Firestorm

by Radclyffe

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, Car,” Jac said. “Mostly I just want to get tonight’s sideshow over with.”

  “I wish I were as brave as you, so I could disappear too,” Carly said. “But I don’t want to be a soldier. No way am I sleeping in a tent with a bunch of guys around and bugs.”

  Jac laughed. “Just hang in there until you get to college. Things will get a whole lot better then.”

  “How come you came back?”

  Jac looked away from her sister’s penetrating stare. One of the things she loved about Carly, and found the most irritating, was Carly’s habit of asking personal questions as if it was her absolute right to know the answers. Privacy was not a word in her vocabulary. “This time it was easier than fighting him.”

  Carly’s brows drew down. “That doesn’t seem like you. You’ve always been too proud to let him tell you what to do.”

  “Sometimes there’s things more important than your pride.”

  “I didn’t think there was for you.”

  Jac nodded. “Me neither.”

  Carly drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, laying her cheek on her knees. “It’s a girl. Right?”

  Jac couldn’t help smiling, even though thinking of Mallory hurt. Thinking of her also made her happier than anything ever had, and for the past few days had been the only thing that kept her going. “Yeah, it’s a girl.”

  “Special one?”

  “A real special one.”

  “So I guess you kind of fucked things up, huh?”

  Jac nudged Carly with her elbow. “Language.”

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Please.”

  “And what makes you think I fucked anything up? Geez, Carly.”

  “You’re here by yourself. If you’re here at all, you must’ve fucked something up.”

  Jac sighed. “Probably. Most likely.”

  “Is she mad at you?”

  “She ought to be.”

  “What did she say when you left?”

  Jac flushed. “Not much. We didn’t really talk about it.”

  “Oh boy. You really, really, really did fuck up.”

  “Yeah. Remind me about it, why don’t you.” Jac jumped up and pulled her uniform jacket off the hanger. She slid it on, buttoned it, and checked her reflection in the mirror. She pressed down her collar and aligned her tie. “Come on. I’ll wait for you to get dressed. I’ll be your escort tonight.”

  “That’s kind of queer. But nice all the same.” Carly heaved herself up off the bed with loose-limbed grace. “Okay, but you better get between me and the fallout from Daddy when he finds out you’re not wearing the dress you were ordered to wear.”

  “He’ll have to shoot me before I wear that.”

  Carly slid her arm through Jac’s. “I know it sucks for you, but I’m glad you’re here. It sucks a little bit less for me.”

  The ache in Jac’s chest spread down into her belly, and she wondered how much longer she could stay standing. She kissed Carly’s temple. “Then I guess I did one thing right.”

  *

  Mallory didn’t have any trouble finding the ballroom where Senator Franklin Russo’s presidential campaign fund-raiser was being held. She just followed the crowd of tuxedo-clad men escorting elaborately coiffed women bedecked in expensive gowns and glittering jewels down the carpeted hallway of the mezzanine of the Four Seasons Hotel. Twenty minutes on the Internet when she’d gotten back to base the night before had given her the location and time, and she’d covered the 450 miles to Boise in the morning with plenty of time to get checked into a hotel, shower, and change. She wasn’t wearing a gown or a bank vault full of jewels, but she looked presentable enough in the black suit she’d borrowed from Sarah—she didn’t yet know why Sarah felt the need to bring a Donna Karan suit into the north woods—and heels she’d purchased herself that afternoon. Fortunately, the fund-raiser was not an invitation-only affair, and she hoped she’d pass as press corps or even hotel staff. She didn’t really give it much thought—Jac was here somewhere, and she was going to see her no matter what. If she didn’t do this, she’d drive herself crazy for the rest of her life wondering what might have been.

  Two young guys in off-the-rack black suits flanked the double doors into the noisy ballroom. Both had close-cropped blond hair, square jaws, broad shoulders, and the flat stare common to bouncers and cops and security guards the world over. Mallory wasn’t intimidated. She worked with tough guys every day. She smiled at one, said hello to the other as if they were best friends, and walked past them into a brightly lit room filled with white linen covered tables beneath crystal chandeliers. Buckets of Domaine Chandon sat in the center of every table, ringed with china plates, silver flatware, and crystal glasses, all glittering as brightly as the jewels adorning the donors.

  At the far end of the room, two long tables flanked a speaker stand bristling with microphones upon a raised dais. Franklin Russo, a vigorous, youthful-appearing fifty and even more handsome in person than his photos suggested, sat to the left of the speaker stand with a dark-haired, middle-aged, patrician woman who was beautiful if a little detached, as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Even from the far side of the room, Mallory could see the woman’s resemblance to Jac. Mallory swiftly searched the rest of the faces of Russo’s entourage, almost passing by her before registering the dark eyes that captured hers like none ever had. In the few days since she’d seen her, Jac had changed. Her cheekbones slashed above sharply hollowed cheeks, as if she’d dropped weight on a forced march. Her thousand-yard stare was remote, removed, impenetrable. She sat erect, her shoulders squared, her hands invisible, probably folded in her lap in keeping with the rest of her militarily rigid posture. The uniform was perfect, not a crease out of alignment, not a wrinkle. Jac was so still she might not even have been breathing, her gaze fixed at some distant point as if she were absent from the room in all ways but physical. Jac had effectively disappeared herself.

  Mallory’s heart seized. The red sea of Jac’s pain wafted over her, nearly suffocating her. She fought for her next breath and steadied herself with her fingertips against the pristine white linen covering the table next to her. She couldn’t look away from Jac, even though she bled to see her this way.

  “Jac,” she murmured. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Jac drifted in the zone between hyperacute awareness and total detachment. The murmur of the audience, the speaker standing a foot away from her extolling her father’s virtues, all receded into the background the way the sound of the ocean pounding outside a seaside cabin becomes white noise. The rapt faces of the men and women clustered at the tables and crowding the edges of the room blurred into pale, flat caricatures. Even as she separated herself from everything around her, she was exquisitely aware of the slightest change. Carly shifting impatiently in the chair beside her. The pop of a champagne cork. The rising tide of excitement as the time for her father’s speech drew closer. Her gaze was unfocused but missed nothing—the rotation of the security guards at the front doors, Fleming passing behind the stage giving orders into her Bluetooth headset, a waiter approaching the dais with a fresh pitcher of water.

  A heat signature ignited at the back of the room, and her focus honed in on it. Her pulse skyrocketed at the flare of recognition, and her right hand clenched on her thigh. She drew in a sharp breath. Mallory.

  From across the sea of faceless bodies, Mallory smiled at her, and the shield Jac had set between herself and a world in which she had no place shattered like crystal on stone. Sensation flooded her. Joy. Worry. Guilt. Need.

  “I have to go,” Jac whispered as she pushed her chair back.

  Carly stared at her. “Are you freaking kidding me? He’ll kill you.”

  Jac shook her head and ran her knuckles along the edge of Carly’s jaw. “No, he won’t.”

  Carly grabbed her hand. “Jac—don’t leave, okay?”

  “I won’t.” The constricting b
and around Jac’s chest relaxed, and she breathed deeply, finally freed by the chance to stop running. “Behave for the rest of the night. I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  Jac slipped from her chair, jumped down from the back of the stage, and maneuvered through the electrical cords and sound equipment on the floor.

  Fleming stepped into Jac’s path, her finger at her ear, probably clicking off her microphone. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need to take a walk.”

  “Not now.”

  “I’ve done my duty for the evening. Everyone’s had a look at me. The only thing anyone cares about now is his speech.”

  “You don’t leave until his speech is over and everyone has pledged their donations. Then you work the room, making nice. You know the drill, Jac.” Fleming half turned away and muttered something into her headset.

  “Good night, Nora.” Jac stepped around her, and when Fleming tried to get in front of her again, she grasped Fleming’s elbows, lifted, and moved her aside. Anyone watching would’ve thought she was just steadying Fleming as she passed by. Fleming sucked in her breath, but she was no physical match for Jac, and Jac strode away.

  Everyone in the room was focused on the stage, and Jac quickly made it to the back of the ballroom. When she reached the spot where she’d seen Mallory, Mallory was gone. Panic surged until Jac smelled honeysuckle and turned, captured by the scent. Mallory had moved into the shadows away from the tables. Jac hurried to her, still a little bit afraid she might disappear.

  “Hi, Jac.” Mallory smiled softly.

  Jac ran her hand down Mallory’s arm. Mallory was real. Mallory was here. “I thought I might’ve dreamed you.”

  “Nice dream?”

  “It is now.”

  “Feel free to dream about me anytime,” Mallory whispered.

  “I will.” Jac’s brain was fuzzy, her heart racing so fast she was dizzy. “You look incredible. I miss the work boots, but the heels aren’t a bad substitute.”

  Mallory laughed and ran her fingers over Jac’s chest. “This is all pretty impressive. You look amazing yourself.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you know?” Mallory asked, her voice low and husky.

  “Mallory,” Jac groaned, her chest an agony of need. “God, I want to touch you.”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to.” Mallory’s eyes never left Jac’s. “I was afraid I’d lost you. I don’t want to lose you, Jac.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel that way. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want this”—Jac jerked her head toward the crowded room—“this monster dressed up to look civilized to suck you under.”

  “You ought to know by now I don’t go down easy.” Mallory drew a deep breath and traced Jac’s name tag with her finger. “I love the uniform, but it scares me a little. You’re not going back, are you?”

  Mallory trembled, and knowing she was the cause about broke Jac’s heart. She clasped Mallory’s shoulders and pulled her close. “No. No, I’m not. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Baby.” Mallory pressed her hands to Jac’s chest and pushed back from her. “I don’t think this is a good place for public displays of affection.”

  “I don’t care.” Jac reached for her.

  Mallory smiled crookedly. “I believe you, but we’re about to have compa—”

  Fleming appeared next to Jac, her face an icy mask of fury. She glared at Mallory and gestured to one of the security guards, who immediately strode toward them. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Jac put herself between Mallory and the guard. “You’re gonna want to tell him to back off, Nora, or we’re going to have a scene.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Fleming said dismissively.

  “Oh, I would.”

  Fleming narrowed her eyes at Jac, then abruptly waved off the guard. “All right, we’ll do this quietly. But I need you back up on that stage, Jac.” She pointed at Mallory. “And I need you gone. I thought you understood that the other day.”

  “No,” Mallory said conversationally, taking Jac’s hand. “I don’t believe I ever agreed to that. And if I’d had a chance to talk to Jac, she wouldn’t be here alone.”

  Fleming made a very uncultured sound. “You don’t really think we’re going to let Jac’s squeeze-of-the-moment be part of this, do you?”

  “Well, actually, no, I don’t.” Mallory smiled. “Jac and I will be very busy this summer on the line. And as to where Jac travels or who she travels with, that’s up to her.” Mallory leaned against Jac’s shoulder. “But if she wants me to come with her, I will.”

  “You’re willing to risk your career for a fling?” Fleming canted a brow. “You should know I can’t be bluffed.”

  “You should ask Hooker about me.” Mallory stepped closer and Fleming stumbled back, her lips parting in surprise. “He’ll tell you I never bluff. And I never lose.”

  Fleming stared, her expression stony. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” Mallory grinned. “You know, I’m not afraid of a little publicity. How about you, Nora? Think you can weather the public fallout of having your little scheme to railroad Jac into line come to light? Are you that essential to the senator’s campaign he’d let his image be tarnished? Because I think he’d throw you under the bus.”

  Fleming turned her back to Mallory and jerked Jac’s arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know better than this.”

  Jac glanced at the enraptured crowd as her father walked to center stage. His messianic aura overshadowed everything around him, including her sister and mother. His family was the pale accessory to his brilliant star. “He doesn’t need me here. He never has.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “That’s exactly the point.” Jac put her arm around Mallory’s waist. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” Mallory asked softly. “Because I’ll wait.”

  Jac drew Mallory out into the hall, and Fleming didn’t try to stop them. “I don’t want to wait. I need you now.” She stopped, suddenly aware of her surroundings. “Damn it. I came in the limo with my family. I don’t have a car here.”

  “You don’t need one,” Mallory said. “I have a room.”

  Jac kissed her. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

  Mallory pulled Jac to the elevators. They had to get out of public view before she didn’t care who saw them. The hungry, needy way Jac looked at her—as if she wanted to devour her—was driving her crazy. Mallory, her legs suddenly trembling, leaned into Jac. “Stop before I can’t.”

  “No,” Jac muttered, her teeth grazing Mallory’s throat.

  Laughing, about to burst into flames, Mallory punched the button to the elevator, praying for rescue. She was so out of control she was light-headed. Miraculously, the elevator slid to a stop almost instantly, its doors opening soundlessly on an empty car. They tumbled inside and she pushed twenty-seven. Mallory didn’t recognize herself, and for once she didn’t care. She’d had no plan when she’d walked into that ballroom, and she never did anything without a plan. She always knew where the safe zones were. She never engaged without an exit strategy in play. But tonight she’d only had a goal, and that goal was Jac. And now Jac was beside her, and nothing had ever felt so right. She pressed Jac against the back wall as the doors closed. Lacing her arms around Jac’s neck, she kissed Jac until Jac was everywhere—until she was filled with Jac’s crisp, bright smell, her strong firm body, her sweet fiery mouth. “I love you.”

  Jac groaned and pulled her closer. Their lips met, and Jac skimmed a hand up Mallory’s thigh and under her skirt. Flames scorched her senses and Mallory let the inferno rage. With Jac she could let go. She kissed Jac and kept kissing her, tasting her mouth, molding to her body, ablaze for her. “God, Jac, God. I’m dying for you.” The elevator pinged and she wondered where they were. She had to let go of her, but she didn’t think she
could. “I want you.”

  Jac’s eyes were hazy, her chest flaring with every breath. “We need to get to your room. I’m half-crazy out of my mind for you.”

  Mallory pushed away and Jac grabbed her, yanking Mallory back against her chest. Mallory ground her ass into Jac’s crotch. “Not helping. Not helping.” The doors slid open. Twenty-seventh floor. “Oh thank God.”

  Mallory dragged Jac into the deserted hall. Everyone in the entire hotel was probably downstairs on the mezzanine. Her room was only a few doors down from the elevator, and she had her key card out before they reached the door. She slid it into the lock, jabbed the handle down when the little green light came on, and shoved the door open. Then Jac was crowding her inside and slamming the door behind her.

  “The lock,” Mallory gasped.

  Jac engaged the deadbolt, flipped the security lock, and gripped her shoulders. “Fast or slow?”

  “Slow.” Mallory stumbled backward toward the bed with Jac’s mouth roaming over her throat. “I want to undress you.”

  “Anything you want, Mal.” Jac edged her hands inside Mallory’s jacket and traced her thumbs along the arch of Mallory’s hipbones through her silk camisole. “Anything you want. It’s yours. Take it.”

  “You,” Mallory said urgently against Jac’s mouth, working the buttons loose on Jac’s uniform by feel. “I want you, Jac. You.”

  “You have me. Always.” Jac caught Mallory’s hand and drew it to her heart. “Always.”

  “You can’t change your mind now.”

  “I won’t,” Jac whispered.

  Mallory started on the buttons on the crisp white shirt, her breathing stuttering to a stop as the fabric parted over smooth golden skin. She edged her fingertips beneath the material and brushed Jac’s nipples. They hardened instantly and Jac moaned. “Off with the jacket.”

  Jac shrugged the coat down her arms, and Mallory pushed Jac’s shirt open, bending her head to catch a nipple between her lips. Jac jerked and clasped the back of her neck, pressing Mallory’s mouth harder into her breast. Jac’s fingers were hot, burning on her skin.