Smoke and Fire

by Julie Cannon

  Brady started to stir. Fuck. Nicole wanted to run, escape. She didn’t want to face her. She felt completely humiliated and embarrassed by the way she’d treated her. She hadn’t let Brady touch her except that when she was tasting her she clasped Brady’s hand. They stayed that way until Brady came in her mouth. The second time, when her fingers were exploring and brought Brady to orgasm, she let Brady wrap her arms around her.

  Nicole couldn’t risk Brady’s touch, afraid it would crumble her weakening defenses. She didn’t know how she felt. She’d used Brady for her own needs. She needed to feel the soft skin of a woman, trace soft curves and hard muscles over soft skin. Inhale her scent. Hear her gasps of pleasure in the dark. Feel her tremble in her arms. And Brady had.

  Thinking Brady had fallen asleep, Nicole started to remove her fingers from inside her. Surprising her, Brady reached down and held her hand in place.

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  Nicole’s mouth went dry with the overwhelming desire to take her again. The thought shot out of her mind and she stiffened as Brady rolled her onto her back.

  “Shh,” Brady said, simply snuggling Nicole beside her, settling her head in the crook of her neck.

  Realizing Brady wasn’t going to try to do something she wasn’t ready for, Nicole relaxed. She was amazed at Brady’s self-control, or maybe she was just exhausted. Nicole was. She had no idea what time it was, and when she started to move to look at the clock, Brady spoke again.

  “Shh, be still.” Brady pulled Nicole closer. After a few minutes Brady was asleep, her breathing deep and even.

  How did this happen, Nicole asked herself. Three weeks ago I was happy and content with my life. Loved my job, had a few friends, and had rebuilt my life. How did I find myself with this woman in my arms? The scent of her on my hands, the taste of her on my lips, the feel of her next to me. How did she get here? How did I let her get here?

  This couldn’t happen again. Nicole’s confusion turned into resolve. This wouldn’t happen again. She would go home today, Brady would go back to her job, and Nicole would make it a point that they never saw each other again. Nothing could come of this, so why even try? Brady deserved more. Nicole couldn’t give it to her. She relaxed as her action plan formed in her mind and her thoughts drifted to the woman holding her.

  Nicole woke, stretched her arms above her head, and opened her eyes. She was a little groggy and didn’t understand why she was still dressed. Like a shot, the events of the evening and most of the night bounced through her head. She quickly sat up, looking around the room for any signs Brady was still there. She listened for any sound of her in the bathroom. When she was certain Brady was gone she flopped back on the bed, throwing one arm over her eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” she groaned. “What in the hell did I do?” She knew exactly what she’d done and what had happened, and either fortunately or unfortunately she didn’t have anyone to blame but herself.

  She rolled over and the scent of Brady lingered on the pillow and her hands. Heat flushed through her as she remembered how Brady had done exactly what she said she would, and that was absolutely nothing unless Nicole asked her to. She’d told Nicole she was in charge and she’d kept her word.

  Nicole remembered a few times when Brady had started to reach for her and then stopped. How did Brady know that if she made a move, however slight, Nicole would probably freak and throw her out? What an amazing woman. She didn’t know if she could have been as strong if the roles were reversed. It was one thing to be made love to and another thing to be made love to and not be able to respond as a woman would naturally do. Brady hadn’t grabbed her hair while her tongue was in intimate places; she hadn’t tried to sneak her hand under her shirt or unbuckle her pants. She hadn’t done anything but lie back and let Nicole take her.

  Nicole glanced at the clock, noticing how late it was, then got up and headed to the shower. Propped up against the sink faucet was a note obviously written in Brady’s bold handwriting. Her hand shook as she picked it up.

  Nicole,

  Last night was magnificent and so are you.

  Take care,

  B

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say. It was magnificent, I’m magnificent? No request to see me again? No phone number? What the fuck, Brady? Obviously you got what you were after.”

  Nicole tossed the note onto the counter and started to unbutton her shirt but stopped when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her wig was slightly askew, her lips swollen from Brady’s kisses. Her clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them.

  She looked at herself with disgust now. “Isn’t this what you expected? Why are you so upset?” she asked to the serious woman reflected back at her. “This is what you want. You don’t want a relationship with her. You don’t want a relationship with anyone. What kind of relationship would that be? Having sex when she’s completely naked and you’re completely dressed. What does she get out of that? Do you really think that’s what she wants? Someone like Brady wants a complete woman…and you’re not it.”

  Nicole wheeled her bag through the lobby and took her place in line at the front desk. She’d been angry when she packed, throwing her clothes into her suitcase with no sign of order. The note from Brady, however, was tucked securely in her backpack.

  The line moved slowly and Nicole couldn’t think about anything other than Brady. She should be thinking of all the work that had piled up on her desk while she was gone, the contacts she had to solidify after her meeting with President Charsea. But none of those things held her attention. Not anymore.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” A heavily accented voice repeated itself before Nicole realized the desk clerk was talking to her. Everyone in front of her was gone and it was obviously her turn at the counter.

  “Checking out, ma’am?” the young man asked politely as she approached.

  “No, I’m not,” Nicole said, surprised at the words that tumbled from her mouth.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Nicole hired a driver and gave him instructions to the well site and told him to step on it. Brady was there. Her crew was going to be capping the well today. Nicole didn’t want to be there, but she was going nonetheless. She didn’t want to be there if a problem occurred, but she had to be there with Brady if there was a problem. Brady was a professional, and judging by the way she’d quizzed her last night about procedures and the nuances of fire, Nicole knew she was well prepared for this job. But shit happens, as they say, and if something happened and Brady was injured she wouldn’t fly to a strange hospital in a strange country alone like she had.

  The sky held less smoke than two days ago, indicating the fire was out. She hoped she wasn’t too late. She started to fidget, feeling the panic begin to set in, but pushed it away. She couldn’t think about Brady, couldn’t think about what could happen to her.

  Suddenly, without warning, she felt completely calm. Her hands weren’t shaking, her breathing was normal, and she didn’t feel like she was about to crawl out of her skin. She had a job to do today and that was to support Brady and her crew during this very dangerous step.

  Brady checked and double-checked the cables holding the barrels of C4. She would be driving the crane that would place the explosives over the fire. If the barrels came loose for any reason while they were suspended above the ground they could explode and destroy everything around it.

  She climbed into the cab and double-checked that everything she needed was in place. She surveyed the path she would take to the fire to ensure nothing would cause the big rig to move any more than it had to. Carrying the extra weight with the boom extended exaggerated any dip or pothole, which made controlling the machine challenging. Brady was the best at this, which is why Flick had given her the job today.

  Brady took a deep breath and made a visual check with her spotters. Dig was to her left and would be giving her directions. Couch and Crank would give directions to Dig to pass on to Brady to center the explosives ove
r the fire. Mast and Anchor were manning the water hoses. It was time. She fired up the engine and gripped the controls.

  The rig moved slowly toward the fire. Brady kept her eyes on Dig, who kept his eyes on Couch and Crank. For the first few hundred yards the pace was slow and Brady concentrated on keeping the explosives calm. She adjusted the controls to increase her speed when Dig signaled her.

  The heat intensified as she moved closer. Only the front of the cab was protected with a heat shield, a section cut out for her to see through. There was no protection on the sides, which allowed her to escape from either exit if the need arose.

  Sweat dripped down the side of her face and between her breasts. Her mind flashed to Nicole licking the sweat from the same place last night and the rig lurched. “Shit!” she shouted, but no one could hear her, the distance and the roar of the fire her silent partner. Focusing her attention back on Dig where it belonged, she regained control. She had never lost her focus on the job and couldn’t afford to now.

  Closer and closer she steered the barrels to the fire until Dig gave the signal they were in place. She set the brake, turned off the engine, and jumped out of the cab. Scrambling to her safety zone behind the rig she waited for the results of her handiwork.

  The deafening sound of the C4 exploding was what Brady was waiting for. She carefully peered around the rig and saw Dig give the signal for the new wellhead to be brought in.

  For this step Couch would be driving a different crane carrying the new head. Her job was to secure the new head to the well. She grabbed her tool bag and, along with Dig, stepped forward. Pulling down her face shield she began to get to work.

  The last bolt in place, Dig turned the valve and the uncontrolled flow of oil started slowing until it stopped completely. The silence after the constant roar of the fire was eerie. Dig slapped Brady on the back. “Another one bites the dust,” he said, removing his hard hat and wiping his brow before putting it back on.

  “Yep,” Brady replied. “No one got hurt. That’s the most important thing.” They peeled off what they dubbed the oil coat, the layer of protective gear designed to help keep the oil from soaking their clothes.

  “I’m gonna hose off, take a hot shower, and head into town. What do you say, Bond? You in?”

  Yes was on the tip of Brady’s tongue when she pulled off her helmet and wiped the oil from her facemask with a clean rag he handed her. When she turned she looked right at Nicole.

  Dig didn’t notice that Brady had stopped, too shocked at seeing Nicole to go any farther. She didn’t expect her here. Flick had said she’d gone home. Her exhausted body immediately responded on autopilot to how Nicole had made her feel last night.

  Brady had rarely had sex without the ability to reciprocate. But it was far more than that with Nicole. She had wanted to touch her so badly, not in a sexual way but to make a connection. She’d had sex with a lot of women, and most, if not all, episodes were strictly physical. And next to what she’d felt with Nicole, almost mechanical. Insert tab A into slot B. Push, then release. Rub vigorously until climax, then soothe.

  It hadn’t been like that with Nicole. For the first time she felt something. Not physically. Hell, she felt that every time. No, it was something else she couldn’t put her finger on. And when Nicole put her fingers on her and in her, Brady had gone somewhere else. Her senses had never been so alive. Every nerve ending was hypersensitive, so all Nicole had needed to do was lightly blow on her and she came unglued.

  Brady broke into a smile and started toward Nicole but stopped again when the look on her face shattered her euphoria. Nicole was terrified.

  *

  Brady hurried over to where Nicole stood as if she were frozen in time. Nicole didn’t look at her or give any indication she realized Brady was there. Her eyes were glazed, and if Brady didn’t know any better she’d think she’d fallen into some kind of trance or seizure. But she did know better. She’d heard her scream in her nightmares that first night she’d stayed with her. She knew what post-traumatic-stress syndrome was.

  PTSD often caused flashbacks to the original event as if it were happening that very second. Every sight, sound, and smell captured forever in time. Some sufferers reenacted the event up to and including hurting themselves or someone else they believed were the enemy. Others ran from the hurricane, tornado, or physical attack as they had tried to escape the first time. While others, like Nicole, simply relived it all in the screams in her head.

  Brady approached her cautiously. “Nicole?” she asked softly. She didn’t know how Nicole would react if she was startled so she repeated her name and touched her lightly on the arm. The others were busy with their own jobs, and most of them probably didn’t even realize Nicole was on site again.

  “Nicole, it’s Brady,” she said, stepping closer and into her direct line of sight. “Nicole, today is June 12th and we’re here in Greslikstan. You are the big boss at McMillan and I’m just a peon worker way down on the food chain.” Brady tried to lighten the conversation, hoping that her light tone and unthreatening words would cut through to wherever Nicole was.

  “Nicole, we had dinner together last night, remember? We went to that dive Mast recommended. You had some mystery chicken thing, and I have no idea exactly what was in my rice. Remember laughing and naming far too many things we thought it might be and hoped it wasn’t?”

  Finally Nicole turned and looked at her with a gradual awareness of her surroundings. Brady thought it looked like what coming through a thick fog would be like.

  “Brady?” Nicole asked, a confused expression on her face. She glanced around and Brady recognized Nicole’s comprehension on her face.

  “I’m fine,” Brady said quickly. “Not a scratch on me, or anyone else for that matter. We did everything by the book and we’re finished. The mop-up crew will be here tomorrow and then we can all go home.” Brady allowed Nicole to get her bearings a little better. It was clear she was still a little fuzzy.

  “I’m glad,” Nicole finally said, glancing around her and more alert every passing minute. “What time is it?”

  “A little past four thirty.”

  “Four thirty?” Nicole repeated the time, shock on her face. “I left the hotel this morning a little after eleven.”

  Brady saw Nicole bite back her words when she realized what had happened. The color drained from her cheeks and her jaw sagged.

  “I don’t know what time you got here, but everybody was so busy and concentrating on their job I don’t think anyone even knew you were here. Most probably still don’t.” Brady hoped her words gave Nicole the comfort of anonymity.

  She heard Flick calling Nicole’s name and knew he’d expect her to come by and at least say something.

  “Nicole?” Brady asked.

  “I’m okay.”

  Nicole’s response did nothing to assure Brady that she was ready for her conversation with Flick.

  Nicole recognized Flick coming toward her and forced a smile. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brady slowly step back to a more professional distance.

  “Ms. McMillan, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  “Last-minute decision,” she said, forcing the words out of her throat so they didn’t sound as weak as she felt. “I haven’t had the chance to see a well killed in some time. My meetings were finished so I jumped at the opportunity.”

  She reached out to shake Flick’s hand and grasped it tight to mask how bad hers were shaking. However, one quick glance at Brady calmed her significantly. “Excellent job, Flick. You and your crew should be very proud.”

  “We appreciate that, ma’am. Not too often we get the boss out here to see what we do two days in a row.”

  “All your guys coming in?” Nicole asked, looking at the workers scattered around the site.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll round them up. I know they’d love to hear from you,” Flick said hopefully.

  “Of course,” she replied. The last thing she wanted to do was stay and cha
t with a dozen other people. She could barely hold it together with Flick. But it was the first thing she had to do as the boss.

  “How about we meet you in the chow hall in ten?” Brady suggested.

  “Perfect,” Flick said, just before he gave Nicole a mock salute, turned, and whistled.

  Nicole turned to Brady and couldn’t read the expression on her face. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary, but if this was what a woman looked like when she threw a lifeline, she was beautiful. Because that’s exactly what Brady had done. Her suggestion to meet in the chow hall gave her a few more minutes to pull herself together. And getting something to drink and holding it in her hand would mask any lingering jitters.

  Brady looked at her as if she could read her thoughts and again waited for her to respond. “Lead the way,” she replied, and indicated for Brady to do just that.

  Brady was silent as they walked the fifty yards or so to the meal trailer. Nicole was grateful Brady didn’t need to fill the silence with conversation. Especially about what had just happened or last night. She was quite remarkable in that respect, Nicole thought. Other women might have gloated about getting the boss in bed or try to finagle round two. But Brady simply walked beside her, unzipping her coveralls, pulling her arms out of the sleeves, and tying them around her waist.

  Brady held the door for her to step inside. Only one man was inside and he was headed toward the bathroom. Brady walked over to the sink and started washing her hands.

  “You know,” Brady said. “I wish someone would invent some sort of sealant you could just peel off your hand when you’re done. This is the one thing I hate about this job. It’s so damn hard to get this shit off your hands. It soaks into your pores, and no matter how hard I scrub I can’t seem to get it all off.”