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Floyd exploded from the cabin with a rifle in his hand. “Hey! Who’s out there!” He stumbled off the porch, coughing. “If that’s you, Wilder, your friend is going to die. Same way my brother did!”
Booth burst from cover, his pistol aimed at Floyd’s chest. “Drop it, Floyd! Hands up or you’ll never take another breath!”
Floyd’s face twisted into a snarl. His hand twitched to raise his rifle.
“Don’t even think about it.” Booth took a step toward Floyd.
Ten feet separated them.
“I knew you’d come running. Always gotta be the hero. You and that friend of yours. Casper.”
“Crispin.” Booth took another step.
Eight feet.
Floyd snorted. “Casper’s a better name. Especially after I’m through with him.”
“Last chance. Put your gun down. I don’t want to shoot you.” He closed another step.
Six feet.
“Go ahead! Shoot me! Do it! What are you waiting for!” Floyd sneered.
Booth took a step closer.
Five feet.
Apparently, that hadn’t been coffee in Floyd’s cup, because Booth could smell alcohol on his breath. “I’m warning you, Floyd. Put the rifle down.”
“You ain’t an agent no more. You’re a smokejumper who don’t have the guts to shoot.”
Little did he know, Booth did have the guts to shoot. In fact, his finger clenched tighter around the trigger, ready to squeeze. “Put. Down. Your. Weapon.”
Floyd lunged. With a garbled shout, he swung the rifle at Booth’s head.
Booth dodged. Wasn’t fast enough. Agonizing stars exploded as the stock cracked against his shoulder. Shooting pain screamed up his arm. He stumbled but held the gun steady on Floyd’s chest, trigger finger itching to fire.
Floyd’s rifle went up fast.
A deafening crack split the chaos.
Booth flinched but the shot went wild.
He charged Floyd. Together they crashed backward. The rifle hit the ground, and Booth kicked it away. Floyd scrambled to his feet and ran for his truck, fumbling for the gun in his waistband.
Two shots rang out.
Booth dove behind a tree as bullets bit into the bark.
A gust of wind blew burning debris onto the porch. Embers found the liquid from Floyd’s coffee cup and burst into flames. The wooden planks caught. In seconds, the narrow porch was engulfed in flames.
No, no, no. Crispin was in there!
Booth popped up and returned fire.
The first went wide, but his second shot exploded the rear window of Floyd’s truck.
“You’ll pay for this!” Floyd bellowed. He squeezed off another wild shot and hopped onto the ATV.
