now. Unfortunately, the worst smoke was blocking her direct line back to her boys and the Humvee. She oriented herself, getting her bearings with her handheld compass. There. Three clicks north and she’d be back on the road. She’d have to hope the road was still open to traffic, but she’d cross that bridge when she made it back. Hurrying was the important part. Fifteen minutes into her run-hike, a man’s voice calling her name reached her from the other side of a heavily forested ridge. Still far off but closing on her position, those steady, deep tones didn’t belong to anyone on her team. Run faster . . . Adrenaline pounded through her, her pulse spiking. Oh, hell. Holm Arthurs was a possibility she had to consider. Still, her tango shouldn’t have known her name. Shouldn’t didn’t mean couldn’t and she’d worried that the man had been monitoring the airwaves—where he could have picked up intel.
