by MJ Fredrick
“Oh, I’m scared,” she said.
He yanked the mask off, struggling not to cough.
“Gabe,” she scolded.
“Peyton,” he echoed, holding her eyes for a long minute before his drifted shut. “You did good out there. Real good.” And then he passed out.
Chapter Sixteen
Peyton pushed off the exam table and walked to the swinging door of the room. They’d taken Gabe away as soon as they got into the hospital, dragged her in another direction to inspect the injury to her head, but had left her in this exam room alone, and with no word of Gabe’s condition.
The sharp smell of hospital antiseptic pierced the smell of smoke clinging to her, bringing with it a pain sharper than the one in her head.
She’d been back by the mobile command unit, out of sight of the warehouse, her one concession to Dan’s concern that she was on the scene. Her heart had thundered as she listened to the terse voices of the commanders, communicating with the snipers, with the entry team. Dan’s team. She could hear the tension, the underlying excitement in his voice as he said the last words she’d ever hear him say.
“We’re going in.”
And all hell had broken loose. Gunfire, shouting, the strangled cry of Dan’s best friend Robert screaming, “Officer down! Officer down!”
She’d started running when she didn’t hear Dan’s voice in the cacophony, felt hands pulling at her, pulling back, but she twisted free and reached the warehouse.
Saw Dan’s feet outside the door, sprawled awkwardly. Lifelessly.
She’d made it to his side, dropped to her knees and gathered him to her before she looked down at his face that was—gone, then across his body at Robert before she collapsed.
She pushed the door open to peer into the hall, only to be ushered back by a harried nurse in colorful scrubs. “You have to wait inside there. The doctor will be in to release you in a minute.”
“Gabe Cooper, the firefighter.” She struggled to steady her voice. “How is he?”
The woman shook her head, her stern expression at odds with her playful clothing. “I can’t divulge that information right now. You have to get back in there.”
What the hell did that mean, she couldn’t divulge the information? What was wrong with him? Damn it—
“Miss Michaels.”
She turned toward the voice, expecting a doctor, ready to light into him, but the man who approached wore an ill-fitting sports jacket and nondescript tie, and the face above the tie was round and florid. The fluorescent lights glinted off the federal badge on his waist.
Ah.
“I’m Agent Devlin with the FBI. Are you up to talking?” He looked past her to the nurse, who opened her mouth to deny him but Peyton seized on the opportunity.
“Can you find out how Gabe Cooper is for me?”
“Sure, I can—”
“She should be resting,” the nurse said. “She had quite a blow to the head.”
“That’s what I want to talk to her about, but if she’s not up to it—”
Peyton shook her head, fought the wave of dizziness. “I’m fine.” But she had to walk back to the exam table with her hand in front of her. She hated that the nurse needed to help her back on the exam table.
Gathering her wits, she lifted her chin to address the agent. “Have you heard anything about Kim?”
“Not yet. Her brother either. Hard as hell to imagine firefighters were capable of this.”
Peyton rubbed the bandage on the back of her head. “She might have died in her own fire.”
“Maybe. But then how would her brother have known to disappear?” He dragged a plastic chair over from the corner of the room and settled his bulk on it, his notepad on the leg he crossed over his knee. “Tell me what happened up there.”
*****
Gabe hated the sweaty, suffocating feeling of the plastic mask on his face. Without opening his eyes, he shoved it off. Gentle fingers slipped it back in place.
“That’s at least the twentieth time you’ve done that.”
He opened his eyes a slit. Peyton leaned over him.
She’d made some effort to wipe the soot from her face, but she’d done it in a hurry because a black ring circled her hairline and soot darkened the curves of her ears. Her nose and eyes were red from smoke, her skin tight with first degree burns and her pretty hair hidden under filth and blood, part of it shaved away to accommodate the stitches.
When she noticed he was awake, she gave him the most beautiful smile, one he’d feared he might never see again. She was safe. He touched her cheek lightly, then reached for the mask.
“I hate this thing.” He nearly choked on his own words.
“You need it.”
Peyton moved back. They were in a hospital room. The one thing he hated worse than flying was being in the damned hospital.
“Your oxygen level was real low up on the mountain and you passed out.”
He rubbed both hands over his eyes, smelled soap. “How long ago?” Damn, it hurt to talk.
“Well, it’s almost nine a.m. now. You were out all night.”
He tried to sit up, only to be pushed back by a determined female. “Sweetheart, I lie still for too long, I’m not going to get up. Last time I lay down this long, it took me a week to walk right again.”
She twitched the sheet and blanket in place, making him feel like a damn invalid. Only Peyton could get away with babying him right now.
“You’re going to be fine,” she murmured. “They’ll probably let you go home tomorrow, but not back on the fire.”
“No problem there. Maybe I’ll see if they still have the motel room available. We’ll bring our own protection this time.”
He tried for lightness, but something was wrong. Her mouth stretched in a tight line, an expression he hadn’t seen on her before.
“Kim?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know where she is.”
“Worried?”
An energy was running through her. He could feel it from here as she fiddled with the blinds, the IV lines, hell, the water pitcher. If he had more strength, he’d grab her hand to stop her. Finally she sat in the chair beside him, but energy still vibrated through her.
He waited, not wanting to encourage her. His instincts told him whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
He always trusted his instincts.
“You jumped out of a plane,” she said at last, her hands folded in front of her.
That was why his ankles and knees hurt, damn it. “Yeah.”
“You jumped out of a plane to save me.”
“Peyton—”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He reached for her, and she straightened.
Fear seized him, stronger than the fear that had gripped him on the mountain. She was ready to walk. When had he started imagining a future with her? It hadn’t been before their first night together. Then he’d figured she would walk away. But now, he couldn’t let it happen. Comforting her was one thing, but he had the paralyzing feeling she had gone beyond needing comfort. She needed convincing. Did he have the power? “I’m fine. I’m not going to take any more chances. What we’ve got is too important.”
She stared at him as if she was looking at his ghost—or Dan’s.
“Nothing changes, does it?” she demanded, her voice choked. “You could have died up there and I had no way of stopping it. I was right there when Dan died. I had gone through EMT training. And I couldn’t stop him from dying.”
He pulled himself up on his elbow, not without some effort, but he was seeing red. “Peyton, Jesus, he was shot in the face. He died before he hit the ground. Nothing you could have done would have helped him.”
She opened and closed her fists, trying to gain control of herself. Her eyes had glassed over and he knew she was seeing it again. He cursed himself for his bluntness, tried again.
“You were up there on the mountain. Yo
u think I was just going to sit in camp and wait till the fire blew over so I could retrieve your body? You couldn’t have survived on your own. I was your only chance.”
Her shoulders dropped. He’d seen people collapse on themselves in grief, and he knew what was coming. No matter what he said, she was leaving.
The coughing seized him and he doubled over as his lungs tried to come up through his windpipe. Peyton scrambled into action. She grabbed at his shoulders, leaned him forward to stuff pillows behind his back, and shoved a glass of water in his face. He slapped it aside, sending it sloshing over her hand and onto the bed, then glared at her, trying to make her understand.
“It was bad,” he wheezed when he could, “but it’s over.”
“It’s not!” Her voice rang out in the room, and the volume of her own vehemence seemed to shock her. Every line in her body screamed tension. “You’re going to go back up. Someone else won’t be able to survive without you rescuing them. You couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t go. And if I hold you back, I’ll lose you too.”
The difficulty he had breathing now had nothing to do with the smoke he’d swallowed on the mountain. He didn’t want to hear it, not when his feelings for her were so new. His temper rose as his heart sank, like a counterweight.
“I’m not Dan,” he growled, wishing it didn’t hurt so much to talk.
“No, you’re Gabe Cooper, Hot Shot of all Hot Shots.” She whirled on him, eyes bright, her movements jerky with emotion. He wanted to go to her, draw her into his arms, soothe her, but he could barely sit up. Not the best way to convince her he was healthy. “The mountain calls you. You’re going to fight fire until it kills you.”
“I can stop.” He couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. He hadn’t realized he’d do anything to keep her with him.
She was stunned silent for a minute before she shook her head. She wouldn’t look in his eyes, which was probably just as well. He couldn’t imagine the pain that had to be there, the desperation. It couldn’t be pretty.
“You can’t, and I won’t ask you to. But don’t ask me to stay.”
“What we have between us, Peyton, it isn’t casual sex. You said you love me.” The words were raw as panic clawed at him, smothering the physical pain.
“I do.” She stood and approached the bed, tried to smile, but the sentiment was washed away by the tears streaking down her cheeks. “I do. I wish to hell I didn’t, because this would be so much easier.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching his arm at the same time. When she opened her eyes, he saw her resolve, and it cut him in two.
“But I can’t do this again. I have to protect myself. It’s selfish, but I won’t survive losing you. And I won’t ask you to be less than who you are. You’d hate me for it, and I couldn’t survive that, either.”
Tears burned his own eyes, blurred his vision, and he couldn’t blame his pain for being unable to speak. But the words to convince her to stay wouldn’t come.
She was right.
Damn it, he’d been a fool to fall in love with her—not because she was a reporter, but because she’d been destroyed once by losing the man she loved. If he was a hero, he’d let her go. “I love you,” he managed, watching helplessly as Peyton gathered her fire shirt. She stiffened for just a moment before continuing with her task.
“Gabe, you’re up! Can we come in?” Jen asked from the doorway. Then, “Oops.”
Gabe barely spared her a glance, his eyes on Peyton. She walked over to the bed, took his face in her hands, stroked his cheeks. She gazed into his eyes a long moment and through his tears he saw a pain echoing his own before she kissed him goodbye. Her lips were soft and dry, and gone before he could reach up to hold her to him.
She turned and walked out.
*****
Peyton was in no shape to speak to Jen, or Doug, who stood in the doorway behind his wife, and shoved past them, hating the desperation forcing her to flee. She pushed through the waiting Bear Claws. If she hesitated even one moment, she would turn and run back to Gabe. And immerse herself in the hell of being in love with a man who couldn’t live without danger.
She couldn’t be a hero. She couldn’t even love one.
She’d nearly separated herself from it in her mind, nearly separated Gabe from the risks he took. But the last twenty-four hours, on the mountain, in the hospital, brought it all into sharp focus, the memories of Dan’s death kicking in and overwhelming her. She understood completely that she was freaking out and behaving irrationally, but if this was the only chance she had to make a break from Gabe, she had to take it. She couldn’t live that way again.
“Peyton! How is he?” a man’s voice asked behind her as she headed toward the elevators.
She didn’t slow to see who was calling her. One of his crew, probably. They could find out from Jen. She had to get out of here right now. Footsteps echoed behind her and she picked up the pace. Escape was foremost in her mind.
A wall of men in suits stopped her exit and she looked up in surprise at the human barrier. The men looked down at her without blinking, their faces implacable. Alarm raising the hair on her arms, she tried to swerve around them, but the wall blocked her on one side, a waiting-room chair on the other. A hand on her arm had her whirling, trying to jerk free. Then she froze, face to face with the president of the United States.
“How is he? Cooper?”
Why was President Hutchinson in this hospital, dressed in yellow and green Nomex fire gear, for God’s sake, and why was he asking about Gabe with a touch of desperation? Had he been the one calling her? The president knew her name.
She took a moment to find her voice, professionalism grappling with shock. “He’s fine, sir. He’ll be fine.”
The older man’s shoulders relaxed. She was struck by how human he appeared, just like any of the other firefighters out here awaiting word. Had he been here all night too? “What happened up there?” he asked.
She pushed her hair back from her face wearily, not wanting to think about what had happened on the mountain, the terror, the race, the suffocating shelter. Gabe’s hatred of answering questions, of reliving a situation no one should have to live through in the first place, made sense to her now.
Worst of all, if anything had gone wrong, it was her fault. She gathered herself, pushed the thoughts out of her head, stopping herself before she collapsed at the feet of the leader of the free world.
“He almost died,” she said quietly. “He almost died trying to bring me back down.”
And God, if she hadn’t been up there, he wouldn’t have gone up the mountain. Could she have forgiven herself if he hadn’t made it?
Foolish. He would have gone as long as someone was in danger, if not this time, another. Of course it was dangerous. Otherwise it wouldn’t hold the same appeal. He lived for the fire, the danger.
If she held him back, he was miserable. If she let him go, she was miserable. Who needed it? And here she was standing in the presence of the president feeling sorry for herself.
“I’m sorry, sir. He’s-he’s fine. He’s in a room just down the hall, room 411. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned to walk away.
“He was going crazy trying to get to you,” the president said to her back, his voice gentle, fatherly. “He saw you from the plane and damn near jumped without a parachute to get to you. I don’t think he would have done it for just anyone.”
Peyton turned around, her heart squeezing. “I know he loves me. But I’m through with firefighting. And firefighters.”
“Peyton.”
He closed his hand over her arm to draw her into an alcove, into a seat. The man sat beside her, glancing at his Secret Service men long enough to signal them to back off a bit, before he turned those warm brown eyes to her. The same brown eyes she’d seen flashing with anger and determination on her television at home.
“Your man inspires loyalty. He’s a hero. So why are you walking away?”
So she, Pey
ton Michaels, spilled her guts—and her tears—to the president of the United States. She told him about Dan, told him her reason for writing these articles, about her sister. She told him her fear of losing Gabe for good.
“And walking away from him isn’t going to accomplish that?” the president asked, incredulous.
“It will show me whether or not I can live without him. I have to bet I can.”
“Let me tell you something, little girl,” he said, his voice stern as he shifted in his seat, and she got a much better picture of the man who could intimidate Congress. “There are people who live with these fears every day. Their husbands or wives are cops or soldiers or firefighters. They kiss them goodbye every day and don’t know if they will see them again. But they do it because that person is the most important person in the world to them, and they can’t imagine what it’s like living without them.”
“That’s right, sir,” Peyton said softly, rising, realizing it was a tremendous gaffe. She just couldn’t listen to him right now. She had to protect herself, and the only way she could was to walk away. “But I’ve made that sacrifice once. I can’t do it again.”
Chapter Seventeen
“God, Gabe, I’m so sorry,” Jen said, but instead of leaving him alone to tear apart the room, she settled into the vinyl chair, Doug on the arm. “Our timing was really bad.”
He snorted his opinion as he ripped out his IV and shoved back the sheet, ignoring the protest of his stiff muscles. “If you have delicate sensibilities, you better look away now.”
Instead, she got to her feet, trying to intimidate him back into bed. “What do you think you’re doing?” She tossed a glance over her shoulder, imploring her husband to come to her aid. “Doug!”
Gabe stopped Doug with a glare as he climbed out of bed. Jen grabbed at his bleeding arm but he shook her off.
“She’s not coming back,” he growled.
“Of course she is.” Jen glanced nervously toward the door. “She loves you.”
“She can’t love me. Because of what I am.” He leaned over to look under the bed, shook off the dizzy spell. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Where the hell are my clothes?”
