8
“Does it make me a bad man?” Amos asked Drew. He didn’t do it over their shared frequency. He’d waited until they were back on the ground, getting fuel for their helos and food for their bellies.
“You mean that you hope this fire never gets a hundred percent contained?”
Amos sighed. It had started with that after-dinner kiss.
“Total bone melter.”
“Had one of those myself,” Drew agreed.
The next day they’d airlifted the twins out to reinsert with their hotshot team. The day after that, the Firebirds had offered transport to lift the entire team, heli-tack style, to a new section of the fire. Six helos could move three hotshots each. One flight had moved eighteen of the team. Then he and Drew had doubled back to pick up the twins and deliver them to a high ridge near their team from
