Firestorm Page 7

  Jac sucked in a breath and looked over her shoulder. A cute blonde, maybe ten years older, stood with a bar of soap in one hand and a towel slung over her shoulder. She was naked, toned, and smiling with a little bit of a question in her eyes. Jac hoped the sound of the water had drowned out her talking to herself.

  “No problem.”

  “I just drove in from New Mexico, eighteen hours straight in the car. I really need to wash off the road, and my place in town isn’t ready yet. Mind if I join you?”

  Jac smothered a smile. Must be her day to be surrounded by naked women. Thankfully, her clitoris chose that moment to hibernate. “No problem.”

  The blonde hung her towel on a peg, turned on the adjacent showerhead, and stepped under the water with a gratified groan. “Oh my God, that feels good. I’m Sarah, by the way.”

  Keeping eyes up, Jac pumped some shampoo into her palm from the receptacle fixed to the white-tiled wall and lathered her hair. “Jac Russo.”

  “You must be one of the rookies,” Sarah said. “I didn’t know we were getting a woman. That’s cool.”

  “I was a last-minute addition,” Jac said.

  “Mallory have you out on the trail already today?”

  “Oh yeah, bright and early.”

  Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Everybody make the cut?”

  “So far. We got an injury, though.” Jac turned to rinse her hair.

  “Oh hell. What happened?” Sarah’s smile disappeared, alarm flashing through her eyes and just as quickly extinguished.

  “One of the guys fell, head injury.”

  “Serious?”

  “He’s in the infirmary. Not too bad, but Mallory thinks he has a concussion.”

  “Damn, just what she doesn’t need, you know?”

  Sarah’s expression suggested Jac should know what she was talking about. She didn’t, but her stomach squirmed uneasily. “How so?”

  “It’s just—she always takes responsibility for everything that goes wrong on her watch, even the weather, for cripe’s sake. And after last year…I still don’t think she’s stopped blaming herself.” Sarah turned off the water. “She doesn’t need anything else to beat herself up about.”

  “What happened last year?” Jac tried to sound casual as she cut off her own shower and grabbed a towel.

  “You weren’t around?”

  “Iraq. Didn’t get back until the end of July.”

  “Oh, that explains it, then. We lost a couple guys the end of June. Mallory was the IC. Just about killed her.”

  Jac’s jaw tightened so hard the muscles in front of her ears ached. “That blowup in northern Idaho?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “It happened a few weeks before I got home. I never did hear all the details. Mallory was running that team?”

  “Yeah. She spotted the safety zone.” Sarah wrapped her towel around her chest, pushed wet blond strands off her face with both hands. “She blames herself for the guys who didn’t get out.”

  “She would.”

  “You know Mallory from somewhere?” Sarah asked, cautious curiosity in her tone. “Because I know you haven’t been up here. This is my eighth season.”

  Jac briskly rubbed her hair. “Just met her this morning.”

  “Oh.” Sarah studied her, one hip canted. “You sound as if…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just—most people don’t see much beyond her hard-ass attitude. I thought the two of you might be friends.”

  “Nope. I’m just another rookie.”

  “You know, Mallory doesn’t talk about Idaho. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “She won’t hear anything about it from me.” Jac had her own secrets in Idaho, and hurting Mallory was the last thing she wanted to do.

  *

  Jac walked into the infirmary, wanting to check on Ray before lunch. Mallory was just walking away from Ray’s bedside. He was awake and looking a lot better.

  “You decide to join the land of the living again?” Jac said, squatting by the side of Ray’s bed. Ray’s color had brightened from clay to pinkish-tan, and his face had lost the pinched, pained look. His eyes were clearer too. Some of the roiling in her stomach settled.

  “I don’t feel like puking anymore, which, believe me, is all I really care about.” Ray turned his head, trying to see the back of the room, and groaned. “Damn, I still get queasy every time I move, though.”

  “Well then, don’t move, idiot.” Jac rolled her eyes. “You heard what Mallory said this morning. It may be a few days before the concussion wears off.”

  “Yeah, and what’s gonna happen to me then? You know she’s gonna cut me loose.”

  “I don’t know that. Neither do you. She seems to be pretty fair.”

  “Speaking of fair, am I remembering right? You told her you were the one who went off trail?”

  Jac shook her head. “I told her the straight story, but I don’t see as how it’s anybody else’s business what went down out there. That’s between the two of us.”

  “I’m not letting you take the heat for my dumb-ass mistake,” Ray whispered roughly. “I appreciate it, I really do, but—”

  “Look, it’s no big deal to me what anybody else thinks. Until you’re up and around, I’m sticking to the story.”

  “What about you? Are you in trouble with the boss?”

  Jac grinned. “Nope. She’s crazy about me.”

  Ray laughed and immediately winced. “Geez, don’t do that. It feels like the top of my head is coming off whenever I laugh.”

  “Russo,” Mallory snapped. “Let him get some rest.”

  The woman was like a stealth bomber—you never heard her coming until rounds started landing all around you. Jac winked at Ray. “Take it easy, buddy. Talk to you later.”

  Ray closed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun until then.”

  “Intend to.”

  Jac straightened and started for the door.

  “I need you to sign some forms,” Mallory said. “Come on back to the office with me.”

  “Okay,” Jac said cautiously. In her experience, paperwork was not only deadly boring, it could be dangerous. Write something down, record it, and you lost control of the facts. People could distort your words, subvert your intentions, or publicize something you might prefer to keep private. Growing up in the limelight of her father’s ambitions and serving in the shadow of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had taught her never to commit anything to paper, tape, or image that she didn’t want coming back to ambush her sometime later. “What’s up?”

  Mallory walked slightly ahead, all business again. “Incident report. Just routine. I need you to sign off on the summary. Add anything you feel is important that I might have missed.”

  “Can’t imagine there’d be anything.” As they passed the plane, Jac noticed a pair of legs sticking out from under the fuselage. Probably Benny, checking the craft. Otherwise the hangar was empty. The rest of the guys were probably in the gym, where smokejumpers tended to congregate in between calls. Working out helped dissipate the boredom better than sitting around watching television. The first thing she noticed when they reached Mallory’s secluded corner was the FAT box standing open on her desk. Rolls of tape, gauze, topical antibiotic, and field dressing packs all lined up in neat rows, everything in its place. Just like her desk. Just like Mallory. Jac had a wild urge to get her messy—just to see the fire leap in her eyes.

  “First, take off your shirt,” Mallory said, her back to Jac as she pulled a tube of ointment from the bag.

  “Here?”

  Mallory looked over her shoulder at her. “I thought you’d be more comfortable here than in the infirmary in front of Ray and Coop, but we can go back there if you—”

  “No, no, this is perfect,” Jac said hastily. The less fuss over her nonexistent injuries, the better. Nevertheless, when she pulled her T-shirt up over her head, the stretch of her shoulders caused her to wince. The burni
ng she’d ignored during her run seemed to have escalated now that her shoulders were pressure free. She didn’t intend on letting Mallory know she was uncomfortable, because she planned on jumping with everyone when the time came. She balled her T-shirt up in her fist and turned her back to Mallory. Stealing herself for Mallory’s touch, she concentrated on breathing evenly.

  Mallory’s fingertips were cool as they brushed over the back of her neck and the crest of her shoulders. Jac’s stomach tightened instantly, and heat blossomed between her thighs. Damn it, she was never this susceptible to casual touch.

  “It still looks pretty good,” Mallory murmured. “Just a few tiny blisters by your hairline. I’ll put some bacitracin and a Tegaderm on it. Ought to protect it.”

  The ointment was cool too—icy against her warm skin, and Jac almost laughed aloud. Ice applying ice, and she felt like an inferno.

  “So I’m cleared to go?” Jac turned around when she felt Mallory’s fingers slide away. Once again, Mallory faced away from her, almost as if she didn’t want to look at her.

  “As of now, yes.”

  “Good, thanks.” Annoyed for no good reason, Jac jerked her T-shirt on and jammed it into her jeans.

  Mallory held out a clipboard with several sheets of paper on it. “Take your time. Sign at the end.”

  Jac read quickly, skimming the standard incident information—date, time, individuals involved, summary of the event, immediate management, outcome, emergency treatment, estimated time of recovery. What really interested her was the box labeled Potential to return to duty.

  It was empty. Ray hadn’t automatically been disqualified, even though he would miss several days of training, at least. A ripple of irritation went through her. She’d almost gotten canned for helping him out. Mallory hadn’t cut her a second’s slack, but then Mallory had made it clear that morning she wasn’t going to. Well, that was okay—she was looking forward to showing Mallory she was wrong about her. She might have gotten in the door on her father’s connections, but she’d be staying because she could do the job.

  She also noticed that in Mallory’s recounting of the incident, Ray was described as having strayed from the trail, fallen, and sustained a head injury. Jac had assisted him upon noting his situation. Nothing in the report suggested that either one of them had deviated from standard protocol running the course or following the incident.

  “You write this like a politician,” Jac muttered.

  “No need to insult me,” Mallory shot back.

  Jac grinned. “I just meant you don’t give anybody anything to work with.”

  Mallory hitched her hip onto the desk. “Do you always look at every situation as if someone is going to make money off it with a front-page article in the Star?”

  “Pretty much. The minute I drop my guard, someone usually bites me in the ass.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Jac hesitated. Sharing personal information, especially humiliating information, did not come easily.

  “Forget I asked,” Mallory said brusquely, busying herself with the bandages.

  “The last woman I…dated…sold some revealing photos to the tabloids.”

  Mallory swung around, her eyes blazing. “That’s unconscionable.”

  Jac shrugged. “Doesn’t say much for my judgment.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—no part of that could be your fault.”

  “Ah, well, I appreciate you saying so.” No way was she telling Mallory that fiasco was what had ended her up in Montana, in Mallory’s boot camp. She couldn’t believe she’d told Mallory anything at all about Annabel’s ambush. Maybe she had a secret desire to fail or something, because Mallory couldn’t think much of her now. “Wasn’t the first time, just the most dramatic.”

  “I’m sorry, that’s hateful. I suppose there’s no reason for you to believe me, but you’re safe here.”

  “I’m not even sure I know what that means.”

  Mallory extended her arm, as if she were about to touch Jac’s cheek, and then she drew back. “Well I hope you find out.”

  “Yesterday I would’ve said it doesn’t matter.”

  “And today?” Mallory said softly.

  “Today, everything feels different.”

  Mallory nodded, her eyes distant, unsmiling. She glanced in the direction of the infirmary, as if checking on Ray through the walls. “I think I’d have to agree with you.” Her gaze swung back to Jac. “I just don’t know whether that’s good or bad.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mallory concentrated on packing up the medical supplies. The cavernous hangar suddenly seemed way too small, and Jac was way too close. Even in summer, the hangar was cool, and this early in the year it was downright cold. But Jac’s naked back had been warm. So very warm. Mallory glanced at her fingertips, half expecting them to be red. They still tingled from where she’d brushed them over Jac’s neck. “You should get some chow, Russo.”

  “Are you heading over?” Jac asked.

  “Not just yet.” Mallory knew she sounded dismissive, probably downright unfriendly, but she just needed a minute or two by herself to recalibrate, get her bearings. She hadn’t been herself all day, not since the moment she turned around and bumped into Jac. The world had angled to tilt, and she hadn’t been able to right it yet. And she really needed to—the persistent churning in her stomach was a distraction. So was the low-level buzz of arousal slightly lower down that absolutely should not be there, not when she hadn’t planned on it, not when she wasn’t prepared.

  “Mallory?” Jac’s voice came from very nearby, soft, gentle, questioning. “Everything okay?”

  “Of course. I’ve just got some things to do.” She did have plenty to do before the afternoon’s exercises, but that wasn’t the reason she wasn’t going to have lunch with Jac. Last year at this time she would’ve socialized with the rookies—lending moral support, giving them a few tips, answering their questions. She’d been closer to being one of them last year. Still senior, often in charge, but she hadn’t been determining their fates. At least, not consciously. Now she couldn’t afford to stop thinking about what she needed to do to keep them safe, and getting friendly with them wasn’t going to help her do that. The realities of the job had changed—every smokejumper lived with the knowledge that the work was dangerous, life-threatening, and any call might be their last. No one spoke of it, and she doubted that very many thought of it. She had never feared for her own life. She’d also never considered that she would be the one to walk out of the mountains beside stretchers bearing two jumpers she’d been responsible for. She would have sworn on everything she believed that she would die before she would let one of her fellows perish. She’d been wrong, and she would never be able to make that right. She could only see it never happened again. Jac was a distraction she couldn’t afford, and friendship was out of the question. “You go ahead, Jac. You’ll need fuel for this afternoon.”

  “Okay.” A whisper of heat brushed over her shoulder, Jac touching her ever so briefly. “You ought to take your own advice.”

  The caress was so butterfly light, Mallory might’ve thought she’d imagined it except for the tremor coursing through her body and settling in her bones. Resolutely, she kept her back turned as Jac’s footsteps faded away. Taking a deep breath, she settled herself. Jac derailed her balance like no one else she’d ever met, probably because Jac was so unpredictable. Challenging and cocky one minute, incredibly tender, unknowingly vulnerable the next. Jac was nothing like Mallory had expected, considering her family, her father, and her reputation. And wasn’t that exactly what Jac had been saying since the moment she’d arrived? Jac was a problem all right, but not because she was anything like the person Mallory had assumed her to be.

  Mallory sighed. Expectations based on appearances were so very often wrong, and she’d fallen right into the trap. Jac was nothing like her aloof, condescending, virulently privileged father. Jac was, if anything, remarkably open considering how caref
ul she apparently needed to be just to protect the privacy others took for granted. God, imagine having someone you’d slept with expose your intimate moments. Mallory couldn’t imagine having something so private spread across the nation in a trashy newspaper. She’d had enough trouble dealing with the media notoriety after Idaho. At first she’d been too numb to really notice the intrusion, and after a few weeks, a new story came along, and she was no longer front page. Considering that Franklin Russo was a front-runner for the presidential nomination, Jac was likely to remain in the public eye indefinitely. Was it any wonder she was so vigilant? First a lifetime of scrutiny, then a lover using her for some twisted gain.

  Mallory’s hands shook as she closed the locks on the FAT box. How could Jac blame herself for that woman’s betrayal? She wished she knew who the woman was. She wasn’t prone to violence, in fact rarely ever lost her temper, but her blood burned with the desire to do something—say something—find some way to extract a measure of justice on Jac’s behalf. She laughed bitterly, and the sound echoed like bullets ricocheting against the metal roof.

  Justice. Where was the justice in two men dying while she walked away? Where was the justice in Jac bearing the pain of another’s betrayal? Foolish to think justice was anyone’s due. Mallory sucked in a breath. She was getting morose, and she didn’t have time for self-indulgence. She quickly gathered the incident report, slid the sheets into a plain manila folder, and returned the FAT box to its spot on the equipment shelf. Time to bring Sully up to date on Ray’s status. Time to focus on her mission. Jac Russo could take care of herself.

  “Hey, Ice,” Benny called from beneath the belly of the plane. “Some exciting morning, huh?”

  Mallory slowed as he rolled out on a dolly. “I could’ve done without it.”

  “I don’t know, that was a pretty slick and seamless pickup this morning.” He rose, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag he pulled from the pocket of his coveralls. “Didn’t seem like a rookie down there with you. The kid’s pretty solid.”

  The kid. Benny tended to see anyone under forty as a kid, her included until she was made ops manager. Now she seemed to have graduated into adulthood. Jac was anything but a kid—a combat veteran, a veteran of political wars from the time she was young, and bloodied on the field of personal battle as well. Too many battles. “She did okay.”