Forged (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 3)

by Piper Stone

  Chuckling, she eased her cup onto the counter, her eyes catching the bedraggled looking roses. You bet, she’d claimed them out of the trash as soon as she returned home, but her tantrum of tossing them against the wall had taken a toll. Still, they had an amazing scent.

  Woof! Woof!

  Topper placed his paw on her hand, then dug his nails into her skin.

  “Ouch! You little booger. Okay! You win.” She grabbed his bowl and walked to the pantry, scooping out dogfood. She turned her attention back to the news report realizing she wasn’t thrilled about having firemen come to the school, even if the kids would love the visit. The new mandate by the school principal had been out of the blue, with little explanation.

  Sure, she’d had a few professionals come in, even mothers and fathers, going over their careers as if exciting the kids was just a regular portion of their day. To her, this was too close of a reminder to everything she hated. There were reasons why, ones she preferred locking away in her past. Perhaps this was her inner psyche giving her a head’s up of how she would succumb to death.

  Jesus Christ, aren’t you morbid this morning and after the delicious dream you had. She pressed her hand against her mouth, holding in an evil chuckle. Last night’s dreams had been wet and hot. Sadly, not about Troy. What was she doing, reverting to a teenager with a crush? She couldn’t help but ease her hand down the bodice of her dress. A ten-minute search and destroy in her closet had led to the emerald green piece, a color everyone complimented her on, yet she hardly ever wore. Today, she felt sexy, even a bit provocative. There was no harm in looking good while she was teaching.

  Laney closed her eyes, envisioning Troy and his charming smile. Panting, she was thrown when an immediate flash of the smokejumper’s face shoved Troy’s out of the way. What was his name? Garcia something. Mmm... Who knows? Maybe she could find a way to run into him again. Then what would she say? Sorry I lied about being married. I don’t have a brooding husband ready to kick your ass? That would go over well. Lying almost solidified any concept of friendship.

  As Topper gobbled down breakfast, she searched the internet for a suitable place to take her car. The sexy smokejumper had been right. The spare tire wouldn’t last long.

  The appointment made, she tidied up the kitchen, every few seconds gazing over at the flowers. She’d learned more regarding the man, including his hobbies and favorite television shows, during one glass of wine than she had about anyone else in town. While he’d spoken about his work, she’d been able to tell he was dedicated and enjoyed plodding through the long hours. Maybe chemistry between them would grow in time. Then again, he hadn’t asked her out again. Hmm…

  When Topper was finished, she poured out the rest of her now cold coffee and grabbed her purse and briefcase. Getting to the school early was a necessity given she’d never gotten around to grading the papers. Bad girl. The thought giving her a chuckle, she kissed Topper’s head and headed for her car.

  In the early morning light, she was able to see her scuffed rim and the mud that was all over her front bumper. The flat had been a doozy. Her poor little Honda had been with her since she’d arrived in town, being almost the very first purchase. The price had been within her budget, close to nothing. So, her little Honda would remain a workhorse for now.

  While she was only an hour or so early, there were very few cars in the parking lot and none she recognized. Her heels clipping against the linoleum echoed as she walked down the hallway. Every room remained dark. Even the custodian was missing in action. She unlocked her classroom door and looked up one side and down the other. A good night’s sleep and the mystery solved hadn’t soothed her nerves.

  Once inside, she pulled out the group of papers, determined to get finished with her chore before the children arrived. Within a few minutes she was absorbed in the activity, laughing every so often at some of the answers. The children were so young, so untainted as to the way of the world.

  Ping!

  The metal sound was slight but enough she heard. Glancing up, she studied the open door, ready to see the custodian cruising by with his bucket and mop. She checked her watch. Someone had to be here by now. Oh, well. She used a purple felt tip marker to post a huge ‘A’ on the paper and patted the top. Jamie deserved the grade.

  Tap! Ping!

  This time hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She held her breath but there was still no additional sound. Swallowing, she got up slowly and crept around the edge of her desk. Then she heard a man whistling, the tone melodic, but not the same as the usual gruff man who cleaned the facility. Even his young helper didn’t sound like this. However, the whistling was getting closer.

  There was absolutely no reason for her to be nervous, but she was. She tiptoed on the front of her shoes toward the door and slid against the wall just beside it. Yes, the whistling was definitely closer. What was the dragging sound? A chain? She clenched her eyes shut, willing the sounds to go away. Closer. They were closer. Go away. Just leave me alone.

  And they did.

  Her heart racing, she waited for any other noise for a solid five seconds before darting her head just outside. There was nothing, including the fact there were no other open doors. The person had to have gone somewhere. What the hell? She panted and hovered next to the wall. Sounds echoed in the building, especially when no one was around.

  Laney exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. She refused to live this way. There was no boogeyman for God’s sake. Huffing and angry with herself, she walked with purpose out of the door.

  Whap!

  “Shit!”

  The man with the voice, the husky and ultra-sexy voice from the day before was towering over her. Her mouth dropped open as a single whimper escaped past her lips. Perhaps he was more like her personal savior.

  “I’m sorry I scared you!” He gripped her arms and smiled then his eyes flashed recognition. “Debbie Cavanaugh. Right? Mrs. Debbie Cavanaugh.”

  “Um, well…” Words remained garbled in her brain as she tried to put a coherent sentence together. The touch, his warm hands, his masculine scent was far too intoxicating.

  “Are you okay? You do remember me, right? Garcia Puevos.”

  “Uh…” Shaking off the attraction was next to impossible. Her mind shifted to the words written in her diary and for a few seconds, all she could think about was the belt he was wearing, wondering what the strap would feel like as it struck her naked ass. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I do apologize but figuring out how to get into this building took a little while. Then I walked around like an idiot.”

  His grin was infectious, the dimples and the way his forehead creased. I want him to spank me. I want… This was so out of character. She noticed the swollen eye and bit back a smile. The man was indeed dangerous. Dark. Dangerous. Delicious. The three words seemed to fit him perfectly. “You’re early but I like that in my students.”

  “This is your classroom?” He looked at the door, studying the number. “You’re a teacher?” A flush crept up his face as he seemed to realize he was still holding onto her.

  “Yes. Hard to believe?”

  Garcia cleared his throat and inched back, a flustered look crossing his face. “No. Yes. I mean…” He laughed nervously and shifted a large bag from one hand to the other. “What do you mean one of your students?”

  “Well, given you’re still fighting like a teenager, I think I need to teach you a thing or two, just like I do my seven-year-olds.” Laughing, she ushered him inside.

  “Seven-year-olds? I’m teaching babies?”

  “I assure you, they’re sophisticated little people. Not what you expected?”

  “Great. Even better. Let’s just say I’m not very good with kids.” The words somewhat strangled, he appeared embarrassed.

  The look, his demeanor and even his sullen look was endearing. Her nipples scraped against her bra, creating goose bumps popping along her arms. She sensed his domina
ting manner, hiding behind his kind smile and dashing eyes. Everyone had two distinct sides. She pressed her hand over her mouth and looked down, fighting the heat rising from the base of her neck. The silence was awkward, especially given the fact they were attracted to each other. As if some stunning revelation, she gripped the edge of her desk. “You need some ice.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “For your eye? That must hurt.” Laney had difficulty swallowing. She reached out, touching his face. The moment was intimate, and time seemed to cease moving, creating a vacuum around them. She rubbed her thumb back and forth across his upper cheek as he inched closer, placing his hand over hers. She held her breath, her heart racing as she fought issuing a strangled whimper.

  Garcia exhaled, allowing his hot breath to cascade across her face and neck as he squeezed her hand.

  No words were said. There were none needed, but she knew at that very moment they would become lovers.

  “Laney. I know I’m early, but Jamie was so excited that…”

  The amazing moment broken, she turned her head, watching Troy’s smile fade, his excited expression turning into something else entirely.

  Rage.

  Chapter 4

  “Welcome to the Rattlesnake Hot Shots Unit. We’re glad you’re here with us for a combined training exercise, Jackals. We’re all going to be a team today and you’re going to pay attention and learn. Am I clear?”

  “They call themselves Hot Shots?” Garcia asked under his breath as he took in the impressive group of mostly men. Hot Shots were the upper of the elite, highly specialized and no doubt with a salary to go along with the title.

  “The shit isn’t official, at least from what I’ve been told,” Antonio piped in, his expression blank but his eyes full of his usual Italian hostility.

  Garcia studied the large group of at least seventy-five strong, his thoughts remaining on what he’d learned from the captain. This was a method of weeding out the weak.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened to that eye of yours?” Stoker teased.

  “Nothing to tell. Just a bad experience.” Garcia touched his eye, cognizant the entire group had been looking at him, wondering about the hotdogger.

  “Right. I’ll get it out of you later.”

  “I’m the supervisor here, Matt Washington, but you can call me Moose. To my right, I have my second in command, Zane Grey. To his right are our top trainers, Raphael Hernandez and Steel Frost. We also have Cooper McKenzie from the Jackals with us as a trainer as well.”

  “Sounds like a group of male models, not smokejumpers,” Riker said between clenched teeth.

  Stoker muffled a laugh and Boone punched his side.

  “Gentlemen. Is there something funny that I should know about?” Moose barked.

  “Not a thing,” Antonio answered for the group.

  “Good, because what we’re doing today is serious. We’re changing out the use of the old parachutes and everyone must be certified in the new gear. Plus, we have the Wildland Fire Safety Commission here today to evaluate our performances. That means we’ll start with a four-mile hike.” Moose glared at Riker.

  “Doesn’t like you very much,” Landen said as he leaned over closer to Riker.

  “Don’t give a shit.” Riker’s words could be heard.

  Moose sniffed and walked out of line, moving toward Riker. When he was only a foot in front of the man, they stood eye to eye, their height matching. “Name.”

  “Riker Sheffield, but you can call me asshole.”

  The entire group burst into laughter.

  Moose bristled, his hands clenching. “Do you want to try that again?”

  Riker moved closer. “You heard me. Or maybe I should call you the asshole.”

  “Whoa.”

  “I think there’s going to be a fight.”

  The collective comments only seemed to spur both men on.

  “You think you’re something special, don’t you? Well, I’m here to tell you that you and the rest of the Jackals are nothing,” Moose huffed.

  Riker’s eyes flared the second before he took a swing.

  Wham!

  Moose stumbled backwards, going down. “Fuck!” Immediately on his feet, he pummeled a hard punch into Riker’s gut.

  “Fight!” the call came from down the line.

  Rearing back, Riker managed to clip Moose in the jaw, sending him back another two feet.

  As Moose advanced, so did Steel and Raphael, grabbing the man’s arms.

  “Don’t!” Steel hissed. “We don’t need this shit.”

  Moose growled and tried to break free.

  Antonio and Landen yanked Riker’s arms back, preventing him from attacking again.

  “Stop. Frost is right. We can’t have this right now.” Antonio’s voice was commanding, yet his eyes never left Moose.

  From behind the crowd, Captain Phillips pushed through, his face full of anger. “This will stop now. Now! We are all a team. Together. We are here as one and I’ll report you myself if you don’t stop this bullshit!”

  Riker sucked in his breath and took a step back. “Fine.”

  “Fine?” Captain Phillips snapped his head in Riker’s direction.

  “Yes, sir,” Riker said between clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Moose rose to his full height, his face full of vengeance. “You are guests here.”

  “He’s right,” Landen said and pulled Riker back another foot. “Let it go, man. He isn’t worth it.”

  “That’s enough of this crap. We have a job to do, so everyone, and I do mean everyone here needs to take this seriously.” Cooper moved away from the other trainers. “You’re going to listen to direction and follow them to the letter. Am I clear?”

  “Clear!” The Jackals answered first.

  Captain Phillips shook his head. “Let me repeat myself. One. Last. Time. All of us are a team. Do you understand this, or should I make certain we have some additional buddy training?” He walked closer to Moose, until he stood only six inches in front of the brooding man.

  Moose looked over his shoulder, and asked, “Are. We. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir!” the collective group shouted.

  “Better. Get your shit together.” Moose hissed at Riker before turning around, walking down the line of jumpers. “We head out in ten minutes. When we return, it’s classroom time. Tomorrow, we meet just to our left here, planes will take you over a designated drop site. And you will get this right.”

  Garcia shook his head and looked at the banner secured on the oversized building, the lettering in red. Home of the Rattlesnake Hot Shots. “This might be a losing proposition.”

  “What does that mean?” Stoker asked.

  “All right. Nine minutes!” Moose walked back toward the building.

  “What a crock of shit!” Landen snarked.

  Captain Phillips remained where he was, pacing the dirt as he hung his head.

  “You men need to follow directions and don’t give them any reason to boost you. Got it?” Antonio looked from one to the other.

  Riker glanced at Landen. “You know something. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Just like the man said. We are all being evaluated,” Landen replied.

  “Budget constraints,” Garcia said under his breath.

  Captain Phillips shot him a nasty look. “Don’t give the Wildland crew any reason to doubt our abilities. I’m here today by your side.”

  “You’re going with us?” Sawyer asked, a smile on his face.

  “I am one of the team. I fight with you. I work alongside you.” The captain gave each man a hard look.

  “Let it go for now, gentlemen. We can’t play politics, but we can save lives. In order to do that, we need the right equipment. We’re damn lucky the new parachutes were a line item on the budget.” Cooper’s voice was strained.

  “Takes the place of any new recruits,” Sawyer added.

  “Not necessarily!” Antonio snapped. “We don’t
know what’s going on. I understand there are going to be some emergency sessions of the City Council. Just do your jobs.”

  “Goddamn it. We have an opportunity here to show what we can do. So, get to it!” Captain Phillips walked off in a huff.

  “The man is pissed,” Landen stated.

  “He has every right to be. We don’t need bullshit.” Antonio looked directly at Riker.

  “Then they better play by the rules,” Riker said as he tipped his head, giving Antonio the same hard glare.

  “Whew. Rough crowd,” Boone commented as he headed toward the building.

  Stoker chuckled, the sound ragged and placed his hands on his hips. “This is going to be a long ass two days.”

  “Just do what you’re told. We need to make certain we’re on our game,” Garcia glanced up at the now cloudy sky, studying the way the trees shifted in the brisk wind. The Wildland’s operational center had the pulse of every smokejumping team in the West. A smokejumper’s career could be shot down in a split second if the Wildland’s Commissioner so much as gave you a dirty look.

  “You know more than you’re telling. What did the captain say to you?” Stoker asked.

  “Nothing with any credence. Just my gut talking,” Garcia said quietly, noticing that Landen was listening in. He started to walk off when Stoker grabbed his arm.

  “If you know something, you owe all of us that information.”

  He looked at Stoker, then to the rest of the team. “I only know there have been some conversations held.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Landen stated, anger furrowing into every word.

  “Nothing we can do but work. As a team.” Garcia had never wanted to be a part of anything as much as he did today and with this group of men. The team was more important that he’d ever understood. He would die for every man.