Firestorm

by Radclyffe

  Jac leaned close to see, her shoulder brushing Mallory’s. The air vibrated with the excitement of the search, fed by the low buzz of charged-up rescuers and the familiar stirring in her blood that came with the call to duty. But not even the thrill of personal challenge struck as deep as the excitement of being anywhere near Mallory. Her skin practically hummed when she so much as looked at her, as if she were walking through a force field. Until Mallory, the only time she’d ever felt so alive was when she was disarming an IED. Sometimes she thought Mallory might be just as dangerous, at least to her sanity. Sucking in a breath, Jac ordered herself not to think about Mallory and concentrated on what David Longbow was saying.

  “They left from the ranger’s station here,” he tapped a spot on the map, “Thursday morning to climb Granite Peak. They were carrying the usual gear—tents, water, food. They had cell phones and planned to check in twice a day when they could get a signal, which they did—until last night. They were due to descend this morning, but they haven’t been heard from.”

  “You have their route?” Mallory asked.

  David frowned. “We have the course they planned, but I’m not entirely sure that’s where they actually were.” He traced a line with his finger up the elevation of Granite Peak. “This should have been their path up the southern face.” He circled an area. “We had heavy snowfall all winter, as you know. Part of the trail here is in the path of some recent slides, and the warmer days may have softened it up enough to make crossing the snowpack hard work. They might have tried to go around and gotten farther astray than they realized.”

  “Makes it difficult to determine the search area,” Jac muttered.

  Mallory nodded and David said, “Exactly. We can’t put a plane up. The cloud cover’s already too thick. It’s going to snow, on top of everything else.”

  “The north trail intersects here,” Mallory said, pointing to an area east of the large snowpack. “They might have come across this trying to get around the snow and thought they’d found the trail again.”

  “More than likely,” David said. “That’s what I’m going to assume.” He overlaid a clear plastic sheet onto the map where grid sections had been drawn with Magic Markers. The areas had been denoted with numbers and letters. He pointed to one section marked C10. “You’ve been up this sector a couple of times, Mallory. I thought we’d put your crew here.”

  “Good enough.” Mallory looked at the sky. “It’s going to take a good hour and a half to get there, but we can drive partway. You need me here for anything?”

  “No—go ahead and get started. Eat first.” David pointed to a woman in a USFS uniform working at a table in front of a nearby tent. “Susan has GPS units for you, as well as the rest of the communication information.”

  Sarah pointed to the canine van. “Are you sending dogs out?”

  “Not yet. If it looks like you’re gonna have to dig for them, we’ll bring the dogs. I want to save them for that.”

  “Good idea,” Sarah murmured. “I hope we don’t need them.”

  Jac studied the van, then looked at Mallory. “Cadaver dogs?”

  She nodded.

  “If you haven’t crossed their trail by midday,” David said to Mallory, “make sure everybody gets a break.”

  “Roger,” Mallory said.

  Jac followed Mallory’s lead, collecting another radio and a GPS tracker, then moving on to the food tent. Civilian volunteers handed out coffee, egg and bagel sandwiches, PowerBars, and packets of trail mix. She filled her pockets with the snacks and grabbed two of the egg sandwiches. The four of them sat at a table out of the way, drinking their coffee and downing their breakfast.

  “Anybody have any concerns, questions?” Mallory asked.

  Ray shook his head.

  Sarah sipped her coffee and folded her sandwich wrapper neatly into a small square. “How do you want to break up the sector?”

  Mallory spread out her map and marked the grid section they were to search with a red Sharpie she pulled from her pack. Within that section, she marked four quadrants. “You and Ray will start here”—she made a mark in the lower right-hand corner, then arrowed upward—“and climb here. Jac and I will mirror you and move up parallel.”

  Jac traced an irregular pale blue line. “Is this a stream?”

  “Yes,” Mallory replied. “And we’ll need to be sure we don’t diverge when we hit it or we’ll leave an area uncovered. We’ll check GPS coordinates every fifteen minutes. Anything I missed?”

  No one said anything.

  “Everyone feel all right?” Mallory checked each of the team. “Got enough rest? Fuel?”

  “I’m good to go,” Jac said.

  “Me too,” Sarah said.

  “Yep.” Ray stood. “Let’s go find these kids.”

  *

  Jac hiked her ass up onto a boulder, pulled a PowerBar from her pocket, and held it out. “Here.”

  Mallory regarded the offering as if it were an exotic animal, her dark brows drawing down. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Yes, you are, you just don’t know it.”

  “You know, Russo,” Mallory said, jamming her hands onto her hips, “I think I ought to know what I need.”

  “I don’t think you do. Eat the damn chocolate bar.”

  “How is it you’re an expert on me all of a sudden,” Mallory griped, swiping the bar from Jac’s hand and peeling back one end of the wrapper. She bit off a piece and chewed vigorously, regarding Jac with a belligerent expression.

  “I’ve been watching you. You don’t eat regularly, you don’t sleep enough, you drive yourself into the ground in the gym. You need looking after.”

  “Ditto, ditto, and ditto.” Mallory poked herself in the chest. “But you don’t see me bugging you about what you ought to be doing, do you?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d give you time.”

  “Unbelievable.” Mallory finished the PowerBar in three bites and stuffed the wrapper into the outside pocket of her cargo pants. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” The rock was dry but cold under Jac’s butt, and she tried to imagine what those kids must be feeling if they were stuck somewhere in ice and snow. “You think one of them is hurt?”

  “Hopefully that’s all they are,” Mallory said, dropping down beside Jac on the huge stone slab and leaning back on her hands. “I can’t think of any other reason why we haven’t heard from them unless they’ve lost their equipment and are just trying to get down the mountain the best they can.”

  “Without a plane in the air, I guess it’s possible they’re on their way down, and we just can’t see them.”

  “I hope.”

  Jac scanned the mountain looming over them—steep rock faces, patches of dense forest, acres of thick ice and snowpack. Climbing was difficult in daylight even with all the equipment they needed. Winter rescues were tricky—rescuers died every year attempting them. “With this terrain, if we’ve got injured, it’s gonna be tough getting them out. Especially after dark.”

  “I know. Let’s find them before sundown, then we’ll figure out how to evacuate them.” Mallory checked her watch. “Five minutes. You okay?”

  Mallory rested lightly against Jac’s shoulder, and Jac wasn’t cold any longer. They were in the middle of a dangerous rescue, as dangerous as plenty of the missions she’d been on overseas. She wasn’t frightened of injury or even death, but she was terrified of losing the first connection she’d ever found that made her feel as if she wasn’t alone. And she was plenty tired of pretending she couldn’t feel the heat that sparked between them. She slid her arm around Mallory’s waist.

  Mallory shifted on the rock and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What the hell are you doing, Russo?”

  “Sorry, I just—” Jac blew out a breath and inched closer, nuzzling Mallory’s hair. “You smell so damned good.”

  “Are you out of your—”

  “Hell with it,” Jac muttered, and framed Mallory’s face. When Mall
ory didn’t pull away, Jac eased forward and kissed her. Mallory’s skin was cool under her fingers, but her lips were soft and warm. Jac carefully traced the surface of Mallory’s lower lip with the tip of her tongue, and Mallory made a tiny sound of surprise in the back of her throat that whispered off into a moan. Jac’s chest seized and she couldn’t breathe, but she’d rather die than stop. Mallory’s mouth moved against hers and heat flooded her. For an instant, Jac glimpsed flames flickering in a hearth on a snowy winter afternoon. The feeling of home, of safety, of contentment wafted over her until the blaze caught and flames shot high and excitement scorched her skin. She groaned softly and slid her hand into the thick hair at the base of Mallory’s neck.

  Mallory’s palm slapped against her chest, and Mallory jerked back. “Stop that.”

  “Sorry,” Jac said, but she didn’t mean it. Her breath was coming fast, and all she could see was the hazy reflection of her own desire in Mallory’s green eyes. Mallory’s mouth said no, but her eyes said something completely different. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the muffin morning.”

  Mallory caught her breath, half laughing, half choking. “Since the muffin morning? The muffin morning?”

  Jac grinned. “That’s how I think of that morning when I saw you lying on your cot, your face so soft and sleepy and beautiful. I wanted to kiss you then. And just about every second I’ve been near you since. The muffin—I get a little excited every time I see one now.”

  Mallory’s mouth curved into a smile, and her face flushed as if she were suddenly very warm. Her tongue flicked out and moistened the surface of her lower lip. She lightly traced the arch of Jac’s cheek with her knuckles and then trailed her fingertips along the edge of her jaw. “Russo, you’re crazy.”

  “Not so much right now.”

  Mallory shook her head. “Wrong place, wrong time—wrong person.”

  “You said five minutes, so I’ve still got time,” Jac said softly. “And you look just right to me.”

  “Your judgment is suspect.”

  “Sometimes,” Jac agreed. “But not this time, Mallory. Not this time.”

  “We’ve got a big job ahead of us.”

  “I know,” Jac said, her fingers still threaded through Mallory’s hair. “That’s why I’m not going to kiss you again until later. Until after we find them.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “No, not always. But I’m certain about kissing you again.”

  Mallory jumped down from the boulder as if it had suddenly come to life and growled at her. “You’re nuts. We are not doing this.”

  Jac jumped down beside her and shouldered her pack. “Why not?”

  “For about a million reasons, starting with the fact that—well—how do you even know I want to kiss you?”

  “You do. You brought me a muffin.”

  “Enough with the muffins,” Mallory snapped. She stared at Jac, her eyes bright, nearly feverish. “Damn it.”

  Mallory grabbed Jac by the shoulders and jerked her forward, her mouth coming down hard over Jac’s. The kiss was hard and demanding and hot and so powerful Jac’s legs shook. As quickly as it began, Mallory pulled away. Gasping, dizzy, Jac reached out to steady herself on the rock. “Jesus, Mallory.”

  “Now we’re done. I mean it.” Mallory grabbed her gear and stormed away.

  Jac pressed her hand to her chest as her heart skittered around like a marble in a bowl. She never got this hyped even after she’d neutered a bomb, and she was always pretty damn high then. Maybe she was having a heart attack. She wasn’t certain her legs would hold her up, let alone carry her up the mountain, but she forced herself forward in Mallory’s tracks. She wasn’t foolish enough to hope Mallory wouldn’t regret what she’d just done, but Mallory’s kiss proved she wasn’t alone in her desire, and that was enough. At least she could tell herself that for now.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Mallory stopped to assess a thirty-foot cleft in the mountainside that fell away into a deep ravine. They’d been climbing steadily for two hours, their progress impeded more than she’d anticipated when they’d needed to traverse fresh snow and rock slides. They had another two hours of good light, and she wanted to reach the edge of their search grid before then. Her hope of finding any of the kids alive was wavering, but she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, until she knew for certain. Above the five-hundred-foot drop, a narrow ledge, less than two feet wide in places, cut across the rock face at a forty-five degree upward angle. A portion of the outcropping had fallen away, probably eroded by ice and frost. The adjacent rock face was nearly vertical and iced over. She uncoiled her climbing rope from the clip on her pack, tied in to her harness, and handed the free end to Jac. “I’ll lead. You’ll belay.”

  Jac secured the belay device to her harness but didn’t attach Mal’s rope. “Mal, that ledge looks iffy. Use bolts.”

  “Planning on it,” Mallory said. Maybe if Jac hadn’t been with her, she wouldn’t have. She’d free soloed plenty and was comfortable without ropes, but if she was tied in to Jac, she wasn’t going to risk pulling Jac over the side with her if she fell. She’d take the time to screw in the ice screws and attach her line as she made her way across.

  “We still might need to find another way around,” Jac said as she positioned the line in the belaying device, anchored to an outcropping of solid rock, and adjusted the friction. “That ledge may not hold.”

  Jac sounded worried, and Mallory knew it wasn’t from fear. Jac didn’t seem to have a fear bone in her body. They hadn’t talked since she’d kissed Jac in a moment of wild, insane abandon. What could she possibly say about that kiss? She might have dismissed Jac’s uninvited kiss as meaningless, but she’d kissed her back. And then some. She’d kissed Jac. Even thinking the words made her head hurt. She hadn’t intended to kiss Jac. Hadn’t known she was going to do it. But Jac’s hands on her face had been so incredibly gentle, incredibly tender. Unbelievably powerful. And then Jac’s mouth had been exploring hers, careful but not cautious. Testing, asking, but never hesitant. Jac was never hesitant. Even now she wasn’t afraid. But Mallory was afraid for her—just a tiny kernel of fear she couldn’t let grow.

  “We’ll take it slow.” Mallory grasped Jac’s shoulder and squeezed. Right now, she needed to put what had happened between them out of her mind. Somehow. “If we have to backtrack, we will, but if we do, we’ll probably have to go halfway down the mountain to find an alternate route. We’ll lose the light, and I hate taking the chance they’re up ahead somewhere. Possibly close by. We can’t leave them out here another night. They won’t make it.”

  “I know that, and I agree with you.” Jac leaned close as a gust of wind swirled a cloud of snow around them. Her words came close to Mallory’s ear, her breath warm against Mallory’s neck. “But I’m not gonna take a chance on losing you. I’m just not.”

  “I know what I’m doing. You have to trust me on that when we’re out here in the field.”

  “I do,” Jac said instantly. “I trust you wherever we are.”

  Mallory’s throat tightened. Jac had to be the bravest woman Mallory had ever met. She’d been hurt, betrayed, abandoned, and still she took risks. Jac didn’t hide her heart, she didn’t shield herself. What the hell was wrong with her? “Don’t do that, Jac, just don’t.”

  “Don’t do what? Trust you? Why not?”

  Jac sounded so damn reasonable and looked so damn beautiful with strands of wavy dark curls framing her face below her red wool cap, Mallory didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her again. “Because I meant what I said back there. You kissed me and I kissed you back. I won’t lie about that.” She shook her head. “How could I? But it’s not happening again. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. And if we’re going to work together, that kiss needs to stay back there from now on. Let it go. Now.”

  The brilliant light in Jac’s eyes dimmed, as if shutters had slammed closed. “I get it, Mallory. It won’t be an issue. You have m
y word.”

  “Good,” Mallory said, a hollow ache spreading inside her. Finally, her words had gotten through, so why didn’t she feel happy? Watching Jac pull away hurt. She hadn’t expected it to hurt, though why, she didn’t know. She seemed to be without defenses whenever Jac was around—feeling everything as if she had no shields, the slightest touch searing through her, every look, every word striking deep inside her. Now that the invisible connection had snapped, a spot between her breasts burned as if she were bleeding. She sucked in a breath, steadied herself. “Okay. Let’s get across and find these kids.”

  “Right,” Jac said, her tone all business. Nothing in her voice, nothing in her expression, indicated that only a few hours ago they had touched like lovers.

  “On belay.” Mallory put the image from her mind. She couldn’t afford to think of it now, she couldn’t afford to think of it ever. She inched out onto the ledge, tested the footing with her ice ax, and called, “Slack.”

  Jac played out some of the rope, and Mallory advanced foot by foot. After she’d gone six feet, she called, “Tension,” braced her legs, and pounded in an ice bolt. Once she’d clipped the rope to the protection, she repeated the procedure, slowly making her way across the ledge.

  “Off rope,” she called when she reached the other side. She untied the rope and fed it through her ATC to guide Jac’s climb across. Ice crystals swirled in the air, catching what little light remained and refracting it into tiny rainbows. Jac stood on the far side of the ravine, her features softened by the winter mist. So much more separated them than thirty feet of ice and rock and empty air. Jac was brave, but Mallory wasn’t. Two good men had died, men she’d worked with for years, as close to her as brothers. She’d loved them like brothers, and their deaths had nearly crippled her. Even friendship was a risk. Her love for Sarah—the thought of losing her—terrified her now. She didn’t want more, and Jac made her want more.