His buddy made the jump a second later, and Chase did a mental fist pump. Man, Ryder was gonna be bored to death when he left this behind to start work as a bodyguard for someone soon.
He pushed the bike faster on the way to the second, larger jump. Time seemed to slow as he went airborne, the seconds ticking by in slow motion. He made the landing without incident, and so did Ryder.
“And, cut!”
Time to gear up for the grand finale.
Waiting on his new mark while the crew tweaked their setup, Chase blocked out what was going to happen from his mind and focused on driving the bike. At the director’s command, he sped out of the garage.
With a sharp left, he wound back down to ground level, slowing to let Ryder catch up, then shot out the opposite side of the parking garage where the third crew was waiting.
Darting into the street, Ryder was right on his ass as they raced for the “finish” line. He reached his left hand back for the weapon attached to his hip, drew it and fired at Ryder.
Ryder’s bike swerved, then his hand came up and he returned fire as Chase swerved right. Back and forth they went, trading shots and doing evasive maneuvers.
“Now,” Grant’s voice said in his ear.
At Ryder’s next shot, Chase jerked in his seat. A heartbeat later, a whoosh sounded, and flames engulfed him.
“Start your slide...now.”
Stay cool. Stay cool, he told himself, and dumped the bike.
Eyes squeezed shut against the glare of the flames, he hit the pavement on his side, the force knocking the breath from his lungs.
There was no time to react, no time for panic as he began rolling, flipping over and over on the asphalt. He could feel the heat of the flames all over him, some spots burning hot, and he had to fight to keep the panic at bay.
He stopped rolling and lay on his back, aware of the roar of blood and the pounding of running feet in his ears. A second later a loud hissing took over, the safety crew dousing him in fire retardant.
His face stung. Someone unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off.
He dragged in a breath of hot air, taking stock, eyes closed. His face was definitely singed, and so were a few spots across his back and under his arms. But as far as he could tell, nothing was broken, and he definitely wasn’t dying.
He raised his arm and gave a thumbs-up.
Cheers and whistles exploded around him. Someone grabbed him around the shoulders and started hauling him into a sitting position, while someone else shoved a damp cloth in his hand.
He wiped at his eyes and stinging face, then blinked and looked around him.
Ryder was kneeling in front of him, hands on Chase’s shoulders. “You good, man?” he asked, his dusky-brown complexion weirdly pale, those deep brown eyes worried.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered, but his voice was a little rough. More people were there, wiping him down and helping to strip off the singed outer layers of his gear. He twisted his head around to look for Grant.
The revered stunt veteran-turned-coordinator stood ten feet away, arms folded across his massive chest, watching him closely. “Did we get it?” Chase asked, feeling anxious. He really didn’t want to have to do all that over again.
Grant’s lips twitched in the hint of a smile. “Yeah. Good job.”
“Yes!” Chase raised a hand and high-fived Ryder, smiling so wide it made his face sting even more. “You’re gonna miss this, I don’t care what you say.” His buddy was only doing this for a bit of extra money while he waited for an offer from one of the personal protection agencies he’d interviewed with recently since being honorably discharged from the Marine Corps.
Ryder laughed. “Don’t think so. At least there nobody’ll be setting me on fire when I’m protecting them.”
“Jealous?” Chase teased, allowing Ryder to help him to his feet. Now that it was all over, he could admit to himself that his legs were a little weak.
“Nope.” He eyed Chase, ran a hand over his neatly trimmed goatee. “You look like you got a bad sunburn.”
Chase grimaced. “Yeah, I feel it.” Being set on fire definitely was not his favorite part of the job. He glanced over at the director and AD and raised his eyebrows in question, which were probably singed too.
The director nodded, and the AD gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He walked over to the medical team, got checked over and cleared with instructions on how to care for his minor burns.
“All right, go hit the shower, boys,” Grant said, clapping a hand on Chase’s shoulder.
“I can’t wait to see that on screen,” Chase said to Ryder as they walked off set to where someone was waiting with a golf cart to take them back to the staging area. “It’s gonna be—”
He stopped dead when he saw the woman hopping off the cart and rushing toward them. Becca.
Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her dark hair loose and flowing down her back as she came toward them, expression worried. Ryder had gone still next to him, both of them staring at her. She wasn’t due on set today, let alone here.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she got close, those gorgeous caramel eyes roving over him anxiously.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered, surprised. He’d just been doing his job.
She stopped so close in front of him that he could smell the tangy-sweet scent of her perfume and put a hand to her heart. “They were dousing you for so long, I thought something had gone wrong.”
Wait. “You watched the stunt?”
She nodded and gasped softly, reaching up to touch her fingertips to his cheek. “Oh, your face.”
He wasn’t feeling any pain at all at the moment, more preoccupied by her concern. “Is it bad?”
She withdrew her hand. “Well, it’s... Does it sting?”
“A little.”
She winced. “Do you have some aloe? I’ve got aloe in my trailer if you don’t.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you had the day off.”
“I do. But I wanted to watch the stunt. It was Ryder’s first, and the first time you got set on fire. I just...wanted to make sure it went okay.”
Warmth spread through his chest. She’d been worried about him. So worried that she’d wanted to be here to make sure he was okay. “I’m all right. Promise.”
“Well, he’s as ‘all right’ as he was before they lit him on fire,” Ryder said wryly. “I mean, guy has to be nuts in the first place to let them do something like that, am I right?” He slapped Chase on the back, right on a sore spot and Chase winced.
“What’s wrong?” Becca demanded, her eyebrows drawing together.
It was so sweet, for her to care about him. She was definitely not what he’d expected. The first time he’d met her, he’d assumed she would be cool and standoffish, the way the media often portrayed her.
With him, she’d been the exact opposite. Warm, caring and genuine. He’d be straight-up lying if he said he didn’t have a thing for her.
“Nothing.” He rolled his right shoulder, now beginning to throb along with his ribs. By morning, he’d be a colorful patchwork of bruises, and probably sporting a few blisters. Yeah, being set on fire wasn’t his favorite. “Ryder and I are heading back to the staging area to shower up. You want to grab lunch with us after?”