Woman against nature. Considering the huge force she was up against, she felt damned lucky to come out even.
In the dim light of her headlamp, she saw the children were asleep, piled together like puppies. Josie curled against the wall, her back to them. So Peyton watched Gabe.
His strength was apparent in every aspect of his body, his broad shoulders and muscled arms accented in the black T-shirt, his wide callused hands, his stubborn jaw, black with both stubble and soot.
He was handsome, rescued women and children, true hero material.
God help her.
They’d be out of here in a few hours, back at camp, and Peyton would leave. She had her story, if not her answers. But she couldn’t afford to look for them in Gabe Cooper.
In all the stories she’d written in this series, no one had come as close to being the man Dan had been as Gabe did. She’d thought she was ready to deal with the feelings the comparison dredged up, both the familiarity and the resentment, but now everything was all tumbled up with a longing, a loneliness.
“A guy could get a complex,” he said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes still closed.
She hid her leap of surprise well, she hoped. She was sure he’d been asleep. Sneaky bastard. “Pardon?”
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry.” She took off her helmet, switched off the headlamp, leaving them in the dark. Something she should have done before, to conserve the light bulb. No telling how long they’d be down here. “You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
His voice sounded closer, softer in the darkness, but she hadn’t heard him move. Just her imagination.
“I’m figuring it out,” she hedged.
She was not going to discuss Dan with him. The further she kept him at a distance, the safer she would be.
“A mix between Cary Grant and John Wayne.”
“What?” She went cold.
“That’s who people say I remind them of.”
“John Wayne?” Dan’s team had called him John Wayne. She’d hated the nickname, no matter how apt. What grown man wanted to remind people of a dead movie cowboy?
“It’s the macho thing, I guess,” Cooper said, as if answering her thoughts.
“Is that why you came out here? Became a Hot Shot? Because you’re some kind of cowboy?”
“I didn’t think about it at the time and I’ve never done anything else. Does that make me a loser?”
“No. You’re exactly what you need to be to do the job you do.”
A moment of silence. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice tight.
She sighed, exhausted. She had no desire to explain a man to himself. “I mean, I’ve been watching, wondering what kind of people do this job. Most are kids, and they probably think this is very exciting. But you, you’re—”
“Not a kid,” he finished for her and she heard him shift forward. She saw, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light from above, that he rested his elbows on his knees. She resisted the urge to shift herself.
“No, you’re not just a kid, which makes you harder to pin down.”
“And yet you think you have.”
“As far as being a firefighter goes. I mean, how many people have a job with a name like ‘Hot Shot’? There’s an inherent arrogance there.”
“So I’m arrogant.”
She didn’t dignify that with an answer. “I think you like the danger associated with the job. You’d rather be on the line than in charge because there you can see results right in front of you.”
A slight hesitation. She’d hit the nail on the head. “Ah, but there’s the arrogance, right? Needing to see the results of my work?”
“Very probably. And I get the feeling you are the job. You are the Hot Shot. That’s why people talk about you, tell stories about you.”
He sat back with a groan. “Nothing I like better than being psychoanalyzed by a reporter, but I’m going to see if I can find another way out.”
She bolted upright. “So soon? Do you think the fire’s passed? That it’s safe?”
“No telling till I look.”
Next to Gabe came a small voice from the darkness. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Cooper flicked on the flashlight and winked at Peyton. “See? I knew there was a reason I brought you.”
Chapter Four
Peyton woke with a start and looked into Gabe Cooper’s hard-hat light. She blinked, taking a moment to realize he’d wakened her. His hand remained on her shoulder until she sat up against the cave wall.
“You curl up like a damned snake when you sleep. Doesn’t your back hurt?” he asked, close enough that his breath stirred the opening of her shirt.
Annoyed when he didn’t move back, she took a quick inventory. “Everything hurts. What’s wrong?”
“One of your campers has run off.”
Panic at his words chased the cloud of exhaustion from her mind, and she reached for her helmet. Why the hell had she let herself fall asleep? He hadn’t. These people were as much her responsibility as his. “What? When?”
“About thirty minutes ago. Don’t worry, I’ve found her,” he added, moving back before she could get up and crack him in the jaw with her head. “But I can’t get her and she won’t come to me. She’s lodged herself up in a crawl space.”
Blood drained from her face. “Oh no” slipped out before she could stop it.
“Problem?” Suspicion darkened his tone.
She shook her head, swallowing hard. Gabe wouldn’t allow himself a weakness, she couldn’t show him hers, especially not with a child in danger. Not when she’d used the children as a reason to come up here. “Not at all. Show me.”
He nodded. She followed him out of the main “room” at a crouch.
“How long did it take you to find her?” She took the flashlight he offered and jammed her hard hat on.
“About ten minutes. This cave isn’t very big and she isn’t exactly quiet. On the plus side, I found the only way out is the way we came in.”
She narrowed her eyes at him though he’d turned away. “How is that a plus?”
He pointed to a skinny tunnel, something only a child would think to climb in. “She’s in there.”
Peyton’s ribs refused to expand with her breath, and her throat closed. Only because Gabe watched her did she nod once and brace her hands against the opening.
“I’m going up to the surface, see if we can exit safely.” He turned away.
“No!” Her shout made them both jump as the word bounced in the small space. She released his arm as soon as she realized she’d gripped it. “What I mean is, can’t you wait till I get her out? Then you can go. There’s no hurry, right?”
He opened his mouth to argue, then looked at her and closed it. Heat crept up her throat to her cheeks as he evaluated her weakness and judged her on it. He probably saw “Not Hero Material” stamped on her forehead.
“I’ll stay right here,” he said in the calmest tone she’d heard him use.
She shouldn’t get mad at him for patronizing her when he was working in the best interest of the group to keep her calm. But something in his tone grated over her already-raw nerves. She used her anger to work up the courage to crawl into the tunnel.
The tunnel was just a hair wider than her shoulders, but she pushed the thought aside. She crept along on her belly, her chin brushing the limestone, and nausea welled up in her throat. She’d only think about Gabe and his “there, there” tone of voice and of the child whose legs were illuminated by her headlamp.
Even though she was not much smaller than Gabe, he couldn’t have fit in here.
Lucky her.
“Hi, sweetie,” she crooned, and was surprised by the quaver in her voice. Some comfort she’d be to the child. Taking a deep breath only reminded her of the narrowness of the passageway. She dropped her head to her hands on the floor of the tunnel, refusing to hyperventilate in front of Gabe.
Something touched h
er ankle, and she almost kicked out before recognizing the warm touch of Gabe’s hand.
“Peyton? You doing all right?” he asked from the nice roomy cave, his voice uncommonly gentle, which only freaked her out more.
She sucked in a breath through her nose. “Peachy.”
“I couldn’t hear you anymore. I thought something was wrong.”
“I’m fine. I see her.”
“Can you reach her from where you are?”
Peyton judged the distance to the child’s legs. “If she’ll reach out to me.”
“Okay. Don’t go any farther. Stay where you are and make her come to you, all right? I’ll stay here.”
Like it or not, his hand on her leg was reassuring, a connection to the real world. Okay. She could do this.
She tilted her head a bit so her headlight illuminated the girl’s face. The child whimpered and threw her hand up in front of her eyes, so Peyton quickly lowered her head.
“Hey, whatcha doin’, all stuffed back in there?”
The girl didn’t answer.
Great. The kid was going to keep her in this coffin forever. She struggled for a breath and tried again. “What’s your name? I’m Peyton.”
A soft sound that might have been “Mary”.
“Mary? Or Terry? Or Cherry? Or Harry?”
Another sound, a giggle, then more clearly “Carrie”.
“Hi, Carrie.” She edged forward on her elbows, buying time while figuring out what to say. The girl’s chin came into view. “Are you scared?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Of the fire?”
“Uh-huh.”
Join the club. “Well, it’s not going to get us in here, you know. And Cooper? He’s going to take you to your mom and dad, okay? So come with me.”
The girl’s face was buried in her arms. “He’s mean. He yelled at me.”
Peyton snuffled a laugh. “I just think he doesn’t know how to act around girls.”
“Hey!” Cooper squeezed her ankle, almost playful. Again out of character. Why was he being nice when she was in this coffin, when he couldn’t be nice to her face? “I heard that.”
Peyton had almost forgotten where she was and had to smile.
She reached a hand out. “Let’s get out of here so Cooper can take you home. I promise he’ll be nice to you. He’ll even buy you an ice cream.” She said the last over her shoulder and it earned her another ankle tug.
“Promise?” Carrie crawled slowly toward Peyton.
“Cooper? You promise?” Peyton relayed.
“I promise,” he said gruffly, and Carrie linked her fingers through Peyton’s.
With Gabe guiding her, Peyton eased out of the tunnel, leading Carrie, using the child’s face to focus her as she took even breaths through her nose.
Then Gabe’s hands were on her hips and he pulled her out. She leaned back against him for a moment, gulping in oxygen and absorbing his strength, still holding Carrie’s hand. The girl eyed Gabe, but Peyton gave her an encouraging smile and she dropped to her feet.
“You did great,” Gabe murmured into Peyton’s ear before releasing her, his fingers flexing on her hips in a show of approval.
She nodded, then tugged free of his touch that felt too good, stirred her blood, made her want to stay in his arms. She took Carrie’s hand and walked back to the others, then sat before her knees gave way.
Gabe dropped to the floor beside Peyton with a grunt. “I didn’t really believe you when you said you were good with kids.”
Together they watched Carrie enfolded by her friends, by Josie. He was still trying to work out what the kid had been thinking by crawling into the tunnel. Even at such a young age, the female mind was unfathomable.
“I know you didn’t.” Her voice was higher than normal, tighter, and he didn’t think it was completely from her scare in the tunnel.
He blew out a breath. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment here.”
She folded her legs up and rested her arms on them, turned her head toward him. “I lied.”
Gabe felt a smile tugging at his mouth. As apologies went, it wasn’t much, but at least she didn’t play with words the way most reporters did.
“I figured.”
She lifted her head. They were close enough that he could feel the surprise running through her. “Then why did you let me come?”
A question he’d been asking himself regularly. He pushed to his feet. Yeah, he was avoiding the question, so what?
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
Gabe edged back through the passageway they’d entered, bending lower as the ceiling angled down. He had hoped to find an easier way out of the cave, but all the passages were too narrow for him to squeeze through. After a demonstration of Peyton’s claustrophobia, well, that had to be a consideration. The way they’d come in was the quickest exit, the shortest tunnel. Still, sliding kids down a nearly vertical hole was one thing. Pushing them out was another.
He got himself out by digging his elbows and knees into the sides of the tunnel. Cautiously, he placed his gloved hand on the outside of the entry and tested the ground for heat. It was hot, but bearable. He pulled himself out the rest of the way, squinting against the brightness of the overcast sky after the darkness of the cave, and looked around.
He’d seen the moonscapes before, the desolation a fast-burning fire left behind. So why did the grayness of the scene before him have him bending double, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath?
Because the people he’d been responsible for this time hadn’t been Hot Shots, trained to understand fire behavior and how to stay safe in a blowup. This time two inexperienced women and five children had been his responsibility. He could have lost them all.
No. He didn’t think like that, didn’t allow himself to. He whipped out Peyton’s phone. Thank God she had one of those good services with reception even out here. He made the call.
Gabe lay on his stomach and shouted down the hole. “Michaels!”
No answer. He swore, then remembered how sound carried in the cave and how young some of the ears were down there. He coughed some of the smoke out of his lungs and shouted again.
Her face popped into his field of vision, pale against the darkness of the cave.
“What?”
“Bring the campers over. Time to go. Helicopter’s on the way and we gotta go fast. We still have some hot spots out here that could flare up.”
He couldn’t see her hands, but he’d bet they were on her hips as she considered the exit. “How are we going to get them out this way? It’s almost straight up.”
“What did I tell you about questioning orders?” he asked, exasperated with her endless desire to understand the whys and hows. “You pass ’em up, I’ll pull ’em out.”
She looked doubtful, like she was about to ask another question, then turned and walked away.
She reappeared a few moments later, bowed under the weight of the counselor. The passage was too narrow for one woman, so both crouched low, Peyton’s arm under Josie’s shoulders to support her, their faces nearly pressed together, Peyton’s grim, the counselor’s pale with pain.
Then Peyton disappeared and Josie started rising toward him. The lack of light in the cave gave her ascension a surreal aspect and Gabe took a moment longer than usual to react. Josie started clawing at the rocky walls before Gabe reached down and pulled her out.
Only then did he see she’d been straddling Peyton’s shoulders. He snorted in appreciation and got soot up his nose. He was still laughing and choking when he reached down to lift out the first child.
The helicopter’s rotors beat above the fire-created clouds, but after relief, Gabe’s first thought was of the soot it would stir up, blinding his campers.
There was still the danger of a blowup; embers glowed at the bases of trees and snags, but he couldn’t urge Peyton along without transmitting his fear to the children and the counselor.
Arms t
rembling from fatigue, he pulled up the last child, then climbed to his feet with effort. He ushered them all together in a huddle to shield them from blowing soot as they moved to intercept the landing chopper. The dust swirled up beneath the rotors and Gabe sheltered the kids with his body, hustling them into the bird before turning to run back to the cave.
Peyton’s panicked shrieks pierced through the noise of the rotors. She was alone in the cave and terrified.
He hadn’t forgotten her, but his first responsibility had to be evacuating the campers. Still, in her fear she wouldn’t see it that way.
He dropped to his belly at the opening. She stared up at him, her face pale and drawn. He shouldn’t have left her alone without explanation. He had just been thinking about getting the others on the helicopter.
“Peyton!”
Her eyes snapped into focus. “You didn’t leave me,” she said, her voice breathy like it had been when he pulled her out of the tunnel.
“No, I didn’t leave you.” He prayed for the strength to pull her up as he stretched a hand to her. She handed him their packs first, smart girl, standing on her toes to push them up the tunnel. He tossed them aside, ignoring the shouts of the helitack crew.
He reached down and she gripped his forearms. The strain tightened his back, his buttocks, his shoulders, his throat, even the back of his head as he lifted. He opened his eyes to see her feet dangling. He was bearing all her weight on his shoulders. His ribs felt like they’d crack against the rocks.
Her swinging legs found purchase in the tunnel and he felt the relief instantly in his chest. She scrambled up, releasing one of his arms to grab the rim, helping him help her out.
“Good girl, good girl,” he murmured, and dragged her free.
She lay on her belly, her face against the hot ground as she fought for breath; he rolled onto his back, one hand on his chest as he gulped air into his aching lungs.
“You’re out,” he managed at last.
“Thanks.” Her voice was muffled against the ground.
Hot Shot Page 5
