Page 66 of Famous for a Living

I have no other skills, and I’m in too deep to change course now.

And would I anyway? Do I hate it all enough that I would really throw it all—all—away?

This life is my drug.

My world both thrills and kills me.

I don’t know what Zaiah sees in my expression, but when he looks back, his jaw unclenches slowly. His eyes relent a little bit. “Sorry. I just . . . I would hate for anything to happen to you.” He takes a breath. After a long pause, he offers up the faintest of smiles. “After all, my boss would kill me.”

And that’s when, looking into his green-as-the-forest eyes, I realize—these are the eyes of the person who not only saw me doing something stupid that put me in danger, but also waded straight into the line of fire to pull me out. Unarmed. With no means of winning that fight if it came to it.

I return a small smile. “It certainly would be tough to get promoted.”

My words spell out a joke, but my eyes are saying Thanks.

And then I take it a step further, because somehow, it doesn’t seem like enough.

“And . . . thanks.”

He dips his head. “You’re welcome.” He looks down my quaking, shivering body, his own as unbothered as if it were made of stone. “We ought to get back to the springs.”

I welcome the movement, and as we step over the rocky, thorny path, careful to give the moose and her young a wide berth, he stops several times, offering his hand. I take it twice, easing the pressure on my frozen, likely-bleeding-but-I-can’t-feel-them-at-the-moment feet.

As we ease back into the springs, I ask, “So. What were you doing this far out anyway?”

“I spotted the moose family when I was talking with the Glacier Boys, and went to check her out. She looked pretty oblivious to the group, but still, I needed to make sure she moved off in the other direction.”

I nod, impressed by how he silently went off to protect the crowd, all without their knowledge. It was a rather superhero-like move, come to think of it.

“That’s a pretty notable thing to do, you know. Save the day and tell no one. You’re a veritable Ranger Clark Kent.”

He smiles but I continue. “What? I don’t imagine anyone else out here doing the same thing. Kevin would scream and run while yelling out facts about a moose’s antler size and life span. Jax would probably try to wrestle it to the ground to impress some girls. And, of course, get trampled.”

Zaiah nods as though to say, “Naturally.”

“And I have a feeling the Glacier men would somehow use them to trumpet themselves.”

“Glacier Boys,” Zaiah corrects.

I laugh. “Not you too. Surely you’re too mature for this?”

“Not in the slightest.”

I smile as we round a corner, then chew my lip as a question forms. I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer. But I can’t help asking. “So . . . Ranger Kent. The moose. Would you say they are the most dangerous animals out here?”

His response is immediate. There’s no need to think before answering this question.

“No. The most dangerous are people.”

“People?” I laugh, unable not to think of the tourists who have come through the office the past three weeks. That one guy who kept getting in trouble for feeding the deer his Cheez-Its. The group of nine-year-old Boy Scouts who managed to get one injured swinging marshmallow sticks at the campfire.

“You’d be surprised what we see,” Zaiah says. “People like to do the worst in secret. And where’s a better place for miles of solitude than here? The woods that offer peace for one person are the weapon that assists in another’s homicide.”

I raise my brows. His response had an intensity I wasn’t expecting. “Murder? You’ve really seen murder out here?”

“I’ve been working in the park since I was eighteen. I’ve seen it all.”

He catches my surprised expression and adds, “You should talk to Terry. He’s done this forty-five years. Arrested more people, confiscated more guns, stumbled into—and survived stumbling into—more meth labs, broken up more domestic assaults, and got more injured hikers to safety from bite, poison, or fall than anyone I’ve ever met. I see the way you look at him. You think he’s a teddy bear.” He pauses. “And to be fair, he’s becoming one a little bit more every year. But he’s also one of the toughest people I know. You want to call someone Ranger Clark Kent? Name him that. Not to mention, he’d eat that title up.”