by Radclyffe
“No,” Sarah said in surprise. “I didn’t see her. Sorry.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Something wrong?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Mallory said quickly, too quickly, because Sarah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Sorry to bother your dinner.” Mallory spun around and beat a quick retreat. She didn’t want to discuss Jac or why she was looking for her. Back in the equipment room, she grabbed her field jacket and flashlight and headed for the woods. As soon as she ducked into the trees, the chill seeped into her extremities. Even in summer the sunlight rarely touched the ground under the canopy of evergreens, and in winter, the bone-deep cold hovered above the ice and snow like a malignant being, sapping body heat and distorting concentration. The snow was mostly gone now, but the soil temperature was still below fifty degrees. It was damn cold. Anyone caught out overnight would be at severe risk for hypothermia. But she wasn’t leaving Jac out overnight—she’d find her before then.
Mallory set off down the main trail, moving fast over familiar terrain, looking for signs of Jac, but not really expecting to find any. Jac was no inexperienced hiker. She wouldn’t leave litter to mark her passing. What the hell was she doing out here, if she was even out here at all? Too late, Mallory considered that Jac might have left base camp altogether. Maybe she’d gone to town. Maybe she wanted to get away—or wanted company.
Except Jac wouldn’t walk out in the middle of a training session without a damn good reason. A trip to town for a little recreation and company just didn’t seem to be her style. Not that Mallory really knew what Jac’s style was, but irresponsibility and flouting authority didn’t seem to be her. Which meant something was wrong.
As soon as she let the thought in, her stomach churned. Not another rookie in trouble. Not Jac. By the time she reached the midpoint of the trail it was getting too dark to see, and she switched on her flashlight. She couldn’t continue to search at night, alone. She’d be at risk herself, and if Jac was out here, possibly injured, then she needed to organize a full-out search and rescue mission. She ought to turn back. She stood in the center of the trail, searching the woods on either side. She couldn’t leave her out here.
A branch snapped off to her right.
“Jac? Jac!”
She waited, heart pounding, and then heard a faint call. Maybe an owl, even a coyote, but she needed the sound to be Jac.
“Jac? It’s Mallory.”
“Hey.”
Mallory spun around. Jac stood a few feet away. Mallory’s heart leapt into her throat. “God Almighty. What in the hell are you doing out here?”
“Sorry,” Jac said somewhat breathlessly. “I was on my way back and my flashlight batteries died. I was headed for the upper trail—better visibility. What are you doing out here?”
“What am I doing out here? What am I doing here.” Mallory’s anxiety morphed into anger. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I was about to pull together an SAR team to come after you.”
“Why?” Jac frowned at her watch. “I’ve only been gone a few hours. I didn’t realize that would be a problem.”
“What the hell, Russo. You walked out of the session this afternoon, didn’t leave word with anyone where you were going, and then didn’t return with dark coming on. What did you think I would think about that?” Mallory was furious with herself for losing her composure, and even more angry at Jac, who stared at her with a confused frown. God damn it, she’d been scared Jac was hurt. She didn’t need that.
“Hell, Mallory. I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“You know, that seems to be a habit with you. You don’t think.”
Jac stiffened. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“You put yourself at risk, Russo. Probably in the desert, that kind of behavior was necessary. I get that. I respect you for what you did over there. It takes incredible bravery to put yourself in front of one of those insane devices to save others. But you are not in the desert now. This isn’t war. I can’t have you going off like a loose cannon whenever the mood strikes you.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I—” Jac clenched her jaw, biting off the rest of her sentence.
“You want to explain it to me, then? Why did you leave early today, and don’t tell me it’s because you were winded. You’re in great shape. You took that fall fine. You weren’t winded when you got up. You lost a little air, sure, but you would have been fine in a couple of minutes.”
“You saw that?”
Mallory shook her head. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I was shaky after the drop,” Jac insisted. “I needed to walk it off.”
“For four hours?”
Jac looked away and Mallory’s heart sank. Jac was hiding something. And that was another problem. “Jac,” Mallory said, trying to be reasonable while frustration eroded what remained of her patience. “I need to know what’s going on. If there’s a problem with you, if there’s something that’s not working in the training, I need to know. I need to know that you’re going to trust me to make the right decisions.”
“I do,” Jac said.
“Then what’s your explanation?”
Jac looked away.
“All right. Let’s get back.” Mallory fished around in her pocket and pulled out another flashlight. She tossed it to Jac. “And don’t wander away this time.”
“Mallory.”
Something in Jac’s voice brought Mallory up short. Sadness, or resignation maybe. “What?”
“I know you don’t have any reason to, but if I tell you the reason I left this afternoon has nothing to do with the training or the job, will you believe me? Will you trust me on that?”
Mallory considered. If it wasn’t work, it was something personal. Something Jac didn’t want to reveal. The options were few out here. “If there’s a problem inside the team, that’s just as critical for me to know as if one of the team members is having trouble with the training. It all comes down to the team, Jac. Not you, not me, not any one of us. Only the team matters.”
“I know. I know I don’t have any right to ask you, but I’m going to.” Jac wanted to curse, but only a reasoned argument would win Mallory over. She couldn’t tell Mallory about Hooker—she was not going to dump his bile on Mallory. The guy was a jerk, and she shouldn’t have let him get to her. She sure wasn’t dragging Mallory into it. “If you could just give me a little time to work things out, I promise I’ll tell you if there’s any problem.”
Mallory drew a breath. Oddly, that nagging irritating sensation was gone. Her gut settled. Jac was right in front of her. Jac was fine. “There can’t be a repeat of this, Jac.”
“All right.”
“And know this, Russo,” Mallory said. “If you give me cause to question your judgment or your ability to function as part of the team again, I’m going to let you go. No questions asked.”
“Fair enough,” Jac said quietly.
“Let’s get back. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Mallory turned and walked away. Fairness had nothing to do with it. She was breaking her own rules, and she never did that. She wanted to believe in Jac, and that scared her. Jac Russo scared her to death.
*
“What the fuck, Jac,” Ray muttered while they stood in line at 0530 to board the jump plane. “You keep pissing James off like last night and you’re gonna be screwed.”
“Everything is cool,” Jac said, lying her ass off. Mallory hadn’t come up to the loft until late the night before, and hadn’t said anything other than “Tomorrow is your first practice jump. Get some sleep.”
“If you say so.” Ray looked over his shoulder, then dipped his head. “You nervous?”
“Nah.” She grinned. “It’ll be just like jumping off the platform. And if it isn’t, we probably won’t even know when we land.”
“Wonderful,” he muttered.
“Hey,” she said, laughing. “You’ll have Cooper with you. He won’t let anything happen up there.”
<
br /> “I know, I know.” Ray glanced at the open cargo doors and the dark interior of the plane’s belly. “I know.”
Mallory slowed beside them. “All set, rookies?”
“Fine,” Jac said, wishing Mallory would actually look at her.
“Totally,” Ray echoed.
“Good. Have fun. Remember to count.”
Mallory walked on and Jac swallowed acid disappointment. She’d fucked up and didn’t know how to make it right, so she did what she knew how to do. Focused on the mission. She ran the jump sequence again in her head. At least she could show Mallory she deserved her spot on the crew.
“Let’s check you out, rook,” Sarah said, coming up with Cooper, who joined Ray. The two veterans checked them over to see that their chutes and harnesses were in order, the steering handles clear, and reserve chest chutes in place.
“All set,” Sarah said. “Questions?”
“I’m good,” Jac said.
They loaded and sat in rows on either side of the cargo bay. When Benny reached two thousand feet, he circled and Mallory pulled open the doors. Frigid wind strafed the interior and Jac’s eyes watered. Sarah gripped her arm.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“Roger,” Jac said, glad they were jumping first. Now that they were about to do it, she wanted to go.
Mallory dropped a pair of streamers to judge the wind speed and direction, watched for a few seconds, then signaled for Jac to come ahead. Jac moved forward in a crouch until she could sit on the edge of the rail, her legs dangling in the slipstream.
“See the landing zone?” Mallory yelled. “About fifty yards of drift.”
“Roger,” Jac called.
“Ready?”
Jac’s pulse kicked once, hard, then settled. Excitement raced through her. “Yes!”
Mallory’s hand slapped down on her shoulder and Jac pushed out with all her strength.
Jump-thousand—air whipped around her head and her feet jerked up over her head.
Look-thousand—sky and plane passed over her in a swirling flash and the land disappeared.
Sarah dropped out of the plane, a dark blur against the tilting horizon.
Reach-thousand—Jac grabbed the ripcord. Wait-thousand…wait, wait…
Pull-thousand—her body jerked upright and the chute unfurled. She checked her chute—open, no knots, no twists. Sarah drifted down beside her and her chute popped. Jac grabbed the steering toggles and searched for the landing zone.
Time disappeared. The world became a dizzying dance of lush greens, brilliant blues, and blazing sunlight. She was flying, she was free.
Jac yelled, triumphant.
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you ready for your wilderness adventure?” Sarah asked as she packed her PG bag next to Jac.
“Can’t wait,” Jac said, hoping she sounded appropriately enthusiastic. She was looking forward to the field portion of the training. Being cooped up at base was driving her stir-crazy, and sleeping next to Mallory was torture. Especially considering Mallory had barely talked to her since the jump over a week before. Mallory’d been polite enough, saying good morning just before quickly disappearing down the ladder, offering a bland good night if Jac wasn’t asleep, which she usually wasn’t, when Mallory finally came to bed in the dark hours of the night. Unless Mallory was a vampire, she was staying up most of the night to avoid retiring at the same time as Jac. Okay, maybe that was being a little paranoid, but the casual, impersonal exchanges were worse than silence. The last thing Jac wanted from Mallory was casual, and admitting it, knowing it, made her feel ten kinds of impotent. Not a feeling she enjoyed. Helplessness made her short-tempered. Even Ray had noticed and asked her what was wrong. She’d told him she was fine. She wasn’t about to discuss Mallory with anyone, especially one of the guys. Even one of the good guys.
“Gosh,” Sarah said, “someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”
“Sorry.” Jac sighed. “I really am looking forward to being out in the woods. Climbing a few trees sounds like a lot more fun than throwing myself off a platform onto the ground.”
“I always hated that part of the training too.” Sarah laughed. “I mean, after all, that’s why we jump with parachutes. And you have to admit, the jumping is fun.”
“Awesome.” Jac couldn’t help but smile just at the memory of the last real jump—the exhilaration still swamped her. The parachute could completely counteract gravity, and landing feet first on the ground after dropping thousands of feet was still a shock, no matter how controlled the landing. At least she hadn’t landed in a tree—yet. Smokejumpers ended up in trees on one out of three landings and had to drop to the ground on the end of a line. So the continued practice of hard landings off the platform in between plane jumps made sense. Jac knew that, but watching Mallory standing just a few feet away for hours, acting as if Jac wasn’t even there, was eating her up inside. Jac had never wanted to be seen so much by a woman, by anyone, before. She’d spent most of her life trying not to be seen, not to be noticed, not to be pegged as Franklin Russo’s daughter. Anonymity meant not being examined, questioned, scrutinized by her peers, by her teachers, by the ubiquitous reporters—all wondering if she held the same views as he did, if she was really a lesbian like the rumor said, if she was really a right-wing bigot underneath everything. She’d tried so hard to fly under the radar, she was stunned when anyone wanted to get to know her. And Mallory, for a while, had seemed to care about who she was and what she thought. Losing that connection was killing her. She couldn’t sleep, she wasn’t hungry, and her body was in revolt. The barest glance from Mallory made her heart race. And she was horny and couldn’t make herself come. Didn’t even want to and most of the time didn’t try. None of which helped her mood a damn bit.
“What are you doing for your night off?” Sarah asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it yet,” Jac said. She’d been too busy wondering where Mallory had disappeared to. As soon as they’d finished the afternoon’s jump training, this time on the slamulator, Mallory had headed to her office with her clipboard under her arm. By the time Jac had helped store gear and grabbed a quick shower, Mallory’s desk was vacant and the loft empty. Mallory’s bed had been neatly made up with her sleeping bag rolled and tucked at the bottom of the cot, as if Mallory wasn’t coming back that night. The idea that Mallory might be spending the night off base with someone made Jac feel as if a hundred knives were sticking in her belly. She rubbed it, but the pinpricks of pain didn’t go away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going dancing. Want to come?”
Jac laughed. “Where?”
“A country-western place in Bear Creek.”
“Tell me you’re not going line dancing.”
“I do a mean two-step. What about you?”
“I don’t know how.” Jac hadn’t gone out with friends since before her last tour, and rarely before that. Suddenly the idea of staying in camp with whichever guys were still around seemed pathetic, but her social skills were feeling a little rusty after the debacle with Annabel.
Sarah nudged her shoulder. “Come with me. I’ll teach you.”
“Do I need shit kickers?”
“Well, it does help to have a hot pair of cowboy boots,” Sarah said, cocking her hip and affecting a Texas twang, “but you can probably get by with any pair of boots that aren’t loggers. Do you have anything?”
Jac rubbed her neck. “How about riding boots? I’ve got some of those that might do.”
“Okay. It’s a date. I’ll meet you about eight? Does that work for you?”
“Are you driving?” No way did she want to sit around thinking about Mallory for another three hours.
“Was planning to.”
“How about we leave earlier and I buy you dinner first?”
Sarah grinned. “Absolutely. I’ll meet you out in the yard in half an hour. Mine is the ’85 Mustang.”
“Sweet.”
“S
he is.” Sarah squeezed Jac’s arm. “Be prepared for a hot time, handsome.”
Laughing, Jac headed to the hangar for clean jeans and a shirt. Bear Creek hardly warranted a dot on the map, but the little town offered the only nightlife around. If there was an unattached woman in a sixty-mile radius, she’d be there on a Friday night. Maybe a night out and a little friendly female company was exactly what she needed.
*
Emily reached across the small round oak table and took Mallory’s hand. Her smile was quizzical, her soft brown eyes warm and gentle. “Is there something bothering you? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
Mallory flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Em. Dinner was great. Thank you for cooking.”
“You know I love to cook, and you’re an appreciative diner.”
“Meaning I eat like a lumberjack,” Mallory said, laughing.
“You have better table manners.” Emily sat back in her chair, resting their joined hands on her knee. Her shirt had a tiny wildflower pattern stitched around the edge of the collar and cuffs. On anyone else the look might have seemed cutesy or out of style, but not on her. Emily’s light brown, shoulder-length hair shone with sunny highlights, and her heart-shaped face glowed. She was as fresh and exciting as spring mountain air. Being with her was just the kind of relaxing pleasure Mallory craved after the last few weeks.
“It’s really good to see you.” Mallory lifted Emily’s hand and kissed her knuckles.
“I was surprised when you called. Surprised and happy.”
Mallory struggled under a wave of guilt. Emily was a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful woman who deserved more than her half-attention. “Believe me, I appreciate you for a lot more than your excellent cooking.”
“I do seem to remember that.” Emily colored faintly, and her mouth softened into a seductive curve. “But as much as I enjoy you in and out of my kitchen, I have no expectations.”
“Ah God, Em, I’m just distracted. Training camp is in full swing, and I haven’t slowed down in weeks.” Mallory wasn’t defending her lack of attention with the easy excuse of too much work, at least not entirely. When she’d called Emily the morning before and suggested they get together tonight, she’d really thought her only motivation was the desire for an evening with a woman she admired and found attractive. They’d been seeing one another on and off for over a year, although not exclusively and not even all that frequently. Whenever they got together, Mallory relaxed and enjoyed herself. She liked listening to Emily’s tales of small-town living, and no one knew a town or its inhabitants better than the postmaster. Emily had always said she was happy being single as long as single included enjoying the occasional attentions of a bright, sexy woman. Mallory had always been pleased to oblige. Tonight, though, as the evening wore on, she began to feel uneasy. Emily offered a welcome, effortless antidote to the constant disquiet that had settled in her depths the day Jac arrived at camp. A night with Emily might let her shake free of the nagging turmoil, but she couldn’t help thinking she was using Emily, and that was unacceptable. “I’m lousy company tonight, Em. I’m sorry. Maybe I should go.”
