The hotshots were still dressed in their boots and Nomex. The former position of their hardhats marked by moderately cleaner spots atop their heads.
“Round on the house for the hotshots and their awesome job saving the visitor center,” the barkeep called out to a roar of approval.
Jeremy took another bite, wondering if his disappearing magic-fairy hotshot was somewhere in this crowd.
He glanced over his shoulder and spotted one woman, but her ponytail would be blonde if not for all the soot.
Then he saw her.
She stood out because she was half the size of everyone else. Under five feet, slender, with a dark ponytail half down her back.
Her arm was around a big guy’s waist who was holding her close.
If he didn’t know she was dead, he’d say that—
Andi called out loudly enough to be heard over the noise. “Hey, Mike. You said you wanted to talk to that hotshot yourself. She’s right over there.”
Then the hotshot tipped back her head to laugh, far enough for Jeremy to see her profile.
Jeremy spun back to the table and coughed up his bite of hamburger onto his plate.
He grabbed the table and tried not to barf the rest of it all over everyone’s lunch.
“Hey, Jeremy,” Holly grabbed his shoulder. “You look kinda green.” She shook him, and it almost released his iron hold on his jaw.
“Oh fuck,” Mike’s voice was little more than a whisper.
It was just enough to confirm Jeremy’s worst fear.
“What?” Holly asked.
Colonel Vicki Cortez hadn’t died in the Ghostrider’s crash.
“That’s Taz.”
Who hadn’t come to find him.
In fact, she’d run away when he’d almost found her at the crash site.
“Taz who?” Andi’s voice sounded from somewhere far away.
“Taz is dead.” Jon.
Jeremy had spent the last six months wishing that they’d had even one more day together.
And now, there she was.
Laughing.
In someone else’s arms.
Holly pushed away and left him…
Alone.
16
Taz had just enough time to see the incoming blonde from the NTSB team before her hair was yanked back so sharply it felt as if her scalp was coming off.
Taz flicked her arm to drop her knife from her wrist holster into her palm.
The blonde grabbed her wrist before it had even released, then gave her an “Oh, come on!” sideways look.
“Hey, you can’t do that.” Max made a grab for the blonde, but stopped when she snapped open Taz’s Benchmade Phaeton and held it half an inch from Max’s nose. Slim, black-anodized steel, it was a vicious-looking blade. Which was kind of the point.
His eyes crossed trying to focus on it.
“Think again, bozo. Back the fuck off if you want to survive the next two seconds.”
Jeff came up behind her, not understanding how fast the blonde was—nobody out drew Taz in a knife fight. At least not before now.
For his trouble, Jeff got a hard, downward kick to his shins that the blonde didn’t even turn to deliver. He screamed before dropping to the floor.
Clare looked like she might try a move when Andi, the NTSB woman Taz had spoken to so briefly, stepped in front of her. In her hand was a Cold Steel Recon Tanto blade, also anodized black. Another vicious-looking knife.
“I wouldn’t do anything unexpected at the moment.” Her voice, which had been friendly San Franciscan up at the crash site, was military sharp.
Taz recognized the fighter’s poise. “I—”
The blonde jerked her hair hard enough that Taz swore she could feel each individual follicle screaming.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” She hadn’t looked away from Max. “You still haven’t backed the fuck off, mate.”
“It’s okay, Max,” Taz managed, though the pain was tunneling her vision badly. It was all over now anyway. Her new identity was blown.
Thankfully, Max slowly raised both hands and shifted back a step. That was good. It was obvious that no one here, not even herself, had the skills to take on the blonde.
“Let’s you and me go for a walk.” The blonde yanked her toward the door using Taz’s hair.
“Will you cut that out?”
“Nope!” The blonde flicked Taz’s knife closed before dragging her out through the door.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I thought you were already dead.”
Taz gave up struggling, and almost choked before she managed to whisper, “I thought so, too.”
17
“Keep them all inside. Especially Jeremy.” Holly snapped it out.
After Andi had checked on the guy with the barked shins, not much blood, and signaled Mike to keep Jeremy in place, she followed Holly out the door.
Holly marched Vicki around the corner of the building, then slammed her against the wood of the bar’s side wall so hard that it almost knocked the air out of Andi’s own chest. A life-sized black-iron flat sculpture, of which she’d seen several in town, loomed over Vicki. This one, a man with a raised railroad spike hammer appropriate for outside The Rail tavern, looked as if he was going to crash it down on Vicki’s head.
Andi doubled back and stepped once more into the pub. It had all happened so fast that no one had even started to move toward the door.
She knew how to handle this.
“I’m US Army Captain Andrea Wu of the 160th Special Operations.” From an aviation regiment that had nothing to do with security, but she’d hope that it sufficed for the moment. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask that no one leave, we may have questions for you. Feel free to return to your meals.”
The big hotshot started to move forward, but his friends pulled him back.
Jeremy was still faced away, his head hung down like he’d been beaten.
Andi had no idea what was going on, but she never again wanted to see someone looking the way Jeremy did.
She went out to rejoin Holly just as police sirens sounded nearby. The barkeep, at least, had kept his head.
It looked as if neither Holly nor Vicki…Taz…whatever her name was, had moved an inch while she’d stepped inside.
Holly came over. With a quick slap of her palm against Andi’s, she transferred three knives—the one she’d taken from Taz and two others that were equally high-end and lethal.
Andi tucked them away and Holly returned to facing Taz just before the police car rounded the corner and screeched to a halt. They rushed over.
“Everyone please keep your hands in the open.”
They all turned their palms out.
“We had a call of an altercation involving knives.”
“Just having a word with a friend I haven’t seen in a long time.” Holly smiled so pleasantly that Andi couldn’t equate her with the seething Spec Ops operator of moments before.
She turned to Taz.
“How long has it been? Since the funeral?”
Taz just grimaced.
“Are you armed?” The lead officer approached as his backup remained near the car, hand on his weapon. They were ignoring Andi standing so far off to the side. Small town cops wouldn’t think to suspect the little gawker woman of having four military-grade knives stashed about her person, so she did her best to look like that’s all she was.
In answer, Holly just raised her arms and turned slowly. “Care to check me out, mate?” She even offered him a wink.
It was hard to imagine the tall, beautiful blonde as being anything but innocent. Or that she was actually madder than a kicked snake.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” He turned to face Taz.
“No. Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Old friend. Like she said.” Taz didn’t put much oomph behind it.
This Taz was also smart enough to read the officer’s uncertainty. It didn’t take a genius to know that keeping the police involved wasn’t
going to help things.
“Seriously, officer. We did a lot of martial arts together as kids,” she held up a tight-held knife hand worthy of any Bruce Lee movie. “It’s part of how we greet each other. Maybe we got a little rough for others.” She stepped away from the wall until she was closer to the officer than either Holly or Andi herself, proving her freedom of movement.
“Okay. If you’re sure, ma’am. We’re glad to give you a ride wherever you want to go.”
“I’m good here, thanks. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
Once the officers were gone, she crashed back against the wall as if Holly had again thrown her there.
Holly held out a hand toward Andi and snapped her fingers to get her knives back.
Andi shook her head. “Look at her, Holly. If she looked any more miserable, she’d look like Jeremy.”
Holly turned back to inspect Taz.
Her hair had been ripped out of its ponytail by Holly’s rough handling, and was now a bedraggled mess. Smoke soot still smeared her forehead and one cheek. Rather than glaring defiantly at Holly as she had been in the bar, she was staring at the ground as if she hoped it would swallow her whole.
Andi knew the “graveyard” look. How many hours had she spent looking in the mirror, wishing it was her in the grave rather than her copilot and best friend?
This last month spent working with Miranda’s NTSB team had made her glad, for the first time in half a year, to not be the one in the grave. But it had been a long road that she didn’t fool herself was even half over.
“Aw, shit.” Holly reached the same conclusion.
“I just,” Taz didn’t look up. “I just can’t face him.”
18
“Why not?”
Taz looked up at Jeremy’s words. He stood there, close behind Andi.
“Why can’t you face me?”
“Shit, Andi,” Holly sighed. “I said to keep him inside.”
“My bad,” Mike raised his hand from Jeremy’s shoulder.
“Mike!” Holly’s voice was more pissed-off woman than angry warrior. Mike had better be careful.
“No, Holly. This is their thing first. We’ll deal with the undead issues later. Come on. Let’s go inside. Miranda’s kinda freaking, and Jon isn’t helping.”
Taz didn’t move as Holly ground her teeth together.
Then Holly leaned in close so suddenly that Taz banged the back of her head on the wall.
“You hurt him one tiny bit more, and I will dedicate my life to shredding your zombie ass. We clear?”
Taz nodded. “I never meant to in the first place.”
Holly snorted, “Well, that’s something.” Then she strode off and disappeared around the corner. She swept up Mike as she went.
Taz wished Mike had stayed. Even if he might have more reason to hate her than Holly. Talking to Jeremy alone…
Andi watched the two of them quietly for a moment, but her expression made no sense.
Had Jeremy regaled his team with stories of screwing the dreaded Colonel Cortez before a life-threatening mission? Had he—
No. That was other people. Some part of her knew that wasn’t Jeremy.
Andi’s look finally made sense.
It was pain. Empathy for Jeremy, because he truly did look miserable.
Then Andi was gone and it was just the two of them.
19
A hand rested on her shoulder.
Miranda would recognize Holly’s grip anywhere. It was always firm. Always friendly. Reliably safe.
It helped her to ease her breathing.
To regain her focus.
They were in a restaurant.
Seated at a table.
A half-eaten meal.
Everyone here…except Jeremy.
“Where’s Jeremy? Is he okay?” She tried to push to her feet, but Holly kept her pinned in place.
“He’s fine. He’s just having a little chat with his old friend Taz.”
“Taz?” Jon leaned in from her other side. “That really was the Taser? I thought Colonel Vicki Cortez was dead.”
“We all did, mate.”
Jon yanked out his phone.
Holly jerked it from his fingers and dumped it in his beer glass.
“Hey!”
“Major Jon Swift…” Holly’s voice sounded nasty.
Miranda didn’t need to check her emotions list to know that Holly was angry. Or in dead earnest. Or… Maybe she did need to check her notebook, but her fingers couldn’t seem to close on it when she attempted to draw it out of her pocket.
“…do not be a dunce!”
“She’s a criminal. A traitor.” He pulled his phone out of his beer, gave it a brief shake like a wet…phone, and began wiping it down with a napkin. “It’s waterproof.”
“Unless you’re suddenly a judge and jury, you don’t know that about her.”
“She needs to be arrested and—” he began to dial his phone.
Holly grabbed it again, dropped it on the floor, then hopped her chair quickly away and back. There was a loud crunch. She then picked it up and dropped it back into his beer. The screen had been shattered by a chair leg punch that had struck in the center of it. It now leaked air bubbles in the beer.
Miranda wasn’t wearing her tools vest or she’d have pulled out a ruler to check. It was easily within a millimeter of the exact center.
“Grab a damned clue, mate, and shut the fuck up.”
Miranda looked at the floor over the side of her chair. If she wanted to do that, could she have planted the chair leg so accurately on the screen? She latched her hands on either side of the seat and tried to aim for a specific spot on the floor. Even by her third try, she was nowhere close.
Yes, Holly was the team member with exceptional physical skills. Like Andi had said, Miranda might know airplanes but, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t know everything. If that turned out to be true, it would be a great relief. One, or perhaps many less things to worry about.
One of the hotshots came over. He stopped a step behind Jeremy’s empty chair and shuffled from foot to foot.
Uncertainty. Also nervous.
Miranda knew that one. It was very distinct from moving lightly and quickly on one’s feet. That was preparing for a fight—sometimes. Or dance. Then there were variations that—
“Excuse me. Is Taz coming back?”
“Worried about your fuck-buddy, mate?” Holly’s tone hadn’t got any friendlier.
“We never actually… Haven’t…” He sighed.
“Well, that too is something.” Holly finally sounded more like herself.
“You smell of smoke.” It was tickling Miranda’s nose, making it hard not to sneeze.
“Something that happens when you fight a wildfire, ma’am.” The hotshot looked down at his soiled clothes.
“Oh. Yes. That makes sense. I’m sorry. Did I interrupt?”
Holly’s pat on her arm was reassuring before she addressed the big man. “What she does is up to the woman, but her past just caught back up with her.”
“Yeah, she was always a bit squirrely on that.”
“Well, she’s having a tough time of it now. And probably for a while to come. So I wouldn’t be placing any bets. Is that going to be a problem for your crew?”
“What are you talking about?” Jon practically shouted. “She’s—”
Miranda felt Holly’s foot pass within millimeters of her own shins.
Jon yelped, swore, and knocked over his beer glass and the shattered phone before grabbing for his shins.
Miranda knew what to do when there was a spill at the dinner table. She began gathering everyone’s napkins to mop up what she could, and build little dams where there was too much.
Mike went to get a bar towel. Good. That was the next appropriate action.
The hotshot took a step back and raised his hands palm out, just as he had when Holly had threatened him with a knife.
“Look. The season’s over. They j
ust kicked us loose until the next fire season—nice bonus, too. So she’s free to go. Never talked about what she was going to do next. I have a gig up at a lumber camp in British Columbia. Got a lot of pine-beetle-killed trees to drop before they rot. I’d asked if she wanted to go with—its good money—but she said some funny thing about not having a new passport yet.”
“So, no loss, right?” Andi had been sitting quietly, leaving everything up to Holly until now.
The man looked sad at Andi’s question.
“I guess. She’s a damn fine hotshot. Not a lot of naturals, but she’s one of them.”
“As Holly said, the future’s up to the woman,” Andi confirmed.
And everyone turned to look at the blank sidewall of the pub.
Miranda wasn’t sure why. There were some pictures of old Port Angeles there, when the railroad had still run lumber down to the waterfront here. But she’d already looked at those and didn’t understand everyone’s sudden interest.
Mike came back with the towel, so she started the next appropriate action for a spill at the table—lifting and replacing plates as he mopped the surface.
20
On the other side of the wall, when Taz still didn’t speak, Jeremy repeated his question.
“Why couldn’t you face me?”
“You’re looking good, Jeremy.”
“You look…unbelievable.” Her hair was longer, thick, and lovely without all the twists of being constantly bound up in a tight, Air Force bun.
She’d been strong before, but now he could see the clear muscle definition along her forearms where her sleeves were rolled up. Her hands, which he remembered had been so soft when they touched him, were now rough with calluses.
“When you laughed… I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I didn’t recognize me. Haven’t had a lot of reasons to laugh in my life.”
Jeremy closed his eyes for a moment at the pain. “But now you’ve found someone who makes you laugh. That man in there.”
Taz glanced at the wall for a second with squinted eyes. “What? Oh, Max?”
Chinook Page 6
