Almost a decade as a spy for the CIA hadn’t prepared Maria Sanchez one bit for this life. Fighting wildfires in the Alaskan backcountry. Trying to stop a dangerous militia group from deploying a biological weapon on US soil.

Okay, so that last one was a bit more her speed.

Still, talk about being unprepared.

Kind of like the way she felt every time he looked at her. Kane Foster. Broody. Quiet. A former soldier, a guy who put loyalty above everything.

Cue heart fluttering.

Until the rumble of thunder split the sky, growing like a wave until it crested right on top of them. It sounded so close that Maria ducked, tucking her knees up to her chest and holding on tight. The way her father had always told her to. She tipped her head back against the mossy tree to watch the sky light up over Denali Mountain.

“There you are.”

She flinched and turned to look over her shoulder but didn’t uncurl her limbs. The night air had a chill.

“Need my sweater?” Kane reached for his zipper. Dark-blond hair, short on the sides but with the top sticking out all over because he didn’t care to fix it. Stubble across his chin because he didn’t care about that either. But the man cleaned up good on a Friday night, that was for sure.

She shook her head. The point was to not need anything, because needing things from people never ended well.

He settled beside her on the ground, close enough that she could feel his warmth. “Impressive storm.”

She turned back to the sky stretched out in front of them. Above them. “This was a good place to stop for the night.”

Kane nudged her elbow. “That means you’re supposed to be getting some sleep, like everyone else.”

“I signed up to take watch. Keep an eye on the fire.”

“Right.” His low chuckle drifted over. “That’s why you’re hiding over here, pretending you’re alone in the dark.”

“It’s not as impressive if you feel safe. Storms are supposed to be dangerous and out of control. You’re supposed to be a little afraid.”

“Don’t worry, I am.”

Maria didn’t think he was talking about the weather—or wildland firefighting. They’d been doing that for two seasons now. Laying low. Pretending they were regular folks who wanted a career change. Anything other than what they actually were.

Or why they were out here.