by Radclyffe
Mallory yanked down the zipper on the side of her sleeping bag, threw it open, and swung her legs over the side of the cot. She’d slept in a T-shirt and panties, and her skin instantly pebbled in the cold air. Just as she was about to pluck her jeans from the floor, she heard activity on the ladder. Quickly, she slid her legs back into her sleeping bag and flipped the top flap down over her bare legs. Jac appeared, balancing a cardboard carrier in one hand and sporting that damn heart-stopping grin.
“Good morning.” Jac presented the coffee cups in their cardboard holder as if they were flutes of champagne. “Would madam care for something to drink?”
“The gin rummy queen wants her coffee, you idiot.” Mallory pried the cup closest to her free.
Jac set down the tray along with her cup of coffee and pulled a bran muffin wrapped in clear plastic wrap out of the right pocket of her cargo pants. Brandishing it with a flourish, she said, “Muffin, milady?”
“Will you stop.” Mallory grabbed the muffin, her fingers tracing the top of Jac’s hand. She couldn’t see the sparks fly, but she felt them to her toes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jac reached down for her coffee. “Hope I added enough cream.”
Her voice was soft, free of any laughter, and the unusual, slightly uncertain note struck a chord in Mallory’s heart. “This is nice. Thanks.”
Jac looked up from her half crouch, her mouth gently curved into an incredibly kissable smile. “You’re welcome again. I liked doing it.”
“Where’s your muffin?” Mallory asked, knowing she couldn’t possibly swallow now. Not while her body thrummed with hunger all its own—a terrible ache no food was going to satisfy. If she hadn’t been half-naked, she would have bolted.
“I could only fit one in my pocket.”
Mallory patted the bottom of her sleeping bag. “Sit down. I’ll share this one with you.”
Jac’s gaze went to the bottom of the narrow cot, then to Mallory. “All right.”
Mallory pulled her knees up as Jac sat down, and her feet ended up resting against Jac’s thigh. Even with the sleeping bag between them, when Jac shifted to face her, the muscles in Jac’s thighs tensed, and Mallory had the urge to dig her toes into the firm flesh. She had the urge to do a lot more than that. She wanted Jac inside the sleeping bag with her, her hard body pressed close, her hands chasing the cold away. Mallory clenched inside and got very, very wet. Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. Mallory broke off a chunk of the muffin and half sat up, extending the moist morsel on the tips of her fingers toward Jac’s mouth. “Here. Have a bite.”
Jac leaned closer, sliding one arm onto the cot next to Mallory’s hips. Her chest pressed against Mallory’s knees. Jac looked into Mallory’s eyes and opened her mouth. “Sure?”
“I trust you not to bite,” Mallory said, her voice an octave lower than normal.
“Really?” Jac’s tongue swept over Mallory’s fingers, and her lips closed around the small piece of muffin.
Mallory’s clitoris swelled and her breasts ached and what was left of her senses dissolved like mist before the dawn. “Good?”
“Very good.” Jac’s tongue slid across her lower lip, catching a tiny flake of bran, and she nodded. “You should try some.”
Mallory stifled a whimper. She’d never orgasmed without direct stimulation in her life, but she was close now. She couldn’t let that happen. Even if she could hide it, and she didn’t think she could, she couldn’t bear the humiliation. “Jac, I don’t think—”
“You said you trusted me.” Without looking away from Mallory’s face, Jac slid her fingers down Mallory’s arm to the muffin Mallory cradled in her palm and broke off a piece. She held the fragment up to Mallory’s mouth. “Taste it. You’ll like it.”
Mallory sucked the muffin from between Jac’s fingers. She chewed and swallowed without tasting it, watching Jac’s pupils flicker and dance, then licked the traces of butter from the tips of Jac’s fingers. “Good.”
“Yeah,” Jac whispered, letting her fingers linger for a second against Mallory’s mouth. She was crazy to touch her at all, but if she didn’t do something, she was going to explode. Mallory looked so damn beautiful with her hair all wild and her face so unguarded. Mallory was different when they were alone—still wary, like a wild animal uncertain of a human hand, but still approaching. Cautious, but edging nearer. Jac didn’t want to scare her away. She traced her thumb over Mallory’s lower lip. Mallory’s soft breath was hot in the chill air, her lips moist and a little swollen. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Mmm. Yeah, I do.”
Jac eased away until she was no longer touching her. Mallory’s eyes had gotten hazy, and Jac was pretty sure if she kissed her right now, Mallory would kiss her back. And probably never do it again. “Now I need to go.”
“What?” Mallory murmured. “Why?”
“I’d be happy for you to feed me all day, but you should finish your coffee. Oh six hundred is coming on fast.”
“I know,” Mallory whispered. “I need to get going.”
“Yes.”
Neither of them moved.
“Jac?”
“What?” Jac said softly.
“I can’t get up while you’re sitting on my sleeping bag.”
Jac smiled. “That’s a problem, then, I guess.”
“It is, because I don’t wan—”
A klaxon blared, the blast so loud, Jac’s ears ached. Incoming. God. She bolted off the cot and spun around, reaching for something that wasn’t there. Where was her weapon? “Mallory, stay there!”
“Jac, it’s the fire call.” Mallory threw back the sleeping bag and jumped up. “It’s okay, but I’ve got to go.”
Jac blinked and she was back. Hell, she’d blown it, but she couldn’t worry about that now. “Where?”
Mallory jerked up her jeans and shoved her bare feet into her boots. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll get the information in the air.”
“Is there something I should do—”
“No.” Mallory hesitated. “I’ll see you when I get back, Russo. You’ve still got the training course to pass.”
“Right.” Jac’s chest ached. Mallory was heading out to fight a wildfire, and she was staying behind. “Be careful, huh, Ice?”
“Always.” Mallory ran for the ladder, vaulted over the edge, and was gone.
*
Downstairs, the hangar was controlled pandemonium.
“Five minutes, Benny,” Mallory called as she raced by to collect her gear.
Benny waved and climbed into the plane. Caruso, one of the permanent crew, pulled the blocks out from in front of the wheels so the plane could taxi out.
Sully intercepted her in the middle of the yard, a printout in his hand. “Ridgeline up in Bitterroot. Regional fire management operator thinks the winds will push it down the mountain too fast for a controlled burn. He wants it contained.”
“Got it,” Mallory said. “I’ll radio the status before we drop.”
“Good. Safe trip.”
“Right,” Mallory replied automatically and hustled into the ready room with the rest of the crew. Her personal gear and chute were already packed and hanging from a peg just inside the door. Her field trauma kit was there too. All the firefighters had basic first aid training, but she was the only paramedic on the team. She kicked off her work boots, slid into her jump pants and jacket, and pulled on thick socks and her logging boots. After securing her hard hat to the side of her pack, she shrugged into her gear and jogged back across the yard to the plane. Benny had already taxied out of the hangar and Mallory waited at the cargo bay door to check each jumper as they climbed aboard, ensuring they had secured their chutes and loaded all their gear. She slowed as Jac and Sarah crossed the tarmac toward her.
“What’s the word?” Sarah asked.
“Ridge fire at Bitterroot.”
“How big?”
“Not sure yet. This early in the season, it’s probably small. Pretty wet still.”
“P
robably,” Sarah said.
Mallory shrugged. “We’ll dig line, start a back fire, probably have it contained by morning.” She glanced up at the sky where the sun was just rising. Cloudless. Cold. “If the wind doesn’t rise.”
“Uh-huh. The winds are tricky up there on Bitterroot.” Sarah didn’t need to say anything else. There’d been a near disaster there several years before. A smokejumping crew had been overtaken by a fire that had chimneyed up a ridge and caught them in a blowup. That team had been luckier than Mallory’s had the summer before. They’d all gotten under their fire tents in time, and they’d all survived. Her crew hadn’t. Phil Marcum never made it to the safety zone she had picked. He’d been caught in the blaze. His body had been nothing but cinders. Danny O’Donnell couldn’t get his fire tent open in time. He had died of smoke inhalation a few feet away from where Mallory had lain with her face in the dirt, enclosed in her own fire-resistant cocoon, listening to the fire rage over her head. She’d never know if those men had died because she’d made an error in predicting the direction a blowup would take when she’d spotted the safety zone, or if they might still be alive if she had sensed the fire about to jump a minute sooner than she had. The after-operation investigation had cleared her of any error in judgment or execution, but she knew better. She had been in charge. Two men had died on her watch, and she would be forever responsible. Mallory shoved the guilt back down. “Ought to be an easy one.”
“Uh-huh,” Sarah said again, her solemn expression telling Mallory she knew differently.
“I’ve got to go.” Mallory didn’t have time to give assurances Sarah wouldn’t believe. Sarah had as much as said at the end of the last season she was worried Mallory would take chances, trying to make up for something that wasn’t her fault. “You’re senior while I’m gone, Sarah. Check on my injured rookie, will you? Ray Kingston. Any problems, transfer him out.”
“I will—don’t worry about it.”
Mallory couldn’t pretend not to see Jac any longer. Jac stood next to Sarah with her hands balled in the pockets of her cargo pants, looking a little rumpled and a lot sexy. Had it really only been a few minutes since they had crowded together on her cot, pretending to feed each other but doing something far more intimate? Mallory’s lips still tingled from where Jac’s fingers had grazed them. She felt the weight of Jac’s body leaning against her legs, and her belly quivered. Whatever had happened between them had been sidelined by the klaxon, and just as well. Jac’s eyes were stormy now and every bit as hot as they had been upstairs. Mallory couldn’t afford to get lost in those kinds of clouds, not with anyone, but certainly not with a rookie whose mere presence almost made her forget the cost of getting too close. She squeezed Sarah’s arm and pointed at Jac. “Listen to Sarah. Don’t screw up, rookie.”
Jac stepped closer, then halted abruptly as if surprised she’d moved at all. “I’ll wait till you get back to do that.”
Mallory shook her head. “Then I’ll try to make it quick.”
“You do that,” Jac said. “See you soon…Mal.”
Hiding her smile, Mallory turned away and jogged to the plane. She climbed on, checked that all the crew were there and strapped in, and gave Benny the thumbs up. She slid the cargo door closed and made her way up front to the cockpit. Settling into the seat opposite Benny’s, she buckled in and didn’t look out the window as they taxied away. Superstition, maybe. Maybe she just didn’t want to see Jac’s figure disappearing in the distance.
Once airborne, Benny said, “Sully radioed they’ve got a tanker dropping mud before you land.”
“Good. The retardant along with the snow ought to make our job easier, even though it’s hell to slog through that crap on the ground.”
“Not to worry. I’ll circle until the tanker leaves, and you can find a nice clean spot for your landing.”
“Thanks.” Mallory laughed. As long as no one ended up in a tree, she’d be happy.
Thirty minutes later she caught the first sign of the smoke column climbing into the sky. The fire stretched out along a quarter of a mile of ridge in dense forest. Snow still covered patches of ground, which would make clearing the line a little bit harder but might help contain the fire front. She pointed to a clear spot in the trees. “Over there.”
Benny banked in that direction so she could get a better look. Mallory checked several spots until she found a landing zone close to the fire front, but flanking it and not littered with boulders.
“That looks good.” Mallory radioed their position and reported the initial fire assessment to the local fire station.
The base supervisor radioed back. “Do you need ground support?”
“Not at this time,” Mallory answered. “Will advise after we establish our control lines.”
“Roger.”
Mallory clapped Benny’s shoulder. “We’re out of here.”
“Stay safe,” Benny said.
“Right.”
Back in the cargo hold, Mallory signaled for the team to clip on and prepare to off-load. She slid back the cargo bay door and waited while Benny flew over the landing zone, then tapped the first pair to go. On his fourth pass, she jumped with Cooper, and Benny headed for home.
In a matter of seconds, the frigid air whipped around her and numbed her face and body. She landed stiffly, jolting hard on the ground despite automatically flexing her knees and falling to her side at the instant of impact. Ignoring the bone-jarring pain, she jumped up, checked to see that the rest of the team had landed safely, and collected her chute. After a fast confirmation of the fire status, she dispatched the team and radioed the local base with a status update. Once done, she took her place on the line—farthest from the safety zone. If anyone got caught too far out ever again, it wouldn’t be one of her crew.
Everyone knew what to do. They’d done it dozens of times before. Mallory set to work with her pulaski—part-hoe, part ax—clearing melting snow, clumps of ice, rotting leaves, and other debris along a ten-foot-wide line in front of the fire. She removed everything flammable down to the dirt—chopping roots, digging out stumps, scraping away undergrowth until nothing remained to feed the advancing flames. Men with saws took down larger trees and dragged them away.
Out on the line, her mind cleared and her body took over. She didn’t think of anything as she chopped and cleared except the position of the fire and the location of the rest of the team. The day wore on, and she opened her jacket, letting the chill air dry the sweat soaked into her fire-retardant Nomex shirt. Smoke and embers drifted in the air, and she wiped her face with the bandanna she’d tied loosely around her neck. One of the times she stopped to drink water from her canteen, she pulled a protein bar from her PG pack and bit into it. As she chewed the mostly flavorless bar, she remembered the bran muffin and the soft caress of Jac’s fingers on her mouth. Jac. How had Jac managed to get so close so fast?
Mallory shoved the wrapper in her pocket, grabbed her pulaski, and went back to digging. Thank God Sarah had shown up early. Sarah could take charge of Jac’s training, and Mallory could get some distance. And some damn perspective.
Chapter Thirteen
Jac lay awake, listening to a light rain dance on the hangar’s metal roof. The loft felt dark and close, growing colder every night that Mallory was gone. Almost a week that seemed like a month—endless hours stretching interminably from sundown until dawn. The shadows weighed more heavily on her chest, the empty cot across from her echoing the emptiness that hollowed out her bones. Tonight she’d never fallen asleep at all, lying on her back staring into the gloom, remembering all the nights she’d lain awake listening to the scratch of sand shifting against the sides of a canvas tent, surrounded by humanity and aching with loneliness. She ached tonight, but not in some vague existential way. Tonight she just missed Mallory.
Sighing, she punched her pillow and rolled onto her side. Mallory’s neatly rolled sleeping bag mocked her. She’d straightened Mallory’s bed the first night Mallory was gone. When she
’d rested her hand for a few seconds on the spot where she had sat with Mallory’s feet tucked against her leg, she’d registered that the bag was cool, but she’d imagined the heat of Mallory’s body tucked inside it. She’d imagined herself spooned against Mallory’s back, her arm around Mallory’s waist and her chin tucked in the curve of Mallory’s shoulder, her mouth close to Mallory’s ear. Murmuring to her. Kissing her softly. The fantasy was exquisitely bittersweet, and when she crawled into her own cold sleeping bag, the pulse of desire hammering between her thighs haunted rather than tempted her. She feared an orgasm would taste only of ashes, reminding her of all the hopes that had vanished long before the desert winds had ground them to dust.
Each night, sleep became more elusive while her body strummed with anxious tension, but she didn’t want the quick release and hazy aftermath of a solitary orgasm. While it made no sense, she didn’t want to come fantasizing about Mallory when Mallory was fighting a fire on a mountainside somewhere. She had no doubt Mallory was sleepless, and it seemed the least she could do was to tolerate her own restless nights. At least she was warm and dry, and Mallory’s team most certainly wasn’t. Weather had blown in within hours of Benny’s return from dropping the team at the fire front—an icy rain mixed with snow, nature’s reminder that spring had not yet driven out the last breath of winter.
Jac had checked the satellite images of the burn area every few hours throughout each day, following the storm’s path as it lingered over the mountains. She’d traced the topography of Bitterroot with her fingertip, climbing mountain peaks and descending into valleys, trying to place Mallory in that vast wilderness. Wishing they had radio contact. Wishing she was digging line and chopping trees by Mallory’s side.
Sarah had opted to use the time Mallory was away to cover the mandatory didactic sessions, and most of the last few days had been spent sitting at a table with the other rookies in a cinderblock-walled room. While listening to Sarah talk about fire protocols and Sully discuss principles of fire management, her mind kept drifting to the realities of the job. She hadn’t worked a full season, but she’d spent enough time on the line to know how easily the job could turn treacherous. Even when the fire wasn’t bearing down, there were dozens of other potential hazards. Snakes, bugs, and terrified animals incited to violence were as dangerous as burning branches, falling trees, and blowups. And so many other ways to encounter injury—heat exhaustion, sun exposure, and always, always the fire.
