by MJ Fredrick
From the corner of her eye, Peyton saw the surprise on Jen’s face as she faced Gabe.
“I’ve known Doug half my life.” Gabe’s tone was insistent. “He’s a good firefighter. Nothing’s more important to him. He would never do this.” He turned to Jen. “Why do they say he did it?”
She shook her head, and this time lost the battle with her tears. In her panic, her voice rose. “They don’t have a motive. They arrested him on physical evidence alone.”
“How did his drip torch get out there?” Peyton asked.
Both Jen and Gabe turned to her, brows furrowed in identical expressions, like she’d said something wrong.
“I don’t know.” Frustration colored Jen’s every word, every movement.
Peyton blew out an impatient breath, searching her mind for some explanation. “Could he have been starting a backfire?”
“There would have been record of authorization,” Jen said. “There was none.”
“I’m just searching for answers here.” Peyton looked curiously at Gabe, at Jen’s side. She would not allow herself to be hurt. There were no sides here, right? Jen was just worried about her husband, and Gabe was worried about Jen, so he was feeling protective. He couldn’t still love Jen and make love with her the way he had last night. “They have to have a reason, a motive. Have they set bail?”
Jen shook her head, battling tears. “It’s happened so fast.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No!” Jen’s denial burst forth on a wail, and Gabe reached for her, pulled her into his arms to soothe her.
Peyton felt like she’d been kicked in the sternum as Jen tucked her head under Gabe’s chin, folded her hands against Gabe’s chest. Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the former husband and wife.
It didn’t help that Jen was the one to push against Gabe’s chest and move away, to look over at her. That Gabe was the one who stood with his arms empty.
“The bail hearing is in an hour. I can’t go, I can’t leave, not with the president due to arrive tomorrow.” Jen wiped at her face and looked at Peyton. “Will you go?”
Peyton stared, unable to fathom what the woman had just said. Even Gabe took a step back. “Jen, he’s your husband.”
“And this is my job, my responsibility. Doug understands.” She swept her hand to encompass the fire camp. “I can’t just leave camp. Will you go?”
Peyton blinked. There had been days when she would have done anything to have just another hour with Dan, and this woman was choosing her career over her husband? Even with the imminent arrival of the president, she would have chosen Dan.
She was fairly certain he wouldn’t have made the same choice.
Gabe’s somber expression revealed a ghost of pain. Had Jen made those choices when she was married to Gabe as well?
“You don’t even know me,” Peyton murmured.
“Right. I know almost everyone in camp, and while I understand the word will spread faster than the fire, I need just a few more hours where no one knows. A few more hours to get my thoughts together.”
“Uh, Jen, she’s a reporter, remember?”
Color brightened Jen’s cheeks and anger flashed in her eyes when she looked at him. “I don’t need her silence forever. Just her silence for now.” She turned back to Peyton. “Will you go?”
“If Gabe will go with me,” Peyton answered finally.
Jen nodded, relief clear in every line of her body. “That would be great. I appreciate it.” Appreciate? Peyton opened her mouth, but Gabe closed his hand around her arm and tugged her toward the tent exit.
“We’ll bring him back here.” He ducked out, pulling Peyton behind him.
“Is she kidding?” Peyton couldn’t hold the question in until they were out of earshot of the tent. “Her husband is in jail and she can’t take a few hours off?”
Gabe’s jaw tensed. “She does have a big responsibility here. She has to explain to the president how this got out of control.” A smirk twisted his lips. “It won’t be easy for her to hold back. Jen hates President Hutchinson.”
Peyton shook off the comment. “But you couldn’t do her job for a few hours? Someone else? Instead she sends you to go get Doug, knowing how you feel about him?” The words tumbled over each other in her rage.
“Technically, she sent you.” The smile he gave her was grim. “You dragged me into it.”
“Well, look.” Peyton hung back, urgency at getting to the bottom of this warring with the unfairness of it. Poor Doug. How would he feel, already vulnerable and now rejected by his wife? Put in second place to the president?
Okay, bad example.
Still. “Go tell her you’ll act as incident commander, and I’ll go with her to bail out Doug.”
He shook his head. “She won’t like that solution. She’s a firefighter first, Peyton. She always has been. Don’t be too hard on her. It’s bad, but he didn’t do it.”
“That doesn’t always matter. Maybe—maybe she didn’t come herself so she could keep a distance from him. It wouldn’t do her career any good to be married to a suspected arsonist, right? And that’s why she doesn’t want anyone to know yet.”
What the hell was wrong with these people that they didn’t see the problem there? No matter how important the job, people were more important. Would Doug understand when his wife didn’t show up? Was he just like these two? She didn’t think so. Even the expression on Gabe’s face when Jen had refused to leave told Peyton he didn’t agree with Jen’s decision.
Dan had been driven like Jen, and Peyton could easily imagine Doug’s reaction when Jen didn’t show up at the courthouse. Did she and Gabe have more in common than she thought? “Was that part of the reason you broke up? That she put the job first all the time?”
Gabe looked at her, like he had a message he wanted to make sure she got. She returned his gaze questioningly, and he glanced away. “I’m not all that different. We were equal there.”
Just like Dan. Damn it, she knew better. So why let it hurt? Could she handle being part of a relationship where she was second to the job again? Was she willing to be committed to a man who didn’t put her first? “But if the person you loved was in trouble—would you stay on the job and let someone else take care of it?”
His eyes were sad, as if he was unable—or unwilling—to give her more. “I wish I could say no. The hell of it is, I don’t know.”
She nodded, but needed more. She had to cut bait. As soon as she could get out of here, she would. As great as the sex had been, she wasn’t willing to give up part of her soul again.
Forcing her thoughts to the present and not to what-might-have-beens, she made her way to the van they’d just parked.
“You’re very certain Doug’s innocent,” she said as he pulled out of the camp onto the main road. “Up on the mountain, you were ready to believe he was capable of anything.”
Gabe’s gaze cut to her, and she felt the wariness that had disappeared overnight cloak him again. See, another reason to walk away. He wouldn’t allow himself to trust her.
He turned his attention back to the dirt road. “I’ve known him a long time. He may be a son of a bitch, but he wouldn’t put anyone’s life in danger. He’s been around the dragon too long.”
“Was he with you on Angel Ridge?”
The van staggered when he let his foot off the pedal in surprise, throwing Peyton against her seatbelt. “Who told you about that?”
“Howard.” She straightened, adjusted the strap over her shoulder and took a deep breath before pursuing the conversation. “You’d have to respect fire after seeing something so horrifying.”
“No, Doug wasn’t there.” He accelerated again. So much for elaboration. “He was in Montana. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have respect for fire, though.”
“That doesn’t preclude him from being an arsonist. Why are you so certain he isn’t?” She was pushing him, more than was wise, but she was leaving anyway, right? Why did she care if he w
as mad at her, as long as she got the story?
So what if she was doing what he accused her of? Using people for her own gain?
“I told you. He wouldn’t risk hurting people. He doesn’t have it in him.”
“He hurt you.” She wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth.
She was forcing him to turn away, in case she didn’t have the courage to walk when the time came.
“Goddamnit, Peyton, what do you think I’m going to say?” When the tires hit the shoulder, he fought the wheel to pull the van back onto the road. “That he did it, and I’m glad, and I hope he rots in jail, so I can have Jen?”
“Is that what you want?” She forced the words past the lump in her throat.
“Jesus, are you jealous?” His voice rose on his incredulity.
She choked back the lump. “Of a woman who can’t walk away from her job long enough to get her husband out of jail? No.”
“Hitting a little close to home?” he asked quietly, with an insight she hadn’t expected, not when his own emotions had to be too close to the surface for his comfort. He was thinking of Dan, of what she’d told him. His tone and perceptiveness had her relaxing marginally.
“Maybe.” She didn’t have to push so hard, not yet. Again, she steered the conversation. “Jen thinks he’s been set up. He has no clear motive. Jen has more of a motive than he does.”
He whipped around in surprise. “What’s hers?”
“She got to be IC, didn’t she? Clearly her job’s important to her.” Or Jen would be the one going to town.
He was silent a moment, his jaw working angrily. “Jen has a lot of faults, God knows, but setting up her husband to take a fall isn’t one.”
In his opinion, anyway. Gabe did value loyalty. Why he thought the woman who hadn’t shown him any would show it for another man, Peyton didn’t know. “I don’t believe she did it. I’m reasoning out loud, trying to figure why they think Doug might have done it, aside from the physical evidence. Jen has a stronger motive.”
“As do I. Everyone knows my feelings about Doug.”
If she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, she’d be lying. Guilt washed through her for even considering it. She may have only known Gabe three days, but she understood him, the kind of man he was. If someone accused him, she would stand in his corner, and not just because of the great sex. “If we’re going to go that direction, say that he’s being set up, then being accused is something you have to be prepared for.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “Do you think I did it, Peyton?”
“Of course not.” The words came like a reflex, but they weren’t a lie.
He must have realized this too, because his posture relaxed. “Why not? You’re ready to believe Doug did it.”
“Because you have honor. Look, I liked Doug when we were on the mountain. He was a real affable guy. But I don’t know him well enough to make the call. And I don’t know firefighting well enough to know why someone would start a fire and blame it on someone else.”
“A firefighter wouldn’t do this. Trust me.”
*****
Half a million dollars to let Doug out of jail. Gabe couldn’t fathom that kind of money.
Doug had looked like hell. His bridge was missing, and someone else had broken his nose this time. Gabe could understand—Doug was being held with people whose homes and livelihoods were threatened by the fire.
A lot of reporters milled in front of the white-bricked Grecian-style courthouse in Bounty, including microwave towers from all the major news stations across the country. If Gabe had been thinking clearly, he and Peyton would have changed out of their Nomex gear before showing up. The yellow and green uniform acted as a magnet for the reporters, who mobbed them, shouting questions he didn’t have answers to.
Questions he’d asked himself since he’d heard.
Only a matter of days ago, Gabe would have been happy to let Doug rot. Now it was public sentiment driving him to get Doug out of jail, not any softening toward the man. He was still a son of a bitch. But not a son of a bitch who deserved to be in jail.
Jesus, this was a nightmare, like learning about Doug and Jen all over again. A betrayal to the soul. At first, when Jen had told him she loved Doug, he’d denied it to himself, needing to believe Doug would never risk their friendship. They’d been through too much to split over a woman.
And now to find the same man accused of arson—it was almost worse, somehow. Everything he knew about the man was at odds with the idea he was a firebug. The man loved his job. Grudgingly, Gabe could see him being swayed by a woman, but not by the lure of the dragon.
Peyton stood nearby, on the phone with Jen, one palm pressed over her free ear. He didn’t understand why she had trouble hearing—he could hear Jen just fine, freaking out over the bail.
“Half a million?”
“If we get a bondsman, we only have to pay ten percent.”
Why was Peyton saying “we”? She was trying to calm Jen down, but there was a limit to his willingness to get involved. Hell, he didn’t have any money, and as career firefighters, Jen and Doug probably didn’t either. And ten percent of five hundred thousand dollars was still fifty thou.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have it!”
Definitely freaking out.
Peyton murmured something into the phone and disconnected.
“She said she’ll try to get it.”
Gabe hadn’t heard her say any such thing. “She doesn’t know anyone with that kind of cash.”
Peyton tucked the phone in her front pocket, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah, she does.”
Damn inscrutable woman. “Who’s she going to ask? The president?”
“There’s a thought,” Peyton said sarcastically, moving toward the window to look out at the crowd of reporters. “What happened to him inside?”
“Jail, you mean?” He joined her at the window, close, but not too close. Her story about her husband still had him off-kilter. He didn’t really want to let her out of his sight. What was the next step? If it hadn’t been for Doug, would she be on her way already?
He kind of hated himself for being relieved she had to stay.
“It’s bad for him in there.”
Goddamn, he hated standing with a woman he cared for and talking about Doug. “Yeah, it’s not good. Those are the people who live here, whose lives are threatened by this.”
“He has to get out.”
“Peyton, we don’t have that kind of money.”
She turned to him, her brown eyes at once solemn and pleading. Pleading for what, he wished he knew. “I do.”
He bent closer. “You do what?”
“I have the money. If you can swear to me he’s innocent, I’ll post his bond.”
He drew back, watching her. The pleading in her eyes made sense now. Poor little rich girl, playing at being a firefighter. “Peyton. Rich girl name?”
She shook her head, turning her attention back to the window. “I wouldn’t ask them for money. No, the PBA takes good care of its widows.”
This time he stepped back. Widow. Christ. She was willing to give up so much for Doug? Her husband’s pension? Who the hell was she, to make that offer for someone just because he vouched for him?
“No. I’m not letting you do that.”
“It would just be a loan. Better than letting an innocent man sit in jail.” She pulled her battered phone out of her pocket. “Look, I’m going to call my lawyer, see if she can recommend anyone who wants to come out here to defend him, all right?”
“Peyton.” He called her back when she walked toward the side door. “Why are you doing this?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Because it’s justice. I’m going to go talk to the sheriff, see what he’ll give me.”
Chapter Eleven
Peyton ignored Gabe’s questioning expression when she joined him in the lobby outside the jail. She should have waited before coming over here, should have
taken more time to gather herself, to think through what she’d learned.
Gabe’s loyalty to the man who had been disloyal to him touched her. Because Gabe believed Doug was innocent, so did she. But the evidence was really of the oh-hell variety.
As in, oh hell, it was pretty damning.
Part of her didn’t want to destroy the faith Gabe had in Doug, not when he’d stepped out of his own resentment to defend the man.
They had no motive. Sheriff Bosquez had admitted as much to her. As long as he didn’t have motive, she could believe like Gabe, despite the physical evidence.
She couldn’t help studying Gabe’s hands though. While there was no recent burn, of, say, a metal handle searing into his palm, he had a number of scars, though he wore gloves on the line. So while she felt relief that they couldn’t pin this on Gabe, saying he set up Doug, she had to wonder about the relevance of Doug’s burn scars. Clearly they wouldn’t eliminate a lot of suspects by using lack of scars. All the Hot Shots had them.
She dropped to the bench beside Gabe with a sigh, looked toward the door where Doug would be released once he was processed.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Christ, Peyton. You’re the one who just got back from the sheriff’s office,” he blurted with uncharacteristic impatience.
Like she could keep anything from him. The man saw right through her, every time. “You wear gloves whenever you’re on the line?” She turned to him.
“Yeah.” His tone was edged with caution.
“Even when you’re operating the drip torch?”
“Especially then. You don’t want to take any chances.”
She reached for his hand, laid it palm up on her lap, traced her fingers over it. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thicker.
She glanced up with a grin, saw his tightening jaw. “You have a lot of scars, for all the gear you wear.”
“Been doing this a long time.”
“But with the gloves, how do you get the scars?”
He folded his fingers over hers. “Peyton, what’s going on?”
